Collective Consciousness I Midsummer Festival

Chapter 5 Zenanda

Fyodor awoke from a sleep unlike he'd ever had. The sun barely changed in the sky, maybe a couple of hours had elapsed, yet, he felt renewed, no night of slumber he'd experienced was ever this restful. His eyes felt bright, not like after a nap at all. Xan was gone. Fyodor decided to take the opportunity to get ready for the evening. They bathed in a river the day before, so he just needed to freshen up. He went to the creek behind the bungalow, after removing most of his clothes and locating some linen under the bed. He found a broad-leaved fern to duck behind and and removed his last layer, folding it on a stone. The water was shallow, so it was warm.

The creek was soothing on his seat and core muscles, sore from riding so many days in a row. He had tried so hard not to think about the actualization of meeting his Lilith. He was considered mischievous, a desirable trait in his status. He was smart, quick and crafty, emulating the god of the woods, Xanthos, for whom his mentor was named, to whom he was endlessly compared. His people had always adored him for his humor and charm and said he was an incarnation of the god. He was born to bring fertility and warmer seasons. Fyodor was easily able to entertain himself and he was very reflective, so he found himself in myriads of thoughts, often. This made it easier not to think about his possible soul mate.

In moments such as this, with the warmth gently lapping around his body, he found his mind straying to the possibility of a Zenanda's body in his hands, on his lips, and more. He imagined the soft flesh of a maiden, quivering and then relaxing, as his fingertips traced her jaw, lips, thighs. He imagined opening those lips with a flick of his tongue and feeling hers pour out to him, pleading for him to enter her.

Fyodor glanced around his fern and was alone, everything quiet except the occasional bird and the babble of the brook. While still alert, he let his hand stray downwards, his unaltered member was beginning to pulse full of blood. Erect, it took almost two hands to encompass completely. Fyodor licked his palms and perched his hips up, leaning on the soft grass, his feet still soaking. He began working his foreskin around the glans of his c**k. His eyes rolled back a little and he let out a small, breathy moan. His left hand automatically brushed his flat, solid abs, a whisper of hair glistening from the creek water, leading to his groin. Then the hand cupped his scrotum, cradling and caressing.

He licked his right hand again and laid his head back, enjoying the motion, his c**k pulsating in his fingers, his hips lurching forward in small grinding motions. He stroked faster, grinding his teeth in concentration. With his eyes tightly shut, perfect mounds of perky buttocks, bouncing, swaying, simply walking played in his imagination. He wanted to part the cheeks and lick in between like a peach, suck the sweet nectar there.

That idea was too much, one more lubrication of the hand was all it took for Fyodor to pump out his load uncontrollably. He felt a little reach as high as his hair, most of it landed on his naked chest, gooey and gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight. Fyodor just relaxed like that for a moment, his shoulders met the ground beneath him and he breathed in the sweet air. He couldn't wait to look for her, he couldn't wait to feel her, whoever she was. This was all he could do to not be driven mad with anticipation. It was probably a good thing, too, because he thought it might make the quality of intimacy he could engage in more sustainable. He might not be wrecked by nerves now that he'd had some release.

Fyodor washed quickly and wrapped himself in linens, went back to the bungalow to find his best tunic and britches, so he could get ready for the exciting evening.

Fyodor's Zenanda readied themselves to finally meet their Chaka. The maidens, all of eighteen, all with similar birthdays to him, and all considered particularly beautiful since birth, had been added to the temple, one by one, with Dahlia in the lead. This was a grand tradition for building higher Zenandas.

The second to be added was Blythe. She was from the woodlands and had a light complexion, not rosy like Dahlia, but redder with sprinklings of freckles. Her hair was dark auburn and she had deep green eyes. She was a strong girl, who could handle a horse or a deer if she needed to, with powerful thighs and an ample bossom. She loved animals, which was a sign of being related to the warrior goddess Asteesma. She could have creatures of all kinds trained and do her bidding in a matter of days and she was able to nurse them to health. She hated war, however, regardless of her theistic dedication as an incarnation of the wood warrior goddess, and raged against violence of any kind. She was very affectionate to her sisters and cuddled with a little fox she'd found hurt in the woods. Her tunic tonight was forest green and brought out hints of cobalt in her eyes. She laughed gaily and had already had a glass of wine. She was trying to put blush on her sister as the clouds outside their wide windows turned gold in the lowering light.

