Solo 1,461 days

[Adelaide Sitai]

32nd Summer 514AV
Twelfth Bell

Adelaide didn't open her eyes as she heard a bell go off somewhere in the house indicating that yet another bell had passed and that she still had not left her bed. How many was it now? Three, four, five? It would almost be lunchtime and then the day was wasted. In fact, there was no 'would' about it for Adelaide already perceived it to be very much a wasted day. Although she had felt ready to throw in the towel at any point during the last ten days, she had still continued going to work, earning the money she needed. Now she wondered what the point was?

"It's been four years." she murmured.

That was exactly four years: one thousand four hundred and sixty one days since Naolom asked her to marry him and one thousand four hundred and sixty two days since she found out that she was pregnant. It felt like a lifetime ago, a lifetime that had somehow gone dreadfully, dreadfully wrong - a lifetime played around with by Tanroa, the goddess of time herself. It could have been days, or hours or years or centuries. Somehow, it all didn't matter, except for the times when Adelaide reminded herself: 'I should be a wife and mother. Our daughter, for the foetus had indeed been female, would be three. We could have had another two children at least since then and he would have had the time to teach me to play the Lyre.' Through eyes heavy with sleep, still wet and blurred with tears, Adelaide was presented with visions of a past that never was, a past that could have been.

"In any other world, it would have happened." she said, standing up from the bed and moving to the chair where she had left her black linen dressing gown the night before, after being bathed. She slipped it on (not as comfortable as she ought to have been, wandering around the room completely nude) lest a slave see her, before sitting down.

Earlier that morning, a house slave had come in to wake Adelaide up and open the curtains, receiving as a reward a stray shoe which only narrowly missed his head. Now, Adelaide felt quite happy to sit in the dark, feeling she had at least taken the initiative to leave her bed. She dragged the chair closer to the mirror next to the fireplace which was, thankfully, not lit and stared at herself. With the windows half open and the light jutting in at an angle, she looked almost dead-like, her light skin completely contrasted with the short, black dressing gown and hair, unusually dark for the time of the year, streaming down her back, like the mane of a drowning victim. Her legs, slimmer than they had been when she had been with Naolom, looked like the roots of some strange underground or water-based plant. It was all a little depressing.

"I'm not moving." she told her reflection, "You can't make me."

At that moment, there was a knock at the door.

"Adelaide? I heard from Marzia that you've not started working yet today. Are you ill?"

Adelaide did not answer but instead kept looking at her reflection, unblinkingly. Then, as the knocking continued, "No, Father. I'm not ill." - I look it, but I'm not.

"Then you ought to go... I know you need a day off every now and then but today is not the day. You should occupy your thoughts. You should ascertain whether the stocks of liquor need replenishing."

Easier said than done, thought Adelaide, the tears already rising to her eyes. She snapped, "How would you know?" and, as soon as she said it, she realised she had made a mistake. The other side of the door had gone quiet.

"Indeed Adelaide. How would I know? I can't really relate." Roland Sitai said finally, the sarcasm in his voice so light that Adelaide would not have recognised had she not known exactly what her Father had suffered. He started moving away from the door, "You should go on a walk. Clear your head. Then you'd stop saying silly things and sitting around feeling sorry for yourself."

Adelaide listened morosely as the steps faded away and returned to trying to out-stare her reflection.

"Well," she said finally, addressing it directly, "It isn't the same. He has Zuleikha and me: something to remember Mother by. I don't have anything to remember Naolom by and I must have done something terribly wrong so that our baby died before it had even been born. They were married while Naolom and I were never able to. And, finally, it's been twenty-three years since Mother died. Naolom died less than four years ago. Today would have been the fourth anniversary of our engagement." she paused before concluding, facing the reflection with a certain level of uncertainty, "I'm allowed to grieve."

The reflection did not seem to sympathise with the feelings expressed and Adelaide felt a surge of pity for the pathetic vision in front of her. Maybe she would take a walk.

