Expression

He moved slowly, a god who felt more like a man than a deity. The noise was grating his nerves and he tensed his jaw as it grew louder. Paterdeus closed his eyes. His long dark hair clung to his wide shoulders as he inhaled, almost shielding him as he heard the approach of another.

Venamoris hugged him tight from behind. She only stood to the middle of his back and her arms barely reached around him, but she held onto him tight, willing her love to permeate his body, reach his heart and give him the peace she knew he wanted.

Paterdeus turned and looked at her. His magnificent hands clasped her delicate face as he admired her beauty and stared into those golden eyes. She made him feel young… like the creator god he had always been. He always felt stronger when she was near.

“My love,” Venamoris whispered with a soft smile. “Let them be.”

Paterdeus curled a lock of her golden-brown hair with his fingers. He noticed strands of white and saw how they drew attention to the gold flecks in those roundish-almond eyes.

“You are my praise Venamoris, my source of strength. But our children are as thorns in my side.”

“Certainly not,” Venamoris teased as she planted a gentle kiss on her lovers’ palm. “They seek their fathers’ approval; they vie for his attention-”

“-Ah but their father grows weary.” Paterdeus withdrew from his wife's arms. He looked upon the furniture about him.

Their home was built as a dwelling place for gods in a kingdom of gold and gardens. It was a sanctuary no man could have ever conceived, designed by Paterdeus himself; every detail having meaning even if only to him.

The house of Paterdeus was a labyrinth of living quarters and gardens, sealed off by a white linen fence; the white cloths draped between thirty-metre-high stone columns, each smooth to the touch. The roof of the house peaked in five places with the highest rising from the northern half of the enclosure to a height of five metres. It was made with one sheet of heavy white linen and fastened to the outer granite columns with gold clasps so that man, with all his contradictions, could not be mistaken for the creation of this house. Seen from outside the enclosure, the home of Paterdeus looked plain but ordinary it was not.

The gate was large and inviting, a twelve-metre-wide door of seven colours: violet, green, red, light blue, yellow, orange, and blue embroidered to outline five family crests on the white linen. The gate opened to the southern end of the house and to a spacious court with a path running through raised flower beds of purple saffron, yellow and red tulip bulbs, blue and violet hydrangeas, red and yellow green gloriosas and blue violet lisianthus. Flowering winter cherries, maidenhair ferns, daffodils, wattles, and nut-bearing tress lined the path here and there, careful not to grow over the lapidus gold granite pavement.

The lone path led to the inmost part of the court. Here, a three-metre wide artesian well flowed with a continuous supply of cool water, for the sole purpose of washing hands and feet before entering the house. Cleansing became a daily concern for Paterdeus and his household and a gesture of reverence by all others.

The path continued beyond the well; its shape echoed the angular lines of the house it pursued. Neither plants nor flowers flourished beyond the well. The green of the grass would almost disagree with the dark gold colour of the path if it were not for the large tree with hard pale timber that rose menacingly from the ground near the house.

The leafless branches of this tree counted to eight and distorted its appearance so that it gave the impression of many limbs stretching out in all directions from the one trunk. This huge tree with extensive reach sat comfortably on the green, sculpturing the landscape from the well to the house and separating it into two equal halves. The path ended before the tree, as if offended by its intrusion.

Beyond the tree the green, grassy landscape thinned and gave way to a veranda of pebbles and sand, just outside the exterior of the second entrance to the house of Paterdeus. The silk walls of the house were dark to provide some privacy, but thin so the rooms were always filled with the glorious scents of the gardens. The delicahs white granite columns and flooring were beautifully exaggerated by the few pieces of dark wood furniture that decorated the entrance hall of the house. It was here that Venamoris retreated to a nearby chair and smiled warmly at Paterdeus.

“You engaged in recreation with them whilst they were children. Present day, being adults, you elect to regard them as equal to grown commoners. They are from your loins Paterdeus – the offspring of the father god. Their number in years does not concern them. Likewise, you as god are not cause for them to contend for your consideration. You, as their father, moves all eight of our children to seek and strive for your attention.”

Venamoris rose from the comfort of the chair and teasingly rubbed Paterdeus’ middle, her long white robe hugging her curvaceous form.

“Forevermore will they desire to be the one elevated on your shoulders Paterdeus- a position not esteemed for rank but more so as a manifestation of your favour. An all-encompassing perspective is discovered when on your shoulders- a discernment of protection and power, of security and strength when in your embrace. From that place comes a comfort that is neither shakeable nor changeable. Thus, is it any wonder our children endlessly contend with one another for what only you can give?”

“That may very well be the birthplace of my bother Venamoris,” Paterdeus spoke, offering his wife a hint of what was on his mind as his strong hands caressed her hips, “Our offspring are comfortable. Nevertheless, I will delight them with a contest my love, but this will be a lesson taught…”.

