To hold my tongue except when I try to pray...
Ache. Restlessness. Reinhart was tired of the frivolous activities spewed by his family. He had snuck away from one of their more prominent balls to seek out an old acquaintance. A man who had tried to recruit him many times over, and now he was the only one left active in Denocte. A crow. Raum was dead. He knew nothing of Acton. Raglan was all that was left. The flavors of ridicule and criticism were fresh on the tongue of the adept thief. The noble son cast a glance back toward the disappearing tower that his family called home. No matter where he was in Denocte, he could always see that damned tower. It was lit up, and to an outsider, it might look cozy. Lit from the inside with a dull roar of voices wafting out into the streets. Reinhart hated it. He hated this life he had, and yet he felt the weight of guilt about his hatred. More guilt than his father could ever make him feel for who he loved.
Reinhart walked. His feet carried him with vigor, away. Away. Away from his family. He was hunting something far more precious than all the jewels in all the kingdoms. Companionship. He stopped when he came upon a spot he knew Raglan usually frequented. He had spent enough time traveling back and forth between the wilds of Novus and Denocte to notice it. "Raglan? Are you out here tonight? You might as well put up a sign that says 'Raglan's Spot' on it with the way your scent is so thick in the air!" Reinhart called out, he hoped his humor would thaw some of the ice they'd built up over the years.
"Better yet, I'll do it for you!" He chattered away into the night. The empty air. Empty. He felt hollow. Reinhart tore his dagger through the earth with a childish grin plastered upon his face. It read a simple statement. Some might even say it was succinct. His writing was elegant and spoke of his rich heritage. His loops were graceful arcs, much too nice for such a boorish message scrawled into the dirty snow. Raglan was here was the message Reinhart wrote. He looked pleased with himself as he admired his handiwork.
Reinhart walked. His feet carried him with vigor, away. Away. Away from his family. He was hunting something far more precious than all the jewels in all the kingdoms. Companionship. He stopped when he came upon a spot he knew Raglan usually frequented. He had spent enough time traveling back and forth between the wilds of Novus and Denocte to notice it. "Raglan? Are you out here tonight? You might as well put up a sign that says 'Raglan's Spot' on it with the way your scent is so thick in the air!" Reinhart called out, he hoped his humor would thaw some of the ice they'd built up over the years.
"Better yet, I'll do it for you!" He chattered away into the night. The empty air. Empty. He felt hollow. Reinhart tore his dagger through the earth with a childish grin plastered upon his face. It read a simple statement. Some might even say it was succinct. His writing was elegant and spoke of his rich heritage. His loops were graceful arcs, much too nice for such a boorish message scrawled into the dirty snow. Raglan was here was the message Reinhart wrote. He looked pleased with himself as he admired his handiwork.
Notes: I hope this is okay! | Words: 379 | Tags: @Raglan
... try to breathe words out, But I’ve got nothing to say
