I'm working on it, I'm working on it! I've been posting like mad and my lack of work is beginning to catch up with me... Oh well! Back to typing!
Bear in mind that I own none of this.
There is an odd and surrealistic beauty to this age named Edanna. The gently swaying branches, the soft rustle of leaves, the tiny creatures living in harmony with the larger ones – all of it felt so well-balanced and so peaceful, a tiny world in and of itself. And the plants – their sheer size still astonishes me, no matter how many times I visit. And they all have such myriad uses, some more obvious than others.
I have always felt oddly comfortable here, being around all of the plants. Being of Narayani blood, one mantra has been practically hard-wired into my brain, into every fiber of my being: take care of nature, and nature will help take care of you. Yes, the natural feel of this world always calmed me down – though it did not ease the sorrow I felt upon realizing that I was still trapped for the Weaver knew how many more long, tedious years…
It does not do to dwell on that which you cannot change, Saavedro. You can't risk letting your mind wander, not here in Edanna, where it is very possible to get lost in the thick foliage and never return again.
Ahead of me, I spotted some blood-red flowers with brilliant orange stamens. The petals, when crushed, would make a dark reddish dye, perfect for using as ink, and about as close to black as I am ever going to get.
I pick several blossoms and set off down the pathway. Now, how to get back to the J'nanin linking book?
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The colorful flowers poke out of my satchel, looking for all the world like a flower bush had magically decided to grow there. Said satchel was one of the few personal possessions that I had, along with the necklace, still safely tucked inside. Other than that and a few art supplies, I had nothing else, least of all something to help clear away the numerous vines that kept batting at my face.
Suddenly, I felt my sandal snag one of the thorny vines under my feet. The spines sliced into my foot, and I fell face-first into a mossy clearing. Picking myself up and wincing as I did so, I check over my foot. It's bleeding profusely from three deep, jagged gashes, each no longer than my finger and about half as wide.
I sigh and sit down, dabbing at my wounds with a rag that I had found at the bottom of my satchel. With an injury that deep, I wasn't going much of anywhere for a while – least of all back to J'nanin. I would have to set up camp here for the night.
Fortunately for my injured foot, I spied a Healer's Bush (or so I had dubbed it) about three feet away, and pulled several large leaves off it. The leaves, I had found, contained a pain-killing, natural antiseptic and were sticky on one side, which made them doubly useful as a self-adhesive bandage.
Carefully, I slid my sandal back on and sighed again, already bored. I rummaged through my satchel and, on a whim, pulled out my sketchbook – something I had owned since I was very young and always carried with me. I was a good artist, there was no doubt about that, and I always had sudden ideas strike, sometimes at the most inopportune of times. If I didn't draw them, they would accumulate and bother me to the point of insanity – and they always hid in the least likely of places, such as a lamp, a vine, or another person. Sometimes I would find a quiet spot to sit and doodle, and sometimes I would just whip out the sketchbook and draw the things that I saw right then and there.
Flipping through the pages, I saw myself at all stages of life, from very young to my current age. I had dabbled with poetry at about fifteen, then decided that I didn't like it and switched to murals. I had switched to portraits at age twenty, then went briefly back to murals, and the remainder were doodles.
I hit a blank page and looked up at the scenery, studying it. Setting my pen to the paper, I began to draw.
Several things had struck my fancy at the moment, and I drew them, along with some sketches of and notes on the plants. At one point, a squee hopped into my line of view and actually stayed put long enough for me to draw it in detail.
Turning to get a better view of my surroundings, I noticed a flowering vine. Strange – I've never seen that type of plant in Edanna before.
Perhaps it was due to how tiny the vines were. This specimen was just starting to sprout and had just barely bloomed, but it was still beautiful, resplendent in lilac flowers splashed with red. The vine was covered in fine hairs that stood up when I touched them, as if the plant were a pet seeking a human's touch.
And somehow, it seemed familiar…
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A worried Saavedro sat just outside of the bedroom.
Oh, how I hope that she is okay…
She is not a weak woman, Saavedro. You of all people know this.
True… so very true.
Wailing pierced the air, a testament to the pain Tamra was going through.
He sighed deeply and leaned against his hands, brow lined with worry. It had been a difficult past several months, what with Tamra's sudden mood swings and various symptoms. As of late, she had been unable to keep anything down, and this disturbed Saavedro greatly. She needed the extra nutrition in her state.
He couldn't help but smile a bit at that last thought. He recalled how only nine months ago, she had eaten ravenously, as if she had been slowly starving and only just then had gotten hold of food, only to ask for a fourth or fifth helping. It felt so long ago…
And now it was time for the baby to be born.
The constant cries had since died down, but now a new thought had swept into his mind.
How? Saavedro thought. How will I ever manage to help take care of a child? Of a family?
"Saavedro?"
He turned to face the Healer. Her voice was soft and calming, though he felt no ease.
"Camíl," he asked, sensing the slight edge in his voice, "Is… is Tamra alright?"
Camíl smiled a gentle, reassuring smile and nodded.
"She is doing well."
"And she wishes to see me?"
"That is what I came out here to tell you. Follow me."
Saavedro stood, trembling with anticipation, and followed the Healer into the bedroom. There lay Tamra, looking tired but happy, and holding her newborn child.
"It's a girl," she said softly.
Saavedro was astonished and overjoyed. "Tamra… Oh… she's beautiful. May I?"
Tamra gently handed him the tiny being, which softly cooed as Saavedro held her close.
"Hello, little one," he murmured. "Welcome to the world."
The child opened her teal green eyes ever so slightly and grabbed her father's finger, and for the slightest moment, Saavedro could have sworn that she was smiling.
"She has your eyes, Tamra."
Silently, Camíl approached the couple, smiling.
"I see that you have made a crib for her already," she said. "You will need to add on another room for them later, but of course you already understand that."
"I have been planning that for several months now," Saavedro replied, taking his wife's hand in his. "We had planned to begin on it as soon as Tamra is feeling better… or perhaps whenever she feels like she can help weave again."
The last thing I need for her is to overwork herself so soon after giving birth…
Suddenly, he felt Tamra's grip tighten.
He looked to her in worry and confusion, fearing the worst.
"Tamra? What is wrong? Are you alright? Camíl, help!"
Tamra winced and looked up at her husband.
"I think… I think I - "
Camíl ran back up to the two.
"Is she going into labor again? Saavedro, take the baby, I'll help her!"
It was another thirty minutes or so of intense waiting, and the baby had started crying in all of the commotion, but eventually, another child's cries joined those of its sister.
Camíl helped to clean the child and handed her – a second daughter – to Tamra.
"Twins," Saavedro said in a half-choked whisper of astonishment. "Oh, Tamra…"
The second daughter peered up at her father through pale blue eyes.
"We shall name her Sírla," Tamra said, "And her sister shall be named Telaa."
"Two beautiful names," Saavedro responded, "For two beautiful daughters."
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My daughters… Tamra…
Oh, how I pray that you are safe.
