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DEEP IN A DREAM


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As Maric hears the news, he'd be fighting his tears. It almost seemed like he wanted to look strong for the rest of the family so he could give them his full support... All they could see was him swallowing once after he blinked a few times, followed by a determined nod. "Crazy old goat, ah'll do all that eym ask of me" he'd then think back to the times he had shared with the old man as he thinks of the countless weddings, adventures, trips and even fights! ALWAYS had he been there to support him... Yet now it seemed like he was on his own for the first time.

He'd take a long deep breath before running inside the keep to find the old man in his bed while tears roll down his cheek
"Ah'll need vyr strength for this one farfadir". After a few moments he'd wipe the tears from his face as he sat next to the bed while looking at the man to see any form of a response. After getting no response whatsoever, he merely gives him a nod as he exits the room.


"It's time to get to work!"

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Anabel finds herself sat again at his side, tending to him with utmost care. Once more, droplets drip down off her cloth as she squeezes it over a bowl of water. They remain the only noises permeating the room, and the keep, aside from her occasional grunts of effort from moving him. While so recently the courtyard had been filled with life, and laughing, now nothing remained except grief and sorrow. So many things left unsaid, so many jokes left since-unspoken, so little joy left. Anabel dabs at Adrian’s forehead dutifully, although unlike the last time she had to do so, there is no respite. Her Farfadir was truly asleep. He wouldn’t periodically wake up, shout about, or look at her apologetically, or help her with her tasks. He was sleeping, and he might never wake up. 

 

She had taken it upon herself to feed him; a truly difficult task. It required carefully hefting the elder up to sit upright in bed - with various pillows as bracers to keep him sitting up - and dividing his prepared food into very small bites. After feeding it to him, she’d lower his head in order to block of the airway, and gently coach him into performing a swallowing action. Thereafter, she’d turn to her food journal and note down exactly what he ate. Over the coming weeks, she noticed he was thinning - despite his skinny stature already - but she suspected her efforts were certainly slowing the process. Which provided her some degree of comfort.

 

Despite her lengthy daily labours, she also spends her time studying The Book. The Book. There is only one book, and it is hers now. Her Book. It was taking her days just to read through the entries already entered; those of such mighty House Colborn figures of old, and their struggles.

 

She can still remember what she told Elia. It still remained in her brain now, and she fully believes it. It can’t … It’s nej different from last time. He’s just scheming. Like before. He’s planning. Farfadir would never leave us alone … Without him. He’s just- He’s probably just testing us. Or planning his next move, like before. 

 

She peers over at Adrian’s face, her own mournfully frowning. “Farfadir … What are you planning?” She asks impatiently; worry etched into her voice. “You can tell mik … You s-should tell mik … Y-you have to tell mik. She talks to him often. Sometimes she reads to him, or quotes passages from the entry of The Book she’s currently reading. Even though he can’t listen to her, it provides some sort of comfort … As though she were still having a conversation with him. 

 

She peers at his face again. As though molded, there rests a peaceful smile. He was always smiling … Droplets drip onto the surface of the water. Anabel Elia’s face contorts to a faint scowl. “It’s nejt fair.” She mutters then, “Stop smiling, you daft old man.” 

 

"We’re all mourning, and you look happy - glad, even.” A tear slides down her cheek as droplets drip onto the wooden floor. Her hands wrench the damp cloth away from his face as she stands up in sorrowful anger. Her letter from him rests on the dresser not far away - received in his bedroom.

 

The bowl resting on her lap tips onto the floor. Water crashes to the wooden boards with an accompanying screech.

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The morning had started with the chaos of servantry pivoting around to organize the furniture to accommodate the upcoming event, frenzy following every haste step. At the end of the hall, a teen with copper curls paced, directing each man and woman to their proper stations, frustration evident with the wrought of her brows. “Nejt, to the left- it looks crooked.” She’d exclaim with feet carrying her along the aisle in long strides. The hostess of the upcoming festivities, her cousin, had devoted herself to extra slumber. The stars in the night before had not been enough to lull her asleep peacefully, and thus the responsibility of the preparation was rendered to the eldest; herself. As she pivoted down the stairs she was greeted to the sights of her grandfather, positioned at the flank of her beloved ‘nanny’ Rudolf, talking as they marked off the oncoming barrels of Ale. To the furthest was her cousin Maric with his son Lorence as they assisted the servants carrying tables to the floors above. And finally her brother Ernst, takes interviews within the confines of his office. This was an event to anticipate.