Venamoris laughed softly as Paterdeus picked her up in his arms to kiss her but held her gaze to his own. He loved the smell of her hair, the softness of the strands and the richness of their colour. He sat her back on the chair, knelt before her in adoration, then ran his hands slowly up her thighs and along the contours of her hips as he followed with his eyes. He admired the round of their shape and the silkiness of her skin. As he done so, he recalled the journey his hands first made along this same landscape all those years ago…

Paterdeus stood on an enclosed platform and clapped his hands together. A smile enhanced the playfulness of his eyes. The loud bang from the force of the clap echoed throughout the room, bounced of furniture and floors and the ceiling as it reached ears and rebounded off chests. He slowly pulled his hands apart to reveal a small ball of glowing heat. The ball of light floated and sizzled between his hands, and he could feel power and warmth radiate from it. He stepped back as he lowered his arms. The ball of light and heat anchored and elevated in mid-air. It pulsated and generated more heat and light as it grew. Paterdeus smiled again, his eight warring children mesmerized by their fathers’ performance.

He studied them intensely, seemingly noting the best and worst attributes of each of them. Paterdeus then closed his eyes and began to rub the fingers of each hand with his thumbs. Flashes of energy sparked as he rubbed and just when it looked as though his hands would catch alight, he clapped them together again.

The bang was loud but did not vibrate around the room nor ring in ears as the first. Eight smaller balls floated from his grasp. He smiled then grabbed each, one-by-one, and threw them to varying distances from the pulsating orb of light. He traced lines around this orb in the air with his fingers and particles, like sand, appeared between the smaller orbs. These particles generated more heat and light and moved slowly in a clockwise direction around the larger orb of light and heat.

When he stopped, Paterdeus stepped down from the platform and marvelled at what he had created – a universe within his own.

“Children,” he gently spoke, arms outstretched as he addressed the eight young adults seated before him. “Who will be the first to give voice to what I have performed here?”

Petræ stood. He was the second eldest of the eight and the most sombre. He was tall and wide, well-defined muscles suggested power and brute strength. Petræ rarely smiled and was humourless and reflective; his hard expression confusing others so some regarded him as heartless and others as a rock. The eldest son of Paterdeus was larger than he yet bore the same dark features –wavy, thick black hair and olive complexion. His eyes were golden-brown as his mothers’ and mirrored the gentleness in his heart that his words and actions did not carry.

“You have created new beginnings… power… life,” was his reply and Paterdeus smiled. When Petræ saw his fathers’ response he nodded then re-joined his siblings on the long chairs.

“Yes!’ Paterdeus exclaimed. “I have used my hands to create! Children come and look.” He motioned for them to stand and approach the platform. They were quick to heed his instruction, curiousity and the desire to please spurred them into action.

“Why is that orb bigger than the others father?” Ventosa asked as she pointed to the first ball of light and heat in the centre of the universe.

Ventosa was statuesque and rhythmic in her movements, breezing in and out of rooms as though she were wind herself. She spoke with a hint of caution although her thirst for knowledge pushed her to question her father. Paterdeus adored Ventosa, his firstborn. He cherished her curiousity and hoped she would always stay teachable and wanting to learn. Ventosa wore her dark brown hair loose, curls coming undone by the weight of their long length. Her light bronze skin and golden-brown eyes enhanced her beauty so that many also became undone when she was around them.

“That is Solis,” Paterdeus responded with a smile at Ventosa, pleased with her question. “My children, you all have an appreciation for scientia… an interest I have encouraged because I, too, love scientia. Look at Solis. What do you see?”

“A form of… energy,” Ferrum answered cautiously as he bent slightly to examine the orb closer.

Paterdeus’ smile widened, the warmth of his enthusiasm resting on Ferrum. His youngest son was a smaller version of Petræ – dark features and golden-brown eyes. However, Ferrum did smile and he smiled a lot. He found joy in every day and had captured the hearts of many with his playfulness and his disarming grin that sweetened even his eldest brother’s dark moods. Ferrum was tall and muscle began to shape his long limbs and torso. He was athletic but did not care for competition, intelligent but did not favour study. Ferrum was care-free and preferred to explore and discover. Yet he was steely in his resolve and did not allow any opinion to sway his. Those moments turned back time for Paterdeus as they often reminded him of his own brother.

Paterdeus frowned as he remembered Fratredeos in their youth. “Truthful words Ferrum,” he spoke with a hint of sadness. “Solis is an orb of energy as her core. The energy moves out from her core and is finally liberated as heat and light.”

He stood pensive and likened his description of Solis to Venamoris. He regarded her love as the energy that emanated from her core and seeped throughout her being to break the shackles of whatever bondage that held her loved ones. He experienced the strength of her love daily and still could not take it for granted, for he knew in its absence was overwhelming darkness. Paterdeus frowned at himself as he knew that he had a just existence long before Venamoris, then nodded his head slowly as he realized that as he aged, so too did his understanding of right and wrong, good and evil, light and darkness.

