Scars and Hurt

[tcs_tonsils_ 2829]

Scars and Hurt

 

A depiction of Borris Iver Kortrevich looking out over Jerovitz in the early morning.

 

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The man stood, arms braced against the chilled iron bars of the balcony. It was another bitter night, the starlight shrouded by the clouds looming above. The only light glowed from a few small lanterns, their flames thin and dim. He watched the way the snow fell, flakes illuminated by those faint orbs of light. It was a strange night, the laughter of the wedding party from hours before died out, leaving a haunting feeling throughout the keep. The wind howled as it blew through the small cracks and narrow spaces around the walls. It whistled as if yearning to be set free from something unseen. The man shivered some, even through the thick furs with which he had bundled himself. His face was rather numb, though he could feel as the flakes melted on his cheek, causing the freezing stream of water to run, till it crusted as ice on his chin. 

 

They ran in streaks like tears. 

 

He had often come out to watch the snowfall across the barren landscape, studying the piled snow, judging how much had come down by how much of the wheat stalk was still visible. His Journal would usually sit propped in his lap, the gears in his head turning as he thought of the next line of a poem. However, no journal had been opened on this night. No careful study of the height of the snow had been conducted. Rather, the man stood in the dark, his eyes held firmly on the chapel. A barely visible outline of the building stood in the distance, a faint glower emitting from the candle burning on the steps of the chapel. 

 

Despite coming to terms with his own conclusions many years ago, he would be a fool to reject the bitterness he felt inside of him. Perhaps the Lord was simply being unreasonable, allowing a problem which spread across the kingdom to affect him so? He had worried for so long, praying fervently for their safe return, for all of their safe returns. However no prayer had ever come to fruition and so, eventually he stopped. Yet why was his parent’s abandonment and sister’s disappearances resting on the forefront of his mind this night? No prayers had been spewed from his mouth for them in years, yet they still held a place in his thoughts. 

 

It has been a long time since he had laid eyes on a sister of his. There had been no contact since the blood rain fell across Almaris. Perhaps the worse had come and they had been driven insane by that rain, so much so that they were gone completely. Another shiver came and he bundled himself tighter in the bear fur. “We will always be there for you.” His sisters had once said, though the occasion he could not remember. There had been no truth in those words, no accuracy to the statement made. The Lord had always been one for theatrics, though the pain he had was real. The anger he had felt boiled inside of him. 

 

Why? He thought, the words in his mind clouded. Why does this still pain me?

 

Borris hung his head, watching as a white cloud released from his mouth every time he exhaled. Something so simple turned out to be as complicated as anything he had ever known. The hurt was deeper than just them being gone, he knew that. There was so much he wanted to tell them, to show them, yet nothing would ever come of that. With age comes experience, maturity, and understanding. Yet there wasn’t anything to be understood about their leaving.

 

And so Borris stood there watching the snow till he was too tired to think, too tired to look, and too tired to stand. The man was too tired to comprehend the mysteries of his missing family. With a shake of his head, Borris turned, moving back inside, into the warmth of his home.

[EmiliainWonderland 1526]

Inside the home awaited his daughter, Minerva who gave him a big smile. Somehow, she could tell something was bothering him, but she could never really know what. She wrapped her arms around her father and made sure to remind him. "I love vy Papej!" The girl proceeded to draw a crude image of her father, but good enough for a young child and handed it off to him, she even wrote his name in garrish hand-writing above to really hammer in that it was him!