Post by Tabién de Valclesa(I) on Dec 9, 2008 11:55:40 GMT -5
So much time passed, it seemed like I had lost a good portion of my life. Endless days spent pacing the every room in the small manor of my parents home in Siovale. I had received a missive during the plague that swept through Terre' de Ange past time ago. It was from my home estate; my mother in pains from the same sickness.
It was hard, very hard. Not just emotionally to drop everything I'd started to become accustomed to. But physically, leaving the city was forbidden. I was grateful I did not have to kill anyone to leave. Perhaps it was Elua's fate that I meet a guard with an understanding heart, and a moments respite from upholding duty. I had pleaded my story, and I was granted passage, told however not to return for a good while, else become suspicious. It would prove that my stay was perhaps far longer than even I had planned.
It was then that I rode Furion steadily on the road back to Siovale, ignoring any tavern, and at most any civilized part any more than I could. I did not know if any sickness crawled on me at the time, and given my state of affairs, I didn't need the emotional guilt of wondering if I would spread anew anything to corrupt the populous. My return was somber, far from a celebration one would expect a returning son to have. The small manor on the northern edge of Siovale. I remember the weather menacing a low cloud bank on the horizon, ominous rain that matched my unnerved emotions.
The house seemed vacant. It wasn't, but the air of any vivid life was void from most, if not all of the rooms. The manor had a small staff, but I'd always known them to be very active, making the place seem larger than it was. But not this time. I knew my step-father was here too, nothing his Aragonian carriage as I'd rode in, and tied Furion. I wondered how long he'd been here. I supposed it showed how little I knew my family these days. My mother had gotten ill not to long after arriving in Terre de Ange, for little more than a short visit. At first, a couple of Bernard's Retinue saw to my mother's well being. But it seemed after they started to become ill as well, the manor staff stepped in. It seemed that they had a small resistance to whatever was at my mother, so they kept her in best of health.
Not long after my arrival, Bernard, weary eyed and heart-shaken, told me he was returning to Aragonia as briefly as possible. I think I actually sympathized with the man this time, perhaps my feelings of jealousy and resentment for him marrying my mother ebbed a bit since my childhood. He left me in charge of her well being until he returned. I still don't know if he meant anything else by it.
For those days, I paced the rooms, issuing order whenever to the small staff that was there, though for the most part, I was clueless as they. I think they mostly needed a simple authority figure to guide them. I played my part, and when I wasn't passed out in a chair half- lidded and drunk, I tried to read some literature to distract myself. I would be with my mother as much as I dared, for she herself forbade that I spend too much time in her company, lest I catch what she did. Always thinking, I loved her and hated her at the same time for such a command. But, mother knows best, or at least thats what I read in one of the many poems I shared with her on her bed.
Her condition didn't improve, and lest then a day after Benard returned, a couple weeks after his departure, mother slipped into a coma. I suppose in small part I'm surprised she held her wits and constitution as long as she did. The child within me wanted to stay, to cry at her bedside, and to eagerly wait her to open her eyes once more. But my forlorn adult mind knew better of such fairy tales, and reminded me to treasure what I had been given. With that, I left back for Terre de Ange, fearing that I would not leave again if I didn't go know. Was I callous and cold for not waiting at her bedside till the end; perhaps. Perhaps I was just afraid, not wanting to admit what was all but certain. But my mother was not the type to give in to such dispair; she'd smiled a happy ironic face more than a few times I was with her. I knew she didn't want me sulking endlessly, Elua knows I'd done plently of that already.
I suppose with those thoughts in mind that I returned, following what seemed like a lonely road back to the City of Elua. I'd spent a lot of time it seemed living slovenly, and I wanted to put my mind to something of honest work. If I did that, perhaps I can garner some attention from the peerhood, and reclaim some dignity I felt I had lost.
It was hard, very hard. Not just emotionally to drop everything I'd started to become accustomed to. But physically, leaving the city was forbidden. I was grateful I did not have to kill anyone to leave. Perhaps it was Elua's fate that I meet a guard with an understanding heart, and a moments respite from upholding duty. I had pleaded my story, and I was granted passage, told however not to return for a good while, else become suspicious. It would prove that my stay was perhaps far longer than even I had planned.
It was then that I rode Furion steadily on the road back to Siovale, ignoring any tavern, and at most any civilized part any more than I could. I did not know if any sickness crawled on me at the time, and given my state of affairs, I didn't need the emotional guilt of wondering if I would spread anew anything to corrupt the populous. My return was somber, far from a celebration one would expect a returning son to have. The small manor on the northern edge of Siovale. I remember the weather menacing a low cloud bank on the horizon, ominous rain that matched my unnerved emotions.
The house seemed vacant. It wasn't, but the air of any vivid life was void from most, if not all of the rooms. The manor had a small staff, but I'd always known them to be very active, making the place seem larger than it was. But not this time. I knew my step-father was here too, nothing his Aragonian carriage as I'd rode in, and tied Furion. I wondered how long he'd been here. I supposed it showed how little I knew my family these days. My mother had gotten ill not to long after arriving in Terre de Ange, for little more than a short visit. At first, a couple of Bernard's Retinue saw to my mother's well being. But it seemed after they started to become ill as well, the manor staff stepped in. It seemed that they had a small resistance to whatever was at my mother, so they kept her in best of health.
Not long after my arrival, Bernard, weary eyed and heart-shaken, told me he was returning to Aragonia as briefly as possible. I think I actually sympathized with the man this time, perhaps my feelings of jealousy and resentment for him marrying my mother ebbed a bit since my childhood. He left me in charge of her well being until he returned. I still don't know if he meant anything else by it.
For those days, I paced the rooms, issuing order whenever to the small staff that was there, though for the most part, I was clueless as they. I think they mostly needed a simple authority figure to guide them. I played my part, and when I wasn't passed out in a chair half- lidded and drunk, I tried to read some literature to distract myself. I would be with my mother as much as I dared, for she herself forbade that I spend too much time in her company, lest I catch what she did. Always thinking, I loved her and hated her at the same time for such a command. But, mother knows best, or at least thats what I read in one of the many poems I shared with her on her bed.
Her condition didn't improve, and lest then a day after Benard returned, a couple weeks after his departure, mother slipped into a coma. I suppose in small part I'm surprised she held her wits and constitution as long as she did. The child within me wanted to stay, to cry at her bedside, and to eagerly wait her to open her eyes once more. But my forlorn adult mind knew better of such fairy tales, and reminded me to treasure what I had been given. With that, I left back for Terre de Ange, fearing that I would not leave again if I didn't go know. Was I callous and cold for not waiting at her bedside till the end; perhaps. Perhaps I was just afraid, not wanting to admit what was all but certain. But my mother was not the type to give in to such dispair; she'd smiled a happy ironic face more than a few times I was with her. I knew she didn't want me sulking endlessly, Elua knows I'd done plently of that already.
I suppose with those thoughts in mind that I returned, following what seemed like a lonely road back to the City of Elua. I'd spent a lot of time it seemed living slovenly, and I wanted to put my mind to something of honest work. If I did that, perhaps I can garner some attention from the peerhood, and reclaim some dignity I felt I had lost.