Guess Prompt
prompt 08-13, Guess
new original fiction (we can call it Savaria)
Word count - 1347
Savaria-Archana would rather have slept in than do her morning chores but she knew complaining would do her no good. After all, almost no one had a life as easy as hers, something she chose never to forget. She had met other Savarias who took being the living aspect of the Goddess to mean they were better than everyone else. She refused to see herself like that.
Archana plunged her spoon into the sugared milk froth, something like an airy cheese covered with silver foil sprinkles. It would be set out on the altar for worshippers to eat but duty required her to take a bite of every dish first as a blessing. The froth was her favored morning treat, not quite as good as sleeping but it was hardly laborious.
The hardest thing Archana had to do came next, ritual combat. She was Savaria-Militant and like all the Militants before her, she was the Goddess Savaria’s aspect of war. She never wished to be any other of the Goddess’s thirteen aspects, not even when she limped off the field bruised and hurting. She wore the honor of being given a sliver of the Goddess’s essence like a perfume around her.
All thirteen of the Living Goddesses, the Savaria Chorus, were like Archana, chosen at age five to be the Living Goddess, only the most beautiful and intelligent girls were selected. Sometimes, on her very few ventures into the city, Archana heard the whispers of other girls, envious of her. There were things to envy, without a doubt. She never went hungry or had to work very hard, and she had been honored beyond measure, but her life was not her own. She would never run free and play. Once selected, she could never see her family outside of the temple. In fifteen years, Archana could count on her fingers how many conversations she had with her family.
Pleased that her mentor chose to teach her a new throw, Archana bored her bath servants with all the details as they scrubbed her cinnamon-hued skin until it tingled then rubbed her down with scented oil. Her long raven hair received similar attention before strands of pearls were woven into a braid and Archana was sent off to her most important duty.
If Archana had to guess, she saw no less than a hundred people a day moving in and out of the temple like life’s blood. Many were there just to catch a glimpse of her. Some begged to speak to her and often she granted the request. Soldiers got priority since that was her aspect. She pitied those who wanted help from other Aspects as that would mean traveling to one of the other Star Crown cities to find the one in need.
Though she was ashamed to admit it, Archana had her favorites to grant audiences to and she saw one of her favored people in the temple. Major Drake. Hoping her smile seemed more like one of quiet serenity rather than burning lust, Archana tried to catch his eye. He was ten, maybe twelve years her senior, in his early thirties, at most but the age difference wasn’t what kept her away. Living Goddesses were forbidden a lover until their twenty-first year when they were retired into the priestess hood and their successor chosen. Still, she wasn’t blind to his pale, almost caramelly skin and odd slate-blue eyes. In the center of his forehead, over the Goddess Eye, someone had delicately rendered a flame, a mark of the magic he had been gifted with at birth. She would have had the blue flower of a healer on her forehead but instead a small opal was adhered there, the mark of her rank.
There were several rooms set aside for her to hold an audience. Archana wished one of those could be outside near the reflecting pool but it would never be deemed private enough. Instead, she chose one of the atrium rooms. It was earlier enough in the day that the sun hadn’t heated it to stifling. She saw Major Drake give a nod to his adjutant and followed her. Archana always wondered how the woman ended up in that position or maybe she was one of the few to know that Drake’s partner was one of the crown princesses. Izire, a middle child, had made her own history during the war, taking a combat position over staying safely in the palace. Archana had only been a child at the time but she thought that embodied the spirit of Savaria-Militant far more than she had ever done.
At first glance the room was nothing more than a brightly arranged sunken garden, but Archana knew every plant in it by heart, each of them medicinal. She sat next to a patch of pretty purple flowers good for taking the fever out of a wound. The major stopped several feet away, kneeling murmuring ‘Savaria.’ She gestured for him to sit and be comfortable.
“Major? Is there something you need of me today?” Archana always chose to think she had very little to do with whatever intercessions the Goddess bestowed but her instructors were very clear on the matter; it flowed through her.
