A sojourn it is.
❝His scent is petrichor. He shall always be the golden page of my recollections, of beautiful memories. The greatest archer of the time❞
Derived from the Sanskrit word स्मरण (smaraṇa, "the act of remembrance, remembrance, reminisc...
mar·ble | \ ˈmär-bəl \ limestone that is more or less crystallized by metamorphis.
SHE STARED AT THE TALES OF BEJEWELED CEILING of her moonlit chamber. She was still as those dying embers with kindles swirling in the depths of coal. Oh how she was in a battlefield, brutally fighting herself, much before the war of Mahabharat. A carved woman weeping with sharp sword in her hand, out of an ivory stone gloriously standing in the far corner of her chamber was telling her a tale.
She was like the marble sculpture. A stone who sees everything yet can't speak.
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As soon as she was in her chamber, rapidly had her legs walked to the chests of her wardrobe. Pomegranate seeds and plums attracted her in a lucence bestowed by the moon rays, she quickly grabbed some of them savoring the sweetness in her mouth of supernal. Gold anklets were mildly syncing with the melodies of wind chimes on the palladian window and then her wheatish tired hands of the day clutched to the ruby and jade studded handrail of the large box of spruce. She puckered her lips inhaling a deep breath reminiscing the fabric in her cluster of mind. The old red woven yarns treasured her life, the life she had in another world.
Handing her those lost and found old letters, Vrinda retired to her quarters leaving her friend in a conference of introspection. She skimmed through the epistles one by one and her eyes glistened like moon melting from the kohl night. Prince Yuyutsu expressed his immense commiseration wishing her strength in the thorn pathway. A serein of concern and flood of woes swarmed Princess Dushala's letter. Karn's epistle was the longest filled with various terrains and plateaus and mountains. "I wish you'd stop your gnaw overpowering you Karn" she sighed rubbing her strained eyes and letting those letters slip and rest on the lavish bed she was lain on.
The gales were so wild and passionate to kiss the burning and yearning fire flames of copper lamps that their buss flowered wisps of albino smoke as a satin burgundy curtain swished from the hanging to cover the naked frame of gumusservi moaning bronze gilded fountain. She gawked at the gold and gems on the ceiling, gilded, carved, a sewn tale of enchanted jungles and river banks and a girl of kaliyug.
Time passes away like the arrow from a bow, she thought reminiscing of the times she was just a refugee and a girl from kaliyug who was a mystery and centre of everyone's theories. A loose, wary tucked button of her cotton red shirt was bearing the assaults of her fingers fidgeting as she gaped at the pearls depicting clouds in the scenery of the ceiling. The oakdoors creaked mutely and a pair of copper eyes had traced her still and unmoved posture on the bed, wondering of her sullen countenance since dawn as his steps quietly plodded towards her. The red different fabric.
"I am not hanging from the ceiling" a deep and musical voice in a whisper breathed near her.
She need not do a double take. From the moment he entered the chamber to his irresistibly peace enticing sighs which screamed his exhaustion of the day, nonetheless it never snatched his petrichor scent and calming aura, she had sensed his presence and his vibes. He was lain beside her, eyes closed and lips pressed in an exhausted austere. Gold ornaments on his body flexed to touch him in a proximity as the dim waxing crescent of the night strokes melted down to sculpt his anatomy adorning him in silks of white silver likeness. To her he was the best personification of moon.
