Chapter Text
Eshu killed a bird yesterday with a stone he threw today.
(Yoruba’s saying)
Zé Malandro swore to me that you will fall first.
(Typical song of Umbanda’s religious practice)
Jus drein, jus daun.
(Trikru’s saying)
-- Once you arrive there, I believe I won’t be present… For a while. But there’s no need to be afraid. It’s a special moment, and you can ask all the questions you want to. – Lexa explained softly and serene while her fingertips slid along Clarke’s right temple in a oh-so-light caress. The blonde nodded in silence, her eyes shut and relaxed and body closer to slumber.
The Commander was very discreet in her invitations from the beginning. And this time was no different: At first, during the first fall after the war, she spoke occasionally about this inmate ritual that happened somewhere in one of the hundreds of rooms that existed in the Polis tower – and the Trikru council wanted it to happen again now that the peace and steady times were a solid possibility emerging on the horizon. The seasons passes by, and Polis gets colder; they share political duties and lustful secrets during the nights. Weeks after no sight of the matter in question, Lexa comes to Clarke and says vaguely that she wanted her to be there, at the ritual.
In a third moment, they are watching from above the people of Trikru dancing and drinking around a bonfire. It’s the end of the winter and the snow is almost gone but the cold still hurts to the bone. While the music hovers around them and the light buzz of beverage makes Clarke’s head slightly foggy, Lexa – the woman, Clarke’s lover – whispered that the blonde’s presence was important to the participants of the ritual. I. e., the spirits.
Clarke does not feel afraid, although the matter of a “spirit taking control of one’s body” is still very strange to her – she doesn’t know what to expect and what is going to happen besides the necessity of them to guarantee peace for the incoming future. She trusts Lexa deeply and more important than that, she respects whatever that ritual means to Trikru people – they are also her people, after all.
Besides the fact that it is a ritual that evolves a dozen people with drums, candles and smudging herbs, Lexa gives her very little information about the ritual itself. So, she just trusts in Lexa’s instructions on how that very day must be.
During spring, at one friday night, Lexa warns Clarke that the ritual is about to happen in the following week, so they must – Lexa must - prepare themselves, body and soul, for what is about to happen. First, they prepare their respective bodies and follow a specific diet, avoiding greasy meat and alcohol; Lexa would be forbidden to leave the tower for the whole week; and they can’t have any kind of intimate interaction.
These duties of the day develop smoothly for both; however, Clarke finds it difficult to be around Lexa and not be able to touch her, especially during the night.
(Lexa doesn’t tell her lover, but she also finds it hard. She misses the early morning kisses, the hold of Clarke’s hand, the trading looks of wanton.
It feels that on that matter, the week drags itself through long days and even longer nights.)
On the night of the 7th day, only a few hours before the ritual, Lexa explains that Gaia, the fleimkipa, should come to Heda’s room to help her with the ceremonial vests, but Clarke is allowed to stay during the preparations. The blonde decides, then, to run Lexa a bath with scented herbs, oils and warm water.
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There’s some kind of thick atmosphere hovering around them, although it is not frightening. The winds and birds whistled differently that night, even. Lexa was serene and introspective, mouthing no more than a few words only when an answer was needed.
Surrounded by candles and the echo of drummers, time seems to stretch into a thin line of awareness and tension.
In her mind, Lexa prays.
In Clarke’s mind, she observes.
In a moment, while she rubs the brunette’s back, Clarke hears a small confession leaving those bee-stung lips: “It feels like a lifetime since you’ve last touched me.”, Lexa says, voice thick and sweet as honey.
The wish to kiss the bare skin of Lexa’s back comes to Clarke’s mind, snaking through her body as goosebumps and a wave of heat that spreads through her limbs. But she knows the importance of the moment and contains herself, and just nods.
Imagining that she displays a trail of kisses at those beautiful shoulders and baby hairs that Clarke washes lovingly, the blonde whispers, even softer and hoarsely: - - Don’t worry, love, it will worth the wait.
Lexa closes her eyes and nods briefly.
A few seconds later, Gaia arrives.