[Adelaide Sitai]

32nd Summer 514AV
Second Bell

Considering the amount of time it had taken Adelaide to venture to leave her bed in the first place, she had been out of her room relatively quickly not long after. Indeed, almost as soon as she had resolved to take a walk, she seemed to be out of the door, dressed in a pair of tapered black linen trousers and a red silk blouse tied at the waist, the sleeves rolled up. A red silk scarf emblazoned with a gold crest, the Sitai Rose, held her dark hair off her neck, so that she wouldn't feel so hot. She had even taken the initiative to pick up some charcoal and paper, so that she could perhaps design some new costume if the urge overcame her. Why she had felt the need to creep through the house though, her own home, she did not know. However she had not been able to prevent a sigh of relief as she quietly left the house, a sigh of relief that had been rendered void as a voice called down to her from the first floor balcony.

"Where are you going?"

"I thought I'd take a walk along the river."

"Take a slave with you. How far are you going?"

"I don't know - I might be four, five bells." Then, seeing her Father's face, "Don't worry. Nobody will mind if I happen to cross the boundaries since, after all, the river doesn't belong to anyone. And I'm not about to throw myself into the water either." I don't have the guts, though she didn't say that.

"Adelaide - Are you going to draw?" Adelaide couldn't bear the excitement that was underlying her Father's calmness as he noticed what she had under her arm, "When you get back, you can show me."

Adelaide shook her head, "I'm designing costumes for the Playhouse. A couple of dresses maybe."

A minute later, she had disappeared into the shadows under a tree, blind to the fleeting look of disappointment on Roland Sitai's face and deaf to her Father's warning that the Morealis didn't like unattended visitors anywhere near their land. A bell and a half later, she knew that she had left the Bloodflower Plantation but continued walking. As long as she kept walking closely to the side of the river, she would probably not run into anyone, especially on so hot a day. There were no slaves anywhere near her except for a couple of dark shadows in the distance. Kenash was, after all, marshlands and, in Summer, the smell could be quite strong - either musky and organic with a rich, strong, earthy smell or more pungent, the smell of rotting and even sewage. Fortunately, that day it tended towards the first type and it was a smell that Adelaide did not mind, even liked. The mist over the river was low and close to the water and, apart from the heat, it was a lovely day, but still, Adelaide was starting to regret her decision not to take a slave with her, or merely go for a ride on a pleasure boat. At times, the small rabbit trail she was following narrowed and even disappeared but, on the whole, it was a well-trod path that crossed the boundaries of four plantations and she had felt safe enough following it. Now, as she went past a low tree and got a spider's web tangled in her hair, she started wondering whether she should move back towards the open fields, whether she could perhaps watch out for a boat, one of the Draer Shallows to perhaps take her further.

Still, in spite of all, she was enjoying herself and soon reached a clearing-like area where the trees were more willowy. Since it seemed as good a place as any to take a rest, she sat down and brought out her paper and charcoal, which she had to sharpen again, something which didn't bother her too much. In fact, it was something that she had always found very therapeutic. It allowed her time to think and there was a certain satisfaction in getting it exactly right... and, after all, she was particularly good at sharpening the charcoal exactly while wasting as little of it as possible. It was something she used to do for fellow students in Zeltiva, or for Naolom, who preferred using charcoal to ink when composing. That way, he could alter perceived mistakes more easily. Now, seeing the dark powder fall slowly in a cloud to the ground, she was reminded of all the times she had done it, sitting cross-legged by a fire while Naolom lay on the rug with his partition sheets and his Lyre, his brow furrowed, neither of them looking at each other, or speaking to each other, but acutely aware of and comfortable with each other's presence. They didn't need words. Now, the sun's rays catching the charcoal dust reminded her so much of the way the fire made the dust look like glittering shards of the moon that she could not help but smile. If Naolom had died, those times had not while she still remembered them.