The girl Blythe tried to blush was the third to come to the temple and the quietest, Panthamum or Pate for short. She was trying to dodge the brush, her pale skin wouldn't lend itself to pink, she explained to her sister. Her eyes were gray like Dahlias, but they did not turn every color imaginable in the same way. They were solemn, like a storm, and her face was sharp like a pixie. She was very tiny and her frame was willowy. She kept her dark hair cropped and came from the coldest islands, in the north sea. She liked to read and practice spellwork and no one argued that she had a talent. People were often healed or comforted by her low, melodic voice and the herbs she imported and grew from her homelands. Tonight she wore black, just like she always wore, but this tunic was form-fitting, shorter, with more festive lace sleeves than anyone had seen her wear.

Pate lived with her family until she was four and she was very smart and introspective, so she always kept a little contact with her roots. It was not a requirement for a Zenanda to be of noble blood, because these were babies who glowed from the fingertips or palms, maybe the forehead, had lovely faces and had the right stars. Pate was a nobleperson, however, and if you were part of a line, you were often kept in contact by your birth family, even though you'd been assigned a job before you could consent, that required being "raised by magic". As a foreigner who was in touch with her heredity, she was associated with her own ocean goddess, Precil and was said to have her power of healing and hexing, according to the tides.

The fourth maiden was Draspra. Red hair was extremely desired by people near the city, because it reminded them of depictions of The Goddess. When a red-hued light came from Draspra's fingers as a baby, she got sold four times before she reached the temple in a councilmember's arms. She was also four by the time she arrived. A dark complexion and bronze colored hair, with large dark freckles and amber eyes, born within three months of Fyodor, she was told that her rescuer found her near the mountains, probably because someone was trying to bring her home too early. Not everyone understood that the High Priestess had to raise a king's Zenanda. It is more common for a town's priestess to rear these brides.

Draspra was a creative and wrapped her soft curves in colored silks. She painted, sculpted and embroidered. She loved to dance and have lively conversations. She got bored the easiest of all the girls and would tease people as a result. Some in the temple even considered her cruel or, at the least, irreverent. Her sisters knew she was just too full of energy and that when she'd meditated in the mornings and evenings, her nature came fourth. She had a wisdom about her that was sometimes prophetic, and was always empathetic. She was associated with the goddess of fire, Vezdam. The working classes of Renata believed that she could throw fire or direct it and brought her gifts to avoid mishaps or ill fate.

Tonight Draspa wore pure white, her mocha skin visible underneath. Her tunic hung around her in embroidered seams she'd sewn herself. She'd also fashioned herself a crown, woven from a soft twig that, when dried, stayed the shape in which you molded it. She wrapped the crown with reeds and dried flower buds, to adorn it, and painted the entire thing with gold. She left her tight curls down and placed the crown upon her head to show her sisters. They all admired it aloud.

After Draspra, Maleece was mysteriously dropped at the temple door, the fifth maiden in their order. Later, her origin was traced to a brothel at the edge of the city. She had blonde hair that started out strawberry and darkened to golden. Her eyes were enormous, clear blue and her lashes and eyebrows were thick and dark. Her skin was more olive than the red-heads and she was more square-shaped and tall, with glorious legs. She wore a very short tunic tonight in light blue, her hair was long and wavy, just below her bottom. This Midsummer gala's dress code was light fabric or no clothing at all, traditionally an orgy. Since the sharing of magic was no longer relevant, the expectation of nudity or s*x was no longer appropriate. When the temple was full of energy conduits, s*x was the best way to share with and empower one another. She dressed to honor the possibility that she, personally, invited with a giggle.