 

The end of Duma had brought further lines of stress to her temples and yet as she approached a certain individual at the aviary she could feel the heavy thud of her heart return. It was an unruly tension, an agonizing grip of anxiety that oddly enough led to excitement and joy - rather than that of dread. She had wondered if this is what was felt by her farfadir when he had met his love Gwyn, was this the beginning blossom of an unyielding affection? She could say not, she would have to ask him later. After the party would do. 

 

While her guest had other obligations to attend and could not make the evening events, she hardly let it falter her spirits. She’d dine with her friends of new and old, tasting the finery of their culture, and liquor from their souls. From the corner of her eye, she could see her guardian speak to Ipera de Falstaff regarding the history of their friendship and more - a common trait she held. Something she had learned through the years; is that history is of utmost relevance and importance to carry anew. She’d smirk to herself and glance to the table, entirely content. When it came to the waltz of flourishing skirts and sporadic dances she had found herself pinned to the corner of the simple ballroom, only to be beckoned inward to a forced dance between herself and her eldest sister. With the grace of his smile, her farfadir had encouraged her to forcibly drag her sister along in a morbid way of twists and turns. He had always called her a ‘wallflower’.

 

The night had ended grotesquely, filled with tears and sobs, to the point of raw voices. She could not recall much beyond then, it had turned into a miserable blur. At some point both herself and Adrian had pushed to the side, he angled against the railing, and she per usual at his flank. A brief remark and smirk had been directed his way, but he had seemed distant as if he saw something. When he brought himself to the stairs she allowed her eyes to seek the confines of the ballroom once more; lovers entangled in an embrace, siblings frolicking around, and tiresome guardians preparing themselves with departure through concluding the conversation. The first thud of impact had directed her to stare at the tripping elder as he flew down the stairs, eyes grew wide as she shrieked so loudly her throat wobbled with sheer force. There was blood, his frame limp, yet his spirit still bound. The night was numbing, full of relatives coming and going as they blessed their beloved Patriarch, beckoning their momentary goodbyes. As her steel eyes met the pale lids of his own she could only feel another fit of tears asunder, chest heaving as the teen gradually lowered into a knelt position at his bedside, palms desperately reaching out for him. “When our ancestor Jesper was faced with sickness, he conquered the realm through his hope and perseverance. It is nejt time for you to go- you will rise once more, and be with us. You shall see Catalina walk down the halls of a cathedral, see Lorence bring glory to the Colborn name, Ada will avenge her fadir, and Allyssa will grow to be like farmodir. All of us are nejt yet grown, we have nejt finished our story, and nejt have you yet either. I- I will remain resolute like you, for our family.” It was then the girl recalled the events prior, up to Duma, and tears blurred her vision once more. “I-...” The girl began, voice hoarse as she bellowed out in a singular sob unable to be contained further. “H-..” The words stuck, wobbling in their attempted escape as she thought of the stories from Attenlund, one of expedition, adventures, and love. Hours of tales spoken in soft murmur regarding his beloved, of the family he had formed with her, the wish he had honored. So many words unspoken and so much advice untold. “He calls me Ellie.” Escaped the words, pushed through alongside a storm of sobs, the wall of defense fully shattered now as she collapsed at his side. 

 

The dew of the morning felt sticky and dour, unlike the common crisp of the air. Everything felt more compacted now as the girl had bound herself to the keep, sheltered away. Fingers curled inward against her shawl as she roamed the halls absentmindedly, numbed from emotion. She had struggled to keep her defense up once more after the nights before, managing only feeble smiles toward her relatives. But, she could yet face the world. On that fateful morning and knocked at her door, she received a letter from the trusted burgrave. She read it once, twice, thrice, and twelve times more. Each second and time she allowed the words to soak further and further into her core, rumbling with the might behind each written letter and phrase. Digits lined the contour of each lettering, recalling how the lines curved or perhaps where the quill had lifted, numbness draining some. The change had occurred and her life would never quite return to being the same. 