"Petch." She had nicked herself with the knife and a pearl of blood had formed just under the knuckle. She brought her finger to her mouth. Glad that it was her left and not her right she picked up the charcoal and brought it to the paper which was on her lap.

She had had a couple of ideas for Peacock-inspired dresses, which would suit a new production which was purposefully over the top and ostentatious. Theatre of Excess, if that was a thing and, if it was not, Adelaide suddenly felt she ought to coin the term. The first, a fishtail style dress with embroidered bodice, falling into a V-line then a ruffled skirt made up of multiple layers on which she'd sew peacock feathers - far from a fad, there was always a demand for Peacock-inspired costumes: Audiences liked to see natural finery onstage.

Adelaide leant forward over the piece of paper, only just managing to stop herself from cursing as a drop of blood fell just over the place where she had intended to draw the head of her model. Though a basic shape and actually unnecessary to the dress, it did serve to anchor things well enough. She supposed, though, that it was interesting enough to have the red splodge in its place. If she was pretentious enough she could always claim that it was an artistic criticism of the human condition and its mortality. Still, brushing off this minor setback, she started sketching the outline of the female figure, crude and heavily stylised, but it got across exactly what she needed it to: the general shape of the body and how closely the dress was cut to the figure. With a small smirk, she doodled a childish curl coming haphazardly out of the top of the red splodge.

"Alright. Alright." she murmured to herself, realising that she was perhaps putting off the actual designing and deciding to be more serious.

With a flourish, she started creating the willowy triangle shapes on top of each other, indicating the outline to the skirts. Again and again, she brushed the charcoal in the triangular pattern, not being able to stop herself from biting her lip as the objective side of her mind couldn't help but wince at the poor drawing. No... this wasn't art, she reminded herself - she did not draw anymore, not since Zeltiva. She could not draw anymore anyhow - her hands always seemed to freeze up and four years without practice had taken its toll.

"Tavasi help me. Why can't I let go? Why can't I push myself further?" - I have no one to blame but myself. It's psychological, right? Surely it's psychological.

Adelaide scribed the faint lines, mapping out the criss-crossing shapes of the bodice, the structured neckline. Designing costumes was not art, she had convinced herself more by necessity than desire, it was a science. You had to think about possibility, fabric and budget rather than merely going by what one fancied. There had to be a certain cut, a certain shape, a certain angle. In a way, she supposed, designing a costume properly was a feat of Engineering, with the similar precision to an Architect designing a house. After all, the skills could be described as transferrable. When one designed a house, one had to think about budget, material, style, utility and the impression it gave the audience - you had to be precise in picking out the material, or fabric, which would hold everything up or working out how much would be needed and whether it was within the Theatre's budget. It was no good if an Architect made it appear as though twice the amount of timber or stone was needed than it actually was for that would be a gross waste of resources. Exactly the same thing was needed in order to form a well-designed costume. There was no need to buy twelve feet of silk when six feet would be more than enough, and there was no need to buy silk when an audience could be fooled with linen or cotton.

Returning to her drawing, or rather design, Adelaide continued reinforcing the complexity of the bodice. She dotted the straps, then pushed her finger along them, in order to give the impression of hundreds of little sequins. This served the elaborate and, to her mind, ostentatious design well and the greens and blues would blend in beautifully with the single peacock feather decorating each strap. To really bring home the idea, Adelaide projected that the wearer might also wear Peacock feather earrings. It would make for a most charming effect and could be easily achievable.

The bodice took shape very quickly until she decided that she did not like the V-neck shape with the skirts of the dress and changed the neckline to a, far more tasteful, Bateau neckline. It was more flattering besides and would make the wearer look more elegant rather than nouveau riche and vulgar. The charcoal curved around the plump shoulders of the little figure she had drawn earlier and gave the design a far softer look. Although it had not been her intention, Adelaide wondered how she might achieve that effect. Perhaps with a gauze or using the smaller, fluffier peacock feathers. Did baby peacocks already have that bold plumage? Although Adelaide's knowledge of Animal biology was not great, she supposed not, remembering that the feathers were used by Peacocks as a way to indicate that they were mating and to impress potential mates. That was the extent of her knowledge of Animal husbandry.

