1705. Luck had never been on Eleanora Finley's side. After her father died in a tragic fire, she was left at the mercy of her domineering and abusive mother, being deprived of all love and affection.
Truly, who would have thought that the simple red...
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1710, The Town of Raevigny, Esterdel
The grass felt soft underneath the soles of her feet as she made her way to the old oak tree in the middle of the meadow. Her slippers hung daintily on the tips of her fingers, and a satchel containing paints and brushes was slung across her chest, a roll of papers tucked in the crook of her arm.
It was a hot, yet windy summer evening. The skies were a bright, cornflower blue, and cotton white clouds dotted the atmosphere.
She could see little bluebirds perched in the branches above her, and a swarm of colourful butterflies, some yellow, some green, and some blue, danced about amongst the dandelion blossoms.
It was a beautiful sight, and Eleanora wanted nothing more than to sit down and paint. She had always liked it here in the woods-- it was calm, and it was quiet. Here, no one could disturb her, and she had the meadow all to herself.
Kneeling on the ground, she took her paint bottles out of her satchel and spread out the drawing paper. But soon, she would discover that she had no idea of what to paint, nor even where to begin. She was surrounded by such an abundance of beauty, that she did not know which to choose.
Should she paint the ripe wild strawberries growing from the nearby bush, the colour a vibrant red and still wet with dew?
Or shall she paint the clear blue waters of the river just across the meadow, twirling and rippling like ribbons in the current? The delicate sprouting lilies swayed every so often, their petals a blushing pink.
A sigh escaped Eleanora's lips, and she set aside her paintbrush before laying down on the soft grass, closing her eyes and letting the golden rays of the sun brush over her closed lids. She listened to the sounds around her as she lay there, breathing softly in the stillness. The insects hummed in the nearby bushes, and tiny birds whistled sweet melodies to each other. And then there was the rustle of leaves from above, and a soft whisper of breeze against her bare skin. She breathed in deeply.
She loved this place. This peace. This silence.
Eleanora opened her eyes, and the first thing she did was close all the paint jars and stuff them back into her satchel. It seems that today, she was not going to be painting after all. After all, this place was hers, and hers alone. It was her sanctuary, and she could do as she pleased.
She stood up, and began to inch closer and closer towards the river. She did not care how deep the river could be, or if the currents were rough. All she wanted was to feel free, to be unpredictable, to be spontaneous. So now, she was going to do something that she had never done before.
Standing by the riverbank, Eleanora began to shed the outer layers of her dress, until she was left in only her chemise. As she looked at the blue waters that awaited her down below, she let out a giggle of excitement, and without a second thought, Eleanora dived right in.
