A Chain of Flowers - Juno Serra
Posted: Fri Jul 28, 2017 4:59 pm
He first saw her in a field of burning gold.
The steady pace of the knight’s stallion bore him uphill for the better part of a mile, propelling him slowly toward its crest and the sunset beyond. On either side, fields of yellow blossoms grew tall enough to brush the polished silver greaves at his knees, and might have eclipsed his height entirely were he unmounted. On this, the shaded side of the hill, the flowers cloistered him in a dark, hushed embrace. Insects hummed quietly in the thicket, preparing for the oncoming night.
How easy it would be to stop here, he thought. To lay himself down in the closeness and quiet of the thicket and do nothing, think nothing. The implacable tread of his steed had carried him across miles, across countries. His blade had defended the helpless, his hands had healed the sick, and his words had lifted up the downtrodden. And yet, it was not enough. In this world, it would never be.
Quiet despair overwhelmed him for a moment, and he felt his heart thump dully in his chest, heavy with the weight of his armor and his inadequacy. It made his limbs feel like lead, and his hand could not lift the reins to bring this journey to an end.
The stallion marched on.
Finally, they reached the top. As knight and beast crested the hill, the light - intense and overpowering - seared his vision. The sun hung low in the sky, a blazing sea of amber, ocher, violet, and cast the fields in a golden glow, each blossom rendered incandescent. The beauty of it was wondrous and softly commanding. The knight, breath catching, heeded the call and brought the horse to a stop.
It was then he saw her.
Off to his right, perhaps fifty paces away, a streak of red caught his eye. It flew across the tops of the golden fronds, the crimson waves so vibrant and wild he thought it was the plumage of some rare bird. It rushed closer and other parts emerged - a tawny face, slender arms, and a muslin shift of simple white. A willow switch was grasped in one hand, brandished aloft like a sword. Tiny flecks of yellow petals clung to her skin and made constellations in her hair. The setting sun cast her head in a halo of crimson fire, and when her startled eyes found him through the stalks, he shouldn't have been able to make out the color of her eyes, emerald and radiant. She came to a stop before him, her branch and its flowery quarry forgotten as she wondered at his silvery armor and feather-plumed helm.
His heart stopped, and then it raced. The call was answered.
The steady pace of the knight’s stallion bore him uphill for the better part of a mile, propelling him slowly toward its crest and the sunset beyond. On either side, fields of yellow blossoms grew tall enough to brush the polished silver greaves at his knees, and might have eclipsed his height entirely were he unmounted. On this, the shaded side of the hill, the flowers cloistered him in a dark, hushed embrace. Insects hummed quietly in the thicket, preparing for the oncoming night.
How easy it would be to stop here, he thought. To lay himself down in the closeness and quiet of the thicket and do nothing, think nothing. The implacable tread of his steed had carried him across miles, across countries. His blade had defended the helpless, his hands had healed the sick, and his words had lifted up the downtrodden. And yet, it was not enough. In this world, it would never be.
Quiet despair overwhelmed him for a moment, and he felt his heart thump dully in his chest, heavy with the weight of his armor and his inadequacy. It made his limbs feel like lead, and his hand could not lift the reins to bring this journey to an end.
The stallion marched on.
Finally, they reached the top. As knight and beast crested the hill, the light - intense and overpowering - seared his vision. The sun hung low in the sky, a blazing sea of amber, ocher, violet, and cast the fields in a golden glow, each blossom rendered incandescent. The beauty of it was wondrous and softly commanding. The knight, breath catching, heeded the call and brought the horse to a stop.
It was then he saw her.
Off to his right, perhaps fifty paces away, a streak of red caught his eye. It flew across the tops of the golden fronds, the crimson waves so vibrant and wild he thought it was the plumage of some rare bird. It rushed closer and other parts emerged - a tawny face, slender arms, and a muslin shift of simple white. A willow switch was grasped in one hand, brandished aloft like a sword. Tiny flecks of yellow petals clung to her skin and made constellations in her hair. The setting sun cast her head in a halo of crimson fire, and when her startled eyes found him through the stalks, he shouldn't have been able to make out the color of her eyes, emerald and radiant. She came to a stop before him, her branch and its flowery quarry forgotten as she wondered at his silvery armor and feather-plumed helm.
His heart stopped, and then it raced. The call was answered.