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BY THE PRECEPTS OF HER PURITY
The Sun ached on her shoulders as she pulled more metals from the ground, sweat trailing the lines of effort and starving strength. The dusty summer’s blaze felt as endless as she imagined the heavens would be. The voices in her head were hushed. Silent, as if her thought knew she needed to be alone with the haunting depth within her. Since Gaucho's passing she had felt awkward in her skin, senseless; as dusty like the ground she plowed on and the air she breathed. She felt as if all this time she had unknowingly been dancing, dancing, dancing, like the flames, and suddenly she realized she hadn't been supposed to as soon as she had seen the Sultan's flames stumble, falter and vanish.
She didn’t want anyone prying into her grief, so she was better of just being fine. Words of comfort were usually useless and she knew she would need to return them, would someone give them to her, and she didn’t want to disappoint anyone with another social disability. So she moaned and sobbed in silence, in that same haunting depth within her, where it was easier to ignore it and, eventually, forget about it.
Maren smoothed out the materials she was pushing and pulling as she gave it a place in the metal-worked pillar she had been busy with. The temple would be mostly made out of the shiny solidified element, but would hold pieces of rocks and clay to keep the climate inside manageable. Perhaps the build was a bit extreme, would take up too much time. Even she could not see the ending from where they were at now, however, today that was a soothing feeling; Today she, for some reason, felt like this was exactly what she should be doing. Maybe it was just the feeling of this project seemingly so infinite to her fleeting mortality, that made her feel a little bit closer to the heavens above.
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