Post by Tamari on Jul 5, 2012 14:49:29 GMT 10
Title: Happy Families Are All Alike
Rating: PG
Prompt: #71 Broken Dreams
Summary: A tale of two fiefs in pictures.
A picture of Conté
Stone walls, ivy, tall trees and grapevines and hedges.
The smell of rain in the summer and wood smoke in the winter.
Overflowing libraries, desks filled with documents and scrolls and too much time.
Servants (not slaves, not here) dressed in sweeping skirts and embroidered tunics.
The ghosts of four running, laughing, playing children, and two who sat still as the trees and pretended they didn't want to join in.
Two black-haired girls (women), one with hazel eyes and one with blue, one impetuous and one dutiful.
Quiet tears sobbed into pillows and hateful words whispered to no one and nothing said aloud but "yes, milady" and "no, milady" and "dinner is served".
Dark brows drawn and too heavy crowns and girls broken down in the shade of oak trees.
A picture of Eldorne
An old castle, rolling hills, too much dust.
Dust in eyes and noses and deep into hearts, muffling words and thoughts and breaths.
Empty rooms, tapestries and statues and luxuries long since sold off.
Women in richly decorated gowns, two decades out of style, hands as rough as the chunks of red clay in the soil.
No ghosts of occupants past (bar the one no one wants to revisit).
Three sons, all bitter and harsh, one a little softer than the others but hardened by war and loss and the undeniable truth of being Eldorne.
Meaningless chatter just to fill the silence that stretches the length of the hills.
The clang of practice swords and a too heavy legacy and men who refuse to cry.
Rating: PG
Prompt: #71 Broken Dreams
Summary: A tale of two fiefs in pictures.
A picture of Conté
Stone walls, ivy, tall trees and grapevines and hedges.
The smell of rain in the summer and wood smoke in the winter.
Overflowing libraries, desks filled with documents and scrolls and too much time.
Servants (not slaves, not here) dressed in sweeping skirts and embroidered tunics.
The ghosts of four running, laughing, playing children, and two who sat still as the trees and pretended they didn't want to join in.
Two black-haired girls (women), one with hazel eyes and one with blue, one impetuous and one dutiful.
Quiet tears sobbed into pillows and hateful words whispered to no one and nothing said aloud but "yes, milady" and "no, milady" and "dinner is served".
Dark brows drawn and too heavy crowns and girls broken down in the shade of oak trees.
A picture of Eldorne
An old castle, rolling hills, too much dust.
Dust in eyes and noses and deep into hearts, muffling words and thoughts and breaths.
Empty rooms, tapestries and statues and luxuries long since sold off.
Women in richly decorated gowns, two decades out of style, hands as rough as the chunks of red clay in the soil.
No ghosts of occupants past (bar the one no one wants to revisit).
Three sons, all bitter and harsh, one a little softer than the others but hardened by war and loss and the undeniable truth of being Eldorne.
Meaningless chatter just to fill the silence that stretches the length of the hills.
The clang of practice swords and a too heavy legacy and men who refuse to cry.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!