The Underneath: Saga of Aupolis

Margeara

So it was, Vesna found herself standing- once again- beside the very pool of water she lay half submerged in from that morning. The trail of evidence in the mud produced by her boot when she lost her footing remained clearly discernible and untouched. The smooth surface of the water betrayed nothing of the earlier encounter. All it showed was the mere reflection of her brown hair, matching brows, blue eyes, slightly sloping nose, and pink lips. Her bottom lip was a little more vibrant than the top from an incurable habit of being constantly chewed on.

Bringing her gaze up, she took in a deep breath...pay attention...and let it out in a rush. What exactly she was supposed to pay attention to, Vesna did not have the slightest clue. The next lesson was going to be "closer to home," as Margeara put it. Whatever that really meant...

Vesna glanced back the way she had just come. For a moment, she traveled back in her memories to the years of wild, childish freedom, where every day and every thing was an adventure. The same pools she stood beside now, once were alive with small bodies splashing from one to the other in search of the deepest areas to swim. Shrieks of pure thrill and enjoyment carried up to the canopy above. An innocent time, when her past did not affect the way the children would look at her years later once the hushed whispers began.

She remembered a particular day- one very opposite of the current- when the sun found its way through leaves, branches, and vines to dance over their skin with shining light. The warmth of that light still seemed to linger on her all these years later when she drew up the memory. It was during that day of her childhood, when she happened to look up between her pool hopping, to find a woman watching her. It was the first time she ever saw Margeara. The older woman had been sitting under the shade of a few ferns growing up the ravine wall. Cool eyes regarded her evenly, and her long gray hair hung in a braid over her shoulder. Vesna had glanced back at the other children, but none appeared to notice or take the slightest interest in anything outside of their current attention span.

Every time after that, when Vesna and the other children could flee the adults and escape to the pools, Margeara was always somewhere in the distance. Sometimes the other woman would spare a warm smile or kindly wave. She never approached, though, and she never called to them. Most of the time, Vesna could find Margeara picking flowers or other plants.

When she could muster up the childish courage, based more on curiosity than reason, Vesna had finally approached the mysterious woman.

Margeara had been sitting on a boulder with a pile of palm fronds at her side. Her fingers were deftly weaving the pieces together. Vesna sat at her feet and watched her fashion the leaves into a bowl. Once her creation was completed, she silently held it out to Vesna, who took it in her small hands. Her wide eyes inspected the compact dish, which looked secure enough to hold water.

Margeara stood, placed her fists on her low back, and arched her spine. A few small pops ensued, causing the older woman to sigh gratefully. "Today we'll be picking some herbs..."

From that moment on, Vesna's lessons commenced. Whenever she could find time to get away unnoticed from her guardians, she fell into a routine of meeting with Margeara, who started teaching her the names and properties of the innumerable plant life in the ravine. Day by day, they slowly made their way farther from the distant sight of the Garden and closer to the area Margeara called home. Once Vesna was introduced to the vast cavern system, it was like a whole new world opened to her. A world all her own...

"Miss Vesna."

Startled out of her reverie, Vesna's stomach jumped into her throat and her body went into reaction mode. Prepared for flight, her feet moved involuntarily before her mind could completely assess the situation. Her weak ankle tried to take on more weight than it could bare, and- once again- her body lurched to the side. She watched with solemn resignation, as the water from the pool rose up to embrace her.

A strong hand wrapped around her upper arm, and her body jerked violently about. Another hand caught her shoulder and pressed firmly into her muscles in an attempt to steady her. Vesna felt like her brain was knocking violent into her skull, and her eyes did not seem to want to stop moving back and forth. Pressing her lids shut, she took a couple of steadying breaths, and brought her hands to the sides of her temples. Only when she felt stable enough, did Vesna cautiously open her eyes.

Her gaze focused on a pair of intense copper colored eyes belonging to a slightly familiar face. It was a moment before she recognized the dark hair and youthful features of the Comrade she witnessed that morning. Vesna took a quick step back.

Letting his hands drop, he stepped back a pace as well. "Miss Vesna," he began again, as though nothing of note had just transpired, "I am Comrade Blaik, here to escort you to Mother Stasha."

Vesna chewed her lower lip. He exuded a pillar of strength; like the foundation of a house, baring aloft the weight of the entire structure. A confidence radiated from the depths of those copper eyes, mirrored in the way he stood with a straight back and planted feet. This was a common attribute she perceived from every Comrade she came in close proximity to.

While she silently surveyed his steady gaze, rigid stance, and muddied boots, a few questions concerning the reason for his ambush sprung to her mind. She quickly suppressed them with a sigh. She always made the walk back to the Garden on her own, but this time would obviously be different. Vesna frowned, noting the stirring dissension about how that made her feel.

"You're injured." There was no question in his voice- it was a simple fact of observation. "Shall I assist you?"

Vesna recoiled from his outstretched hand. She saw as he blinked at her before he straitened back into that immovable pillar. Her eyes lingered on his spear; remembering the way it pressed into the chest of the man before...

He was watching her. She doubted anything got past those copper eyes. In a way, they reminded her of Margeara.

"I am headed to Mother Stasha," was all she said. What she meant by that, Vesna herself was not even sure. Yes, she eventually would have made her way to the Mother, who had already set aside time for them to meet that day. However, she had hoped to take her time on her way so she could start this grand observation Margeara tasked her with.

The Comrade only acknowledged her words with a quick nod of his head. He moved slightly to the side, and swept his free hand out to motion her forward.

Jaw muscles moving together, Vesna took one hobbling step and then another in feigned exaggeration. She felt the corners of her mouth tug, as a light disposition bubbled in her chest. Maybe she would take her time after all.