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| What was my name?; This is where it all begins | |
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| Topic Started: May 29 2007, 07:44 PM (182 Views) | |
| Setharoth | May 29 2007, 07:44 PM Post #1 |
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Re-born
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Once more he awoke, started from sleep by some dream of things unknown. Drenched in cold sweat he sat up, holding his head in his hands, trying with all his might to figure out what it meant. The flames, the images of dragons, things that felt like memories. They came at night to haunt him and try as he did it was all to no avail. He turned his head to the window at the foot of his bed and watched as the sun began the dawn. He watched it for the hour it took to rise before lifting himself off his mattress, out the door and downstairs to the small tavern of the Arena. He absent mindedly found himself some day old bread, a small piece of cheese and a pint of water before sitting at the bar. Still closed to the public, he was rather content to thoughtfully munch on his simple breakfast in only his trews. A few moments passed and a second set of feet strode into the pale tavern. "Mornin' Seth." The manager said, strolling tiredly across the wooden floors to get his own breakfast. Seth nodded a reply, not looking at anything in particular. His mind rattled still by the dreams that assaulted it nightly. "Ye've not been sleepin' again." John said pointedly, taking the stool next to him. Seth smiled, coming back to reality. "Ah John, you've always looked after me... I've told you before what renders my nights sleepless." "Aye, And I've told ye that a woman sharing your bed brings sleep." Seth chuckled, shaking his head softly. "John, you know that just won't do." He said, rising to clear his plate and knife back to the kitchen. He turned away from the sink and stopped, John had followed him. "I'm tellin' ye, ye need a girl to take your mind of things." Once again Seth shook his head and went about tidying up after himself. "I'm telling you it just won't do. Look. I've told you what's happening, no girl could fix my nightmares lest she keep me from all forms of sleep..." He stopped, a far away look coming into his eyes, "When I walk the streets, people look at me sideways. Like I've done something to them. Some of the older folk stare in fear and scurry away like scolded dogs. I've people bowing to me in the streets sometimes. Initially I thought it was for my reputation as your Champion fighter, but as it got more erratic it dawned on me that it wasn't. People have approached me with my name on their lips and practically begged me to bless them... You know why don't you?" Seconds soon became a minute as the two stood staring at each other. "You know, don't you?" Setharoth pressed. John had that stern expression he sometimes got when he was about to say something he'd rather not. "Go get dressed. Pack yer travellin' bag, you've got a journey to make." "What do yo~" Seth began. "No, no questions. Just go. Now!" ------------------------------------------- He took the stairs quickly and pulled on his shirt and boots, he flew out of his room as quickly as he entered it only to be met halfway down the stairs with: "Don't be daft boy! Ye'll need yer weapons and armour too, ye're travellin'!" With that he turned and retraced his hasty steps. He smoothed his shirt and carefully donned his red breast plate, taking time to do it up. Next came the various belts and buckles, scabbards and harness. Two dirks, his great sword, the rest of his armour and finally the bandanna that kept his hair up. He grabbed his bedroll and an extra blanket from his cupboard, stuffing the two into a large bag. He descended the stairs again, slower this time. John was waiting for him, his expression hadn't changed. He held a sizable canvas bag in his hand and he spoke before Setharoth could utter even a single question. "Ye're leavin' now. And ye prolly won't come back." "John, of course I will~" "No. Yer not this time, I know it. Ye're to seek out an old pirate widow. Her manor lays three days south of here, overlooking a lake. Ye kenne miss it... Her name is Daria, she can answer yer questions... Now go." He commanded, handing Setharoth the sack of provisions. "John, I~" "Go!" Setharoth turned and made for the door hastily. Flinging it open to the early morning air he turned back to look at the man he saw as a Father. "Go!" ------------------------------------- He left that day, three days back he strode through the