Mara - The Lady Grief (Completed)

22 Blood-Red Poppies

2651 B.C.E., City of Tmari-on-the-Euphrates

Early Fall, Month of Ululu, One Year and Six Months after Mara's Rebirth

Mara

"Mama?"

At first I think the childish voice is one of my ghosts. They always make me sad, the idea that a soul so young can be so sorrowful.

A hand pats my cheek. "Mama?"

My gargoyles have cool, stone skin, like leather over rock. This hand is soft, small, and wet.

Wet?

My eyes open to see the baby. Dark eyes wide, she leans back when she sees I'm awake and pops her fingers into her mouth. That explains the wetness.

"Hello," I whisper.

"Where's Mama?" she asks.

"She is not here, sweetie. She died," I explain as gently as I can, but I won't lie to her. Death... it isn't the worst thing that can happen to you. Being trapped in a root cellar your whole life, for example.

Then again, while I look at her as she examines me back, I see the life in her eyes, the warmth of her tiny body. She's alive. Maybe it will all be worth it in the end.

"I am Mara. What is your name?" I start with an easy question.

She just looks at me, her red curls escaping from the braids, her fingers still in her mouth.

I try something else. "Did your mama call you a name?"

Again, no response. I wonder, a little frantically, what I am supposed to do with her. She doesn't know her own name. Doesn't understand anything of the world except that basement.

"What should I call you?" I whisper.

Poppy

I barely refrain from rolling my eyes. Of course my father suggests the name of the flower of mourning. I admit her hair is close to the red of the poppy flower, but really? The seeds of the poppy flower are known to put a person in such a deep sleep that it resembles death, hence its name as the mourning flower. There is also a myth that says that my father used the exquisite poppies to lure Love herself into his kingdom.

I smirk to myself. "Will Love mind her name?"

Silence from the god. Ha.

I look at the little female again. Poppy. I actually like it, if only because it's so close to Thelios' nickname for her; poppet.

"Would you like to be named Poppy?" I ask her.

She takes her wet fingers from her mouth and touches my cheek. I smile, letting her touch me despite the slimy feeling. My gargoyles have done worse with their endless pranks.

"Are you hungry, Poppy?" I ask her. I may as well start using her new name right away.

She nods. It's a cautious movement.

I stand up and spot the bowls on the table. I pick up Poppy, who barely weighs anything, and carry her to the table. The soup must have been left by my Recondite Captain. I look, it's a simple onion and barley soup. I sit with Poppy in my lap to feed her more easily. Smiling I say to her. "Captain Thelios must have snuck into the kitchen. The cook here, his name is Banio, does not like intruders in his kitchen. What a brave male the Captain is." I spoon small bites into her mouth. Those dark eyes hardly ever leave my face as she eats. She is listening to my endless stream of words, especially when I talk about my gargoyles.