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It was the first time Clarke saw Lexa wearing light, whitish clothes. A raw cotton chiton, long enough to cover Lexa’s body from chest to heels, and her usual red sash that once covered her shoulder now marks and circles around her waist as some kind of a belt. Her hair was held beautifully in a long braid with smaller ones forming beautiful, patterned lines by the sides. Her deep, forest green eyes were contoured by a dark and thick plaster that worked as black eyeliner.
(The blonde thought of the Greek Gods she read about, long time ago, back in the ark. Lexa reminded her of them.
Such a mesmerizing view, being able to watch this revelation of Lexa’s divine features.)
Gaia then spent a good amount of time drawing intricate patterns on the uncovered skin of Lexa’s arms with a thick, white ointment. Thick hatchings, contours and dots that Clarke didn’t know if it was part of a spell, a part of the preparation or just ornaments to please any specific spirit. But she was indeed intrigued by the image the formed when Heda was ready.
It was the first time that she saw Lexa, the commander, giving space for this new feature of Heda’s trait: The sorceress.
Gaia finished the process by fixing the well-known Heda’s gear at Lexa’s forehead, and only then the brunette opened her eyes. The whole process, the silence of it, felt like meditation.
And when those deep green eyes met Clarke’s own, it felt the closest thing possible to what books spoke about transcendence of the flesh into something more. Maybe faith. Maybe bewilderment.
Clarke gulped and smiled briefly.
She never saw anything so beautiful, yet so mysterious, before.
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Gaia, Lexa and Clarke left the Commander’s room in silence, followed by guards – different ones from the usual crew that protects Heda, however. They were thinner if compared with the brutal men from everyday, but there’s some odd vibration around them, just as dangerous as Lexa’s gladiators. They also wore white and held ornate spears with patterns like the ones on Lexa’s skin.
The whole building seemed to vibrate with the drummers one could hear echoing through the walls, climbing through the beams in a low humming. Clarke chewed the inner part of her cheek - she felt a little odd, dislocated: she wasn’t wearing any ritualistic garment (she didn’t know it was necessary), but no one around her seemed to mind.
It wasn’t about her, after all.
When she looked at Lexa, her eyes were fixed in a distant spot – maybe in the horizon, maybe in something beyond the elevator’s doors that no one could see, she couldn’t tell. She was too distant to be reached, just as she warned all these months ago. There was something that Clarke couldn’t put her finger on, something telling her that her lover, maybe Lexa’s soul, was starting to evanesce while still present in flesh.
Something about the strange serenity of Lexa’s feature – a severe one, although she couldn’t touch or detect any sort of anger. Nor sadness, or fear. Something else.
Her body was there but her energy – that well-known haughty posture of the Commander - felt… Absent.
Is that what they call trance state?
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It wouldn’t take long for Clarke to discover that no, that wasn’t the trance state. At least, not yet.
They arrived in a large room with something around fifteen to twenty people wearing woolen or raw cotton clothes, also whitish, with patterns on their skin and some carried with them several necklaces made of beads, orbs and jewels of various colors. Some of them wore some sort of turban or cloth that covered most of the head.
There were other people too, in ordinary clothes. Grounders. They were in silence, reunited in a corner as if they were waiting for the ritual to begin. Guests, maybe? Probably.
As Lexa followed in silence towards the center of the room, - where stood an altar full of plants and fruits, candles (the ones that provided some luminosity in the rather dark room), figurines of warriors, women, sorceresses and others creatures that Clarke couldn’t recognize -, Gaia guided the blonde to be near the guests group.
As if she could sense Clarke’s tension, she squeezed both hands of the blonde, then hugged her and whispered only to for her to hear:
- Fear not, Wanheda. This Yle is a place of peace.
Gaia left but Clarke’s heart kept beating fast and louder as thunder.
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Yle – free adaptation of the term “Ilê”, from Iorubá language that can be translated in some traditions as “house”, or “yard”. In brazilian portuguese can be translated as “terreiro”, a place made mostly of dirt floor at the back of a religious house where Umbanda, Jurema, Quimbanda and Candomblé rituals happen.
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Eshu is the mouth that eats everything, is the one who always eats first.
(Iorubá knowledge)
Victory stands on the back of the sacrifice.
(Trikru’s knowledge)
The ritual starts with a particular roll of the drums. Lexa stands in front of the altar and breathes slowly through her nostrils.
