LJ Idol, Prompt 13: “Kintsugi”
Jul. 19th, 2022 11:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roina_arwenSovann wanted desperately to be a Matriarch. Her great grandmother had received the honor, but neither her grandmother nor mother had qualified for the esteemed title.
As a descendant of Matriarch Audrea, the females in her line had received many privileges, such as better educational opportunities, larger living quarters near the Capital, and extra subsistence credits.
Sovann was nervous because she was the third generation removed, which meant those extra blessings would end tomorrow, on her fortieth birthday, if she was unable to meet the qualifications. She wanted so much to have a say in her government, and the Council of Matriarchs was an important part of the process.
She gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark ebony skin was unblemished, and her waist-long mahogany hair was as fine as watered silk. Her bright amber eyes were her favorite feature, and Sovann subtly applied pale gold eyeshadow to play them up. Once she was satisfied, she straightened her long white and silver dress, stepped in to her soft-soled silvery shoes, and reported to work at the embassy.
Sovann strode down the expansive hallway, her thoughts occupied by her two daughters. Her eldest, Audriana, had recently finished her education, married, and started her own career, so her life would not be affected very much if Sovann did not succeed in becoming a Matriarch. However, her younger child, Zarina, would likely have to change schools, to one with fewer educators per child, and they would need to move to a smaller domicile by the end of the year. With a worried sigh, she sat down at her desk to read through and process the pile of paperwork that was waiting for her.
=#=#=#=#=
Zarina had dinner on the table for them by the time Sovann returned home.
“What a surprise! It smells delicious,” she said, and smiled as her daughter’s face lit up. “Thank you, honey.”
They sat down, and Zarina served her mother a bowl of smoky flavored chicken and tuber stew before serving herself. A platter of fried bread and another of fresh, raw vegetables made up their evening meal.
“Tomorrow is your birthday, Mama. Are you excited?”
Sovann put her half-eaten bread down, and took Zarina’s hand in hers. “I am, but I’m also nervous. I’m not sure what to expect.”
“You’re smart, Mama, you’ll do well.”
Sovann leaned over and kissed Zarina on her smooth cheek. “Thank you, love. I feel better already.”
=#=#=#=#=
The following morning, bright and early, Sovann followed her usual routine, except instead of reporting to the embassy she presented herself to the High Matriarch’s citadel. There were eight other women waiting as well, all of whom must have turned forty within the last seven-day.
A proctor dressed in plain grey attire ushered the group back to the testing area. Each woman was placed at her own desk, then the proctor issued them two pencils and a thick test booklet. The timer was set – fortunately, they had several hours to complete this stage - and the first portion of the test began. Sovann worked through the booklet quickly - mathematics, science, philosophy, local history, ethics, and an essay on the Matriarchy. She double and triple checked her work, just to be safe.
While the tests were being processed, the women made nervous small talk and nibbled from a tray of tropical fruits.
An older proctor with silver in her hair and gold stripes down her sleeves came into the room and dismissed five of the women. Sovann and the three others who remained were lead down another hallway to a small anteroom. They sat in silence on two long metal benches as the proctor disappeared through an archway for several minutes, then called the woman in blue back.
Sovann tried very hard not to nibble her fingernails while she waited.
A short while later, the woman exited the chamber, tears streaming down her ashen face. She looked more world-weary than when she had entered, but Sovann attributed it to the stress of the lengthy process.
The proctor motioned to Sovann. She rose, smoothed her hands down her dress, and went inside.
The room was mostly in shadows and sparsely furnished. A dark marble table with a high-backed golden chair at the head of it dominated the space, while a U-shaped podium was centered under a skylight. A decanter and three crystal glasses sat on the table.
Sovann stood at the podium and waited.
An elder Matriarch entered. She wore a flowing black dress with a thin gold belt and gold embroidery at the neckline, hem, and cuffs. Her head and face were covered with a gauzy black veil, which made it difficult to see her features. The Matriarchs always appeared in public that way. She settled herself in the chair and with a slight gesture motioned the proctor forward.
The proctor bowed, picked up a small glass, and poured a dram of liquid from the decanter into it. Without saying a word, she presented it to Sovann.
Sovann took the proffered beverage. It had a honeyed scent and a rich amber hue.
She downed it in one gulp, then handed the glass back to the proctor. The liquid had been bitter and burned slightly going down. She wondered what would happen next.
Sovann held tightly to the podium as a wave of dizziness hit her. She closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths. Her skin felt hot to the touch, as if her insides were trying to burn their way out. She knelt and tried very hard not to vomit, which she knew would be shameful.
Tears welled up in her eyes as the pain and nausea slowly faded. A bit unsteadily, she stood.
The proctor gasped and bowed her head.
The elder Matriarch rose. “My sister,” she said simply, and held out her hand. “Come forward.”
Sovann rounded the podium and approached the table. The Matriarch held out a small mirror to her. She took it and gazed at her reflection. Startled, Sovann almost dropped the mirror, but grasped the handle tighter and looked again.
A golden wrinkle creased the center of her forehead, and slender gold laugh lines added to the brightness of her amber eyes. With an astonished smile. Sovann noticed several strands of her dark hair had also turned bright gold.
