Post by Bellamy nó Eglantine on Jun 29, 2009 23:11:10 GMT -5
Carved out of cherry wood with the finest twine for its strings and handcrafted by one of the finest instrument makers before his death, my father’s mandolin was the most expensive item I have ever possessed in my lifetime and definitely the most precious for I had nothing to remember his calloused hands, his rough stubble and his laugh lines by other than this. I did not remember what my father looked like, for I was but a child then and all I could see now was a blurred image in my mind, compiled of all the best features of men I had come to respect in my years in Eglantine. In ways, I almost saw Elua himself and I know that we could have passed each other on the street without the two of us even realizing. The old Dowayne had only known my mother and father very briefly and all he could say was that I had inherited my mother’s azure eyes, my father’s deep, raucous laugh and smile and aside from that I knew nothing.
It would not suffice to say that I was lonely in Eglantine House, though I did have my moments to think about what would have happened if my parents had made a name for themselves that cold winter that I turned seven, but I knew I would not have been as happy as I was now for I had found my home, a new family and a warm hearth to call my own in Eglantine House and I had more younger sisters and brothers than I could count, a doting mother in the now retired Dowayne and a deep friendship with the new one, Caladria. My mandolin was still forever at my side with scratches from wear, chips in the finishing and parts that groaned with each twist and turn as I tuned the strings, but I suppose, that that was just like me. I was getting on in my years and while my mandolin showed the wear of its history, the time it was kissed by the busty maiden of my first assignation, the time I had scraped it against the cobblestone while I ran from a good prank and the day I had snapped a string when the most handsome man I have known walked into Eglantine House, I was the same. I showed the wear, the laugh lines, the wrinkles of happiness and contentment forever etched in my features. Eglantine House and assignations were behind me, not that I would ever leave the place, but I felt that I was getting too old to flirt with patrons from younger adepts who needed it more than I.
"Bellamy no Eglantine? You're up."
As the assistant called my name to let me in the room for my audition, I could only feel my chest swell in excitement, my heart beating fast and hard in my chest as I grabbed my old, worn mandolin in hand that carried almost every important memory I had ever had. This was a new chapter of my life and I could only hope that when it was done, it showed well on my features, embed in every part of me.
It would not suffice to say that I was lonely in Eglantine House, though I did have my moments to think about what would have happened if my parents had made a name for themselves that cold winter that I turned seven, but I knew I would not have been as happy as I was now for I had found my home, a new family and a warm hearth to call my own in Eglantine House and I had more younger sisters and brothers than I could count, a doting mother in the now retired Dowayne and a deep friendship with the new one, Caladria. My mandolin was still forever at my side with scratches from wear, chips in the finishing and parts that groaned with each twist and turn as I tuned the strings, but I suppose, that that was just like me. I was getting on in my years and while my mandolin showed the wear of its history, the time it was kissed by the busty maiden of my first assignation, the time I had scraped it against the cobblestone while I ran from a good prank and the day I had snapped a string when the most handsome man I have known walked into Eglantine House, I was the same. I showed the wear, the laugh lines, the wrinkles of happiness and contentment forever etched in my features. Eglantine House and assignations were behind me, not that I would ever leave the place, but I felt that I was getting too old to flirt with patrons from younger adepts who needed it more than I.
"Bellamy no Eglantine? You're up."
As the assistant called my name to let me in the room for my audition, I could only feel my chest swell in excitement, my heart beating fast and hard in my chest as I grabbed my old, worn mandolin in hand that carried almost every important memory I had ever had. This was a new chapter of my life and I could only hope that when it was done, it showed well on my features, embed in every part of me.