Post by Lady Eirian Gwenyth Apollius on Apr 23, 2008 2:23:14 GMT -6
Eirian: Eirian couldn't get close to the conflict, and if she could, what would she have done? Neither a sword weilder or warrior of other armaments, all that would have sufficed was a closer vantage point to see the man she love come down to his knees. As the guards cleared out the guests, the courtyard became filled with conversation on what could happen to the future of the alliance now that this had occurred. Pieces of paper met little to her. Rhetoric, all rhetoric. She'd gotten free of a guard, getting close enough to Apollo as he fell. "Help him up, take him to my carriage...." " But my lady.." " He is a guest of my home, now! Take him!" Dulcet tone acquired razor edge to leave no room for debate in her request. Amidst the talk would be a smaller discussion - what would be the fate of the King, and why was he not seen to by the castle healers? Two guards helped him to his feet, giving them space to comb through the crowd. Every mile in the carriage, three to four total, must have seemed agonizing in bumps or jolts. At the top of the valley, the Steward had disproving eyes to greet the return of his young, foolish Lady but let it go when he saw the carriage returning with the injured man and her worried face. Soon, they were inside of the room they shared. Candlelight filled it, as she took to bathing his forehead in a cool cloth, waiting for him to come around again. " Anwylyd , blesio. Bod bydew , ddeffro i fyny a ddweud wrth 'm. Blesio Talion? "( Beloved, please. Be well, wake up and speak to me. Please, Talion? ) (d)
Apollo: Silence separated them as he remained unconscious in her arms. He had very few injuries, mainly torn knuckles, horrible bruising around his knee, and a large deep spot where Percival had gotten the final strike in. His body seemed limp in her arms as the moments passed, and the look he had was emotionless, a frown as he had swallowed defeat. Three people had turned their backs on him now, and he only had one person left; one. She was holding him now. When he breathed in, his eyes would open, and he mumbled something. His face was already showing signs of his struggle against the pain, but he tried to focus on the blur which was Eirian. He hadn't heard her, but to her, he seemed like a candle on the end of its wick. He flickered, threatening to snuff itself out again. His head rolled to one side, and he couldn't lift it to the other. He blinked, and she'd see it.. defeat.(d)
Eirian: "No, Talion, look at me..look at me." Firm, soft assurance broke through the haze of his pain to pull him to the other side of the great divide. Taking his face into her hands, she slid it onto her lap as she bathed his face with a cold cloth, calling to the servants for salve, strips for bandages. Cottage medicine would have to do until a healer could be found to look him over, at this point, who? Those he trusted most had turned on him, leaving everyone suspect to doubt. But she couldn't keep him hear cloistered, as much as she wanted to. "Stay with me now. I'm going to clean your wounds, bandage them, give you want I have for the pain. It should blight it..it blights mine often enough." She had lived every day since the age of 9 with a constant hum of mild pain, other days it screamed. His hand would be picked up by one of the men's wives, a sheriff's wife who had experience as a midwife, and could help with the small wounds. Both women now worked on his knuckles..cleansing, salving, bandanging them. "Let me to his bruises, thank you." The woman was not dumb, and she knew what was going on underneath the roof of her mistress but disapproval had no place now. "Open your eyes, it is alright now Talion." (d)
Apollo: Apollo looked worse for wear. He tried to listen, appearing slightly confused, although it hurt to make any expression. The cold was a relief to the searing heat, and he felt his head moved, forced from the refine of its comfort.
