As the dawn sun gleamed off a backdrop of white brick buildings far off into the East on the Solstice night, a medieval pageant began in the middle of the emerald cursed forest. Laden with mystifying, brilliantly coloured flowers, ecstatic vibrant clothing and painted faces, troupes of dark, fair-skinned beings gathered on a hill overlooking a large clearing within the forest. The clearing’s innards held tents, horses, dogs, supplies and equipment; their camp for the night.
By sunset, many of these gypsy men and women swarmed in great rushes across the meadow, and more were dispersed throughout the rest of the area. Bonfires burned on the hills, rhythms and music and mantras from that corner of the meadow echoed in the exotic wonder of the dusk, and all of these strange people celebrated late into the night. It was miraculous.
It was a feast for the senses: the beauty of the colors, clothes and shrines, the sounds and the rhythms, at once familiar, the smell of flowers, paints, and frankincense, the taste of jasmine and burning wood. But the spirit of the band penetrated beneath the senses, deep into instincts. They were tuned—in time—to past echoes and future premonitions and the wild splendor of the soul. Layers of inhibitions were peeled away and, for many, love and laughter became suddenly fresh.
People climbed into trees and made animal calls and were, with no delay, answered by calls from other trees. Two men wrestled for the sport nearby the dancing, several other pairs doing the same, congratulating the winners with kind hand shakes or harsh slaps on the back; reassuring the losers as well. Friends and family laughed with conversation and humility while the celebration fell heavy into the heat of the summer night. It’s wild monumental sense encouraged these people to let out the feral side that had been denied them for so long; it was wondrous savagery.
As the night moved on, three chosen men rushed to their encampments on the hills to encourage and ready the special woman who would be joining them soon; the very person who this celebration honored. The others continued dancing, laughing, singing, and praising. Their energy seemed inexhaustible.
The costumes ranged from simple tunics, to bear and fox skins, to loudly coloured skirts. Many people painted their faces in wild designs and colors ranging from chalk white to glowing blue. They often included a dot, a tiny mirror, or a single string with many a coin dangling from it in the form of a headdress on the forehead. One man was dressed in a suit of long, shaggy Bear's skin, it's sharpened teeth hooked and braided into the scalp of his long hair. A woman wore a long, large sleeved, flowing dress that danced around her in a golden decadence of colour. Extra skirts of green and blue was sown into the waist of the dress and made the cloth whirl around her body in dancing waves and flashes of extravagance.
A herd of small children could be seen, coming towards the bonfire, ahead of the approaching woman and her three companions, and in seconds you could hear the chorus of the woman’s name being chanted over the music—"Avyana! Avyana!"— and see a large flag bearing the image of a golden dragon woven into it's black background. Finally, the four, quickly arrived to the swarming bodies of the gypsies-like people. Instantly the woman was swarmed by many old and young, converging with the people and offering full-throated greetings.
This young woman adorned flaming flaxen-crimson locks that flared down her back in curly silk sheets of hair. Idle strands of this magnificently coloured hair popped out here and there hinting that in these people’s rush to bring her to the festivities the mane had not had the time to see a comb. A smear of dirt on one of her high, sharp cheeks gave her a untamable, feral appearance, maybe even a beautiful savage one with her deep caramel skin. The jaw beneath her cherubic mouth was vaguely stubborn and sharp.
Her eyes—gleaming with a dreamers gaze—were a fiery golden yellow, aureate and clean through and through; so much so that gemstones might envy. They held an overwhelming knowledge that went beyond the comprehension of her twenty years of experience. Her spirit flamed behind her dilated pupils, mystic and horribly wonderful. Quarter sized mirrors dangling lightly from a thin string and laying in four rows on her fore head; the top row- four, second- three, third- two, and fourth- one. They reflected the bon fire's licking flames and seemed to be the windows to an inward fire that burned ever brightly within the young woman.
A sleeveless shirt of white gossamer flowed around her lean figure in a whirlwind of accenting colour, the deep set flaring wildly against her already dark skin and revealing soft, bare shoulders. Several largely silver wire bracelets on her thin wrists, perhaps ten on each arm, dangled and twinkled as she moved about the area. Rings, silver as well, there were one on each finger. Wide, but extremely thin, they glinted alike the bracelets and adorned her and her tribes wealth out loud. Long, sinewy legs were covered by emerald (so dark that they almost seemed black in the twilight) breeches trailing around her long legs, tightened around her waist by an eccentrically designed leather belt and falling only a few inches above her bare, ringed and jeweled, toes.
She conversed with all around her loudly above the music, some of the clansmen and women leaping to the ground to bow. A broad grin held her wide, corpulent lips the entire time she walked amongst these people, seeming quite familiar with all of them.
Who was this woman, you ask? And who are these people? Well that, my friend, you are going to have to figure out on your own.
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Submission Name: Wild Savagery
