Crystal Children

Tangled with the mostly strange Otem and casting her emotions to the wind, Maude was not struck by a sense of uniqueness; this was her life. Her mother and father had praised emotions, used them to better their lives and relationships with one another. They wielded them as story telling tools, and as implements of healing, and like all parents, they had taught their daughter what they knew. Of course, Arah was missing, now, as she had been for most of Maude’s wandering life; it seemed no sooner had she been weaned and capable of being tended to by Tilney alone that the holes in her mother’s heart had drawn her out to wandering again. Of course, the girl knew that she had half sisters, and that one of them was dead. What she did not know, or understand at all, was the sort of hole that left in a person. How looking at Maude might raise a flurry of conflictions within the heart of a mother who had been left with a nest emptied, and laden with blood. She could not use this logic to ease the ache that her dam’s absences left behind, or to console this new fear that the end for them had come. She would never see her again. The herbalist’s daughter only knew she loved her mother, and missed her; that she desperately would like her to come home. So, when Otem asks: is yours alive? the question hurts, because its yet another thing Maude does not know, and she sighs, feeling her head sink down as if in time with the deflation of her hope. "I don’t know," she answers, glad to talk of music, rather than loss, and the unknown. Nodding, she feels a blush rise to her cheeks, now feelings a bit shy, as the time approaches. She has shared very few of her songs with others, at least those who weren’t her daddy or sweet Peatree, and having an audience makes her bashful. "I only got a little bit done, but…" her words slip away, and she closes her eyes, and takes in a deep breath, before she sings (in her not terrible, but not exactly good, either, soprano voice): " Praise the Sun’s bounteous glow, that eats away at Frostfall’s snow, reveals the blooms that Time hid fast in the Earth, from seeds Wind cast. Tallsun’s heat yields harvests tall boasts herbs to feed and heal all, but Orangemoon’s cool slowly gnaws feeds Birdsong cold to swiftly thaw. Praise the Moon’s shining light, her curl of Wind through the night, to ease the flame of Fire’s hot kiss; the fall of death, makes special, bliss. She brings about the Winter’s change, defines the brims of life’s full range; wreathed by stars that shine above, she gives to all a mother’s love…" Stopping, her eyes open, and she giggles, nervously. "The next part was supposed to be about Earth," she says, quietly, "but I never got to it. Still working on the first two verses. Moon’s doesn’t fit the theme right, is why its taking me so long. I can’t decide if I should change the first verse to being just about the seasons, and give the Sun his own, or if I like it as it is…What do you think?" MaudeHow should we like it if the stars were to burn With a passion for us we could not return? If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving one be me.

Image Credits | Table