Daughters of the Land

XVI.| A Canvas That Had No Markings

The sun fled the skies, leaving its trail of warmth behind. It's children soon appeared as the impenetrable surrounded itself around its audience, contrasting to the light of nothingness that only rose well and rounded on days like these. On some nights it appeared to shy away and hide its entirety, on others it  failed to even exist. But yet to emerge on this very night, Nukula pondered whether the moon was as pure as its skin posed to be.

She remembered the many a nights he visited, and it be the hardest of times she felt his presence. She arrived in Uta with his silver cast above her, and had since failed to depart. He enjoyed watching her journey to demise and yet she still found herself often looking up to him, yearning for the unknown.

Nothing came. But she would wait. After all, she was to be wedded in three nights; her opaque reflection would eventually return.

And with it, hope.
                                                                                    *****

Two gauzy handmade dresses had been gifted for the conversion ritual and forced marriage, by a small elfin woman from below the mountains. Nukula had thought her to be beyond any beauty she had ever seen, yet she didn't receive any appreciation in return. Instead the woman wordlessly placed a delicate weaved head garment to sit comfortably atop the bride-to-be's raven. The elf's artistry hadn't stopped there, as specially crafted metal adornments sat awaiting their use, alongside a pot of stone shavings- a white powder with the occasional grit. It's purpose to mask the girls beauty and start afresh; a canvas that had no markings from a previous life.

But Nukula was a woman with the most sweetest of memories, too dear to rid in a ridiculous night of Utan celebration, where she would be feted by those she neither knew nor particularly liked. Yet, she found herself swiftly obliging to commands with belief it was for a greater good. Nukula needn't care if it all came to end in vain. She would finish what her mother began.

"Come with me, we'll have you a changed woman by nights darkest palette", Dear Barbara rubbed her hands together, gesturing for Nukula to follow her over to the table she had spent some time arranging with supposing essentials.

An impassive Nukula hadn't any issues with the woman, after all she was merely doing what her Dear's would have done. It was a joyous occasion for any man or woman who had the honour of watching a lost brother or sister return to them. It was an added godsend to have a high ranking Baron mixed into the affair.

A beautiful unification was to be blessed by many a thousands in a few days. Though it meant nothing to Nukula, it was a pseudo marriage after all, she couldn't understand why she found herself trembling anxiously when Dear Barbara spoke of her falling for Baron Pann eventually.

"He be the most gentle human being I came across in my 90-no, 89 years I been living", said the witch as she began on her muse. "What a man...I'd of married him if I weren't infertile", she giggled a infectious sound.

Nukula couldn't help but smile at the lady, more for her calming aura rather than the matter at hand. The Dear exuded goodwill and freedom, it reminded her of Dears Reta and Netrid. They were all women who shared the same title and yet hadn't allowed the differences of their tribe nor land change their perceptions on life. They along with her mother, were the most strongest women Nukula had met and she valued their presence in her life far more than they knew.

"Pann seems an earnest man", Nukula finally spoke. He couldn't have got to where he was if he hadn't proved himself worthy and yet to hold such authority and still feel empathy for the men and women he is paid to eradicate, was truly telling of his character.