Paterdeus watched Ferrum as he continued to examine Solis, wanting him to cherish the courage and simplicity of his thought life and prolong the polarizing influences of experience and knowledge from complicating it. He caught Ferrums’ attention and asked, “What good are heat and light?”

“Heat and light gives your creation its purpose and power… strength… life?” Ferrum spoke slowly as his older siblings waited patiently for his reply.

“When did you get so smart?” Vita teased as she ruffled her brothers’ hair. She was not much older than he and the middle daughter of the three. She also was a twin to her brother, Ejusq.

Vita and Ejusq were opposites in physical features but matched in their natures. Vita bore the earthy tones of her mother- the long auburn tresses and golden flecks that accentuated the brown in her roundish-almond eyes, the lightly bronzed skin and shapely limbs that flattered her curves and angles. She was creative and visionary, and inspired others with her imagination and stimulated them with her inventiveness. Ejusq was fairer in complexion- tousled blond hair that often hid his hazel eyes and the same oval-shaped face and cool-to-the-touch skin of the twin aunts he did not know. He was tall and reflective like Petræ yet agile and care-free like Ferrum, warming hearts with his laughter and humbling them with his words.

Ferrum tossed his head back, so it was out of Vita’s reach. “When did you get so tiny?” he teased as he flashed her one of his toothy smiles. Paterdeus grinned as he watched the teasing continue.

“Enough,” he spoke then gently added, “Your mother will tear into me if we are all not at her dinner table soon.”

The eight stopped and waited for their father to speak. “As I spoke before I speak now – you all have an appreciation for scientia. You all also are vying for… me. Understand this-” Paterdeus said as he slowly met and held the gaze of each of the eight.

“Father?” Ejusq whispered, uncertain. His eyes were wide with anticipation, and he squeezed his hands together, eager to hear what was to come next.

Clarissimis smiled, the brightness of which drew Paterdeus back from his thoughts. Clarissimis was the youngest daughter and second youngest of the eight, seated between Ferrum and Vita. She also was the smallest of his children, the same height as Venamoris but slighter in frame so that she looked fragile and gentle. Paterdeus’ smile returned as he met her gaze and knew that beneath her wispy red hair and cool hazel eyes was an intellect and a wit that was anything but temperate.

“I love each of you. I adore you and I am proud to be your father,” Paterdeus said slowly as he once more held the gaze of each of the eight.

“Is everything well father?” Nullam asked, alarmed by the intensity of Paterdeus’ tone.

Paterdeus smiled slightly and wrapped an arm around his son, the very gesture of which further alarmed him. He was the largest of the eight, hard muscles on long limbs perfected his impressive frame and added appeal to his dark features which were like his brothers, Petræ and Ferrum.

He wrapped another arm around Glaciem and smiled at both as he turned his head and looked from one to the other. Glaciem was the third eldest and looked most like his uncle, Paterdeus’ twin, Fratredeos. He bore the same ruffled blond hair and hazel eyes, but he had the deep olive complexion of Paterdeus. He also was muscular but had neither the bulkiness nor the definition of Petræ and Nullam.

“All is well,” Paterdeus finally responded as he removed his arms from their shoulders. “I have grown weary but of the conflict between you all. I am neither angry nor pleased. My love for each of you is equal and I do not favour one over the other. I hold you all in the same regard.”

Some nodded slowly while others waited on his words. “Your mother seems to think I should be more involved with each of you, so I have designed a game. Each of you stand in order of birth from the last orb to the first closest to Solis,” Paterdeus instructed.

They heeded his words and stood from oldest to youngest – Ventosa, Petræ, Glaciem, Nullam, Ejusq, Vita, Clarissimis and Ferrum – next to orbs positioned furthest from Solis to closest.

“The orb next to you is yours. Each of you have gifts and qualities unique to you. Use these talents skilfully and create greatness. You all have knowledge and love for scientia. Use this to generate life and create an expression of who you are so that you know the value of responsibility and the ethos of hard work.”

Paterdeus clapped his hands once more and on cue, the orbs became alive with movement, rotating slowly as their sand-like paths cradled them slowly around Solis. The eight siblings knelt or moved out of the trajectory of the orbs, some gasped with delight while others studied in silence.

Paterdeus turned slowly, satisfied with all that had happened in this room. Venamoris stepped beside him, her arms crossed in front of her as though she were about to scold him. When Paterdeus saw her, he took her into his arms and silently left the room, the eight unaware of their fathers’ absence but fascinated by the challenge before them.

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read Expression. This creation story is a prologue to the tales of Basilios, Olivia and their comrades as they seek to unite the land of Unum in a series of stories voicing their way from my heart and soul into written form. If you enjoyed Expression, please send encouragements by clicking the heart below. I appreciate your support.