I had taken stones towards the stream to wash off some of the dye from the surfaces I had scraped. I knew it would leave only the stain, locked in the ridges. I was watching the colors of water run up along the shoreline of stones, and dirty sand. The sand by the edge was darker by the waters markings of touch, it had tawny browns and deep mocha's like chocolate, a bit of cream in clumped masses, that sparkled when I tuned my head slightly. It would be a sheer coating of green, grey, white and blue when the waters lapped across it. Like flesh wrapped in silks of a dancer, for the ground would mold into a different texture with each wave. I took full advantage of this with lifting my toes when the water came in, and pressing them down in cool pillows of ground giving way under the pressure of my feet when it went back to the stream. Different each time, different. Never to match the pattern again. I liked...the thought. I got to touch it first. My bit of victory to be given the gift from nature, even if only to my toes. I saw the motion of Mistress, but honestly the wind made things clear before I could see any feature of her face. The scent in the air was vibrating with the feel of pepper and burning wood. I miss the smell of burning wood. I would never admit that out loud. They seem to take wasting everything here...personally. I can understand that though, our life here was based on whatever nature allowed us. Us....Oh did I really say that? Us? I did. It made my heart jump, as it came out naturally as a breath.
Now, I was feeling brave, had a lot on my mind, I headed towards the Mistress....carefully. Cause sometimes one can just feel....danger..danger..danger. I lowered close, but not that close. Which quickly was corrected by Mistress as the space was filled in with my ass hauling quickly to Her side at the beckon. I was weary. I was. Perhaps I have grown...spoiled. Mistress was always kind and wonderful, filling my head with visions, and thoughts when She spoke to me. Today...Mistress Mezoo...not so happy looking. It didn't stop me from trying to offer a bit of light, but it was secondhand offering. Mistress was not pleased with that. I had kept a distance at first when I should have went close. Oh, I felt shameful for that. She only wanted me to come up when I cared enough to open my heart and offer my service. Not an after thought. Ouch Ouch. Now, we spoke about my Master a bit. How much I didn't know about Him. Again, my fault. That didn't sink in till later though, right now I was still a bit angry, cause I didn't know anything anything! I knew how to avoid, I knew He liked my eggs, but a man can't live on eggs alone. I knew.....the rare times I got to watch Him, see Him, study Him, life seemed to weight a bit heavy on His shoulders, like caramelized sweet breath that looks like and soft from the plate but to hold it, it was weighted against the palm with the filling and firm candy coating locked on by flames. It was rich beyond words, and no one would really get the concept of it, but the baker that created it. People just all wanted a taste, to say, they had tried it. I was one of them also, but perhaps not taste, but just hold it. See if I could find any break in the shell that sealed the tender spots that people dreamed of.
Mistress didn't show much of a change in emotion. I just babbled away though, glad Mistress wasn't a weaver I'm sure I would have found my lips sewn shut! I explained, sorta on the surface, but I had a feeling Mistress knew what I was saying, not sure if She knew my culture but we all can't be that far apart on tools of future. My stones with the designs of the Runes. I wanted to just stuff them in every open wound of life my Master had. Not cause I was all dreamy eyed like Catch over Him, I'm not, not cause I loved Him, I don't. Maybe, cause deep down inside, I was thankful, and I respected...what He gave me. I was learning that what I was forced to submit was a choice and a choice I was happy He offered. I was..enjoying this life He allowed me. I wanted to give something back. For yes, festival was a time of rejoicing, but I had never seen a Rune tossed that gave doom. They would tell of hardships, they would tell of yearnings, but in the end, with strong will, and faith, people could accomplish what they sought. I hoped He would find what the Runes would lead Him to. So He could come home, relax, and tell me how the fuck He likes His bosk, and I could serve it with confidence!
Jeeze.
But I had a feeling, Mistress understood my unsaid words. She pressed my cheek against Her thigh, before I knew it, fingers had captured my flesh, and the pain was just a grasp of white with a scarlet warm over as She painted a bruise there. For a moment....She had tranquility in working colors and pattern.
I, of course ruined it.
By wanting Her to do the art...my way. I was given a lot of lessons that day, and much to think about. I had gained a gift, I would have to thank Mistress for. Knowledge, to make me worth more. So I sat there, with my stones, and my throbbing face, thinking.
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