T25.15 The Tentweaver, Part 3
"My duty is done..." Sophma spoke as he finished his telling and prompty raised from his seat, quickly turning about to leave.
"I shall pray for your good fortune, Elder Shurmo..."
Shurmo did not even bother to reply as she caressed Yeiluma's short hair as he slumbered softly on her lap.
With a bitter, smile Sophma swiftly returned to the floodplain outside, covered in mistrain.
Shurmo took slow, deep breaths as gazed wordlessly outside - which bore only sounds of soft rain at the stepping sounds of Sophma's parting.
Though her countenance appeared calm, a great fury burned within her breast which was only contained by the cold facade that was her flesh, hardened by many cycles of firing during her prime.
There were no shortage of moments during Sophma's telling where she wanted to burst into a choleric tirade.
Yet her honour did not allow her so - for she could only accept that it was her weak will to not sacrifice her grandson in exchange for the dignity of her people.
And so silently she carressed the floor beneath her rug and whispered.
And her tent rose high above the floodplain atop a Silver Crab.
But who was to say she had to sacrifice one for the other?
Shurmo was determined defy all odds.
Comments
Post a Comment