He could hear her, but he couldn't respond nor understand her well enough. It was all pitches of sound to him, like humming or murmuring. He began to fade again, and the strength would temporarily leave his hands making them slightly heavier for the women to hold. One glanced up, ``My lady.. he's losing his strength..`` She was right, but Eirian wouldn't believe it-- not Apollo. This was not him. He resembled a shell of his former self, no jovial look, but one of a ghost, or corpse sitting within a coffin; the only difference in that his stomach moved with air. His breath was shaky, and his eyes moved again, and he could still see her through the dark lashes of his eyes. He wasn't
fighting it, maybe he didn't want to feel the pain, return to the harsh reality that now.. he'd no one to trust; and all along, he knew that.. he just didn't want to believe it.(d)
Eirian: "Then we will give it to him! The King will not die under this roof, do you hear me? Now go, see to it that water is put fresh out every pair of hours, so we may keep him cool lest he take a fever. Take down a dram of wine, boil it, so we can clean his wounds often with it..and send for a healer to come quick as ya can!" Authority? Now was not the time to stand amay while Death would take him if he gave in. What did he have to live for? His wife, his children were in the Underworld. All that he loved had been thrown at him in a single moment - his nation ridiculing him before a court of allies. It fell on her to be the Regent of his broken body, to will the forces of nature tocontinue giving him life. She slid his forehead onto the pillow, grimacing at the dead weight from lack of controlled movement. What would he have said, to see so small a woman tending so large a man? "Talion, if you hear me? Know that I am here. We are taking care of you, and will continue to do so - I will continue to but you must let me, my General. These are your orders, to not not fade from this place. To not give in, or give up. You are older, but not an old man. You are hurt, but all is not broken. I need you to live, my General, to conquer this adversary called treachery, so you may show your nation what you are made of. You fly the firebird as your insignia! Talion...if no one else will ever need you, know that I do. If no one else shall ever love you, know that I will. We have always been, and now we will always be..do not let weariness take that chance from you. You have waited, and I am here." (d)
Apollo: It just wasn't enough. He listened, and understood her this time, but the weight was too much, and the feeling too comforting. His eyes shut as she finished and his breathing leveled out. He was surrounded by darkness, his body becoming weightless in his mind. He felt as if he were flying, not a care in the worlds. He felt movement, the soft breeze of people moving about him, and the change of his clothes to better access his knee. Aside from that, he remained. His mind wandered, and wandered through memories of the past. He saw flashes of Juliet, remembered the blood pits, the smile on his little boy's face..and he remembered Eirian-- remembered her dancing. He felt as if he floated with the grace of her movements. He was at peace, and for now it was the only thing that could save him from the pain.(d)
Eirian: "Please.." She whispered now, for the bandages were wrapped, and all she could do was hold him. "You are weary, but is it wrong to plead with heaven not to take you, not now? Talion.." She watched his breathing lessen to where it was almost indisternable. Of all the injuries, a bruise, wrapped knuckles, to kill the most fierce of men? Or was it instead the reality of a shattered heart in a broke world that made the floating colors of infinity alluring? Tears. Cool streams of water blighted already skewed vision, falling on his shoulder as she softly cried. What could she do but plead, demand, wait to see if his desire to live would outweigh his want for peace? In the world he was in the vision of Eirian sailed as a butterfly - her arms painting pictures in motion as she did with her words, with her often ink stained hands when brush was held. The Regent had taken on the life of an artist here, lower in stature. Once a great revered fixture in the courts of Queens and Kings, now a humble piece of a foundling Dutchy. But it was done with no less pride, this work, for she took it 'pon choice. She held him close..whispering to his ears Christian prayers, "Our father, who art in heaven..hollowed be thy name..." If he was to live, if he was to pass, it wasn't in her hands. Let him listen then to the sounds of prayer offered in his name. " forgives us our tresspasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us..." (d)
Apollo: Silence separated them as he remained unconscious in her arms. He had very few injuries, mainly torn knuckles, horrible bruising around his knee, and a large deep spot where Percival had gotten the final strike in. His body seemed limp in her arms as the moments passed, and the look he had was emotionless, a frown as he had swallowed defeat. Three people had turned their backs on him now, and he only had one person left; one. She was holding him now. When he breathed in, his eyes would open, and he mumbled something. His face was already showing signs of his struggle against the pain, but he tried to focus on the blur which was Eirian. He hadn't heard her, but to her, he seemed like a candle on the end of its wick. He flickered, threatening to snuff itself out again. His head rolled to one side, and he couldn't lift it to the other. He blinked, and she'd see it.. defeat.(d)
Eirian: "No, Talion, look at me..look at me." Firm, soft assurance broke through the haze of his pain to pull him to the other side of the great divide. Taking his face into her hands, she slid it onto her lap as she bathed his face with a cold cloth, calling to the servants for salve, strips for bandages. Cottage medicine would have to do until a healer could be found to look him over, at this point, who? Those he trusted most had turned on him, leaving everyone suspect to doubt. But she couldn't keep him hear cloistered, as much as she wanted to. "Stay with me now. I'm going to clean your wounds, bandage them, give you want I have for the pain. It should blight it..it blights mine often enough." She had lived every day since the age of 9 with a constant hum of mild pain, other days it screamed. His hand would be picked up by one of the men's wives, a sheriff's wife who had experience as a midwife, and could help with the small wounds. Both women now worked on his knuckles..cleansing, salving, bandanging them. "Let me to his bruises, thank you." The woman was not dumb, and she knew what was going on underneath the roof of her mistress but disapproval had no place now. "Open your eyes, it is alright now Talion." (d)
Apollo: Apollo looked worse for wear. He tried to listen, appearing slightly confused, although it hurt to make any expression. The cold was a relief to the searing heat, and he felt his head moved, forced from the refine of its comfort.
