02-06-2018, 08:32 PM
Overwhelmed. Valeriya was so overwhelmed she couldn't speak.
For much of the day (day being a new word), her eyes burned with pain until Armande gave black rocks to wear across her eyes. Lenses, like glass, he said, but thinner and lighter. She spent a good five minutes lifting and lowering the lenses off and on her face, studying the shift between darkness and brightness they imbued upon the world.
Towers loomed so tall over head that Valeriya had to crane her neck as far back as she could flex just to see the tops. At one point, her hair flew hard away from her head. She just stood there, marveling in the feel of wind against her face. She rubbed her palms across the prickle on her cheeks and smiled at Armande.
Armande's head wrapping was something to get used to seeing, and Valeriya briefly missed the decorations in her hair. Soon enough she realized there were as many ways to dress oneself as there were people.
At the store, she stared at a woman in a long sparkly gown of silver and gold. She had a long veil strung from her hair and gold rings through her ears. There was a child with her.
She laid her chin on the frame of the truck as they drove, staring out into the world as it passed by so swiftly. In the distance she saw the peaks of a palace, and she shivered to herself knowing it was the place of Rasputin's last home and the start of the war that sent the Khylsty into hiding.
When they stopped, Valeriya followed Armande at a slow pace. Until she stopped altogether and just stared. She pulled the black lenses from her eyes and forced herself to view the sight with her own, unfiltered eyes.
"So much green," she said in awe. Tall brown towers with millions of spikes branching off the trunk surrounded them. Buds of green were stuck to every single one like nails on fingers. She laid her hand on the bark of a tree, felt the ridges beneath her palm. Then she ran her fingers through the bouncy leaves of a hedge. Children ran past, racing toward a giant water pond spewing forth a font of white capped water. The fountain hissed like the waterfall from the Below. When she knelt low and put her face into the cup of a flower, she savored the silkiness of its petals on her cheeks, and when she looked up at Armande, tears flooded her eyes.
He led her away from the flowers and trees and leaves and bid her sit on a bench. The iron bars beneath her legs felt like a jail. Only her immense love for Armande kept her there, but her patience would not last long. She didn't want to listen to talking. She wanted to RUN.
Armande thrust something into her ears and through the device a harsh voice translated what was said into something she half-comprehended. While she followed most of the words that were spoken, her brow curled low with frustration, as understanding was fleeting. Rome, Fathers, Church, Pope and Regus. She tried to put the picture together. Armande had enemies. She wasn't surprised. Every capable leader drew enemies.
For much of the day (day being a new word), her eyes burned with pain until Armande gave black rocks to wear across her eyes. Lenses, like glass, he said, but thinner and lighter. She spent a good five minutes lifting and lowering the lenses off and on her face, studying the shift between darkness and brightness they imbued upon the world.
Towers loomed so tall over head that Valeriya had to crane her neck as far back as she could flex just to see the tops. At one point, her hair flew hard away from her head. She just stood there, marveling in the feel of wind against her face. She rubbed her palms across the prickle on her cheeks and smiled at Armande.
Armande's head wrapping was something to get used to seeing, and Valeriya briefly missed the decorations in her hair. Soon enough she realized there were as many ways to dress oneself as there were people.
At the store, she stared at a woman in a long sparkly gown of silver and gold. She had a long veil strung from her hair and gold rings through her ears. There was a child with her.
She laid her chin on the frame of the truck as they drove, staring out into the world as it passed by so swiftly. In the distance she saw the peaks of a palace, and she shivered to herself knowing it was the place of Rasputin's last home and the start of the war that sent the Khylsty into hiding.
When they stopped, Valeriya followed Armande at a slow pace. Until she stopped altogether and just stared. She pulled the black lenses from her eyes and forced herself to view the sight with her own, unfiltered eyes.
"So much green," she said in awe. Tall brown towers with millions of spikes branching off the trunk surrounded them. Buds of green were stuck to every single one like nails on fingers. She laid her hand on the bark of a tree, felt the ridges beneath her palm. Then she ran her fingers through the bouncy leaves of a hedge. Children ran past, racing toward a giant water pond spewing forth a font of white capped water. The fountain hissed like the waterfall from the Below. When she knelt low and put her face into the cup of a flower, she savored the silkiness of its petals on her cheeks, and when she looked up at Armande, tears flooded her eyes.
He led her away from the flowers and trees and leaves and bid her sit on a bench. The iron bars beneath her legs felt like a jail. Only her immense love for Armande kept her there, but her patience would not last long. She didn't want to listen to talking. She wanted to RUN.
Armande thrust something into her ears and through the device a harsh voice translated what was said into something she half-comprehended. While she followed most of the words that were spoken, her brow curled low with frustration, as understanding was fleeting. Rome, Fathers, Church, Pope and Regus. She tried to put the picture together. Armande had enemies. She wasn't surprised. Every capable leader drew enemies.
The Eye of the Khylsty