[PK] The Weeping Lion

[Epistile 856]

(I would really appreciate it if you read this while listening to the song. Puts more emotion into it imo.)

 

 

Aslan Bronwyn was a troubled man, with problems ranging from infidelity to bad acne. He’d struggle all his life with these problems, even as a young boy. Wherever he went, he always seemed to be riddled with hardships being thrown at him, whether it be by his family, or just generic life problems. Aslan never seemed to care about these however, always remaining resilient to whatever was tossed at him. His mother, Halea, labelled this as one of her favorite attributes of her son. She had always adored Aslan ever since he was just a young boy, and he could never forget the look on his mother’s face when he was engaged the first time. These memories of his life, these hardships that flourished into beautiful things all would come to an end as he grew older.  The death of his younger brother, Epistile, had made him bitter inside. He refused to trust the people of Avalain, and struggled even trusting his own three children, and neice. Epistile, though not the greatest brother, meant the world to Aslan. The death of him surely rocked his world, and he hadn’t been able to recoup his sanity after.

 

In the quiet lower district of Curon, on a cold night, a lass by the name of Florence-Nicole Silversteed laid at the edge of her uncles bed, squeezing his hand tightly.  She would begin to sob uncontrollably at the sight of the sick Aslan Bronwyn, who was now bedridden. His hacking cough sent chills through her spine, her not being able to comprehend the amount of pain he could possibly be going through at the time. Florence lifted her head from the covers of the teal bed, tears welling up in her eyes. She could tell this will be the last time they would ever share a moment to talk ever again, but did not want to come to terms with his grisly fate.

 

”Please do nae go, Aslan... I cannae lose you to...” Florence would say in between sobs, squeezing his hand tighter with every syllable escaping her mouth.

 

Aslan would squeeze her hand back weakly, leaning over to cough into the metal pan that he placed next to him, to collect the blood fleeing his air ducts. ”Florence... I am so.. So... Sorry..”  He’d mutter, a few wheezing gasps for airs trailing behind his words. He’d slowly bring his other hand to caress her cheek, tears welling up in his eyes at the sight of his comely relative. The last 10 years he had known the lass, she always had been one of the pride and joys within his life, a bundle of light that seemed to bring pleasure to everyone she surrounded herself around. He regrets not being there for her as much as he should, but he always tried to be the best parental figure in his life he could be. It was his job to take care of the girl, after the late Ajax Ironwood III had passed weeks before. In his mind, he had failed however, now not even able to get out of his own bed.

 

Florence began to sob uncontrollably as his hand made contact with her face, Florence losing yet another relative she was close to. She places her other hand atop of his, keeping her tear-riddled gaze fixed on Aslan. ”I am sorry for being so bad to you.. I am sorry for not being the greatest... But you can’t leave me.. Not now... You can’t... You just can’t...”” She’d mutter between her sobs. Florence couldn’t stand to lose another person she cared about.

 

”Let the...” Aslan would lean over, coughing into the pan. Blood would drip off the edge of his chin, and fly out as he’d cough. His condition was getting worse, and he was surely to die soon. ”Let the Falkenrath... Take ca-care.. Of you... I entrust your life.. With his now...” Aslan’s breaths would begin to shorten as the wheezes grew worse, his body soon to shut down. ”I am so proud of you... I... Love you..” Aslan would wheeze, as his final breath was taken.

 

Florence would place her head down, listening to what he said. After he had finished his final three words, she waited a few moments for whatever else he would say. As moments went on, she’d look back up at him hesitantly, noticing his stomach not rising as it would if he were breathing. She’d check his vitals, the blood not pumping. A sudden realization that her uncle was dead, now flowed through her mind. ”Aslan..? Aslan? Wake up!” She’d shout, her tears streaming down her face like tiny rivers. ”Please wake up, you can’t be dead! You can’t be dead!”  Florence would stand, now beginning to pace back and forth in the room. Tears would still be falling off of her chin as she did so, being overcome with sadness. She didn’t know what to do now that both Ajax and Aslan were now out of her life for good, leaving her to fend for herself. This truly was the moment where the courageous girl was left hopeless and scared. The lion now wept alone in the tiny room.

 

 

Aslan Bronwyn

1692 – 1729

May He Rest Eternally In Peace.

 

hi, it’s just me epistile with a small note down here. 

i just want to thank everyone for making this character who he was

i want to thank @Ajax@fieselena@clonky@Dimitri_P

for being super good people to me through my bronwyn characters

this is where they end, as i am no longer playing them anymore.

thank you to anyone who reads, i’ve never had to write a pk post

so i wasn’t really sure where to start or how to write it.

but thank you anyways. those people i mentioned are the goats ^^

 

[armajesty 324]

Talas hung his head at Aslan’s grave, a hand pressed against it. “I wish I could’ve learned more from you, Uncle.” He hummed softly, a single tear streaming down his face. “Thank you for everything.”

[kuerbis 3802]

When Florence thinks back to her uncle, or any deceased family member for that matter, a wave of sadness washed over her. Flora handles her own emotions poorly. She’d usually just get angry at people, or herself, but since Aslan died, since the uncle, that looked just like her father died, she was not able to get angry. The only thing that she feels was sadness and a form of emptiness. The girl would like just to stay in her room forever, but her career and the people she still held close would not let her.

There were four people in her life, that she saw as fathers:
Epistile Bronwyn, Aslan’s brother, her real father.
Ajax Ironwood III, he was her adoptive uncle. His death scarred the young girl deeply.
Beyarin Silversteed, her adoptive father, the man that took her under his wing when she was all alone. The only man out of them, that was still alive,
and of course:
Aslan Bronwyn. Her uncle, the grumpy old man she would fight and laugh with.

It was hard to see him go. She’d often be seen at her late parent’s grave, that was now also Aslan’s. Her uncles death has hardened Flora. Made her stronger and weaker at the same time. It felt like everyone around her was dying. Her mother, her father, Ajax, Adelina, Aslan. She would always remember and love them, even tough she was bad at expressing this love. In the end, the only thing she can do, is hope that he is somewhere, reunited with his brother, happy and safe.

May he rest in peace.