Maleece was the social-political member of Fyodor's Zenanda. She took on all the tasks that Dahlia bestowed upon her, helping women and children who were in poverty or in a desperate situation, throughout the city. She organized donations for the temple and homes for the needy, plus any other charitable project Dahlia would find. Dahlia's talent was always compassion, spiritual guidance and leadership, so she needed a right hand to help carry these pursuits out. It was also rumored that Dahlia herself was from a brothel in the outer city, though no one knew for sure. Maleece was focused purely upon Dahlia and it was said she was in love with her. The townspeople associated her only with the tri-fecta of The Goddess's traits. Hers was the soft maiden aspect of The Goddess, not particularly defined separately from Dahlia's representation of The All Goddess.

Maleece was primarily distinguished for her appearance and of course everyone knew her, but would call her Dahlia's sister to define her. Dahlia and the Zenanda knew that Maleece had some of the most original ideas and plans to help multitudes of people, and promoted Maleece as an idea generator to everyone who would listen. She wore a long, transparent silk tunic of lavender tonight, with lavender sprigs braided loosely into her hair by her sister, Iliff. She sat chatting with Dahlia as usual, as her sister placed the decorations.

The sixth to be added was Iliff. Like Pate, she was from nobility. If a family was blessed with the birth of a prince's Zenanda, they were to alert the temple and surrender guardianship as immediately as possible. Iliff's mother developed a bad reputation for neuroticly hiding her. Her father's own ill repute spread, calling him a monster for hunting his wife and child down, to bring before the council. When he delivered Iliff, when she was six, he requested that the council punish his wife for making him expend resources trying to find her. They assured him she'd be dealt with, sent him away with gold, and granted her divorce and a home in the temple. The first Zenanda to be co-parented by her birth mother, purely by the High Priestess’s compassion.

Iliff had a moon-shaped face and a wide mouth, full of perfect teeth with pillowy lips. Her eyes were big and brown. She had fierce, fiery hair all over in huge curls and a temper to match. She'd been born under their and Fyodor's stars, but her's was as opposite a personality type as possible to the others, prone to drama and self-pity. She was a very smart person, very good at mathematics and astrology. She was short and her shape was a supple pear, with emphasis on the bottom. She wore all black and her only confidant was Pate. They'd slink around the halls of the temple together, two little rain clouds, and everyone would get out of their way. Iliff created problems with the others, and Dahlia would have to console and advise those affected, largely because of some problem her sister had imagined. She was not cool and calm, like Pate or irreverent, like Draspra, she was moody and self-centered. She was assumed to have missed her mother, and Resilda was not a possessive surrogate. This caused the elders to put her on different schedules than her sisters, living a temple worker's life with her mother, she ended up confined to books for lengths of time.

As a result of being separated from the Zenanda and assigned to live in her mother's chambers, Iliff was given more intense studies, so she became a very adept academic. Iliff came up with very helpful formulas and solved engineering problems with the city's infrastructure that were brought to the temple's attention. When she realized she had real-world value, possibly more important than any of her sisters, she began to feel less tortured and grew out of her moods when she was around fifteen. Dahlia put her back in the order's daily routine and gave her a goddess, a type of graduation she'd never gotten, because no one had associated her with a deity. She was given Letusae, the goddess of reason and philosophy.

Tonight, Iliff wore red and had piled her matching hair high on her head. Pate and she both darkened their eyes with coal and held hands waiting for the others to get ready, after she was done with the lavender adornment in Maleece's hair. Iliff kept saying she wasn't excited about tonight at all, but only to Pate, who also didn't like the idea of this festivity very much, either.