There is some tension in her eyes, for the first time since the preparations. And if one watches closely, one can see the slight tremble of her hands. Some say that it is because of the energy that hovers the place, others say that it’s only the sorcerer’s nerves. Lexa can’t say which is.
Slowly but surely, the people in light clothes formed a semi-circle near the altar, with Lexa in the middle of them and face-front to the structure, her back to most of the participants. The drummers stood in the left corner of the room, lowering the volume of the beat into a serene roll of drums.
Gaia went through the circle of people and reached Lexa by the altar. She now had a small thurible in one hand – a small ceramic jar held by for ropes tied to a stick, swinging it back and front repeatedly as she started to sing:
- Oso lus au Gira kom au! Beja oso komfon get thru dou kom de sonchageda, beja komfon sis au get thru Aruanda.
(We open our Gira at this moment, we beg our ancestors to lead us through the door of the City of Light, we beg the ancestors to lead us towards Aruanda.)
Gaia then touched the top of Lexa’s head with the palm of her free hand, swinging the thurible around the length of the brunette’s body. The whole room smelled like smudged herbs and charcoal; the smoke formed a thin fog around the altar and reached the other participants, some of them making moves with their hands as if they could touch the fog and rub it smoothly on their skin.
Clarke stood observing, the heavy smell of the smoke made her a little lightheaded. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was the only one who felt like that.
- Eh, eh, Oso beja, miya komfon, eh, eh! (We beg, come to us, ancestors) – Gaia chanted, eyes closed, as she kept her hand by Lexa’s forehead. Silently, one of the participants of the semi-circle – a man, with a very strong feature that Clarke presumed that should be one of Heda’s guard - came near them and stood behind the commander.
Other woman went to Gaia’s side holding a candle and a ceramic tea-cup full of a syrupy liquid, scarlet as blood, although rich in a spicy smell that almost overlapped the smoking scent.
While Lexa’s body started to wobble, Gaia gave to the woman behind her the thurible and got the small cup. She spun on her hills back to the brunette, reaching Lexa’s dormant hands to make her hold the small cup.
Clarke gulped as she noticed that suddenly Lexa seemed on the verge of fainting, weak and light as a dry leaf. Gaia helped her to hold the cup and guide it towards Lexa’s lips. She swallowed the liquid without restraint, holding the cup with the help of Gaia’s hand to keep it still, yet a thick drop escaped by the corner of her mouth to the ground.
The crimson red blotch on the ground and in the corner of Lexa’s chin startled Clarke. Was that blood?
Before she had any more time to dwell on that issue, Gaia gave back the cup to the assistant and reached for the candle instead.
- Oso beja, miya komfon, eh, eh! (We beg, come to us, ancestors)
She blows the candle in front of the woman’s face, and she falls abruptly and unconscious, as if Gaia had hit her hard with a blow.
The man held Lexa in his arms before the woman hit the ground.
Clarke, suddenly afraid by the turn of the events, moved towards the center of the room, but a firm hand caught her by her arm before she could get any closer to them.
- Stay still and respect the ritual, child. – Whispered Indra as she pulled Clarke near her.
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“Aruanda is a concept present in Afro-Brazilian religions, especially in Umbanda. It describes a place in the spirit world, which varies greatly according to the religious current, but which could generally be equated with a kind of spiritual colony.”
“Gira or Jira (from the Kimbundu word njila: "path") in Umbanda is the gathering of several spirits of a specific category, who manifest themselves through mediumistic incorporation. Gira sessions are classified as festive, work-related, or training sessions.”
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The roll of the drums got louder and louder, vivid and strong as a thunderstorm, while the middle of the room started to change its configuration. The previous guards that brought them to the ritual now helped to carry Heda’s throne to where Lexa and Gaia stood near the altar. The man that held Lexa, carefully and warmly as if she was made of plumes and rose petals, carried her to sit there.
Clarke noticed that Lexa wasn’t fully unconscious, but in a somewhat drowsy state. Her head was spinning and falling to the sides once and then, as if she was too sleepy to move but refusing to fall into slumber, trying to keep at least a little – very little – awareness of her surroundings. She managed to stay still after the man helped her.
