Post by minion on Jan 5, 2010 18:00:09 GMT -5
an archer in dark clothes, a teal turban wrapped tightly around his head, takes slow, pained steps toward a tree in a small clearing north of a dark wood, perilously near a vast marsh.
"i'm sorry it's been so long since the last time i visited... i suppose it'll be that way, as i learn to move on."
the wiry, nearly middle-aged man lays a single red rose on a non-descript spot near the base of the tree, pointedly avoiding looking in the direction of the more curious parts of the rest of the clearing, knowing that doing so would twist his features with pain and hatred.
"what hurts the most is knowing he's right. if you had stayed with him in the woods, clung to your kin like a child needing a wet-nurse, you would still be here, perhaps right here, right now."
as the magic sustaining the silly-looking but useful bubble around his form finally fades, the rain that had run down its sides falls now on his shoulders, his hood, the end of his nose, even dripping off it down into the dark moustache that rode the lower edges of his cheek-bones clear to the edges of his eyes, as if pointing at his ears partially hidden under the turban. there the rain mingles with tears that he couldn't check, despite the usual feeble efforts.
"but if you had stayed with him, with them, you would have remained that little child, and i would have continued delving into things that are not meant for men. you grew, and i withdrew from the darkness. we became more than we were... and i will hold to the promise i made to you not fifty feet from this tree. made because i was desperate, now kept because you were right."
realizing he was now kneeling in the muddy earth, the tired old man drags himself to his feet, wiping his muddy hands on his cloak.
"it was supposed to be you visiting me, you know..."
a weary chuckle bursts out then dies in his throat. slowly, as if being pulled by unseen hands, the man turns and strolls to the edge of the clearing, glances over the water of the pond, utters a powerful incantation and vanishes, leaving a small whirlwind to turn into a waterspout over the edge of the pond before losing its energy into the damp air.
"i'm sorry it's been so long since the last time i visited... i suppose it'll be that way, as i learn to move on."
the wiry, nearly middle-aged man lays a single red rose on a non-descript spot near the base of the tree, pointedly avoiding looking in the direction of the more curious parts of the rest of the clearing, knowing that doing so would twist his features with pain and hatred.
"what hurts the most is knowing he's right. if you had stayed with him in the woods, clung to your kin like a child needing a wet-nurse, you would still be here, perhaps right here, right now."
as the magic sustaining the silly-looking but useful bubble around his form finally fades, the rain that had run down its sides falls now on his shoulders, his hood, the end of his nose, even dripping off it down into the dark moustache that rode the lower edges of his cheek-bones clear to the edges of his eyes, as if pointing at his ears partially hidden under the turban. there the rain mingles with tears that he couldn't check, despite the usual feeble efforts.
"but if you had stayed with him, with them, you would have remained that little child, and i would have continued delving into things that are not meant for men. you grew, and i withdrew from the darkness. we became more than we were... and i will hold to the promise i made to you not fifty feet from this tree. made because i was desperate, now kept because you were right."
realizing he was now kneeling in the muddy earth, the tired old man drags himself to his feet, wiping his muddy hands on his cloak.
"it was supposed to be you visiting me, you know..."
a weary chuckle bursts out then dies in his throat. slowly, as if being pulled by unseen hands, the man turns and strolls to the edge of the clearing, glances over the water of the pond, utters a powerful incantation and vanishes, leaving a small whirlwind to turn into a waterspout over the edge of the pond before losing its energy into the damp air.