Tales From Talimara

The Silver Palace

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This is written both as an apology to a friend of mine and for the amusement of another, a dancer who, at the moment, is unable to dance. I pray the both of them never experience my kind of heartbreak.

Yes, this story is a retelling of a chapter from my life, dressed in the imagination-fueled, hope-stirring and always uplifting Talimaran Universe, and told by a new cast of characters. 

By the way, Sila's name is pronounced SYE-LAH. Deandril's name is pronounced DEE-ANN-DRILL. Happy reading!

The petals slowly drifted down into the slender grasses, made wavy by the wind. Sila watched them disappear among the blades as she continued plucking petals from the large yellow flower she carried. It was a species from Earth; it once had an ancient name in another language Sila didn't understand. In the modern speak however, its name was very simple.

Sila continued removing petals, each time murmuring to herself, "He loves me, he loves me not." She gave them a spin as she dropped them out of habit, but that day the wind immediately sent them tumbling, end over end into the grass. They caught the light of the setting sun as they fell, highlighting how brightly yellow they were. The color made Sila smile a little; the girl felt a small spark of happiness in her mind, which she shoved all the dark emotions aside to grab.

Almost instantly the smile evaporated from Sila's face and she returned to her sad, heartbroken demeanor. The petals began falling faster. The sun continued to fade, slowly disappearing over the lip of the hills on the other side of the valley.

The valley was wide and shallow, for the hills were low and young. A river, no wider than a typical road, cut through the valley on its way to the south. Through the southern end of the valley, Sila could see the distant skyline of Silversun City, shimmering orange in the sunset. The girl often glanced in that direction; seeing the faraway metropolis, known for its bustling spaceport and mineral markets, gave the girl hope. The hope she got wasn't always for the problems at hand, but it was hope nevertheless.

But hope didn't matter. Embittered rage swelled in her, and Sila gritted her teeth lest she began to cry. The next few petals were veritably ripped from the flower and tossed away rather than gently plucked and allowed to fall like before. The yellow vanes, crumpled slightly by Sila's grief-stricken grip, tumbled into the grass rather than gracefully drifting away.

He was going to meet me there. We were going to go to the spaceport together. We were! He told me so.

Oh yes, he was just a boy. Sila continued whispering promises to him- or to herself- as she sat on her rock, removing petals from her flower.

"Follow the river to Silversun City," Sila said to herself with a sad smile. "We'll watch the spaceships take off together. And then we could walk through the city. We could do something together. I promise I'll wait there for you."

"Talk all you like," said another voice. "He won't be there."

Sila turned with a glare on her face. The fact that it was her older sister who came to her didn't do much to shift her expression, although she allowed herself a humorless laugh. "You do know how to cheer 'em up, Deandril."

The older girl shrugged. "I do my best, Sila."

Sila gave another emotionless laugh. "Our best. Sometimes our best just isn't good enough."

"Again with the melodrama," said Deandril.

"Not melodramatic," Sila replied. "Just true."

The elder girl noted the petal-stripped flower. "Definitely not melodramatic. Totally. What's that one called?"