Indra stood near to Clarke, it was the best decision to keep her at ease and to prevent any other attempt of the sky girl to interrupt the ceremony, startled by the events. She then explained to the blonde that what happened was the purification of Lexa’s body. She was a vessel that was about to be used, she needed to be “cleaned” out from all the foulness that remained in her body even after one week following strict preparations before the ritual.
- There is a thin light, a very fragile path in the spiritual world that brings the spirits to the earth when it is necessary. – Explains Indra, eyes still trained to the center of the room. Clarke too observes the movement around the altar, where Gaia cleans Lexa tainted lips and chant prayers in a cadence too fast for Clarke’s understanding of old trigedasleng. – The Presh Sawajus helps to clean Lexa’s senses so she can see this path. Look, - Indra moves her head in a signal to Clarke to watch the throne.
The drums roll in a hypnotizing cadence, fast, heavy and low. Rattles and tambourines entered the percussion, and that small drums orchestra seemed to follow the swing of Gaia’s words, which kept singing a couple of verses repeatedly. It doesn’t take long for the participants of the ritual and the guests to sing it too, forming a choral that follows the drums and vice versa.
- Miya em de gona kom kliron de trei, Miya em de gona kom lid in de mesej. Ai wich in belaik omon keryon an bleirona, Ai wich in em op! Ai wich in em op!
(Here comes the warrior that cleans the path, here comes the one that brings the message. I trust him with my soul and my sword, I trust him, I trust him!)
Clarke noticed that Lexa’s body, once numb and relaxed while seated on the throne, her head falling back slightly, had started to show a growing number of spasms. A tremble of a hand, her fingers moving fast, in a trigger movement, as if trying to grasp something invisible; her shoulders then moved up and down as if she could be stretched out from her own skin, her knee joints bending as she was about to stand up but still too weak to do it. The chants kept going, followed by hand claps and drummers. The scent of herbs was still strong in the room, but far from suffocating.
The time and the energy seemed to bend and mingle into a third unnamed thing.
- The fleimkipa is leading the spirit to find Lexa’s body. – Concludes Indra to the astonished blonde at her side.
Lexa opened her eyes widely. She was facing the roof of the room, but her gaze was distant and drunken. While her head was spinning, her body trembled in its own accord. Gaia approached once again, touching Lexa’s forehead to bring it to her own. She held Heda by her shoulders to keep her in place. The prayers soon became a species of mantra, being chanted fast and repeatedly, over and over again.
- Eh, eh, oso beja, miya komfon, eh, eh! – Gaia calls, her forehead against Lexa’s. Suddenly, the drummers roll a particular hard blow and stop altogether, and an invisible force breaks the contact between the sorcerer and the fleimkipa, pulling Lexa’s upper body abruptly to the backrest. Her eyes roll in the skull and the way she shifts in place and trembles could make one think that she was surely convulsing.
The room falls in a sepulchral silence.
Gaia still holds Lexa by her shoulders until she stops moving and her head falls to the front, a few dark-brown locks and braids escaped from the previous hairdo thanks to the violent trembling and blocked the view of Lexa’s face.
Once Lexa relaxes again, limbs falling into numbness after such disturbance, Gaia sustained the sorcerer’s chest by hugging her firmly. For the untrained eye, the scene gave the impression that the brunette had fallen asleep into Gaia’s arms. The fleimkipa murmurs something at Lexa’s ear, but from Clarke’s position she couldn’t hear or guess what it was. She turns to Indra, brows knit in confusion.
- What is happening?
- Shhhh! – Scolds the warrior, eyes glued to the center of the room. – They are here.
The whole room was heavy in tension, waiting for whatever was about to happen between Gaia and the numb body that she was holding.
- Chon yu bilaik, kerion? Yu ste Leksa kom trikru? (Who are you, spirit? Are you Lexa from Trikru?) – Gaia’s voice is still low, but the silence of the room was so immense that her questions were slightly audible.
Clarke holds a breath.
The brunette, whose head was resting in the curve of Gaia’s shoulder, shook from side to side, slightly, in a “no” movement.
