Lifting the doormat that led into her private space, Eclipse unceremoniously dumped the wicker basket next to the other two, all seemingly identical. The only difference between the baskets would be the written invitations at the bottom, safely tucked beneath the cloaks. Lying down on her mat, Eclipse glared at them, almost able to tell who had sent them just from the scent of the conjuring. Her room was cool, the tightly woven wallmats keeping the worst of the heat out and allowing her to think in peace. There were only a few men in among the clan that would risk angering a lover in order to try their luck at getting her attention. The regular lovers of four of the more lusty men were either pregnant or nursing, which made them mostly unavailable. Only one of the men had such a reputation that he could have whatever woman he wanted. There was a reason, after all, that she was still untried in the acts of bed.
“One of many,” she muttered to herself, getting up long enough to put out the candles in the two stands in her room. There was still enough sunlight out that it streamed through the minute gaps in her mats, giving her enough light to see by. She would rather not waste the candles. That would be just one more thing to barter for at the next meet or amongst the other members of the clan. Just before Eclipse moved towards her mat once more, her shadow tugged her so violently in the direction of the baskets that she fell over, barely catching herself in time to save a trip to the clan medic.
“Stop it!” she hissed, the sound quiet but vehement as she struggled mentally against the flood of emotions and images that filled her. The one man she was almost certain had sent a lover’s cloak was quiet handsome. He was a favorite of many women in the clan, and had quite a reputation with the rest of the Kageshi women. Who better to induct her into those pleasurable arts…
Eclipse gasped deeply for air as she turned towards the corner of her room that she kept for her own individual works and her special commissions, making her way towards the space. It felt like she was wading in water, hunting for the precious materials of her trade. Finally, she reached the pad she sat at, collapsing down onto it with relief, knowing that the worst was over. She reached down into the pot of silt, feeling the slick, cool texture of the clay that was kept there. Handful after handful, she pulled them out, letting the moisture of the clay drip onto the wood slab where she did all her work. Her fingers stroked the clay into shape, making a small bottle for any number of liquids. Ring after small delicate ring, she formed the wide base of the bottle, working thinner as she reached the neck. Her fingers dipped into the silt water, her fingers smoothing out the inside as her mind started to wander to the designs she would put along the outside. Perhaps flowers.
As she worked the clay, she admitted that this was the true reason why she remained here, safe beside Storm and the occasional visitors they received. Eclipse knew that her shadow was only trying to help, to show her to true path to her heart’s desires. But she hated… loathed the feeling that she was not in complete control of herself. If she did choose a lover, she wanted to choose because she wanted to choose. Not because it was what others expected of her. Not because she was tired of her shadow nagging. Simply because she truly wanted it. Her struggles with her shadow were unnatural, at best. At worst, they would mean exile.
So, she stayed here, with Storm. The fewer people she was around, the less likely it was that she would go into one of her moods. The very last thing she wanted was to be brought before the Council again. A deep shudder rippled through her, and she had to force her hands not to tear apart the delicate creation at her fingertips. It was a rare moment she bothered thinking about it, but every day was a reminder of the scars that encounter had left. Her use name, the Silent Green-eyed Doe, was true in every sense. She would rather say something meaningful than nothing at all, and all of her meaningful comments early on in life had been met with harsh criticism. Life did not need to be more difficult for her than it already was. That burden was one that she knew she was not strong enough for.
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