His eyes seemed frenetic today, his jaw tight. Drake’s whole body seemed to scream out with tension, so much so, Archana wanted to send him to the baths for a long, fragrant soak and a massage. Drake sucked in a deep breath. “I need your strength, Goddess. There are things brewing that…” His fingers trailed over his tattoo, ruffling walnut-hued bangs. “I do not know how to explain it.”
“You know what you tell me will never come back to hurt you,” she said, resisting the urge to touch him, to drape a comforting arm around him. That was one of the things forbidden her.
Drake’s head bobbed. “It’s not that, Goddess. I don’t know what it is but I feel something, like smoke before the fire. It’s a warning but I cannot see it clearly. What I wish for is when I do see it, that I have the strength to do so.”
Archana wet her lips. She didn’t like the sound of this. It had been a decade since their people had known war. She couldn’t guess at what the major feared but she could see it in those unusual blue eyes of his that he did. “You have it, I promise.” Seeing his shoulders slump, the muscles of his jaw loosen ever so slightly, Archana felt a bit better.
“Thank you, Savaria-Archana.” He rolled onto his knees, bowing so his tattooed forehead scraped the lush grass of the pathway through the atrium.
“You’re welcome. Please, sit, tell me of the other things weighing on your heart.” Archana listened to the major’s fears and joys, wishing she could bring him more comfort but that was a different aspect of the goddess. She could only help him in the arts of war and maybe, just a little in dealing with the aftermath. Unlike Drake and Izire, Archana had never seen a real battle, didn’t know the agony of living with what had to be done. Deep in his heart, even though he would never confess it, even to her, Archana suspected that Drake hated the battle with the Yaarans in spite of his crucial role in the wars. Archana, herself, had been called on to make a decision, one that the King hadn’t liked, but the thirteen aspects had come together, at the urging of their older counterparts, and had put an end to the war. The Aspects hadn’t wanted to see the broken and homeless Yaarans annihilated.
Eventually Drake left the audience room to be replaced by another. By mid day Archana changed to a subterranean audience room for its coolness. Even after she was through with her audiences and on to other tasks, Archana couldn’t forget what Drake’s eyes held when he spoke. Whatever he felt hiding in the smoke, had infected her with worry as well.
new original fiction (we can call it Savaria)
Word count - 1347
Savaria-Archana would rather have slept in than do her morning chores but she knew complaining would do her no good. After all, almost no one had a life as easy as hers, something she chose never to forget. She had met other Savarias who took being the living aspect of the Goddess to mean they were better than everyone else. She refused to see herself like that.
Archana plunged her spoon into the sugared milk froth, something like an airy cheese covered with silver foil sprinkles. It would be set out on the altar for worshippers to eat but duty required her to take a bite of every dish first as a blessing. The froth was her favored morning treat, not quite as good as sleeping but it was hardly laborious.
The hardest thing Archana had to do came next, ritual combat. She was Savaria-Militant and like all the Militants before her, she was the Goddess Savaria’s aspect of war. She never wished to be any other of the Goddess’s thirteen aspects, not even when she limped off the field bruised and hurting. She wore the honor of being given a sliver of the Goddess’s essence like a perfume around her.
All thirteen of the Living Goddesses, the Savaria Chorus, were like Archana, chosen at age five to be the Living Goddess, only the most beautiful and intelligent girls were selected. Sometimes, on her very few ventures into the city, Archana heard the whispers of other girls, envious of her. There were things to envy, without a doubt. She never went hungry or had to work very hard, and she had been honored beyond measure, but her life was not her own. She would never run free and play. Once selected, she could never see her family outside of the temple. In fifteen years, Archana could count on her fingers how many conversations she had with her family.
Pleased that her mentor chose to teach her a new throw, Archana bored her bath servants with all the details as they scrubbed her cinnamon-hued skin until it tingled then rubbed her down with scented oil. Her long raven hair received similar attention before strands of pearls were woven into a braid and Archana was sent off to her most important duty.
If Archana had to guess, she saw no less than a hundred people a day moving in and out of the temple like life’s blood. Many were there just to catch a glimpse of her. Some begged to speak to her and often she granted the request. Soldiers got priority since that was her aspect. She pitied those who wanted help from other Aspects as that would mean traveling to one of the other Star Crown cities to find the one in need.