- Chon yu bilaik, kerion? (Who are you, spirit?) – Gaia asks again. The view was something close to the hold of a mother, that bears the weight of her own child, that is so, so tired from the war memories that crushed her youth, and now comes, numb and wounded, to rest in her mother’s arms.
Clarke and the whole room waited for an answer. By this moment, the blonde knew that according to Indra’s words and the nature of the events, Lexa wasn’t in control of her body anymore. There was someone else there. But the voice that came from Lexa’s mouth surprised her anyway.
It’s hoarser, lower, with a strange accent that Clarke never heard leaving Lexa’s lips before.
- Ai ste Hisa de Honta, goufa. (I am Hisa, the Hunter, child.)
“Lexa” suddenly stands and leaves from Gaia’s hold. The fleimkipa immediately steps back and falls to her knees in a respectful bow.
The whole room copied her movement right after, some of them murmuring some sort of salutation, successive “Hayon Hisa Honta! Hayon Hisa Honta!” (Great Hisa, the Hunter!) were heard from distinct voices. Indra pulled Clarke’s wrist down for her to follow and the so did the blonde, although she raised her head a little to keep watching the scene.
“Lexa” raised fully from the throne, head held high and hands clenched into fists. It was very similar to The Commander’s posture that Clarke once recognized, but there were significant differences beyond the current light vests, which contradicted the usual dark-leather ones. The strongest of this differences was in her eyes: they were closed, snap shut, although her posture was of a person that could see right through every single creature in that room.
There was indeed some kind of nervous tic that Clarke never saw Lexa doing: she shook her head to the sides once, and stopped, cleared her throat from an unknown soreness, and shook the head to the sides again, and stopped a few moments only to start it over.
It was a conflicted feeling that occupied Clarke’s chest. She knew it was Lexa who was there first, but still… Those strange mannerisms, that odd voice tone that she heard. It wasn’t Lexa at the same time her body was still there – it was the easiest conclusion when someone gathers all the information from what is happening.
But still… How was that possible?
It felt something so distant, when she read about religions on the books.
But how do you not feel that time is bending in front of her eyes after such thing?
How do you not believe that there is, indeed, a spirit that is in control of the Heda’s body?
- Monin hou Hisa, de fos honta. (Welcome home, Hisa, the first hunter.) – Gaia’s voice interrupts Clarke’s train of thought. The fleimkipa moves out from her previous position, and the whole semi-circle of participants now stands and moves to the sides, shaping the configuration of the room in something closer to the configuration of those conclave meetings that Clarke attended before.
Hisa, the First Hunter, sat back onto the throne and waited. His mannerisms were still very much present.
While the crowd slowly stood back in position, a woman, another assistant, came near the throne and, with a bow of her head, offered to the embodied entity a cup of another liquid – this one closer to an ordinary liquor than the previous syrupy one. Hisa, with his eyes still closed, nodded in acknowledgement to the woman and swallowed the liquid from the cup in one large gulp without flinching.
- That is Faya woda, Hisa’s favorite drink. – Indra murmured.
At the information, something snaps in Clarke’s mind. She remembers all sudden, a few summers ago, when Lexa talked about some grounder’s beverages and spoke a little bit about this “fire water” that was one of the oldest beverages of Trikru’s tradition, and how she didn’t remember of the taste, but it always made her very nauseous with the aroma alone. Clarke wondered if Lexa was talking about those moments when “she” drank that in order to please the spirit.
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The ritual dives through the night. What follows Hisa’s appearance is a reunion between ambassadors of the conclave, which one by one bowed to the entity and listened to his advice without further questions. It was mouth gaping, the respect Hisa had among the ambassadors. Clarke never saw such silence and agreeing among those men and women during any other meeting. Lexa was constantly questioned and highly suggested to consider and see through other’s perspectives, but the same didn’t happen to Hisa. He was assertive and straight to the point more than Heda herself. Through Lexa’s lips, spoke a man that seemed to know every single detail about every person in that room, details which Clarke couldn’t even fantom how Lexa could possibly know without being close to the one whose secrets were exposed in that room.
Indra explained to Clarke that Hisa said that peace was in the hands of the conclave, and each one of the ambassadors should follow a particular ceremony and rules in their clans, evoking their ancestors in a specific ritual for each.