gates of Avalon city and into the surrounding long grass and forests. Three days south with barely a rest and he stood now, exhausted and on the brink of giving up, before a lake veiled in mist. Upon the hill behind the lake stood a cottage that barely looked like it were habitable. He made for it and was astonished to see the neglect up close. Statues turned to dust and vines ran rampant across the old place. He stepped quietly and he was sure he could feel something watching him from the blackened windows. He reached the door and placed a hand softly upon its weathered countenance, it swung open. He stopped, certain now that this wasn't the right thing to be doing... But sheer curiosity forced him to step onto the dusty floor, the wood creaking in greeting. "Lady Daria?" He called, his voice vanishing into the ghostly house. "I... Lady? I've come to speak with you..." |
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Description Inventory  C. Ma Cherie. C'est seulement pour toi, mon ange. Merci~ Happy birthdayyy! I loove you! Hope you've had a fun day! | |
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| Lady Evil | Jun 5 2007, 01:57 AM Post #2 |
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Unregistered
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<ooc> And I give you...my crappy reply. Damnit, it stinks. But meh. It's so vague and boring and meh. I had some other plans for it, but they refused to surface. And so I'm stuck with this. <ic> The water no longer scalded the woman’s skin; it had been boiled a week ago, shunned until now, when she felt ready to bathe. She slipped her thin, lithe body into the water, a soft gasp slipping between her fingers – the cold always managed to take her by surprise. The tub was a white porcelain tub raised up by little iron legs, in the middle of the stone room that was the washroom. Next to the tub was a fluffy woollen towel, dyed a soft brown colour. Splash. She let her arm drop into the water, little droplets flying around. It amused her, so she did it again. Her life now was a sequence of simple, childlike joys; a play in the bath, a butterfly in the air, a droplet of wine dripping from her glass. She cupped her hands and brought it to her face, letting the water surge down her face, between her breasts and back in with the rest of the water. Sunlight from the rising sun cascaded through the window, illuminating the dusty room. Over an hour had passed since she had stepped into the cold bath, when the light from the window had been so very faint. She sighed a long sigh, and then slid down, the water rising above her face, covering her magnificent hair. She held her breath, one, two, three, four, five…and bobbed out of the water, sending water flying around her. Lightly she stepped out, wrapping the offensively coloured towel around her tightly. In the adjacent room a dress was laid out, or rather, had been laid out a week ago when the cleaning maid (who came once a fortnight) had laid it out after readying the steaming hot bath. It was simple – dark blue and fairly new. She had had to get many new clothes, having lost a lot of weight and muscle power. The looking glass was her next stop. It showed her what she had already seen a hundred times this week – the pale thin face, angular and delicate; the full lips, cherry red in colour; the thin, plucked eyebrows and the liquid chocolate eyes, like mournful glass marbles set in a doll’s face. The face was framed by wet ribbons of violet, so vividly contrasted against her fair skin. One glance would’ve set her age at just over twenty, maybe in her mid-twenties. But a second class set the clock back, setting her age at perhaps thirty. That was still four years too little, but it was old enough for her, an insult if anyone had told her that. Indiscernible spider’s legs crept from the corners of her eyes. Her skin didn’t have that soft, pliant feel that young skin had; instead it was leathery, hanging slightly from her sharp bones like stiff laundry. Her hair, if one cared to examine closely, was infested by thin, at present, invisible strands of silver. She brought up one thin finger, running it down the across her cheek, down her ear, along her lips. Her elbow knocked over a tall glass vase on the table. The ground snatched it to itself, glass exploding around it. It snapped her out of her reverie, straight out of her memory of a younger woman, a prettier woman. She cursed but didn’t do anything, except exit the room like a floating ghost. For several years now (three? Four? Five?), the house had been uncared for, except by the single