Ivaan swung the spear to clear paths to the docks, tripping over slick rock and saturated moss. He was tired, overwhelmed with emotion, and felt his voice give out when he saw the surface of the water and the figure standing alone at the dock. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t her.
He felt the cool of the breeze welcome him and lure him closer, and thus he did, with Moss following behind his now tedious steps. Bewilderment crossed his features for a moment as he sought the dark; the clouds slowly assisted him in seeking and soon parted to allow light to trickle down. Marbella stood quietly, listening to his approach, as her eyes stared at the nothingness ahead. Virgil whimpered and broke into a howl that pierced the silence, the winds carried the woeful song to the river.
“You’re late,†Marbella finally said and turned to Ivaan, who dropped the spear as he walked to the edge of the dock. He did not give voice to his concern, his mind was filled with far too many inquiries, and little answers.
He wanted to call out, in hopes that the same winds of her beloved forest would reach her. That it would grant him this one wish. But he couldn’t speak her name, simply watch as the boat drifted further, and further away.
Rivienne felt the same breeze he did and closed her eyes as the faint sound of Virgil’s cry melted into the ambient. Trembling lips pressed together firmly, but pieces of herself began to come apart within, and whatever held her together, began to unwind. Behind closed eyes, the reel of her memory played. Oh beloved husband, his unshaven face, how it tickled her when he drew near for a kiss. The love in his eyes when he gazed down at her when they rested for the evening. The smile that graced his lips when they formed their bonds under the touch of moonlight.
Her lips part and she opens her eyes, eyes that now allowed tears to finally escape their basins. Under the moonbeams, they glittered like diamonds, before rounding her cheek and spilling from her jawline. His face was gone, and what she had left was blurred images of love. Turning to the back of the boat, she faced the docks and greeted the gentle wind of autumn. Glassy depths sought to see Marbella, but she could not make her out. Fog began to veil her, the world she knew offered her the safe passage she needed.
Rivienne pulled back the lace of her hood and felt her hair whip back past her shoulders. The smell of flowers. Gathering her locks in one hand, the other sought the handle of her blade as she expose her thigh and the weaponry on her person. Oh how she will miss their perfume.
“I am afraid –†She whispered to the gentle caress of the winds and extended out her hand, reaching out to the dark, and letting the locks of her golden hair dance as they are whimsically caught in the currents. The steel had cut away the the luster of her tresses, sending blooms, and silk strands, airborne.
“– that we shall not meet again, in this lifetime.†Marbella whispered to the very winds with a melancholy smile touching her lips and she too reached out, as if sending her message to the currents. For a short while, she remained there, listening to the whispers..
the farewells..
..to the maiden of the Shroud.
He felt the cool of the breeze welcome him and lure him closer, and thus he did, with Moss following behind his now tedious steps. Bewilderment crossed his features for a moment as he sought the dark; the clouds slowly assisted him in seeking and soon parted to allow light to trickle down. Marbella stood quietly, listening to his approach, as her eyes stared at the nothingness ahead. Virgil whimpered and broke into a howl that pierced the silence, the winds carried the woeful song to the river.
“You’re late,†Marbella finally said and turned to Ivaan, who dropped the spear as he walked to the edge of the dock. He did not give voice to his concern, his mind was filled with far too many inquiries, and little answers.
He wanted to call out, in hopes that the same winds of her beloved forest would reach her. That it would grant him this one wish. But he couldn’t speak her name, simply watch as the boat drifted further, and further away.
Rivienne felt the same breeze he did and closed her eyes as the faint sound of Virgil’s cry melted into the ambient. Trembling lips pressed together firmly, but pieces of herself began to come apart within, and whatever held her together, began to unwind. Behind closed eyes, the reel of her memory played. Oh beloved husband, his unshaven face, how it tickled her when he drew near for a kiss. The love in his eyes when he gazed down at her when they rested for the evening. The smile that graced his lips when they formed their bonds under the touch of moonlight.
Her lips part and she opens her eyes, eyes that now allowed tears to finally escape their basins. Under the moonbeams, they glittered like diamonds, before rounding her cheek and spilling from her jawline. His face was gone, and what she had left was blurred images of love. Turning to the back of the boat, she faced the docks and greeted the gentle wind of autumn. Glassy depths sought to see Marbella, but she could not make her out. Fog began to veil her, the world she knew offered her the safe passage she needed.
Rivienne pulled back the lace of her hood and felt her hair whip back past her shoulders. The smell of flowers. Gathering her locks in one hand, the other sought the handle of her blade as she expose her thigh and the weaponry on her person. Oh how she will miss their perfume.
“I am afraid –†She whispered to the gentle caress of the winds and extended out her hand, reaching out to the dark, and letting the locks of her golden hair dance as they are whimsically caught in the currents. The steel had cut away the the luster of her tresses, sending blooms, and silk strands, airborne.
“– that we shall not meet again, in this lifetime.†Marbella whispered to the very winds with a melancholy smile touching her lips and she too reached out, as if sending her message to the currents. For a short while, she remained there, listening to the whispers..
the farewells..
..to the maiden of the Shroud.
Quote:It is an illusion that we were ever alive,
Lived in the houses of mothers, arranged ourselves,
By our own motions in a freedom of air,
Even our shadows, their shadows, no longer remain.
These lives lived in the mind are at the end.
They never were.. -Wallace Stevens
fin--