Hisa spoke for more than an hour, he addressed to the crowd the precise weakness of each clan, making it crystal clear to everyone in that room that the entity wanted everyone to know each other’s failures in proof to gather strength together as one. Hisa said that the union and peace was a matter of survival of the Clans history and culture. Otherwise, those harsher times that were about to come would devour and destroy each clan until everything becomes ashes and dust.
- Hisa is the first hunter, the first Commander, the black snake that runs through Trikru’s woods. He is the one who always comes first and drinks first. – Explains again Indra, while some guests approached the entity to make more particular, ordinary wishes to the entity. – He brings the spirits’ messages to us and takes ours to them as well.
Clarke mulled over the explanation. Hisa stood sitting while guests from the grounders came to his knees, a few of them crying and begging for his advice, some others bringing gifts as handmade goods as food, cigars and drinks to the entity, that acknowledged it and consumed some of them on the spot.
- Is he the only spirit that comes to… visit us? – Asks Clarke timidly, glancing towards the throne and back to Indra.
Indra scoffs and grins once, and Clarke can’t help but think that she made a very stupid question. The warrior answers in a cheerful tone, however:
- Oh, child, - Indra laughs more to herself than to the blonde. - the spirit’s feast is only beginning.
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It was dawn, and Clarke’s question was indeed naïve.
She had learned that whenever a new spirit came among the mortals through Lexa’s body, a new beat and roll of drums started, along with distinct chants to call the entity; and the initial part of the ritual would repeat one more time: Gaia giving Lexa a small amount of drink or a cigar or some food (the favorite of each entity) in order to invite the entity to take control of the brunette’s limbs. Once relaxed and numb as a rag doll on the throne, “Lexa” would rise over and over again with a different and totally strange accent, mannerisms and posture. After some attendance of guests and ambassadors, Gaia would approach again and say something to the entity’s hearing only. They would agree or complain about it, but it wouldn’t take long for Lexa to start to tremble and fall loose on the throne again, back to the initial state of drowsiness.
Once and then, Clarke would recognize Lexa’s gaze, the true one. She didn’t know how to explain that, but sooner she had learned how to recognize Lexa’s presence. It was a very delicate moment.
During one of those moments, between the visit of Mina de Kriken Wilou (Mina, the old witch) and Gosti de Kleinka (Gosti, the blacksmith), Gaia approached Lexa to soothe her countenance from stubborn locks and hairs that sticked to her skin dues to the sweat and struggles of her body. Clarke’s heart shrink into her chest as she witnessed Gaia helping Lexa to drink some water from a ceramic basin. After some large gulps, Lexa, Lexa herself, gasped in exhaustion.
Then, the brunette looked to the guests’ corner and caught Clarke’s pierce blue, concerned eyes.
She gave her a weak smile.
Clarke replied with one of her own, followed by a firm nod.
- Ste yuj, niron. (Stay strong, love) – She mouthed, as if she tried to transfer to her lover by those words some energy that the brunette clearly needed.
Indra then called Clarke’s attention back to her, resting a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. There was a severe look in the warrior’s eyes.
- There’s one more spirit to come, Clarke. – Murmured Indra as the center of the room changed once more in its configuration and Gaia approached the altar and the throne. The drums started again in full force a new sequence of beats and rolls.
Clarke nodded, she was already aware of the process.
- This last one, however, wants to talk with you. Heda asked me to lead you to them.
The blonde’s heart skipped a beat and galloped inside her chest.
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Darned witch, when she comes, the earth trembles and the old spirits whine. […] She has no pity, she has no mercy.
(Typical song of Quimbanda’s religious practice)
- HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Clarke felt a shiver running down her spine when she heard the loud laugh coming from Lexa’s lips.
That was the only time that a change of clothes happened. Before the entity fully arises, Gaia approached Lexa’s body to hang around her waist a long and crimson red cloth, embroidered with black and gold-colored threads. Soon Clarke realized that the elaborate cloth worked as a long skirt.
When the entity finally arose, standing on her feet proudly, Clarke immediately felt and saw something different from the other entities. This one had a strange sharpness in her features. It was charged with a haughty disdain, and Lexa’s eyes were open under the entity’s dominance for the first time since the beginning of the ritual.
