The Ravens Last Craw [PK]

[christman 3529]

Spoiler

Oops forgot to write a PK until like now lol. sorry for any mistakes in the writing

 

It had been years since the last man, or woman, had seen the face of Elisabeth Raven. Nerry, a family member, or mere acquaintance on the street had noted the woman; less even heard her name. Had her voice been called, in questioning, since her last moment of appearance? The answer was a simple one. No.

For, while few cared; or even knew of the woman, she - a law abiding Orenian citizen - had shared the unholy burden her family had inflicted. For a brief time, a few shoulder crushing years, the mention of ‘terrorism’ or ‘rebellion’ caused the name of a particular bird to rise within the mind of the hearer. 

 

When she was a child, her only friend had been her brothers, and her sister. And when she was an adult; they all died. 

 

The first to go was Samson. He claimed his trips took him far and wide, across oceans and cities. . But one day, he never returned. Her letters of concern were met with nothing but air, never even opened - but always returned. 

 

The second to go was Ophelia. Her name rang true to the woman who had antagonised her father. Perhaps it was the crushing force of Soloman's hatred, or some other form of lurking despair. . But like Samson, she too disappeared into the realm of unanswered letters - and panicked family.

 

The last to go was Louis. His death had uprooted tragedy, and hatred. Her days spent mourning, sobbing. . it turned to a singular blur. While she prayed, her hands clasped to GOD in begging prayers, nothing turned back. No action on earth could undo his demise. 

 

When she was a young adult, her trips to Krugmar began to increase. Her kinship with her orcish comrades strengthened. But as time continued on, it began to diminish.

In jovial adventure, she took her cousins, Aleksi and Oliver, who were as dear as siblings, to the gateway of Krugmar. Upon entrance, she met with a fe-uruk, claiming signs of distress. Her brother had been impaled, metal slung into his shoulder, and he was dying. In quick motions, the three humans found themselves in the midst of a life-saving act. With rudimentary medicinal knowledge, they struggled between themselves to keep him from death. 

 

A friendship sprung to life, in her loneliest years - Askoon, the orc they had saved, offered his homeland to her. In a place of refuge from the beratement she adhered to in Oren. His request, put on hold - would never come to fruition. As she never saw him again. 

 

In her older years, turning fully fledged adult, she loved. She had loved three in her life.

 

Ziegfrid Mortimer, the first man - though brief - that she had turned for in conquest of love. The date had been short; and perhaps, it was one of her largest regrets to never pursue him. He was a recruit - on gate duty, at the time. A vivid memory of the man she had briefly come to adore. 

 

Methas was the second. A mistake; a foolish choice. Her father had laced them together - married barely in no ceremony, and divorced on the streets. A short, but impactful mistake.

 

Robert Archibald Galbraith, a surprising pick by the woman, was the one she had decided to love. But as her family turned and gripped in the way of treasonary acts - their relationship began to crumble. 

 

Though, there was something that had not been prevalent through only one sector of her life; instead, it had reigned supreme through the entirety of it. A looming figure of disdain and disappointment. Depression - ailment, it all turned back. . to him.

 

Solomon Raven had never introduced her to her mother. He, for her entire life, had been her only parental figure. When she was younger, her behaviour - good or bad - was met with an assortment of violent slurries. The cane against skin, the burnt hand coming down upon her face. . The noises echoed in her head for the rest of her life. Even as an adult, the violent barrages continued - though slowly turned to verbal insults. Slowly working against her mind - her body, it never ended.

His ventures caused her grief, both in sanity and in out of it. No matter what she did, she could never escape the words he had said. 

 

Or at least so she thought.

 

On a cold morning, in the time before sunrise, Elisabeth Raven slipped from the confines of her house on Rochefort. She meandered down the streets in quick - barely noticeable paces. A brief breath in-took, and she was out of the gates. Down the stairs she went, alongst the pathing of Henry's Wharf, and into the grasslands behind. She walked, though it was closer to a stumble, through the grassy wilderness. Unstopping until her feet began to sink in the marshy depths that neared closer. It was there, she waded into the water. Further into the depths. The green dress she had come to despise turning soggier and wet as she dove further. 

Having swum for an undefined period of time - she found herself content. Unable to see a single thing nearby, she closed her eyes. . and turned to pull that of sewing scissors from her slew of pockets.

Elisabeth Raven had lived a short life. A life filled with nothing but misery - with few moments of enlightened happiness. But alas, it would not be years, until her disappearance turned to confirmation. For it was on this saints day, that a bird would come forth. Seizing itself from the wilderness, to deposit old, tainted letters, to any who cared:

 

Spoiler

I won't make this letter drawl, thus I will state it quickly; 

I am dead. Gone, deceased. I don’t know when this letter will be found, nor can I be sure it will ever be in the first place. There's nothing to say that hasn’t been said. All but one thing, perhaps. And this is to say: I’m sorry. For what I'm sorry for, I'm still not sure. But I'm sure, as I traverse the. . .

 

The letter turned to nothingness, as the letters turned sour from water against parchment. From rips and tears that nature had given it. Its course was done, and the words had been lost. Only at the bottom, was something more visible. . 

 

Yours sincerely, 

 

Elisabeth Raven.

 

 

 

 

[FunOnTheBun 67]

Erm, kind of cringe

 

[XOCO 502]

A loud caw would wake the Corporal from his peaceful blast potion induced slumber in the training grounds of the Bastion.

 

"Wh-wha?" Ezekiel Moores would state, flustered, as he brushed broken glass from his bright red uniform.

