Caelum
i've had just enough time"
Dusk pained the sky.
All around her the world was set in a reverent state. Candles flickered, but not to romanticize the setting; instead they cast a tranquil, but melancholy atmosphere. The weight of the past hung heavy upon the shoulders of many that had come to this part of the marketplace, but for the dainty fae stead - her heart was light, even if the occasional tear fell. She had come to terms with Convallis's untimely death so long ago, but the would in her heart likely wouldn't ever heal. What mother has to bury their child before they'd seen their first year end?
A life too short.
She stood before a slab of rock, a pedestal of rememberance. THe candle she had lit was small and fragile; as delicate and tiny as the life of the one it immortalized on this night. It flickered lightly, the lame dancing in the gentle breeze, "My little Convallis," her words were soft and light, as if soothing a frightened child, though she'd hope where ever her son was, he wasn't ever feeling a touch of fright. Surely he'd joined the ancestors in the stars, "I know yo're not antagonizing your father, my sweet colt; you were always such a well behaved foal. I suppose I shouldn't remind you to behave, but make sure you are listening to pater tuus, et avia est avo tuo." The words were a mixture of her people's Latin tongue and ancestry, as well the English of more modern times. Convallis had been raised on both.
The smart child.
"I'm in a land called Novus now. I'm medicus, just as I was in our home Sanctuary; but now for a herd called Nocte Aula; the Night Court. Denocte is beautiful, I believe you would have loved it here. Ah, puer mi carissime, how I've miss you, child. Be happy Convallis. Tell your Pater I miss him." Miss him didn't describe how hard it had been after she had lost Calico. Calico, Convallis and she - they were meant to be a family together, for a long time, the rest of her and Calico's lives. How it had all been cut short when the Sanctuary had been infiltrated, their escape routes discovered. She still wasn't sure how she could have escaped when no one else had. She didn't understand how it was fair. She'd lost so much, so suddenly.
It wasn't fair.
A single tear touched her fur, trailing down her cheek. She watched the flame for a few moments more before levitating a fair many stones up - a shelter forming around the tiny candle so the wind wouldn't extinguish it like the fates had extinguished the life it represented, "Farewell, my little Convallis. Shine bright, dear child."
Like one of the stars.
She had to force herself to turn away, long ivory strands of mane obscuring brown eyes as they blinked back the tears. Convallis was in the skies now, with her parents, her Calico. Arson would watch over her son as well, as if Convallis was his own. Her son wouldn't be alone. Tremaine, had he not been made of a different cloth, would have joined her family as well; protection and caring for Convallis in the stars.. But Convallis still had the others, he hadn't ascended alone. He was with the family, they would love and protect him up there.
She would miss him below.
It was a reminder of how alone she was, though. Her kingdom was gone, the last of her people hidden away and out of reach with her last surviving family: her little brother Nocte. Now, Caelum had no one . . . A violent shake of her head had those thoughts being banished before they could fully form and shake in. Even if her family was gone, she had a new herd to stay strong for. She has the promises she made to the few friends she had made of the years - to not let the guilt, and the pain keep her from living. She would stay strong.
Shadows slunk in.
The night had arrived as she'd whispered goodbyes to her sun, shading her lighter tones in the blanket of the increasing darkness. Her wings hummed as they began to flutter, lifting her slight weight as her long and dainty limbs half folded beneath her. She started to leave, her gaze dancing over the now empty memorial space. Was she the last to whisper goodbyes before seeking the warmth of the bonfires? She missed him the first time her chocolate gaze crossed the memorials. But why would she have thought he there? He was as still and dark as a shadow in the night, no flickering flame to cast a relief of gold and crimson upon his hide.
He seemed frozen.
She turned to fly past him, leaving him to his mourning, before pausing and glancing back at the forlorn figure. Her wings drew her closer, enough to see the waxy stain of a candle spent, and the defeated hang of his neck. How long had he been standing their in stillness? Did he not feel the cold? She hesitated, unsure about interrupting his mourning. Her gaze slowly drew back to Convallis's candle and she sighed in acknowledgement. Her sweet child would have gone to see if the stallion was alright - and so should she. She couldn't let him freeze to death, not even to mourn. "Excuse me?" Her voice was light and gentle, but unwavering, "I . . . apologize for interrupting your time, but the night has grown frigid," She wouldn't tell him to leave, no one understood the need to pay respects like those here for that same reason.
Everyone needed time for goodbyes.
But she did worry for the living's health as well. Her voice softened with compassion, even as she was careful not to say too much, to assume too much, "I doubt your loved one would wish you to stand out in the cold air, and grow sick on their behalf," She added, before glancing at the waxy staining once more, "It is admirable to stand in mourning to the point of candle's wane, but you must think of your own well being as the night sets and the temperature drops. The one the candle was lit for . . . I can't imagine they would wish you to join them before your time."
Perhaps too far?
But she wouldn't force him away, even as her brows knitted in concern - so gentle persuasion, even if hard truths; was her best bet. Her wings fluttered, discharging a touch of fairy dust as she lowered herself back to standing on the ground, silent but waiting for the inevitable response, and likely unfriendly one from the one she'd just pulled from a state of mourning. Even if for his betterment . . . she doubted he'd see it that way. So she straightened her shoulders, raised her head and prepared to take what ever was delivered with the grace of a queen, and the gentleness her mother had encouraged in her. Strong but compassionate was the queen, even in the forefront of mourning.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Vikander
All around her the world was set in a reverent state. Candles flickered, but not to romanticize the setting; instead they cast a tranquil, but melancholy atmosphere. The weight of the past hung heavy upon the shoulders of many that had come to this part of the marketplace, but for the dainty fae stead - her heart was light, even if the occasional tear fell. She had come to terms with Convallis's untimely death so long ago, but the would in her heart likely wouldn't ever heal. What mother has to bury their child before they'd seen their first year end?
