You're so cold
but you feel alive
The metal was cool against her neck even in the heat of the day. Maea looked down at it and considered the symbol as it came to rest on her chest. The feeling of having him so close made her skin prickle slightly, but she wondered if it was so much because he was ascended as it was that he was a man, or there at all. She was certainly not used to having people invade her personal space.
"Alright, come on." This too felt like a small challenge, to herself as well as to him. So she took his offered arm, and after making sure that the fire was under control she led them off the yard, up the hill. The brown, dry grass was high, reaching Maea almost to the chest as she plunged into it. Once it would have been grazed down to the quick by hungry sheep, but it seemed no one had attempted to claim the land for their own livestock in her absence. An odd show of respect, she thought, and perhaps a sign of hope for the Grounders. Without the barrier, perhaps the land would recover. Become more fertile again.
On the other side of the small hill lay an orchard. From the vantage point the many rows of apple trees looked neat and tidy, quiet and peaceful under the glaring sun. But once they entered the shelter of the manmade forest, the neglect became apparent. Broken branches bore mute witness to the heavy snows of Deepfrost, while litter and high grass made it difficult to move about between the trunks. Seeing all the new shoots that ought to be trimmed, and how too many unripened apples clinging to each branch made her fingers itch to find a pruning shear, saw, a ladder. It would all need seeing to, and soon...
But it was no longer her task.
Maea brought them to the center of the orchard. There, a small shrine had been erected in a semi-circle of tiny cherry trees. Far from common, they had not been tamed to bear fruit but rather allowed to grow as they pleased, in honor of Frey and the vitality of nature. A white stone lay in the center, perfectly round and smoothed by the hands of many generations - a dedication to Safrin, mirroring the moon that would make the stone shimmer and glow on certain nights. And all around it, hanging from the branches and resting by the trunks, were lanterns. Big ones, small ones, skillfully crafted by artisans and some fashioned by the clumsy hands of children, they were the offerings of five generations come and gone. Some had rusted and fallen down, others had long since returned to nature, but none had been removed. It was the nature of things to wither and perish, and what homage could be better to Ludo than lanterns?
"Here we are," Maea said, and gently slipped herself free from Amun's arm to bow before the shrine.
"Alright, come on." This too felt like a small challenge, to herself as well as to him. So she took his offered arm, and after making sure that the fire was under control she led them off the yard, up the hill. The brown, dry grass was high, reaching Maea almost to the chest as she plunged into it. Once it would have been grazed down to the quick by hungry sheep, but it seemed no one had attempted to claim the land for their own livestock in her absence. An odd show of respect, she thought, and perhaps a sign of hope for the Grounders. Without the barrier, perhaps the land would recover. Become more fertile again.
On the other side of the small hill lay an orchard. From the vantage point the many rows of apple trees looked neat and tidy, quiet and peaceful under the glaring sun. But once they entered the shelter of the manmade forest, the neglect became apparent. Broken branches bore mute witness to the heavy snows of Deepfrost, while litter and high grass made it difficult to move about between the trunks. Seeing all the new shoots that ought to be trimmed, and how too many unripened apples clinging to each branch made her fingers itch to find a pruning shear, saw, a ladder. It would all need seeing to, and soon...
But it was no longer her task.
Maea brought them to the center of the orchard. There, a small shrine had been erected in a semi-circle of tiny cherry trees. Far from common, they had not been tamed to bear fruit but rather allowed to grow as they pleased, in honor of Frey and the vitality of nature. A white stone lay in the center, perfectly round and smoothed by the hands of many generations - a dedication to Safrin, mirroring the moon that would make the stone shimmer and glow on certain nights. And all around it, hanging from the branches and resting by the trunks, were lanterns. Big ones, small ones, skillfully crafted by artisans and some fashioned by the clumsy hands of children, they were the offerings of five generations come and gone. Some had rusted and fallen down, others had long since returned to nature, but none had been removed. It was the nature of things to wither and perish, and what homage could be better to Ludo than lanterns?
"Here we are," Maea said, and gently slipped herself free from Amun's arm to bow before the shrine.
lay your hands on me
one last time
MAEA
