The world is alive and dying. Akupara , the turtle spirit of the Earth, he who fuels the world is being battered by invading Saturn gods. As fresh wounds upon his soil grow in number and balance of Triad forces of magic nears its breaking point, chi...
Padma held her head high, her strides fell steady and regal. She looked every bit like a high commander Anul of the Arcade troop - cold, cruel and aloof. Every bit like the oblivious, loyal weapon they wanted. If she felt a tad bit disgusted or when she were exhausted with lies, feeling hollow with loss or hurt by every wound they inflicted on the world - they never knew. All of it concealed and carefully hidden under the mask.
Cold. Cruel. Aloof.
She strode through the sterile hallway, its steel walls blurring past her vision. This area of Maroon 5, the Saturnian starship turned temporary Seon headquarters was empty and deserted. All the ship's inhabitants were down in the Central block getting drunk on their victory, celebrating the fall of the Aku's Eye.
'Let them die. Let them choke on their wine and bloody die.' Padma wished fervently.
Her wishes were just that. Wishes. Nothing more. All her maidservants - 'sodding spies of the Goddess' - were still enjoying the feast. It had taken Padma good many falls to evade them. The simpering fools had taken to shadowing her at every bloody corner nowadays. One would think they would grow lax in their vigilance of her after so many spins. Padma half suspected that they were following her out of habit.
'Don't be naive, Padma.' she chided herself, 'the Saturnians trust no one. Certainly not you.'
And yet being the only High Commander that is native to Earth with in the ranks of Goddess' army held some perks. Like knowing attack schedules of certain kitsune troops. Like the ability to skip certain compulsory and positively blood boiling feasts to take a bloody shower.
She came to a halt in front of the smooth white doorway and pressed the button on the wall, making it side open. She stepped into her bedchamber, bare except for the single bed draped in deep red bedlinen standing in stark contrast to the brilliant white that plagued the rest of the room.
She forced herself to ignore the soft screeching sound emitting from the spy glass on the corner, its unyielding red light flickering as always. Everything about Saturnian dynasty was red. Bleeding red. Padma loathed that color. She strode towards the opposite wall in practiced nonchalance.
'By Elders, don't let me be late.' Padma prayed, her heart hammering loudly in its cavity. 'Don't let me get caught.'
"Bathroom." she announced, her voice rang out smooth and steady betraying none of the urgency within.
The mask held firmly on her face through it all, remaining stoically like a second skin. Like an unwanted fungus smearing her features into something disgusting. She had perfected it in her service to the Goddess.
Cold. Cruel. Aloof.
A tall section of the wall slid to the side, leaving behind the rectangular entrance. The bathing area was tastefully tiled in black ceramic. Soft glow emanating from the light orb was oddly pleasing to the eye after the sea of sterile white Padma was forced to endure. The slid shut behind her.
'Alone at last.'
With a sigh of relief, Padma set to work. First she pressed the button that locked the room from the inside. Then she dragged the bath tub under the shower head, revealing the blue tile carefully hidden underneath. With a firm tap of her hand, it slid to the side. Then she took out the waterproof bag inside and hung it up safely in the steel hanger
Then came her favorite part. Padma stripped out of the red gown of a servant of the Goddess. The thing made her of Hela prisoner guilty of treason and sentenced to death in her father's dungeon. The only thing she was missing was a garland of red flowers and the outfit would be complete. Padma felt more free than she was as she tossed the offending garment to the wash basin. A little more true. Little less like a servant to the Goddess. A little more like herself.
Less cold. Less cruel. Less aloof.
"Just a little more." she whispered to the air, almost giddily.
She reached into the bag and took out the first piece of garment inside. Puff sleeved hetta was jet black, the silky material felt like freedom. Padma covered her upper body. Tension drained from her body. Her heart filled with a semblance of happiness. The familiarity cracked through her like whip upon the mask. Cold was no more.
Warm.
The form fitting black pant hugged her legs. Another piece of herself returned. Her pain felt suddenly dull. Her exhaustion was suddenly a trivial thing. Padma felt brave than she was. Even more true. The mask cracked further. Cruel no more.
Benign.
The black cheeththa she wrapped about her hips reached just above her knees. Padma stood in full attire of Yaksha fighter, her broken pride made whole once more. The hollowness, the hurt, the disgust-everything fled. Every scar Goddesses' service etched on her soul receded. A spiderweb of cracks echoed, a brittle mask left in their wake. For all the firmness with which the mask was held, here was something much more stronger. Padma became one with her kin spirits. She felt their blessings deep in her very bones. No longer aloof.
Connected.
Padma settled her kirpan on her hip, the chain of coins on her wrist. The mask was almost gone. Almost.
She reached into the bag one last time and took out the final piece. She stared at the black mask on her hands, made of fine velvet with a small white rose stitched upon it. The mask of a Rhakshasa Queen. With a smile she covered her face.
The mask was no more.
She knew she would need the mask again. She would wear it again and grovel beneath the Goddess. But not today. Today she would wear the mask of a Queen. Today she would be true to her self. Today she would live. Padma Suryawansh smiled behind her mask.
Warm. Benign. Connected.
And a tile was slid shut. A shower was turned on. The daughter of Dasis Ravana got ready to leave.
"Jaya Heladiv." her voice came as strong as she felt inside.
The scent of jasmines filled the room. Her spirit tugged her onwards.
A/N - Sorry for making you guys wait for so long. But Padma was so stubborn that she just refused to be written. She gave me quite the trouble. I had to toil for many weeks to perfect her reappearance. I am still not 100% happy with the way she came out. I might end up editing this part again soon. I made it as perfect as I can make it. I hope I did her character some justice.
Hetta -
A garment worn along with a cheeththa by Sri Lankan females to cover their upper body which look like a jacket worn with a sari. Sari Jacket is also referred to as a Hetta.
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The image is from Sri Lankan comedy movie 'Bahaubhoothayo' and the actress Proboda Sandeepani is wearing a black 'Hetta'. I have no rights to this image. I just found it on google.
Cheeththa-
A piece of ankle- length cloth draped around the hip line that covers the lower half of females. it is always paired with a Hetta and bit of a frill called 'Neriya' is left around the hip before it is tied off at the left or the right hip.
Jaya Heladiv-
The phrase means Victory to Heladiv in Sinhala language.