And it felt odd by that moment, to witness those green eyes full of anger and debauchery.
- Reshop, ai nomfa; reshop, ai nomfri. (Good evening, my sons; good evening, my daughters) – Says the entity nonchalantly, as her eyes hovered around the room. She reached the long braid of Lexa’s hair and started to dismantle it, letting the brown locks cascade around her shoulders.
Most of the people in the room had fallen to their knees, bowing to the entity, however, a few ambassadors and foreigners stood in position without paying respects towards her – those were all men. Clarke heard a succession of masculine and feminine voices, greeting the entity with “Reshop, nomon Mulam!”, “Reshop, ai nomon!”, “Reshop, ai nomi!” (Good evening, mother Mulam!; Good evening, my mother!; Good evening, mom!).
Mulam de nat spina (Mulam, the night dancer), was the first and only entity that left the throne’s surroundings, refusing to sit, choosing to wander around the room, instead. She looked dead serious and unmercifully to each man that refused to bow to her; and they seemed to hold a shiver, even when they refused to give in, under the power of her gaze. She laughed again after a particular trade of looks with an ambassador that scoffed the first time they heard her name.
- Reshop kom daunde nomajoka. (Good evening for that motherfucker too.) – The woman said to no one in particular, although the whole room seemed to notice that she was referring to those who didn’t respect her.
She kept with her investigations, the drums now falling into a lower cadence.
Mulam was maybe more hypnotic than Lexa herself. If the commander was very discreet in showing her features as a young and desirable woman, the spirit now seemed to take the advantage of being in control of a very beautiful body, swaying her hips from side to side as if she was having so much fun with herself. Her eyes stood sharp as knives, although still in a little drunken state thanks to the trance Lexa’s body was into. Turns out that the ones who didn’t bowed to her were more afraid of her energy than anything else, while the rest of the room seemed eager to touch her, especially the female grounders – that showed a fond affection and strong bond towards the entity.
One of the guests left her spot and ran towards the entity and hugged her, which Mulam answered with affection, hugging her back and cleaning out the woman’s tears with her thumbs. The thrilled woman murmured prayers and wishes between hiccups as the dancer listened attentively. There was a different buzz among the guest’s corner, and Clarke wished she could understand more of what those women and men cared so much about Mulam’s presence, minding the fact that apparently her value as a spirit was a controversy among other clans.
Other woman gifted her with a scented, thin and decorated cigar, which she asked for someone to lit it right way.
Once the cigar was lit, its smoke floating around the room, Mulam kept her particular parade, swaying her hips and dragging her feet away from the ambassadors, assistants and sorceress, towards the guest’s corner. The buzz of the grounders grew as the woman approached. She stood inches close to them, but no one dared to reach or touch her yet.
Her eyes hovered around the indistinct mass of people, and after some seconds of a silent stare, she spoke to the small crowd.
- Ai ste lufa au Klark kom Skaikru. (I’m looking for Clarke of the Sky People) – Said Mulam. The crowd then immediately stood back, opening a straight path between the entity and Clarke.
Even Indra gave a step back, leaving Clarke completely alone to face the entity’s whims. Clarke froze on the spot.
A Cheshire smile formed into Molam’s (Lexa’s) lips, and she swayed smoothly towards Clarke while took a particularly hard smoke on the cigar.
It was too much for Clarke’s senses. She felt like her brain was about to have a short circuit at the sight: Lexa – actually, an entity that controlled Lexa’s body – didn’t knew her features but Clarke did knew Lexa’s features, although she was so different, yet it was Lexa’s eyes that were seeing her, but… It wasn’t Lexa that was there seeing seeing her and-
The scented smoke of the cigar shut her screaming mind. In a blink of an eye, Mulam was invading Clarke’s personal space, and her sinful smile, yet magnetic, made Clarke shudder strongly, shivering harder than any other moment since the beginning of it all.
She felt a warm – too warm hand reaching her face, tangling oh-so-slightly a blonde hair lock into its fingers, followed by a whisper.
- Reshop, ai nomfri. Ai don hon yu op. (Good evening, my daughter. I was looking for you.)
Clarke didn’t know how to proceed.