maid that was now employed to keep it somehow habitable. Not since that one day, so long ago, when that cursed demon Clinsor had come, had the whole Rendra family resided beneath the same roof, beneath this roof. And since that day, almost as long ago, when Sayle had come, the house had fallen into ruin, its once-beautiful enchantments undone. Statues had collapsed, flames had been extinguished, and the garden had invaded the lands. The mistress of the house, the widow, Lady Daria Rendra, was one of the flames that had been extinguished so cruelly by the death of her husband. Her daughter had perished too, but not directly because of that. Her son’s flame, on the other hand, had been rekindled, his anger brought to life by the promise of revenge and avenging his father. Now, the mistress sat, with dry hair, in the dining room. A half-filled goblet sat in front of her, and a fool could’ve guessed its contents. She gazed at it, then wrapped her thin fingers around its leg. Should she carry on or not? Ah, this was temptation in its rawest form. Temptation was the want, the desire, the need, to do something denied, loathed, unrespectable. But, temptations chose you. Small, pitiable temptations (should I smile at that man? Should I have this cake?) chose weak and impotent victims, while larger temptations (should I hurt him? Should I end my life?) chose such victims that they could toy with. She brought the goblet to her lips; she had been a victim of many temptations, and most likely would carry on being such a victim. The silence was punctured by the swish of grass. A messenger? Sinu? The maid? She didn’t bother to get up. Nobody came here unless they were called, visitors hadn’t been entertained and housed for years, the house hadn’t had a stranger set his eyes upon it for years. Slowly she swished the liquid in the goblet, around and around. “Lady Daria!” The voice was like the shattering of the vase, an awakening, a call. She dropped the glass in surprise, dark red liquid seeping into the tablecloth. ‘I am imagining things!’ she thought. Never would she forget that voice, never. It was so real, so beautiful, calling straight into her heart. She shuddered, but didn’t dare move in case she woke up and destroyed this dream. But the voice called again. ‘Perhaps I am just hearing his voice within another’s.’ Slowly she got up, shakily pushing the chair into place. She slipped through the crack in the door, closing it behind her. Eyes stuck to the ground, afraid of looking up. Afraid of seeing those ghosts that had taunted her before. Afraid of seeing a stranger who she had mistaken him for. Afraid, so afraid. Her fingers trembled. It was him. A ghost, a hallucination, magic or a trick, she knew it was him. So young, so handsome, so heart-wrenchingly beautiful. It was a physical blow to her head, her heart. “Seth.” The name was torn from her lips, an anguished gasp, a loving caress. She did not even stop to think that he should’ve been her age, that he should’ve looked older. That he should’ve looked different. That it had to be a dream or a ghost or magic, if he was so young. “My love…” the words crumpled out, flung behind her as she leapt towards him. She didn’t stop to think, maybe it was a stranger, maybe her dream would shatter if she touched him. But, the temptation was too great, the desire, the want…the need to feel him hold her. The dream did not shatter. |
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| Setharoth | Jun 13 2007, 01:16 AM Post #3 |
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Re-born
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His voice echoed through the cold abode and for a time silence was all that greeted him. He stepped inside, the creaking floorboards sending shivers down his spine. A moment passed as his eyes ventured o’er the dusty annex, he didn’t hear the nearby door close nor did he see the Woman that stood before him, not till she spoke. “Seth.” He needn’t look. He had no time to before his eyes were full of things unknown. That voice heralded an eruption of visions; that beautifully uncertain voice that summoned motions of flames and ships, of full moons, cats, frantic hands and a vivid image of Aphrodite with violet locks cascading over her shoulders. His heart rate increased, his breathing becoming hard and drawn out, a cold, nervous sweat burst over his back. Suddenly his armour was feeling very heavy and for the first time in what seemed his entire life he was scared. His mouth dried up and yet he still whispered, “Your voice is ambrosia…” He swallowed; a stone settling in his stomach