The seventh Zenanda didn't make it to the temple until she was seven. Zenna had fairy blood, like Dahlia and Pate, but her's was considered pure. There still existed colonies of pixies, said to have lost their wings, powers and other characteristics attributed to their race thousands of years ago. Now they were simply small-boned people who were particularly short and had distinctive features, usually from the west woodlands. Beauty was usually attributed to pixie folk in their world, so it was no surprise. Zenna was bred by the Edna party, to place their stake in Fyodor's Zenanda. They found two flaming red pixies and hired them to reproduce under the correct stars. This was a tradition in their party, but was looked down upon by the High Priestesses. Every generation, someone from the temple tries to bar the group from entering their infant, but the members are too affluent and the group too well-established to loose their foothold in the politics of Renata. As a result of this struggle, however, Zenna was held in her breeder's home until she could be entered into her order.

Zenna was a bit more than half the size Maleece with copper colored eyes and straight sparkling hair. Perfectly red-orange from head to foot, as sweet as Iliff was petulant, Zenna was the peace-keeper. She did not seem to have a special talent but generally succeeded and excelled in everything she tried. She was usually found trailing around after Dahlia and Maleece, juggling papers and making notes, helping Pate with the herb garden and playing in the woods with Blythe. She would set up special rituals and instruct the monks and abbesses to support the Zenanda's projects and missions.

Dahlia confided in Zenna the most, and they usually slept in the same bed. This made Maleece jealous so that she would go to Draspa to try to plan some spiteful revenge against cheerful, unsuspecting Zenna. Dahlia would pick up the pieces of tiffs and in-fighting, per the usual way of temple life.

There was a pixie goddess, Edna, who was worshipped as an aspect of The Goddess Zenna was dedicated to this deity at birth, people even believed she must have secret pixie powers. She was an exceptional bowman and the way her arrow flew seemed physically impossible. Her sister Iliff had studied it, people were so fascinated.

Tonight, Zenna wore a rich purple wrap-around tunic, fixed with gold, drapped over her skinny body, the hips slung forward, sinuewy and thig, little mounds that were mostly sunset colored areola, allowing her to expose her entire torsowith an open front. She wore lots of gold jewelry she'd collected from all her sisters' homage stores. Octavia was linking a bracelet onto her arm she'd just fetched from her own. she was smoking a green leaf-wrapped herb cigarette and cooing at her sister, gratefully.

The eighth and final addition came in her eighth year. Octavia was named by Dahlia. she'd been called Olive, and she was the port's tavern owner's foster daughter. Her mother came in on a ship and sold or gave her to the bar before she could remember. Xan, himself, found her on a midsummer festival night, not unlike this one. She sang a very pretty song and played the lute, with her golden eyelashes and fair complexion. She was completely pre-occupied with music and always had been. Her days working for the tavern were memorable because she hardly slept so she could practice her craft. The barowner was cruel and abusive. She wanted to forget her life before Xan rescued her. She would sleep with Dahlia and Zenna in a cuddle pile, in the ceremony room, at first, and wouldn't go into her own room because she was sure the tavern owner would find her and kidnap her.

Octavia was safe and loved at the temple with her sisters. She was taught to read and write and she began to compose poetry, to sing. Dahlia tried to keep it a secret that she loved her best, but it was difficult to hide. She was as tiny as Zenna and so pale she almost looked sickly. Her voice was like a flute and she had eyes the color of spring. Her hair looked washed of color, just like her pallor, and tonight she'd asked Maleece to dress her because she never liked how her clothes looked. Maleece was always kind to her, despite her obvious jealousy towards Zenna. She'd put an ice blue tunic on her and pinned up her short, thick, almost translucent hair in little silver flowers. Dahlia dedicated her to the goddess of spring and new beginnings, Tresapel.

After the girls put finishing touches upon their makeup, they stopped for a moment in the arching doorway of the dressing room, as Dahlia instructed, "Let us center." and linked hands with Maleece and Octavia. The two flanking their leader, in turn, held the hand of the sisters on the other sides and the others followed suit. "Deep breath" Dahlia started a mindfulness exercise and ended by acknowledging the Great Mother and the first Lilith.

The coven moved from their quarters, to the middle of the temple, hopeful, anxious, disdainful and enchanted.