Post by wilhemiaschleitz on Nov 24, 2008 15:45:22 GMT -6
The night was bitter cold though she had no wish to be around anyone, to feel anything but the cold as it chaffed the exposed skin of her face and hands. The steps were absently and they seemed to hold no true pattern. The tears again had made trails down her cheeks, though she had no voice to add with it. The cold serisure of her heart was far more then she had ever prepared herself for. It had cut far deeper then that of her mother's death. Or even learning the woman her mother truly was.
Within her arms was carried that box that held th reminates of his life. It seemed so small. The steps tripped and stumbled as she fell forward. Not bothering to catch herself , as her hands could not , would not give up the hold upon the box. His life. She slowly shifted until she rested on her knees.. the eyes stared hopelessly at the unforgiving the wood. As the lungs seemed unwilling to draw in the cold air that lifted and blew from the ocean. Its taste of salt lingered heavily as she looked out over the crush of the waves.
The sky itself was clear, releasing the diamond littered heaven. The cry that left her was one of anger, grief and guilt. Though it cracked and seemed hoarse as she rocked slowly back and forth. The blond hair had been freed from the binding pins and the cloak's service was ignored as it fluttered behind her. The pining call was given as the solace premitted her the privacy to release the energy that bottled and boiled inside of her. She thought nothing of the stones that bit into the skin of her knees.
The fingers dug into the wood of the box as she felt her entire body shudder in the anguish. She screamed out into the night for as long as her voice would allow , even then the silent screams were released until the sorrow had taken its toll upon the small frame. Exhaustion slowly began to claim her as she slowly sat the box down. The cold was no longer felt, though her fingers found it difficult to function. The only company that was kept was that of the moon in her beauty and unbending light as it shown the items left within the box.
The fragments of his life, yet it was not much.. just cast side items that would be the remembrance of the man. They did not know him for the proud warrior, the fierce man who would not bend at the will of a bright eyed little girl, They did not know the kindness he shared with those around him when it came to a cold winters night .. and the lamb that was born too soon and the strong hands carried it from the cold stall of the stable to the house to keep it warm by the firelight. Those hands that gripped a blade held it with a father's touch as he kept it warm within a blanket close to his chest as he coaxed the tiny one to life. They did not see these things.. they saw a warrior, a baliff who's honor would allow a person to fall victim. but not the man that loved.
He had sworn a word in italy in the white halls of Romes church to leave behind a life he had created for himself to take that of a whore and her unborn bastard into hiding. They did not know the torment her mother had placed upon that man. And the strength of his heart and soul that allowed him to forgive her .. and love her without an ounce returned. To take the girl child that was not his own.. but to risk his life in keeping her alive,happy .. safe.
The small fingers brushed along the tunic they had found he left behind. the box was slowly placed to the side as she released teh cloak from her shoulders letting the breeze itself pull it away from her as she unfolded the tunic. The deep breath was drawn in as it carried his scent upon it still. She slowly pulled it on over the dress she wore. As if the weight of the fabric would come close to the warmth of his protective arms.
The cold slowly began to seep in through the exhaustion of the slender farm girls senses as she reached back and caught up the edges of the cloak and pulled it close as she curled up on the shore letting the sea sing her to sleep. The box held ever so close while her mind simply too tired to think.. to feel.. shut itself down.
Within her arms was carried that box that held th reminates of his life. It seemed so small. The steps tripped and stumbled as she fell forward. Not bothering to catch herself , as her hands could not , would not give up the hold upon the box. His life. She slowly shifted until she rested on her knees.. the eyes stared hopelessly at the unforgiving the wood. As the lungs seemed unwilling to draw in the cold air that lifted and blew from the ocean. Its taste of salt lingered heavily as she looked out over the crush of the waves.
The sky itself was clear, releasing the diamond littered heaven. The cry that left her was one of anger, grief and guilt. Though it cracked and seemed hoarse as she rocked slowly back and forth. The blond hair had been freed from the binding pins and the cloak's service was ignored as it fluttered behind her. The pining call was given as the solace premitted her the privacy to release the energy that bottled and boiled inside of her. She thought nothing of the stones that bit into the skin of her knees.
The fingers dug into the wood of the box as she felt her entire body shudder in the anguish. She screamed out into the night for as long as her voice would allow , even then the silent screams were released until the sorrow had taken its toll upon the small frame. Exhaustion slowly began to claim her as she slowly sat the box down. The cold was no longer felt, though her fingers found it difficult to function. The only company that was kept was that of the moon in her beauty and unbending light as it shown the items left within the box.
The fragments of his life, yet it was not much.. just cast side items that would be the remembrance of the man. They did not know him for the proud warrior, the fierce man who would not bend at the will of a bright eyed little girl, They did not know the kindness he shared with those around him when it came to a cold winters night .. and the lamb that was born too soon and the strong hands carried it from the cold stall of the stable to the house to keep it warm by the firelight. Those hands that gripped a blade held it with a father's touch as he kept it warm within a blanket close to his chest as he coaxed the tiny one to life. They did not see these things.. they saw a warrior, a baliff who's honor would allow a person to fall victim. but not the man that loved.
He had sworn a word in italy in the white halls of Romes church to leave behind a life he had created for himself to take that of a whore and her unborn bastard into hiding. They did not know the torment her mother had placed upon that man. And the strength of his heart and soul that allowed him to forgive her .. and love her without an ounce returned. To take the girl child that was not his own.. but to risk his life in keeping her alive,happy .. safe.
The small fingers brushed along the tunic they had found he left behind. the box was slowly placed to the side as she released teh cloak from her shoulders letting the breeze itself pull it away from her as she unfolded the tunic. The deep breath was drawn in as it carried his scent upon it still. She slowly pulled it on over the dress she wore. As if the weight of the fabric would come close to the warmth of his protective arms.
The cold slowly began to seep in through the exhaustion of the slender farm girls senses as she reached back and caught up the edges of the cloak and pulled it close as she curled up on the shore letting the sea sing her to sleep. The box held ever so close while her mind simply too tired to think.. to feel.. shut itself down.