as he lifted his head to discover what, nay, who spoke his name so sweetly. Slowly his eyes followed the path of his head, blue silver orbs filled with apprehension, drinking in every detail of what fell before them. They started on the dusty floor and worked their way up; bare feet, long legs, a blue dress that hugged an exquisite figure. Yet it was the waves of violet locks beginning at her waist that stole his breath entirely. His eyes flew to the woman’s face and he needn’t ask her name. He knew she was Daria. He felt he knew all about her as the flood of… memories coursed behind his shocked eyes. A black hull of some unknown ship on a morning too cold for summer. Within, there stood a man clad as this young one did, minus the armour. Eyes searched a naked figure of the same woman, same hair, same eyes, same figure. Sight quickly became touch and soon became lust incarnate. Clothes flung ‘cross the cabin and hasty motions of love so passionate that the heat of the morning had no effect. Moans and gasps, biting teeth and close tied lips blinded all else. Reality hit him like an anvil as the Lady spoke once again. “My love…” He voice wavered and his heart melted in inexplicable fondness. Suddenly she was upon him. He supported her weight and was gripped once more by this familiar feeling. His mind reeled with a mixture of questions, images, memories; A chaotic merry-go-round of confusion. But her eyes stilled his mind, the great pools of molten chocolate that went so deep that becoming lost would have become all too easy. But those lips, those that quivered in almost disbelief at what she saw. Those full red lips. Those beautiful, soft, cherry lips. The ones that felt so good beneath his own. They parted, slowly, allowing mouths to remember one another in a more than welcome embrace. His left hand clenched ‘pon her lower back whilst his right entwined itself in her hair. He was becoming lost in the passion, forgetting who, what and even why. The night was long and the sex even longer. The house was silent all around them, the kids were camping and for once nothing could stop them. Throws of passion held them, their love was unbridled and even the Gods knew it held no bounds. Positions and places change. Bed to walls, benches to tables, in the grass to finish on this midsummer’s eve in the clear pond beneath a full and hearty moon. He held his wife close, smiling, for nothing in the world could make him happier than he now was. “Shame we didn’t have any chocolate.” He chuckled. She giggled, her eyes shining in the moonlight. She was happy too, tracing his finger over his chest. “Seth…” She began. “I love you.” The flood waters rose in his mind and a life not his own surfaced, bringing him forcefully back to reality once more. His eyes grew wide, suddenly aware of his actions. He broke the embrace, embarrassment replacing the irrational pleasure of the moment. Turning he put his hand to his head, swearing beneath his breath. “Lady Daria… I… I apologise. I don’t know what came over me. I… I.. I am… S..S.. Setharoth, though you seem to already know that and I know you and… and…” He stammered, the words coming out fast and unthought, eventually trailing off. For a second he stood, shaking his head, attempting comprehend everything that was happening. Finally he fell to his knees, his armour too heavy to support with shaking legs. “Who am I?” He whispered, three confused tears dying on the neglected hardwood floor. |
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Description Inventory C. Ma Cherie. C'est seulement pour toi, mon ange. Merci~ Happy birthdayyy! I loove you! Hope you've had a fun day! | |
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| Lady Evil | Jun 15 2007, 08:03 PM Post #4 |
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Unregistered
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Any minute now reality would splinter into a thousand pieces, her dream would spiral out of her reaches, her Seth would fade away, and she’d find herself back in the tub full of cold water, awake in her cold, prison, excuse of a life. Like a little babe holding a mother’s finger, like a child clinging to a father’s cloak, like a lover embracing a lover before they parted ways, she held him. Her mind had drifted away, this moment was not for thinking, it was for touching, feeling, smelling, seeing… Her lips touched his, Gods above it felt so real! This is like no dream that I have dreamed before…, she thought to herself. But the words were weak, a small pitiful voice gibbering away in the back of her senseless mind. There would be