She had done it. She had passed the test.
Sovann was a Matriarch.
As a descendant of Matriarch Audrea, the females in her line had received many privileges, such as better educational opportunities, larger living quarters near the Capital, and extra subsistence credits.
Sovann was nervous because she was the third generation removed, which meant those extra blessings would end tomorrow, on her fortieth birthday, if she was unable to meet the qualifications. She wanted so much to have a say in her government, and the Council of Matriarchs was an important part of the process.
She gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark ebony skin was unblemished, and her waist-long mahogany hair was as fine as watered silk. Her bright amber eyes were her favorite feature, and Sovann subtly applied pale gold eyeshadow to play them up. Once she was satisfied, she straightened her long white and silver dress, stepped in to her soft-soled silvery shoes, and reported to work at the embassy.
Sovann strode down the expansive hallway, her thoughts occupied by her two daughters. Her eldest, Audriana, had recently finished her education, married, and started her own career, so her life would not be affected very much if Sovann did not succeed in becoming a Matriarch. However, her younger child, Zarina, would likely have to change schools, to one with fewer educators per child, and they would need to move to a smaller domicile by the end of the year. With a worried sigh, she sat down at her desk to read through and process the pile of paperwork that was waiting for her.
=#=#=#=#=
Zarina had dinner on the table for them by the time Sovann returned home.
“What a surprise! It smells delicious,” she said, and smiled as her daughter’s face lit up. “Thank you, honey.”
They sat down, and Zarina served her mother a bowl of smoky flavored chicken and tuber stew before serving herself. A platter of fried bread and another of fresh, raw vegetables made up their evening meal.
“Tomorrow is your birthday, Mama. Are you excited?”
Sovann put her half-eaten bread down, and took Zarina’s hand in hers. “I am, but I’m also nervous. I’m not sure what to expect.”
“You’re smart, Mama, you’ll do well.”
Sovann leaned over and kissed Zarina on her smooth cheek. “Thank you, love. I feel better already.”
=#=#=#=#=
The following morning, bright and early, Sovann followed her usual routine, except instead of reporting to the embassy she presented herself to the High Matriarch’s citadel. There were eight other women waiting as well, all of whom must have turned forty within the last seven-day.
A proctor dressed in plain grey attire ushered the group back to the testing area. Each woman was placed at her own desk, then the proctor issued them two pencils and a thick test booklet. The timer was set – fortunately, they had several hours to complete this stage - and the first portion of the test began. Sovann worked through the booklet quickly - mathematics, science, philosophy, local history, ethics, and an essay on the Matriarchy. She double and triple checked her work, just to be safe.
While the tests were being processed, the women made nervous small talk and nibbled from a tray of tropical fruits.
An older proctor with silver in her hair and gold stripes down her sleeves came into the room and dismissed five of the women. Sovann and the three others who remained were lead down another hallway to a small anteroom. They sat in silence on two long metal benches as the proctor disappeared through an archway for several minutes, then called the woman in blue back.
Sovann tried very hard not to nibble her fingernails while she waited.
A short while later, the woman exited the chamber, tears streaming down her ashen face. She looked more world-weary than when she had entered, but Sovann attributed it to the stress of the lengthy process.
The proctor motioned to Sovann. She rose, smoothed her hands down her dress, and went inside.
The room was mostly in shadows and sparsely furnished. A dark marble table with a high-backed golden chair at the head of it dominated the space, while a U-shaped podium was centered under a skylight. A decanter and three crystal glasses sat on the table.
Sovann stood at the podium and waited.
An elder Matriarch entered. She wore a flowing black dress with a thin gold belt and gold embroidery at the neckline, hem, and cuffs. Her head and face were covered with a gauzy black veil, which made it difficult to see her features. The Matriarchs always appeared in public that way. She settled herself in the chair and with a slight gesture motioned the proctor forward.
The proctor bowed, picked up a small glass, and poured a dram of liquid from the decanter into it. Without saying a word, she presented it to Sovann.
Sovann took the proffered beverage. It had a honeyed scent and a rich amber hue.
She downed it in one gulp, then handed the glass back to the proctor. The liquid had been bitter and burned slightly going down. She wondered what would happen next.
Sovann held tightly to the podium as a wave of dizziness hit her. She closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths. Her skin felt hot to the touch, as if her insides were trying to burn their way out. She knelt and tried very hard not to vomit, which she knew would be shameful.
Tears welled up in her eyes as the pain and nausea slowly faded. A bit unsteadily, she stood.
The proctor gasped and bowed her head.
The elder Matriarch rose. “My sister,” she said simply, and held out her hand. “Come forward.”
Sovann rounded the podium and approached the table. The Matriarch held out a small mirror to her. She took it and gazed at her reflection. Startled, Sovann almost dropped the mirror, but grasped the handle tighter and looked again.
A golden wrinkle creased the center of her forehead, and slender gold laugh lines added to the brightness of her amber eyes. With an astonished smile. Sovann noticed several strands of her dark hair had also turned bright gold.
She had done it. She had passed the test.
Sovann was a Matriarch.
