Post by Lisa on Apr 2, 2010 11:40:15 GMT 10
Title: Seven Days
Rating: PG
Length: 420
Character: Wyldon
Summary: It takes seven days to finally face the truth of life without her.
Warning: Character Death
Wyldon received the message on a Tuesday. It was raining, and he wondered if the storm – moving slowly from the northeast – had passed over her when she was still breathing. Had she felt rain drops on her cheeks when the blow had taken her life? Was it the same stinging rain that struck his face now?
On Wednesday he was in Corus. They had never discussed what to do if one of them fell in battle. It was always a possibility, they knew, but knights were superstitious. Speaking of death was like calling the Black God’s attention. Sakuyo laughs, he thought, remembering they way one corner of her mouth turned upward when she uttered the words.
Thursday was the hardest; he waited with the Mindelan family until the caravan arrived, a simple pine box in the last wagon. Keladry. Owen rode with the wagons, his face somber and tear-streaked. Ilane of Mindelan held him close as he recounted her last moments. Even in her misery, she comforted this poor boy who needed a mother.
Queenscove showed up on Friday, silent for the first time anyone could remember. He looked at Wyldon, his eyes pained, and they gripped each other’s forearms. Keladry would have appreciated that moment of solidarity. The irony, of course, was that she could not witness it or enjoy the notion of two sworn antagonists bonding over their mutual pain.
The funeral was Saturday. Everyone agreed that she would have preferred a morning service. No one thought anything of the birds that perched on shoulders by the graves, or the dog who whined miserably when the first handful of dirt was dropped onto the coffin.
On Sunday he went to the Mithran temple, staring at the alter for a good hour, trying to recall every conversation they’d shared. It had been one year since their marriage in that very room, vowing to love and protect each other for the rest of their lives. Wyldon had buried two wives in his lifetime, unable to protect either when they needed it the most.
And on the seventh day, he finally cried. He wept for the life that was lost, and for the one that continued without her smiles, her tender touches, or the comfort of having someone with him who understood him so completely. The pressing weight on his heart, so heavy since he heard the news, gradually subsided with the release of tears. But he knew the road to recovery was long and wearying. It was a familiar path.
Rating: PG
Length: 420
Character: Wyldon
Summary: It takes seven days to finally face the truth of life without her.
Warning: Character Death
Wyldon received the message on a Tuesday. It was raining, and he wondered if the storm – moving slowly from the northeast – had passed over her when she was still breathing. Had she felt rain drops on her cheeks when the blow had taken her life? Was it the same stinging rain that struck his face now?
On Wednesday he was in Corus. They had never discussed what to do if one of them fell in battle. It was always a possibility, they knew, but knights were superstitious. Speaking of death was like calling the Black God’s attention. Sakuyo laughs, he thought, remembering they way one corner of her mouth turned upward when she uttered the words.
Thursday was the hardest; he waited with the Mindelan family until the caravan arrived, a simple pine box in the last wagon. Keladry. Owen rode with the wagons, his face somber and tear-streaked. Ilane of Mindelan held him close as he recounted her last moments. Even in her misery, she comforted this poor boy who needed a mother.
Queenscove showed up on Friday, silent for the first time anyone could remember. He looked at Wyldon, his eyes pained, and they gripped each other’s forearms. Keladry would have appreciated that moment of solidarity. The irony, of course, was that she could not witness it or enjoy the notion of two sworn antagonists bonding over their mutual pain.
The funeral was Saturday. Everyone agreed that she would have preferred a morning service. No one thought anything of the birds that perched on shoulders by the graves, or the dog who whined miserably when the first handful of dirt was dropped onto the coffin.
On Sunday he went to the Mithran temple, staring at the alter for a good hour, trying to recall every conversation they’d shared. It had been one year since their marriage in that very room, vowing to love and protect each other for the rest of their lives. Wyldon had buried two wives in his lifetime, unable to protect either when they needed it the most.
And on the seventh day, he finally cried. He wept for the life that was lost, and for the one that continued without her smiles, her tender touches, or the comfort of having someone with him who understood him so completely. The pressing weight on his heart, so heavy since he heard the news, gradually subsided with the release of tears. But he knew the road to recovery was long and wearying. It was a familiar path.