{{Drabble}} 100_colours // #23 Jade // Accents
Title: Accents
Claim: YGO!DM [Thief King Bakura, Atem, Aknamkanon, Unnamed Character. Unnamed Ship.]
Rating: G
Warnings: Back story making drama, iffy Egypt knowledge.
Word Count: 501
Summary: Witness to an unburied story.
Notes: #23 - Jade
A metal brace curved and twisted into a serpent's image, only pinpricks of green among sheer gold. The image matched that of countless others perched on crowns, rings, belts, collars, a myriad of other pieces packed together in a makeshift sack.
But an hour earlier it was tucked against the wall of a sarcophagus, the only gold inside not worn by the noble occupant. It would not fit him, formed for a thinner arm. The arm of his consort, one of the golden crop of his mother's brother's wife, born across the sea.
A lifetime ago Aknadin whispered the foreign noble bore locks of yellow that she passed on to all her daughters, hidden by the constant protection of covering. They would take whiffs of time between lessons and prayers to watch them in the courtyard, the halls, looking for a sign of something different, special. But they blended with cousins and kin by the magic of wigs.
The first to support the claim was Aknamkanon, many years later, when he peaked under the veil of the youngest daughter on their wedding night. The discovery was made with fear, fear of rejection and indigence of secrets kept. But to him it was the touch of the sun on his wife, his family, a blessing to be celebrated.
She never felt secure without covering it, but in public he sought to mimic it, showering her in the color of her nature, astounding his people that his lady gleamed more than her lord.
With time he did not stick to the metal alone. Her gold became accented by garnet beads at her waist, obsidian in braces, jasper upon her chest. Each given in person for some occasion or another, from the celebration of her official entrance as his wife to the most passing festival shared.
But her favorite by far was the coil of Wadjet, passed over the body of their newborn son, allowing it a glimpse of the next king through jade eyes. A sight it would see for many days to come from the arm of its mistress, rarely removed. It beheld her finally take pride in her gold when shots of it appeared on the brow of her babe, how she carried and played with him each day, until she did not have the strength to anymore. It was removed only when the time came to prepare her for rest beneath the earth, returned to her king, who kept it close in his turn.
But it had not looked on the child again, not until now, as it cascades across the floor, rattling still beside the corpse of its giver. It stares up, unnoticed by its owner's indignant heir, fighting for his father. It stays silent when gathered up with the rest of the loot, returned to its resting place.
The well-meaning tomb restorer will tuck the armlet away in a chest along with the rest, far across the great space of Aknamkanon's tomb, separating him from the last spark.
Claim: YGO!DM [Thief King Bakura, Atem, Aknamkanon, Unnamed Character. Unnamed Ship.]
Rating: G
Warnings: Back story making drama, iffy Egypt knowledge.
Word Count: 501
Summary: Witness to an unburied story.
Notes: #23 - Jade
A metal brace curved and twisted into a serpent's image, only pinpricks of green among sheer gold. The image matched that of countless others perched on crowns, rings, belts, collars, a myriad of other pieces packed together in a makeshift sack.
But an hour earlier it was tucked against the wall of a sarcophagus, the only gold inside not worn by the noble occupant. It would not fit him, formed for a thinner arm. The arm of his consort, one of the golden crop of his mother's brother's wife, born across the sea.
A lifetime ago Aknadin whispered the foreign noble bore locks of yellow that she passed on to all her daughters, hidden by the constant protection of covering. They would take whiffs of time between lessons and prayers to watch them in the courtyard, the halls, looking for a sign of something different, special. But they blended with cousins and kin by the magic of wigs.
The first to support the claim was Aknamkanon, many years later, when he peaked under the veil of the youngest daughter on their wedding night. The discovery was made with fear, fear of rejection and indigence of secrets kept. But to him it was the touch of the sun on his wife, his family, a blessing to be celebrated.
She never felt secure without covering it, but in public he sought to mimic it, showering her in the color of her nature, astounding his people that his lady gleamed more than her lord.
With time he did not stick to the metal alone. Her gold became accented by garnet beads at her waist, obsidian in braces, jasper upon her chest. Each given in person for some occasion or another, from the celebration of her official entrance as his wife to the most passing festival shared.
But her favorite by far was the coil of Wadjet, passed over the body of their newborn son, allowing it a glimpse of the next king through jade eyes. A sight it would see for many days to come from the arm of its mistress, rarely removed. It beheld her finally take pride in her gold when shots of it appeared on the brow of her babe, how she carried and played with him each day, until she did not have the strength to anymore. It was removed only when the time came to prepare her for rest beneath the earth, returned to her king, who kept it close in his turn.
But it had not looked on the child again, not until now, as it cascades across the floor, rattling still beside the corpse of its giver. It stares up, unnoticed by its owner's indignant heir, fighting for his father. It stays silent when gathered up with the rest of the loot, returned to its resting place.
The well-meaning tomb restorer will tuck the armlet away in a chest along with the rest, far across the great space of Aknamkanon's tomb, separating him from the last spark.