[Adelaide Sitai]

32nd Summer 514AV
Fourth Bell

"The wind blow through the Willow Trees,
Whispering, weeping, whooping, whimpering,
Shaking its boughs and the rattling of leaves
Echoes the rattling of cages - the song is ending
Something charred and black is underfoot,
Something white and ashen in the air,
The bones of slaves who will never come home again.
The bones of slaves wailing: Beware, beware!"

Adelaide was not sure exactly what had possessed her to fall asleep then and there, what had caused the sudden, irrefutable drowsiness that had come over her since one minute she was thinking about Bateau necklines and baby peacocks and the next she seemed to be experiencing a rude and vicious awakening. She had not been at all tired, in spite of how little she had slept the night before. Her head spinning, Adelaide sat up and looked around her, perhaps looking for a plant that might explain what had happened... after all, the area was very rich in biodiversity - it was not impossible to think that there might be a plant nearby which released some sort of hallucinogenic spores. If she had paid more attention to the drug side of her family's business, it might have even been something recognisable. Trying to remember what exactly had preceded her falling asleep, she rubbed her eyes with her thumb and her forefinger and threw her head back to massage her neck slightly. The sun in the distance looked lower in the sky and she supposed a bell had passed. It was then, her eyes focusing momentarily on the tree above her, hearing the wind whistling gently through it, lazily, as it invariably did on a Summer's day, that she remembered part of her dream. The Wind blows through the Willow Trees... Did I think of that? she asked herself, confused. She couldn't see any other possible explanation but, on the other hand, the didn't think she liked what the words meant. Shaking her head violently, she let out a bitter laugh, holding back the tears she knew would probably come. Whenever she was alone and in any state of confusion or pensiveness, Adelaide knew that she had a tendency to crying for absolutely no reason. It was not even the thought of Naolom, at least not consciously, that caused the tears, though that did not help. It was a feeling of dread that she had difficulty shaking off, the perplexed, pessimistic side of her that had thrived so well, twisting itself into all manner of anxious stupors, since Naolom's death.

With a sigh, fortunately still able to hold back from what she judged to be indecent in public, Adelaide turned to her left to see if she could locate the sketch she had been working on, with its embroidered bodice and straight, clean (if a little crude) lines that indicated the base of the skirt. But the sketch was not there. She turned to her right then, feeling the slight sinking feeling of someone who's work had been rendered void, stood up and looked around her.

"Petch." she murmured.

Maybe the wind had blown it somewhere nearby? More likely than not into the river. But then why would everything else be exactly where she had left them? She took a few steps back onto the rabbit trail and, to her pleasure, saw that the sketch was a dozen or so feet away from her, easily within reach. She supposed it had probably got dirty but would not be beyond saving. If it came to it, she could claim that, just like the speck of blood, the dirt was a metaphor for the human condition and the way that one was not void of external influences. The drawing, or rather the design, was getting easily more pretentious as accident after accident occurred. At least it was all good philosophy. However, as soon as she got close to the picture, it was blown further away. The first time, it happened, she shook it off with a little laugh. The second time, however, and she started to feel a little oppressed by the elements. Then, quite to her surprise, a gust of wind which seemed to come out of nowhere pushed it even further along the rabbit trail.

