The Gloaming Feb 5, 2019 14:37:27 GMT -6
Post by Lord Algere on Feb 5, 2019 14:37:27 GMT -6
Algere’s PL: 8,000
Snow fell as it did that day. That awful day. The day that he lost everything. It blanketed the world in a pristine silence. It muted his footsteps as he crunches through the black of the trees and the white of the snow. His black cloak sheltered him from the bitter sting of the wind. Clasped under his arm was a parcel wrapped up in paper and tied with twine. His feet dragged as dread filled his heart. He needed to do this, and yet each step closer threatened to crush him under the weight of his grief.
To be reduced to this? Clair might have laughed at him and scolded him for being ridiculous. Algere closed his eyes and rested against the trunk of a tree. The worst part was the forgetting. Forgetting the sound of her voice. Or the way her eyes shone when she looked at him. Forgetting her scent or what it was like to hold her in his arms. Her touch. Her smile. How he longed to burn all of those things into his memory. How he regretted that he hadn’t whilst he had the chance.
After a moment or two, Algere gathered what little strength remained in him to press on. These woods had changed but not enough for him to lose his way. After some searching, he finally came upon a clearing. A large mound of snow sat squarely in the middle of it. This was it then. Algere walked to the mound in the center and wiped away the snow to reveal stone beneath it. A few more swipes revealed a name engraved deep into the stone.
Algere stood there staring at the name. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there just staring at that harsh reality. Reminded of his loss, still fresh in his eyes. This was where he buried her. After what seemed like an eternity, he took a seat in front of the tombstone, his tail curled tightly around him. He set the parcel down on the snow in front of him, numbly fiddling with the packaging.
“You probably think me soft, don’t you? But...I never had your strength, you know.”
Pulling the packaging off revealed two bottles. One was a rather cheap bottle of wine. The other was a specialty of the region called Jingle Gin. He set the bottle of gin against the stone. He wasn’t quite ready to partake of his own drink yet. There was still so much more to say. So much more that could never be said. He closed his eyes again, clenching his fists.
“Why is it that I fail in what matters most? Why can I not hold onto a single sliver of...what I cherish?”
The stone yielded no answers. He did not expect it to, but the silence roared louder than any thunder to his ears. He wanted to demand the stone speak. That anyone, anything speak to shake him from his grief. He did not know what to do. His purpose had all been stripped away. Stolen.
Algere drew a small fragment of armor out from his cloak. This was all that remained of the one who stole everything from him. It was stained. With blood perhaps. Traces. If he wanted, he could discover who had done the deed. Easily. It would be so easy. But...if he knew, Algere feared that he would not be able to keep the promise he had made. The temptation was always there, but he could manage it like this. He could control himself. But, only just. His hand clenched the scrap of armor tightly.