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Nharkava / Re: Can elephants dance? Sacred things, big and small.
« Last post by Tarabai Rajavade on Today at 03:44:28 PM »A smile curled within the dark curtain of Lady’s Jha’s dark hair. Each strand breaking it into shy segments, and drawing Tarabai’s eyes there to be certain she could interpret the warmth hidden beneath. It was a small change to the way she was first received, tension eased from the atmosphere only barely. Where Tarabai any other woman she would have rankled like a cat whose hairs slowly rose at the first sign of danger, only she recognized a shared deathly but graceful poise in Shanti. It was the same scent that filled her spirit just after an exhausting spar, the need to put practice to application and the threat to follow through.
It dawned on her, that perhaps they each were predators in their own right, coming together for the first time. “You are not unrecognizable Lady Jha. Your eyes especially, they keep secrets, they burn against them. I've been taught to watch for those, no matter how stunning the facade is.” She smiled gently, complimentary. “And you are stunning, especially here. I have a strange sense of this place.” she admitted, her eyes lifting away from the Priestess long enough to glance at the altar of candles, and the ancient face that stared back at her.
Jabin. It was not the first time she had heard his name throughout the trip, though Pai had done his best to keep all topics as far from the Court as he could. It was only when he was eager to return that mentions of the Ruler of Sikkim began to grow in frequency, like tiny crumbs meant to lead her back to where she belonged. Tarabai wasn't so sure she was eager to return. Not when she hadnt found the peace she was looking for. The Lady was dead, her duties did not change though the position did, and Jabin was still lost, barely strung together by rage and duty. “Prince Bhattacharya is well. I have not seen him in weeks. It seems that the Court, or his son ever sleep.” Jabin was as well as could be expected, as well as he pretended to be for his son’s sake, and she feared, as well as he would ever be. Again a familiar pang of guilt sank its needle into her heart.
Tarabai wasn't sure how much she had said, but the underlying recognition in Lady Jha’s dark gaze made her consider just how much she had revealed. The Priestess watched her as if counting each step. It was more than a simply considering Tarabai’s presence a trespass, but had shifted into a mutual curiosity. The way the priestess looked at her, it was as if she had gently extracted the fragile essence of truth obfuscated in the First Escort’s words laying her bare before her. Moving the topic along she shielded her thoughts with another layer of conversation. Were it was humid outside the Temple Naresh walls, inside it was equally as warm but drier. The scent of incense and age lingered in the air.
How many dances had these walls seen? How many Priestesses shed their sweat upon the stone floors until they glistened like gems? How man died for it? Lifting her almond shaped eyes she considered the Priestess. Forbidden dances in lost temples made for precious secrets easily manipulated by the wrong hearts.
“It is an honorable duty. How old would you guess?” She admitted, , still considering. The question lingered in the air, a lure meant to enrich or ensnare her. Either Lady Jha was so bold as to attempt to trap the First Escort of Sikkim or she truly meant to test her loyalties. Glacia’s rules on the old dances was clear. It was heresy under the eyes of the mad Queen and the decrees cast down on a land they promised to once again fill with the sweet tang of milk and honey. The ones who killed Akshita, leaving nothing but the memories of a life that haunted her. The same who kept Nharkava mostly fed and whos laws she promised to protect.
Her steps carried her across the center of the temple once more, past Lady Jha, for a split second her back was to her, either dauntless or foolishly was up to the Priestess. Just when the silence was weighted enough she pivoted on her ankles in a fluid movement to face her once more. “My mother was a Priestess, I would watch her dance in the mornings to welcome the sun. She was so full of joy,I remember how the light caught in her skirts during my Offering, the dirty soot that clung to her feet, the sweat on her brow and yet nothing else in the world seemed more pure.” She paused whistfully. “I don't see that with you, not completely. I see control, I see savagery and hope, I see your skirts trying to bind this place to the present. To give it life, a heartbeat.” Is that what she wanted? A heartbeat? A life beyond the loss threatened to rend her spirit. “It must seem like nonsense to you. Ive never been a particularly spiritual woman. ” She said breaking away from her darker thoughts, but a voice inside offered a contrary theory than the one warning her of a trap. Were she to dance she would be an accomplice, but maybe she would also be free. It was a lot of hope to put into such a small thing. “My mother left when I was young, not long after my offering. My sister is a Queen.” Like Akshita. There was a hint of pride and pain in her voice. Lifting her chin, she tried to shake free the ball bearing in her throat. “So what I know of dance I know from her. It was long ago. I fear ours might be at war with one another, unless you can guide me. Will you, correctly guide me Lady Jha?”
