(September 30th, 510 [near the harbor])
Fall. It was the time of year Naiara enjoyed most, next to spring. Though she couldn’t see the vivid greens changing into colors of fading orange, yellow and brown, she knew it was happening around her. Her sisters, and mother had often times described it to her; and in her mind she could see it all. A world of blurred streaks as bright as any reality she could ever know. Her small slipper covered feet crunched the fallen leaves under her with each slow, careful step she took, as if only to hear the sound. The light, white cloak she wore blended with her snowy hair, and alabaster skin – one not really discernable from the other on the stark canvas of her body. The only splash of muted color was her pale blue eyes that, against everything else, seemed to stand out strikingly.
The hem of the dress she wore brushed against the ground, though just barely and as Naiara walked the marked empty road from her home – to the shore, but away from the bustle of the hub of the city life – she could smell the dry earth here, mingling lightly with salt from her beloved sea that the breeze wafted to land gently, like the caress of a tender hand. Naiara liked these rare times alone, since she didn’t take the initiative often to go off by herself.
She realized she needed this…a simple walk. And when she arrived on the beach, the quiet beguiling call of sea gulls reached her ears, the smell of the sand and surf filled her completely now, washing away any weariness or fatigue like it pushed back the loose tendrils of pale hair across her forehead. Pausing Naiara slipped her shoes off, picked them and bunched the fabric of her loose skirt in her hand before making her way closer to the water, but faltering again – though only to delight the feel of the cold crisp licking water at her toes. She didn’t need assistance getting around, not when she was by the water…still she was careful of where she stepped, while each one was unhesitating, there was a cautious pace in her slow stride. Her steps and the lapping breaks were like a dance, parting and coming back together…erasing their encounter with every rush forward. Still, she was at ease enough to let herself slip back into her thoughts without worry.
Her nights and even some of her days, as of late, had been filled with dreams – visions – an urging, like a pull that was calling her out. Naiara could hardly stand it any longer, going against what was so natural for her kind. But she couldn’t help but to continue to be afraid of what it could mean for her. With her mind filled with unanswerable things – things she had never seen, a man she had never known, how could she not be? She knew her mother’s…well, she wouldn’t call it concern – the woman was steadfast in her belief that what was, would be. It makes her wonder if she could ever be as confident, given her age now.
Naiara recalled asking once, when she was younger and considerably more naïve, if she had a purpose. Was she meant to do something in her life? And all her mother had to say that day was, ‘a person can only live their life as best they can until their destiny is revealed. Everyone has a path they must one day walk…’
Of course she hadn’t understood, not really, though Naiara had nodded her head slowly and let her mother continue to brush her hair. She had, had many questions after that – what could she possibly do? and What kind of life could she possibly hope to lead other then the one she so intimately knew now? Naiara had thought that perhaps she would be blessed enough to see some revealing glimpse of her future through her own visions, but for twenty something years, it was always of others – until now.
There is this sense of drowning (silly as that is, and even if she has never experienced it, she can only imagine that is what it feels like.) A gripping experience of fear fills her, flooding her lungs, cutting her air off and not even allowing her to swallow – or scream. She wants to, every time the urge is choked and her vision is filled with an ugly nothingness (something vastly different then her owned impaired vision in reality) until someone is pulling her up, righting her. Then all she can make out, all she is allowed to see, is some sort of dark leather, some form of armor perhaps, and the sharp glint of metal, a sword. For some reason even though she doesn’t see the man’s face, she doesn’t quite regard him as the one that makes her feel so frightened. Instead she is alleviated from it at the touch. Each time, that is where it ends, and each time she is left wanting to know more. She feels to the point that she could cast away any trepidation and run off to catch it’s meaning with her own two hands. If only that was the case.
Naiara was so caught up in her own thoughts, wrapped so tightly in them, that she didn’t realize she had wondered farther then intended. It was the sudden break in quietness that really alerted her to that fact, and her feet prompted stalled. The chatter and calls of the busy harbor life caught her by surprise, seaman, merchants, and just people perhaps even arriving and leaving, each one of their voices punctuated and pin-pricked white color of sound in the darkness around her. Still this wasn’t an area Naiara did visit by herself, there were just so many people that it was easy to get turned around and disoriented. And she knew that there was a main street that would take her straight to the city, where the real activity was. But had she really been walking for so long or for so far to reach the lively entrance? Had she really been so unaware...
The questions to herself, and the noises were drowned out by the sudden pounding in her chest. The quick tempo fluttered, tapping out a rhythm that was good enough to do a jig to, though unprovoked, so the alarm was a little silly. Naiara took a deep breath, her face still pointed in the direction of the harbor and she told herself, all she had to do was turn around and go back the way she had come.
Still she couldn’t stand in one place forever and she did indeed find herself frozen…There was what laid ahead of her – unknown, and what was behind her familiar and already experienced. These were her choices, but how long and how many times in her life had and would she turn away from going forward? It struck her that this might seem a little trivial to anyone else, but to her?
Well…
Lifting her hand, she idly traced her fingers along her lower lip, as she considered, but was still uncertain, drawing no conclusion. It was enough to clog her throat indecisiveness…until she finally made herself move. Forcing her feet to take one step then another and soon found she going at a once more cautious pace in the direction she had originally been going, her chin lifting a little.
…she had learned long ago there was no coincidence in life, and that even the smallest things could have a world of meaning, if only to one person.