A Smile From a Veil

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open to Capoeirista and one more, thread here

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The inky sky was speared with a flash of white, the burning of a bright star falling in the night. Despite the way time rushed past her in this quiet desert, it almost seemed to stand still now. The light shifted as it fell on the sands. Before her stood The Night Mother. She'd never seen a drawing or heard what she looked like, but somehow in her heart she knew.

The woman before her looked almost human, with sharp features. Her skin was a deep blackness, almost a void. Her eyes and teeth gleamed like the bleached bones that occassionally littered the sands before they were pulled beneath the dunes. Her hair was spidersilk dotted with glimmering dew, almost too fine and too thick all at once.

For a moment, Kalida could not breathe. The Mother came to her and without a word, reached out and touched her face. The cold hands moved from her cheek to her neck, and for a second a bright pain burned. It was the first thing she'd truly felt since she'd died.

A gift of a body, she thought. Rather, the voice in her head sounded like her own, but the thoughts were invaders. The goddess before her was pushing her dark will forward. Kalida could only nod and feebly attempt to thank her.

In life, you did not serve but now you are mine to command. Kalida nodded. But the dark is a comfort, not a spite. You may gain your freedom, little spirit. Do my bidding in the realm of mortals. You will fulfill my pacts in any way you see fit, but you must keep this:

If you are bidden to take life, life must be given to you in turn.

As suddenly as she had appeared, the Night Mother was gone again. Now Kalida stood in the desert sands, not far from where once she'd been killed. How long had it been? There was no real way to tell - Fallien and the desert was ever changing and yet it always managed to remain the same. Maybe her children were still grieving her, or maybe they'd grown, lived, and lost their own lives by now. It didn't matter. Her life before was so fresh in her mind, and yet it seemed so far away.

Now she only had the call of the Night Mother. It was like a beacon. The goddess hadn't told her how she would know she'd been called upon but it didn't take long before she felt a pull like a string attached to her ribs hauling her over the sands.

They lay on their backs side by side, a young woman and a younger man.

"There," the young man whispered, pointing through the desert blind's canopy as a falling star flashed. She could hear his smile. "That's five for me and only three for you. I win, Alina."

Alina Espad'rina sat up in the darkness, sharing his smile with a stifled laugh. "Your reflexes have grown faster since last we played, Marco." She said to the boy who had recently become a man. It was a silly game often played by the Glasswalker children when they accompanied their parents to the Blightlands for harvest. The rules were simple; everyone participating lay on their back and watched the sky. The first to indicate each falling star earned a point, and the first to lead by two points won. Games could last minutes, or an entire night, and that was the purpose. It kept the mind occupied and the senses sharp, but required little movement and noise.

The young man's leather clothing rasped as he sat up. His cloak rustled as he shifted closer to Alina. Beneath the shadows of the blind, she could barely make out his youthful face. She remembered what he looked like though. Four years his senior, she had watched him grow into a fledgling adult. He had small scraggly hairs sprouting from his chin and upper lip, a dense lean body, and a long dark mane. For a moment they gazed into each others’ eyes, and then Marco leaned forward to kiss her.

Smack! Alina cuffed him upside the head and shoved him back to the sandy ground. She’d wondered if Marco would make such an advance. It was his right as a man, but it was her right to refuse. She did not fancy younger men.

“I thought I could claim a prize for winning the game,” he whispered, the smile still ripe in his voice.

“We made no such wager,” Alina replied. “And if we had, I’d have won.” One of her fine boned hands darted out and flicked his tanned nose. Marco made a grab for her wrist as the hand retreated but missed cleanly. She was still quicker than he. “Now let’s stay quiet awhile,” she said, laying down beside him, “we may soon hear sign of our target.”

“I am excited,” Marco said after a moment, wriggling in the sand. “My first mission to take supplies from outlanders, and I am partnered with my favourite dancer. Surely it is a sign Suravani is on our side.”

“Surely it is a sign you should be silent.” Alina whispered sharply, but she nestled closer to share his body heat. The night’s chill reached through her dark leather clothing to brush at her bones. It was her duty as the elder of the pair to guide Marco on his first mission, and ensure its success. She had known Marco most of her life, and wished to bring honor to both of their names. She took a long, slow breath to steady her stomach. Her first mission had been four years prior, and yet she still felt the pangs of uncertainty each time.

The blind nestled in the nook of a large dune which bordered a winding road. If she listened closely, Alina thought she could hear the sands shifting in the wind. And then, far away, she heard something else.