Forgetting all her belongings down by the willow, she started running after it. It was like some dark recurring dream. Adelaide got close enough, only for it to go further and further until, finally, the wind properly picked it up and sent it spinning away from her. She ran faster, unable to understand what could possibly be causing the mysterious wind. Faster and faster she ran as it went further and further away, always in sight but eternally out of reach. Unaccustomed to such a strain of exercise, Adelaide was starting to get out of breath. Still, she kept running, breathing quite heavily, determined to reach her goal. In her haste, she almost didn't care anymore quite what she was running after, even forgetting why. Rather, she had a conscious feeling that to catch the design would be proof that everything was not entirely beyond her control. As she leapt over cracks and around rocks, she was running on adrenaline. Faster and further than she had recalled doing for seasons, if not years.

Unfortunately, the burst of energy had to end sooner rather than later and, going so far beyond her own physical capabilities, it did so with a crash. As her target flicked once again out of her way and landed just ahead of her, she tripped over and fell right down, head first. For a second, she did not think she had understood quite what had happened before her fleeting feeling of embarrassment gave way to a sudden burst of pain. She clutched her side and rolled over onto her back. Though no healer or physician, she knew enough to realise that she had been stupid in overstretching herself and was now paying for it. Sharp and constant, the throbbing was unbearable, even as she balled her hand into a fist and pressed down hard on her stomach, massaging it blindly.

"This is not my day." she muttered through strained teeth, her jaw clenched, "Urgh!"

At least no one can see me. Or it's very unlikely that they can. Adelaide brought her left arm across her face so as to block out the sun which was glimmering through the trees, hurting her eyes. Still, what looked like tiny circles in all different shades of blues, reds, oranges and greens, pink and yellows hovered between the shade and the light, like tiny multi-coloured drops of water - and they were merging into a thin veil of colour caused by the sweat rolling from her brow mixed with her dizziness. Again, she took a moment to wonder how it could be painted, to both capture the shards of light and the fog settling over her mind. Surreally, she supposed. Damn her for being stupid enough to fall asleep and damn her again for overstretching herself, getting so out of breath, so quickly and after such a short run.

At least try and remember this feeling - she told herself - I might be able to incorporate it into my performances. It was always useful to use memories in order to re-create emotion, creating a richer interpretation. Now, here was a perfect feeling - sadness mixed with disappointment and a general feeling that the world was out to get her. Adelaide had played a few angsty characters to whom such a feeling would suit like a glove, and she was sure to play such characters again.

[Adelaide Sitai]

32nd Summer 514AV
Fifth Bell

This time Adelaide had not fallen asleep as she lay, winded, on the ground, looking up at a Kenashian sky. As her shallow breathing slowed and her chest stopped jutting up and down so sharply, her head likewise stopped spinning. It was an odd feeling - similar to when one has drunk a little too much excellent wine, then been asked to sing a ballad.

Maybe she was hanging on to her memories in this manner for the sake of it? Maybe she was a fool? Maybe she ought to move on with her life...

Adelaide stood up, slowly, getting to her feet. She made her way back to the plantation. Tomorrow, she would have a lot of work to do.

[Orin Fenix]

Adelaide Sitai

Experience

• Storytelling 1
• Observation 3
• Philosophy 3
• Drawing 2
• Socialization 2
• Endurance 2
• Planning 1
• Organization 1
• Stealth 1
• Land Navigation 1
• Tailoring 1
• Animal Husbandry 1
• Botany 1
• Poetry 1
• Running 1
• Acrobatics 1
• Acting 1

Lore

• Day after day after endless day
• Tanroa: Goddess of Time
• Life Stands Still and the Stillborn
• Naolom: Nothing Left of Him
• Roland Sitai: Still Mourns
• Morealis Dynasty: Not Fond of Visitors
• Talioring: Basic Costume Design
• Drawing: Getting Designs just Right
• Tailoring: Bateau Neckline
• Animal Husbandry: Peacock Mating Behavior
• Running: Going too fast leads to cramps

A very lovely read. Just be careful with using knowledge and skills that Adelaide might not possess yet, such as her extensive knowledge of fashions and animal behavior.

Don't forget to edit or delete your request.

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