It dawned on her, that perhaps they each were predators in their own right, coming together for the first time. “You are not unrecognizable Lady Jha. Your eyes especially, they keep secrets, they burn against them. I've been taught to watch for those, no matter how stunning the facade is.” She smiled gently, complimentary. “And you are stunning, especially here. I have a strange sense of this place.” she admitted, her eyes lifting away from the Priestess long enough to glance at the altar of candles, and the ancient face that stared back at her.
Jabin. It was not the first time she had heard his name throughout the trip, though Pai had done his best to keep all topics as far from the Court as he could. It was only when he was eager to return that mentions of the Ruler of Sikkim began to grow in frequency, like tiny crumbs meant to lead her back to where she belonged. Tarabai wasn't so sure she was eager to return. Not when she hadnt found the peace she was looking for. The Lady was dead, her duties did not change though the position did, and Jabin was still lost, barely strung together by rage and duty. “Prince Bhattacharya is well. I have not seen him in weeks. It seems that the Court, or his son ever sleep.” Jabin was as well as could be expected, as well as he pretended to be for his son’s sake, and she feared, as well as he would ever be. Again a familiar pang of guilt sank its needle into her heart.
Tarabai wasn't sure how much she had said, but the underlying recognition in Lady Jha’s dark gaze made her consider just how much she had revealed. The Priestess watched her as if counting each step. It was more than a simply considering Tarabai’s presence a trespass, but had shifted into a mutual curiosity. The way the priestess looked at her, it was as if she had gently extracted the fragile essence of truth obfuscated in the First Escort’s words laying her bare before her. Moving the topic along she shielded her thoughts with another layer of conversation. Were it was humid outside the Temple Naresh walls, inside it was equally as warm but drier. The scent of incense and age lingered in the air.
How many dances had these walls seen? How many Priestesses shed their sweat upon the stone floors until they glistened like gems? How man died for it? Lifting her almond shaped eyes she considered the Priestess. Forbidden dances in lost temples made for precious secrets easily manipulated by the wrong hearts.
“It is an honorable duty. How old would you guess?” She admitted, , still considering. The question lingered in the air, a lure meant to enrich or ensnare her. Either Lady Jha was so bold as to attempt to trap the First Escort of Sikkim or she truly meant to test her loyalties. Glacia’s rules on the old dances was clear. It was heresy under the eyes of the mad Queen and the decrees cast down on a land they promised to once again fill with the sweet tang of milk and honey. The ones who killed Akshita, leaving nothing but the memories of a life that haunted her. The same who kept Nharkava mostly fed and whos laws she promised to protect.
Her steps carried her across the center of the temple once more, past Lady Jha, for a split second her back was to her, either dauntless or foolishly was up to the Priestess. Just when the silence was weighted enough she pivoted on her ankles in a fluid movement to face her once more. “My mother was a Priestess, I would watch her dance in the mornings to welcome the sun. She was so full of joy,I remember how the light caught in her skirts during my Offering, the dirty soot that clung to her feet, the sweat on her brow and yet nothing else in the world seemed more pure.” She paused whistfully. “I don't see that with you, not completely. I see control, I see savagery and hope, I see your skirts trying to bind this place to the present. To give it life, a heartbeat.” Is that what she wanted? A heartbeat? A life beyond the loss threatened to rend her spirit. “It must seem like nonsense to you. Ive never been a particularly spiritual woman. ” She said breaking away from her darker thoughts, but a voice inside offered a contrary theory than the one warning her of a trap. Were she to dance she would be an accomplice, but maybe she would also be free. It was a lot of hope to put into such a small thing. “My mother left when I was young, not long after my offering. My sister is a Queen.” Like Akshita. There was a hint of pride and pain in her voice. Lifting her chin, she tried to shake free the ball bearing in her throat. “So what I know of dance I know from her. It was long ago. I fear ours might be at war with one another, unless you can guide me. Will you, correctly guide me Lady Jha?”
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