time to think and talk later, or time to regret that she had embraced a stranger, or time to wake up and yearn for the dream. A tingle ran through her body as he returned her embrace. His warm hand crept to her back, while the other hand lost itself in her violet cascade of hair. Through the flimsy material of her dress (ah, every material seemed so thin compared to this contact, for years now he had been just a wisp of a memory brushing her mind, and now he was here, their skin separated by a dress and his armour), she felt the armour press against her chest. That familiar red armour she had seen him dress into countless times. She kissed him back, her lips longing to remember every kiss. She raised her thin arm, reaching for his fair hair. Final proof, her dreams never would’ve been able to replicate a kiss so sweet as well as the texture of his hair. Though her mind was blank, her fingers remembered the feel of gold, not the solid gold coins that they knew so well, the covetable mop of hair that covered her love’s head, that covered Seth’s head. Then, suddenly, too suddenly, he pulled away. Startled, she took a quick step back, gleaming eyes watching him hungrily, as if he might disappear any second. Awkwardly he put his hand to his head, embarrassed, sheepish, muttering under his breath. In that second her mind returned to her, a physical blow, making her draw in a sharp breath. What had happened? Was a he ghost? A spectre? Risen from the dead? A magical illusion? A man who looked like her Seth? Even an unknown brother of his? The thoughts raced each other in her head, making her whole world spin. The second she had set her eyes on him this fair day, her world had crashed back into her. Now, s’pose, she was suffering from the after-effects, the consequences. The words he spoke, blasphemy! her mind cried, drummed through her ears into her head. An apology? Lady Daria? Then the ground sucked him to it, with a soft crash he fell to his knees. Daria’s arm twitched, she blinked. What the hell was going on? It was like telling a little child that all the things she knew and depended on were lies, deceptions, counterfeited. The chocolate-brown glass orbs stared at him, shimmering, hurt, stunned, her face was a painting of raw emotion, love, fear, disbelief, amazement. “Who am I?” he whispered; three words, three cursed words, which were like three slaps to her face. She rocked on her feet, teetering between two worlds. Along with those three words, she saw three genuine tears drop to the floor. This is all going so wrong. A nightmare! Perhaps? “No,” she whispered. “No…You’re…Yes, you’re Setharoth, Seth. You’re my…” The words were swallowed up by the ominous hallway. Once, long ago, it had been a warm entrance hall, where she would welcome her husband home, or have her kids welcome her home. Now it was the gateway between her miserable ghost life inside and the real world outside, which had moved on without Seth. She dropped to her knees too, out of exasperation. She regarded him with wide, innocent eyes, imploring, pleading, begging him to remember, to acknowledge her the way he would’ve done before. Her eyes caught the youthful looks, and finally her slow mind was whacked by the truth. “So young…” she gasped softly, her own hand flying to the skin surrounding her eyes, feeling the tiny ridges and grooves that would eventually creep across her skin. The threads that had suddenly been woven together by his arrival were unravelling; confusion, chaos, panic threatened to obliterate any rational thoughts from her mind. No, one of us has to stay somewhat sensible. Years of breaking down, years of emotional floods had passed, and now at the climax she was forced to bottle it all and act sane. Perhaps this is final proof that I am insane. Tenderly Daria reached out a long thin finger, softly touching the cheek of a man she knew so well, yet was like a stranger sprawled on her floors. “You’re home now,” her voice faltered, what could she say? It was like convincing a child to believe in something he refused to recognize. “You’re Seth, once the great Guardian of Fire. You have…had…two children, now just one...You have a wife.” She spoke slowly, she didn't sound like herself. She just wanted to fling herself into his arms and have him hold her, comfort her, tell her everything would be okay. But his arms were, shockingly, unwilling. “Then you…you…left.” A stream of tears exploded from her eyes, running swiftly down her powdered cheeks. Who am I? Who is he? Who are we? <ooc> Heh. Believe me, it's 600 words. 943? What? Liar! I refuse to believe you. It's 600. 