A life too short.
She stood before a slab of rock, a pedestal of rememberance. THe candle she had lit was small and fragile; as delicate and tiny as the life of the one it immortalized on this night. It flickered lightly, the lame dancing in the gentle breeze, "My little Convallis," her words were soft and light, as if soothing a frightened child, though she'd hope where ever her son was, he wasn't ever feeling a touch of fright. Surely he'd joined the ancestors in the stars, "I know yo're not antagonizing your father, my sweet colt; you were always such a well behaved foal. I suppose I shouldn't remind you to behave, but make sure you are listening to pater tuus, et avia est avo tuo." The words were a mixture of her people's Latin tongue and ancestry, as well the English of more modern times. Convallis had been raised on both.
The smart child.
"I'm in a land called Novus now. I'm medicus, just as I was in our home Sanctuary; but now for a herd called Nocte Aula; the Night Court. Denocte is beautiful, I believe you would have loved it here. Ah, puer mi carissime, how I've miss you, child. Be happy Convallis. Tell your Pater I miss him." Miss him didn't describe how hard it had been after she had lost Calico. Calico, Convallis and she - they were meant to be a family together, for a long time, the rest of her and Calico's lives. How it had all been cut short when the Sanctuary had been infiltrated, their escape routes discovered. She still wasn't sure how she could have escaped when no one else had. She didn't understand how it was fair. She'd lost so much, so suddenly.
It wasn't fair.
A single tear touched her fur, trailing down her cheek. She watched the flame for a few moments more before levitating a fair many stones up - a shelter forming around the tiny candle so the wind wouldn't extinguish it like the fates had extinguished the life it represented, "Farewell, my little Convallis. Shine bright, dear child."
Like one of the stars.
She had to force herself to turn away, long ivory strands of mane obscuring brown eyes as they blinked back the tears. Convallis was in the skies now, with her parents, her Calico. Arson would watch over her son as well, as if Convallis was his own. Her son wouldn't be alone. Tremaine, had he not been made of a different cloth, would have joined her family as well; protection and caring for Convallis in the stars.. But Convallis still had the others, he hadn't ascended alone. He was with the family, they would love and protect him up there.
She would miss him below.
It was a reminder of how alone she was, though. Her kingdom was gone, the last of her people hidden away and out of reach with her last surviving family: her little brother Nocte. Now, Caelum had no one . . . A violent shake of her head had those thoughts being banished before they could fully form and shake in. Even if her family was gone, she had a new herd to stay strong for. She has the promises she made to the few friends she had made of the years - to not let the guilt, and the pain keep her from living. She would stay strong.
Shadows slunk in.
The night had arrived as she'd whispered goodbyes to her sun, shading her lighter tones in the blanket of the increasing darkness. Her wings hummed as they began to flutter, lifting her slight weight as her long and dainty limbs half folded beneath her. She started to leave, her gaze dancing over the now empty memorial space. Was she the last to whisper goodbyes before seeking the warmth of the bonfires? She missed him the first time her chocolate gaze crossed the memorials. But why would she have thought he there? He was as still and dark as a shadow in the night, no flickering flame to cast a relief of gold and crimson upon his hide.
He seemed frozen.
She turned to fly past him, leaving him to his mourning, before pausing and glancing back at the forlorn figure. Her wings drew her closer, enough to see the waxy stain of a candle spent, and the defeated hang of his neck. How long had he been standing their in stillness? Did he not feel the cold? She hesitated, unsure about interrupting his mourning. Her gaze slowly drew back to Convallis's candle and she sighed in acknowledgement. Her sweet child would have gone to see if the stallion was alright - and so should she. She couldn't let him freeze to death, not even to mourn. "Excuse me?" Her voice was light and gentle, but unwavering, "I . . . apologize for interrupting your time, but the night has grown frigid," She wouldn't tell him to leave, no one understood the need to pay respects like those here for that same reason.
Everyone needed time for goodbyes.
But she did worry for the living's health as well. Her voice softened with compassion, even as she was careful not to say too much, to assume too much, "I doubt your loved one would wish you to stand out in the cold air, and grow sick on their behalf," She added, before glancing at the waxy staining once more, "It is admirable to stand in mourning to the point of candle's wane, but you must think of your own well being as the night sets and the temperature drops. The one the candle was lit for . . . I can't imagine they would wish you to join them before your time."
Perhaps too far?
But she wouldn't force him away, even as her brows knitted in concern - so gentle persuasion, even if hard truths; was her best bet. Her wings fluttered, discharging a touch of fairy dust as she lowered herself back to standing on the ground, silent but waiting for the inevitable response, and likely unfriendly one from the one she'd just pulled from a state of mourning. Even if for his betterment . . . she doubted he'd see it that way. So she straightened her shoulders, raised her head and prepared to take what ever was delivered with the grace of a queen, and the gentleness her mother had encouraged in her. Strong but compassionate was the queen, even in the forefront of mourning.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Vikander