Though she was ashamed to admit it, Archana had her favorites to grant audiences to and she saw one of her favored people in the temple. Major Drake. Hoping her smile seemed more like one of quiet serenity rather than burning lust, Archana tried to catch his eye. He was ten, maybe twelve years her senior, in his early thirties, at most but the age difference wasn’t what kept her away. Living Goddesses were forbidden a lover until their twenty-first year when they were retired into the priestess hood and their successor chosen. Still, she wasn’t blind to his pale, almost caramelly skin and odd slate-blue eyes. In the center of his forehead, over the Goddess Eye, someone had delicately rendered a flame, a mark of the magic he had been gifted with at birth. She would have had the blue flower of a healer on her forehead but instead a small opal was adhered there, the mark of her rank.
There were several rooms set aside for her to hold an audience. Archana wished one of those could be outside near the reflecting pool but it would never be deemed private enough. Instead, she chose one of the atrium rooms. It was earlier enough in the day that the sun hadn’t heated it to stifling. She saw Major Drake give a nod to his adjutant and followed her. Archana always wondered how the woman ended up in that position or maybe she was one of the few to know that Drake’s partner was one of the crown princesses. Izire, a middle child, had made her own history during the war, taking a combat position over staying safely in the palace. Archana had only been a child at the time but she thought that embodied the spirit of Savaria-Militant far more than she had ever done.
At first glance the room was nothing more than a brightly arranged sunken garden, but Archana knew every plant in it by heart, each of them medicinal. She sat next to a patch of pretty purple flowers good for taking the fever out of a wound. The major stopped several feet away, kneeling murmuring ‘Savaria.’ She gestured for him to sit and be comfortable.
“Major? Is there something you need of me today?” Archana always chose to think she had very little to do with whatever intercessions the Goddess bestowed but her instructors were very clear on the matter; it flowed through her.
His eyes seemed frenetic today, his jaw tight. Drake’s whole body seemed to scream out with tension, so much so, Archana wanted to send him to the baths for a long, fragrant soak and a massage. Drake sucked in a deep breath. “I need your strength, Goddess. There are things brewing that…” His fingers trailed over his tattoo, ruffling walnut-hued bangs. “I do not know how to explain it.”
“You know what you tell me will never come back to hurt you,” she said, resisting the urge to touch him, to drape a comforting arm around him. That was one of the things forbidden her.
Drake’s head bobbed. “It’s not that, Goddess. I don’t know what it is but I feel something, like smoke before the fire. It’s a warning but I cannot see it clearly. What I wish for is when I do see it, that I have the strength to do so.”
Archana wet her lips. She didn’t like the sound of this. It had been a decade since their people had known war. She couldn’t guess at what the major feared but she could see it in those unusual blue eyes of his that he did. “You have it, I promise.” Seeing his shoulders slump, the muscles of his jaw loosen ever so slightly, Archana felt a bit better.
“Thank you, Savaria-Archana.” He rolled onto his knees, bowing so his tattooed forehead scraped the lush grass of the pathway through the atrium.
“You’re welcome. Please, sit, tell me of the other things weighing on your heart.” Archana listened to the major’s fears and joys, wishing she could bring him more comfort but that was a different aspect of the goddess. She could only help him in the arts of war and maybe, just a little in dealing with the aftermath. Unlike Drake and Izire, Archana had never seen a real battle, didn’t know the agony of living with what had to be done. Deep in his heart, even though he would never confess it, even to her, Archana suspected that Drake hated the battle with the Yaarans in spite of his crucial role in the wars. Archana, herself, had been called on to make a decision, one that the King hadn’t liked, but the thirteen aspects had come together, at the urging of their older counterparts, and had put an end to the war. The Aspects hadn’t wanted to see the broken and homeless Yaarans annihilated.
Eventually Drake left the audience room to be replaced by another. By mid day Archana changed to a subterranean audience room for its coolness. Even after she was through with her audiences and on to other tasks, Archana couldn’t forget what Drake’s eyes held when he spoke. Whatever he felt hiding in the smoke, had infected her with worry as well.