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| Setharoth | Jul 24 2007, 11:44 PM Post #5 |
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Re-born
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For a moment he was silent, his mind reeling from the ‘memories’. The sound of Daria joining him on the hardwood brought him, once more, back to reality. As he looked up, his blue silver eyes scouring her form yet again, she spoke. “So young…” More a soft gasp than actual words… Seth had no idea, up until this point, what this meeting could have held and now a part of him wished he’d defied his mentor. He was mentally chiding himself; You fool… Look at grief you brought upon this lady. Blinking back more confused tears he was taken aback when she touched his cheek. “You’re home now,” Her voice wavered, showing her own uncertainty but Seth listened expectantly, hoping to learn something that would stem the flow of images. She spoke slowly and it seemed like she was distancing herself from the truth in the words. “You’re Seth, once the great Guardian of Fire.” It was foggy. There was little light and it was impossible to gauge whether it was day or night. He was exhausted, trudging for hours through terrain littered with rocks and peppered with ditches. On more than one occasion had he fallen and twisted his ankle and he had even broken it on this trek. He was more than thankful for the healing magic he knew; remembering the old man that taught him every time he had to call upon it. He thought he could rest now, by the flat stones, but no, another appeared. Devin. And so it began. His test. There was lightning and ice, fire and the unending battle of words. Finally though; “Why are you here Devin?” and it was over. Power was his. The memory faded and Setharoth was left bewildered. He found it hard to believe that such abilities were once his. But then again, they were never his. The power was timeless and was not only passed from mortal to mortal as was needed but this man on the floor wasn’t the same one as that in the memories. “You have…had…two children, now just one” Lharnia and Sinurith. The names burnt in front of his eyes before he had a chance to even think about them. A daughter and a son. Lharnia was lost forever but Sinu… He remembered the boy. “...You have a wife.” It would have been wrong anywhere else but on the deck of a ship, far out to sea. The couple stood dressed in such finery that was unlike them. A pirate Lass and a warrior Man were, for the first time, seen wearing traditional garb. They were surrounded by their friends, neither possessing family, save one another. Finally the captain spoke as all the guests bore witness to something that rarely happened. “Do you, Captain Daria Malvagio, take this man to be your husband?” Her answer was swift and without any form of hesitation. “I do.” “And do you, Guardian Setharoth Rendra, take this woman as your wife?” The man’s response showed his love. “Forever more, I do.” With that they were wed; a kiss and a great cheer from the crowd. He remembered their wedding, such a beautiful event, even if he wasn’t actually present. “Then you…you…left.” She faltered and the tears started to flow freely. As he watched her cry, something fell into place. It was as if some ancient thing he’d lost was finally found; everything made sense. He blinked a few times and something had changed. He moved with a purpose now, sure of his actions and took Daria in his arms, holding her tightly. “Shhhh.” He crooned. “Everything’s going to be alright Daria, love.” His voice was deeper, more aged and his eyes twinkled in that moment. “Everything’s going to be just how it’s supposed to be.” |
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Description Inventory C. Ma Cherie. C'est seulement pour toi, mon ange. Merci~ Happy birthdayyy! I loove you! Hope you've had a fun day! | |
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| Lady Evil | Aug 28 2007, 04:09 AM Post #6 |
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Unregistered
