Happy Thanksgiving!

I am thankful for every bit of sparkle that has glittered my heart from every soul I have met here. Enjoy the day and eat shamelessly!

I like this feeling

I enjoy the cool mornings. A breath of chilled air filling my lungs, dancing across my inner veins and a little tingle at my finger tips. I don't even need to open my eyes to know the burst of blue sky is around me, for this morning for some reason I was allowed rest.

I wondered were Bitch was, perhaps she had been summoned. She didn't wake me with baskets being pressed near me with mending or wash, cloths to be stripped for bandages, There wasn't any late season berries to be crushed, jellied, or just mixed with sugar for baked treats. Sweet ramberry and date bread was something I enjoyed making. They could be made right in pottery bowls just boiled in water over the fire, the steamed heat lets it rise with ease of any oven we may have had at the Halls.

Blushes loved to make it for my Father. I loved making it in general for it brought good memories. She said she learned it from a slave who had belonged to pirating ships. They would make camp at the side of shores and everything had to be made by makeshift camp fires. Reminds me of here. Well, not really, but the fires make me think of ships battling on the Thassa. There is something breathtaking about watching huge ships coming into the docks. Father was gone for almost a year once on trading travels. He brought back bracelets for us, me and Big Red.

I look to my wrist, bare of those sparkling symbols of wealth and age. I haven't seen my bracelets since I arrived. Probably been traded and have passed many hands by now. There are a few slaves around with decorations of bracelets and anklets. Not like the bells I once worse, but bands of gold that must please others to have on them. So simple just a single band can look, to where back home, the slaves of the all even in simple Camisk still wore much gold for it pleased Father and the men.

What I would give for a pretty bracelet around my wrist. A band of gold to soften the bold specks across my flesh. I looked at my fingers and I missed the tint of red at my nails. I wondered how Yasmine was doing. I started to mix powder of coco, dried petals of a blue flower found here on the plains, with just a bit of root from plant I didn't know the name of. It gave a smoothing aroma, one not flowery, but the flower petals oddly calmed it. It was smooth, and warm in its scent. I loved it against my skin with a light oil. I felt pretty and comforting. I put it in my hair, it was light enough not to weight it down or darken it, but keep it under control even when I was working, yet allowed the breeze to mingle along the crimson waves.

Even on this cool morning, naked in the wrap of furs, did I feel good. I wanted thought of going in and coming out Master's sleeping furs today, I wonder if He ever woke up in cuddled warmth like this. Not wishing to climb out just yet, but just wanted to stay in an ehn longer. So much I truly wanted to know.

Wandering thoughts aka babbing....

The taste of the weather changing is refreshing. The smell of it, almost a sweetness, a rejuvenating feeling that starts from the inside out. I love this season. It reminds me of my old home. I get a feeling of those around me, not the same as my own feelings, but one of pending challenge. I see it as beauty and awakening. This is the time of year we find moss to cover the ground were we dug up the peach trees and we bring them inside the grove halls. Rather like make shift halls, we move them around. Rotating the soils. We only move them every five years. A huge celebration for the moving of the trees so the soil doesn't get dried out. We don't pick the peaches that year, we let them fall for the bugs and worms. Celebration of Rot. Hm, I think its just a year of mead. I really could go for a peach and a cup of mulled mead right now.

Blushes would be pulling down jarred peaches for jams on warm breads, saying the heavy snows would be here soon. She knows how I like the cookies with the jelly centers when we come in from ice fishing. But not this winter. Not any winter ever again.

But wait, we were going North right? Yes. No, not really, their North wasn't really, My North. Not truly. I would love to see the crystal lands, and waters again. Drums telling of oars breaking glass ice and waves that dare keep men away. Here it was the taste of land, and wood, and grass and ground. I was a bit scared,and excited.

There wouldn't be tales of River Tharlorians, or Snow Larls, but I was curious what creatures would lurk for the Warriors here. I had tasted someone of the natural battles, learned to respect and fear. I found deep inside, I wish I could run and tell Von about the Fire, but it would be a stupid wish, and I hated myself for even thinking it.

I was nothing but...a slave. Some fair skinned red head slave, already three times owned among wagon people. I had at one time thought of wanting to go home. That was gone. I couldn't go home. What would I say? I had let my sister die. I still feel guilt for not going with her. Am I not her twin? I'm not even pure anymore, so, have no value to my Brother, I am not branded in flesh, but I know.

Its not so bad. I'm trying. Its hard. I just can't seem to let go of the past. Those fine little strings are still cutting me like salt in wounds. So, yes, there we go, my issues again. I'm having me issues. Maybe its like little red is still a caterpillar.

The little red bug is still crawling around with her little legs over her past, wanting it back, and carrying it around while her future is all around her.

Get the fuck over it little red bug.

The little red bug is crawling around with her little legs over her past, wanting it back, while her future is around her, and willing to teach her, help her, and is showing her the way to a better and more functioning life for red.

Get the fuck over it little red bug.

The little red bug is going to get fucking stepped on if she doesn't.

Goodness, I better get my shit together.