A response to the freewrite prompt standing naked in the arena, and a continuation of my Ballroom Project!
The zenith of the full moon is here at last. Everyone will be expecting her to step out of the circle and stand alone: ready to declare herself as a fully-fledged priestess, to perform the annual blessing on their people, to request the guidance of the heavens, to do justice to the sacredness of this moment.
Alila had hoped for this for a long time. An opportunity to do something meaningful. To stand before the people. To demonstrate her commitment to – and understanding of – the sacred processes that govern the lives of the entire community. To be seen for who she is and to offer her service to the highest good of the people. At last. At long, long last.
Yet as the music swells and heads begin to turn in her direction – as the exact moment of her conferral begins to shimmer into view and the moon looms large in her eyes – Alila stands frozen. She is terrified.
She can't quite believe she is about to forgo her chance to accept this role she has longed for, all because of fear... yet here she stands, unable to take a single step.
The eyes of all these onlookers seem to leave her stripped. They can see her for who she is. They can see beyond the elaborate robes and fine jewels. They see her exactly as her mother does. She has no real ability, no real gift, beyond what her mother has temporarily allowed her to have.
In truth, Alila realises with mounting horror, she is useless. A spoilt heiress. Unable to think or say or do much on her own – she needs to be prompted and guided at every step.