Autumn Showers

[ThatWeirdGirl 432]

A night breeze rustled the sails of the docked ships, and the stars twinkled around the moon and between the clouds. Steam puffed from the dwarven ship, vanishing up into the sky. Water dribbled from the tree’s leaves and a short mali’ame’s eyes as she stared towards the ship with the black and red sails.

 

She didn’t remember much from the wedding. She remembered her bubbling rage as she tried to stab Ioannis, her knife being knocked away from its mark. If Aelthus had been right, Katar was in the uruk’s desert still, being held captive by the ones that had attended her wedding. It was her fault, she should have waited until the crowd vanished.

 

Her head slumped forward. Wind whistled through the branches of the old tree she had curled up on. Nobody was around at this hour, likely tucked away in their beds at home. She knew Phaedrus, or whatever his name was, was working on getting her brother back. Fixing her grand failure. She would be disowned at the very least, and at the most the orcs would demand her in exchange.

 

The mali’ame woman had decided if they did, she wouldn’t attempt to fight it. Katar didn’t deserve to suffer for her mistakes and failures. She only worried about Ruyvesa and Caern. Her children, she had promised to keep them safe when she adopted them. Ruyvesa had grown so much, she could still remember when she had first come to the gates as a crying child.

 

Under any other circumstances the memories would have made her smile. But they just brought a new wave of tears from her this time. She had loved Ioannis, and she had just gotten over her disdain for ‘families’. Her anger had ruined her chance of being happy, maybe the emotions of strangers forced into her mind were wrong. Rain pattered against the stone bricks and thunder rumbled in the distance.

 

But that was done, and she couldn’t change it no matter how much she wanted to. She wondered if when Katar came back if she would be able to face him, or if she would hide like she usually did. If the orcs didn’t demand her in return she would probably lock herself in her workshop all day, producing explosives for the Sirame. A frigid breeze rustled the branches above her, and chilled her already soaked frame.

 

Eventually the rain stopped, and by the time the sun rose the mali’ame woman was gone.

[Elad™ 560]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.