 

He seized the message from the bird with great haste, accidentally tearing a part of the already tattered letter as he did so. The man took a quick skim of the letter's contents, before flinging it dismissively into the wind. It folded and curled and finally, took flight over the Bastion's wall before Ezekiel would make his remark.

 

"I'm sorry... Signed... Lisa? Who the hell is Lisa? I can barely read this thing..." He mumbled in a slight fit of anger at being awoken, before turning to face the bird, "Wrong person, idiot."

 

The bird cawed once more, before Ezekiel finally stormed off back to his dorm to take a proper nap, without interruption.

 

[Armored_Ghost 38]

A sorrow sigh escaped the Bastion's stables, following the bird's arrival. Out of the many deaths he had seen, not one felt as close as the one of his cousin.
"Who knew Ravens dropped like flies. . ."
The ensign spoke a simple phrase. To himself, he raised a glass of whatever alcohol he had.

"Hope the Seven Skies treat you well."

[Crows 118]

Methas would read this with joy "The wrench finally kicked the bucket" He'd say rubbing his hands together with an evil laugh 

[makeitsoyoucandeleteaccounts 610]

Jan E., now a shadow of his former self; Mikhael Schiewart, would halt his run through the open fields of Sunholdt as he bowed to reach for an apparently lost piece of paper resting on the ground before him. He opened the letter, his breath discomforted as he read the missive. Rest assured, his cousin had passed away not by his hand, as he intended.

 

"GOD! **** you, Beth! You were supposed not to die!", exclaimed the tired man, as he turned on his heels, back towards Eastfleet, and continued his run.

[𝖂𝖆𝖌𝖜𝖆𝖓 740]

Captain Robert Archibald Galbraith would let out a deep sigh upon reading of the news , setting the letter down upon his desk he would lean forward hands forming a scholar's cradle as his eyes became sodden. He'd reach for a decanter of whisky behind his desk wincing before taking a sip, leaning back in his chair for a moment afterward. 

[Timer 1978]

Francisco Cardinalis Sutica smiled as he saw a new arrival that Methas hated in the Seven Skies, not particularly a fan of the elf he had adopted due to his actions after and before his beheading!

[Viraj Dobrial 321]

Face-up at the shore of a long-forgotten grotto, Archimedes found himself enveloped in a shroud of inky blackness once again. It was a moonless night, only alighted by the stars that so clearly pricked through the smog that, otherwise, enveloped the scene. Finding the strength to pull himself up, he sat at water’s edge, listening to the calming crash of innocent waves lapping against the shore, cycling back and forth into the larger ocean. This momentary peace was finally broken when he heard her calling out from behind him. His eyes went wide, and he jerked the whole of his body towards the noise; but he could see nothing but the endless sea in front of him. 

 

Her voice got louder, and Archimedes turned to follow her. When he finally found her corpse, it was just as he’d remembered it, down to the face: a sorrow-filled visage marked the head that lay before the young woman’s decapitated body. To stare into her eyes again was too much - after looking upon his gravest mistake once again, he made to turn back to the shore. Only in turning, though, did he find within himself the strength to say one final goodbye; For Closure, he thought to himself, as he made to turn around.

 

Upon viewing Elisabeth again, his eyes welled up; they’d not done this in over a decade. Looking over his body, he noticed, too, the fullness of his hair, and the vibrance in the clothes she’d made for him all those years ago - how the wear of life seemed to have gone from them. But in its place, her body had taken on that of an older woman - not yet an elder, much less one surrounded in the company of friends and family - just one of some forty-odd years. Nevertheless, he knew it was still her. So he took a seat before the reheaded woman, and opened his mouth to say what he’d been yearning to tell her for fifteen years.

 

As he did, a corona of light appeared from behind the woman, flowing through her and striking Archimedes. He was thrown backwards onto the stoney ground behind him, smacking his head against the jagged rocks. No blood fell from his skull; nor did his pain escape his mouth. In Elisabeth’s slow ascension, into the penetrant light that so broke through the ceiling of the cave’s ceiling, he wished to scream, to call out to her. Then, for her to run her hand through his hair, to smile as she’d done in their youth. Overwhelmingly, to embrace her - one final time. That opportunity, though, had passed years ago; for now his organs ran slick with his skin, no beating heart delineated from the sludge and corruption he writhed within. As he attempted to lift his arm up to her, he found he no longer held control over his form; he felt his body wither away, his clothes melding with his form, as his face contorted into a patchwork of tangled vines, then a pit of sand, and then into nothing, as the light Elisabeth found herself welcomed into shut itself away from Archimedes.

 

When he awoke from his slumber, he found his condition not too far flung from his fantasies - perhaps it was the bird that was pecking at his half-buried head, or the tenderness of the gashes that opened through his abdomen. Barely managing to dig himself out of his shallow grave, he found himself once again greeted by the stars, provided the shade of a large oak tree on the outskirts of Province - alone. The sea raged off in the distance, as wind howled across the plains that surrounded him. Tucked into his helmet was a note, left unread. Using what little energy he had left, Archimedes joined the chorus of wailing that was brought across the sea, which, accented by the other dead of the Raven Clan, crescendoed into one ferocious caw that carried itself over the city walls - heard only for one grand moment, before silenced, once again enveloped by the wind. At this, Archimedes fell into another fit of sobs, finding the clarity only to say:

 

I'm Sorry, Liz

 

"I close my eyes, I say nothing now

There's a ringing in my ears that's faint and high

And when I listen close to it, it says