Dralan [On Hold]

Nine

Leyla

Not twenty minutes after the Dralan had spoken his last word and left her trembling with fever to the core, a white rose arrived on a red velvet pillow, along with a pitcher of cold, fresh spring water. The rose was by far the biggest and the most beautiful she had ever seen, no doubt handpicked from the Dralan's private garden itself. It looked well nourished and pure, having been fed the proper sunlight each day.

After the Dralan's words, Leyla had felt just about ready to faint. She was to sing to nobilities and royals, and most importantly, in front of the Dralan himself. She was petrified. Her mother taught her to sing, but to be gentle and shy in company of males. Now she had to sing loudly and in front of a whole flock of them.

The mere thought alone made her shudder and had her stomach churning in a bilious way. Anxiousness attacked her and threatened to render her unconscious, or worse, made her want to vomit. The pressure was too much for her, but the Dralan had commanded it; it was to be.

She therefore knew there was only one thing to do; Pray to The Blithesome Miss for strength and perseverance. Now as she carefully took the rose from the pillow and placed it on the floor before her, she felt the slight rawness in her throat return; the burn in her stomach. Her thirst was getting worse, but she could still fight it off. She had lasted longer without blood than she had now. And for the Dralan, she would continue to last. Of that, she was certain.

Carefully, Leyla slipped off her dress as it was customary to pray naked. Nothing was to come between The Blithesome Miss and Her creations, not even the gentle threads of silk. A proper worship was performed naked, wherever the holiness felt strongest. That's why Leyla had placed the rose in the gleam of the sunlight that came in through the window, for what was stronger than the power of the sun?

Carefully and feeling exposed, Leyla sunk to her knees and folded her hands in her lap. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that the Dralan would not be back before a few hours. That should give her plenty of time to pray and to get dressed again before his return.

She couldn't even bare to think about all the stories she had heard about some females - Mihrs in particular - who had been attacked while performing the ritual of prayers, having been ambushed in their weakest moments and then forcibly been taken against their will, by males who had no honor, no respect for their time of prayer. All they saw were naked females, ready for the mauling. Ready for the raping.

Leyla shuddered. She ridded her mind of those haunting thoughts and cleared her head instead. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling through her mouth. After two more repetitions, she then leaned forward until her forehead was pressed softly against her hands on the floor. She laid there while the sun shone upon her, cuddled her in warmth and pulled her into the state of relaxation.

Thoughts fled her mind... sounds disappeared... all the lights were gone and then she felt herself get embraced in that blanket of security she knew came from her Godly mother. She embraced Leyla, welcomed her to her sanctuary place between life and heaven where they could communicate. It was said only the purest of hearts could enter through to these realms, only the most good-hearted of people.

Leyla had been there a few times, no more than she could count on one hand. It felt the same as last, an emotion that was impossible to explain. All she knew was that no place on earth felt as safe as where she was now. No male or female heard her voice as clearly as The Blithesome Miss did there. She was home. The place of where she was born, a spiritual womb that safely nestled her and protected her while she was there. Her pleas were heard, but Leyla had but one plea.

"Sweet Blithesome Miss... give me strength."

Dohmenic

The Dralan remained impassive as he listened to the Bahk voice his troubles.