He could hear her, but he couldn't respond nor understand her well enough. It was all pitches of sound to him, like humming or murmuring. He began to fade again, and the strength would temporarily leave his hands making them slightly heavier for the women to hold. One glanced up, ``My lady.. he's losing his strength..`` She was right, but Eirian wouldn't believe it-- not Apollo. This was not him. He resembled a shell of his former self, no jovial look, but one of a ghost, or corpse sitting within a coffin; the only difference in that his stomach moved with air. His breath was shaky, and his eyes moved again, and he could still see her through the dark lashes of his eyes. He wasn't
fighting it, maybe he didn't want to feel the pain, return to the harsh reality that now.. he'd no one to trust; and all along, he knew that.. he just didn't want to believe it.(d)
Eirian: "Then we will give it to him! The King will not die under this roof, do you hear me? Now go, see to it that water is put fresh out every pair of hours, so we may keep him cool lest he take a fever. Take down a dram of wine, boil it, so we can clean his wounds often with it..and send for a healer to come quick as ya can!" Authority? Now was not the time to stand amay while Death would take him if he gave in. What did he have to live for? His wife, his children were in the Underworld. All that he loved had been thrown at him in a single moment - his nation ridiculing him before a court of allies. It fell on her to be the Regent of his broken body, to will the forces of nature tocontinue giving him life. She slid his forehead onto the pillow, grimacing at the dead weight from lack of controlled movement. What would he have said, to see so small a woman tending so large a man? "Talion, if you hear me? Know that I am here. We are taking care of you, and will continue to do so - I will continue to but you must let me, my General. These are your orders, to not not fade from this place. To not give in, or give up. You are older, but not an old man. You are hurt, but all is not broken. I need you to live, my General, to conquer this adversary called treachery, so you may show your nation what you are made of. You fly the firebird as your insignia! Talion...if no one else will ever need you, know that I do. If no one else shall ever love you, know that I will. We have always been, and now we will always be..do not let weariness take that chance from you. You have waited, and I am here." (d)
Apollo: It just wasn't enough. He listened, and understood her this time, but the weight was too much, and the feeling too comforting. His eyes shut as she finished and his breathing leveled out. He was surrounded by darkness, his body becoming weightless in his mind. He felt as if he were flying, not a care in the worlds. He felt movement, the soft breeze of people moving about him, and the change of his clothes to better access his knee. Aside from that, he remained. His mind wandered, and wandered through memories of the past. He saw flashes of Juliet, remembered the blood pits, the smile on his little boy's face..and he remembered Eirian-- remembered her dancing. He felt as if he floated with the grace of her movements. He was at peace, and for now it was the only thing that could save him from the pain.(d)
Eirian: "Please.." She whispered now, for the bandages were wrapped, and all she could do was hold him. "You are weary, but is it wrong to plead with heaven not to take you, not now? Talion.." She watched his breathing lessen to where it was almost indisternable. Of all the injuries, a bruise, wrapped knuckles, to kill the most fierce of men? Or was it instead the reality of a shattered heart in a broke world that made the floating colors of infinity alluring? Tears. Cool streams of water blighted already skewed vision, falling on his shoulder as she softly cried. What could she do but plead, demand, wait to see if his desire to live would outweigh his want for peace? In the world he was in the vision of Eirian sailed as a butterfly - her arms painting pictures in motion as she did with her words, with her often ink stained hands when brush was held. The Regent had taken on the life of an artist here, lower in stature. Once a great revered fixture in the courts of Queens and Kings, now a humble piece of a foundling Dutchy. But it was done with no less pride, this work, for she took it 'pon choice. She held him close..whispering to his ears Christian prayers, "Our father, who art in heaven..hollowed be thy name..." If he was to live, if he was to pass, it wasn't in her hands. Let him listen then to the sounds of prayer offered in his name. " forgives us our tresspasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us..." (d)