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‘ Sayle let out his breath, and smiled again. “Daria, let it go. Let it all go. Let go of the anger, the pain. It will only hurt you.” He let go of her hands and just embraced her, feeling her body warmth against his. “Daria...Seth won't be coming back. I'm so sorry.” Sayle’s breath tickled her ear and her neck, but his words…His words wrecked havoc on her heart, shredding, tearing, destroying…No…no…no…no… “No.” Her voice cracked as she said it, a sob fighting its way through. “No!” Tears, unbidden, rolled down her cheeks, sparkling in the lights of the night. “NO!” It was more of a sob than a shout. ’ That had been the end of her life, so perfect and pleasurable, it had also been the beginning of her ghost life, the beginning of being unable to forgive and let go. She was emotional, daring, beautiful, and mortal; a mere embodiment of spirit and humanity, inherited and developed personalities, thoughts and opinions. She had told herself, ‘I’ll have to be strong and live for my children…for Sinu and Lharnia.’ ‘A heavy banging on the door disturbed Daria’s peaceful nap, for once she had been able to fall asleep without tears or screaming or drinking. After weeks of falling asleep accompanied by those old friends, she earned this one nap. “Sinu! Open it!” she yelled hoarsely. A moment later the soft pitter-patter of feet descending the stairs reached her ears, followed by the gentle murmur of people speaking. She drifted off slowly, dark eyelids drooping, heading sinking deeper into the pillow… “Mother!” Sinu was shaking her awake. “Mama! I need fifteen gold coins.” “What?” she asked through her sleepy stupor. “Fifteen gold coins.” He repeated. “For what?” She asked, and he hesitated. “To…pay the messenger.” “What messenger? What message does he bring?” “No, it’s nothing.” She got up slowly, ignoring Sinu’s words. “No, mama! I can take care of it. Stay here! Sleep! You can sleep!” Panic crept into his voice. “It’s alright, I swear.” His thin arms pushed her down, though she was weak and weary, she pushed him aside with a soft snarl. “If it’s for me, I’ll deal with it. Is he here for me?” She ordered, brown eyes having lost their tired look, now flashing at him. How dare he think she was weak? Or unable to dismiss a simple messenger. “He’s…here for you.” Sinu admitted reluctantly. “But please! Mother! No!” She glared at him, pushing him aside and exiting the room. He trailed after her. She walked down the stairs regally, down to the hallway. “How may I he-” she screamed, hands flying frantically to her anguished face. She had caught sight of the mutilated head that the messenger was carrying. The face, though cut up and beaten to such a pulp the beautiful features were heavily distorted, had a bush of hair attached to it, which the messenger’s fingers gripped tightly – the hair was purple, a slightly lighter shade than Daria’s. The frail woman dropped to the ground in a pile of sobbing. “No…No…not them. Not her. It’s not possible. Not like him…No…My daughter…my child…my husband’s child…our child. Oh Seth! Oh Lharnia!” the mass rocked back and forwards, eyes glazed by insistent tears, long fingers gripping at her own waterfall of violet. With tears in his brown eyes, Sinu paid the messenger, quietly asking him to leave the head behind a bush in the garden and thanking him for coming this far.’ That was the end of trying to live for her children, and the beginning of living because there was nothing else to do, the beginning of a life of drinking, simple pleasures and severe depression. ‘Why can’t I just die?’ she had thought to herself. ‘Life is futile…so lacklustre…so revolting, without Se- him. I should be merciful once in my life, end my suffering, then we could be reunited in death, yes?’ No. Something had kept her from killing herself. Except that one time, she pretended to overlook that time, forget it. Perhaps she had died. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen a stranger’s face, she could just vaguely remember the last time she had felt fresh air on her face and grass beneath her bare feet. And now? She kneeled before a man she thought she knew. A man she thought was dead. A man she thought was her husband come back to life. A man she knew was a stranger. Tears surged from her eyes, wet lashes blinking, trying to hold back the tidal wave of sorrow. Her mouth buttoned itself shut to keep in the howls of despair, but the button holes were stretching. Her delicate head was bent down in submission, the limp curls of violet hung around her face, strands clinging to the moist patches on her cheeks. She sniffled and then let out a muffled whimper. But then a handsome, blonde man rescued her from her sea of melancholy. His strong arms encircled her and held her. His reassuring, soft voice whispered in her ear and comforted her. And though she ought to have questioned this sudden remembering, she didn’t. Too many misunderstandings and mysteries had passed today, and she was ready to believe in anything. Her trembling arms wrapped themselves around his neck, and she clung to him. “Oh Seth…Seth…Seth.” |
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5:31 PM Mar 19