 

It is whispered that after a month had passed with the vacant ballroom that the subtle request of igniting the lanterns within was made once more. Deep in the halls roamed the singular teen, dressed tautly in the thin skirts of her ballet attire, feet wrapped and bound with flats. Silently she faced the shallow walls before bringing herself upright onto a toe, beginning to lurch herself into a wordless dance of sorrow and acceptance. And as those pirouettes began with the haste application of speed she brought her limbs inward, complexion tilted upright to the grim ceiling as tears flowed freely. For once without the aid of her grandfather, she had begun to heal on her own. Endurance. 

 

 

 

Edited by DahStalker
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Hannes sat on his knees in front of the dungeon's fireplace, the news of Adrian's passing reaching his far ears in Acre. The aging Baron placed a fist on his heart, paying homage and rethinking all the brief moments of like-minded comradery they shared. They were the same, two old trees, that sat in the forest. And so the eldest fell in the night.

 

"Who will continue the Old Ways now? Who but you? Rest easy now, old dog. You have done well, and you shall not truly die until the world itself ends and there is no more breaths to be spared for our children."

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Iulius Vernhart let out a violent cough, one that broke him, forcing him down to his knees a he gripped the tables. His throat hurt constantly now, as did his legs mouth, and legs, and well- pretty much everything hurt now. He watched as yet another man fell from the the grips of their physical lives. It didn’t matter if they passed or merely slept, they are fell into the slumber. An eternal pause. Iulius knew his time was soon- it had to be. The aged man, now watering blankly at the missive, simply crossed the Loraine. He was too week to get up and go see his sleeping friend, he was too weak to rise to grab his cane. He was too week to even make it to his bed. The man sat their, blood dripping from his bottom lip, staining the rug under him. “I’ll see you soon… soon.” 

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Kaustantin cried for hours, in his youth he never had a figure care for him as much as Adrian, and now his father was gone. (R)

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Spoiler

ooc:

im crying, sobbing - my therapist is gonna hear about this

 

One and two, one and two, one and two, breathe Ada.

 

Exiting the Knight’s Keep, the young Colborn page made her way down the hill, heading towards the river below. She carried her swords, bows and arrows, and a hay dummy over her shoulder. She struggled for a moment or two since she was in full armor, huffing and puffing. For the past couple of months, Ada was training in different terrains and environments to familiarized. She refused to let her opponents have the upper hand, she wanted to be ready for everything possible. After all, how could she be a knight if she wasn't prepared?

 

“I had hoped we could sit down one of these days to speak about things and to come to terms with it all, to be each other's strength.”

 

Her mind was fixated on that particular sentence, haunting her as she walked. Shaking her head, she tried shrugging it off, she didn’t want to think or feel guilt. Not when she wanted to train. Ada reached the river, setting her things down on the mossy ground, frowning. She realized she was going to have trouble heading back later when glancing back up the hill, letting out a heavy sigh. But at least it would count as exercising in her book. She grabbed the dummy by the head, dragging it towards the water. She went to prop it up in the wet dirt, taking a few steps back. 

 

One and two, one and two, breathe Ada.

 

She got into her fighting stance, lifting the sword up, staring down the hay dummy as if they were her enemy. Or maybe it was someone else, a murderer perhaps. She counted from three, closing her eyes, reciting a quick prayer she always mumbled before a fight. At three, she ran towards the figure before her, ready to slash them into pieces. Unfortunately Ada didn't notice how heavy it would be to run in water, in armor, and holding a sword. Having little to no balance, she tripped, falling face first into the water.

 

"I know the sense of loss and the sense of being lost, not wanting to be awake or wake, fear reality itself and every day be reminded of the pain. But you must also remember to be strong, to move on and take your own fate by the balls if need be - to be your own strength."

 

For a moment or two, she laid there, not bothering to get up despite running out of air. She was self conscious, extremely embarrassed by her mistake ... and her guilt, even if no one was around to see it. Slowly, she raised her head up, spiting out the excess water. Gross. Irritated by it all, she lifted herself up, letting out a few Scyfen curses. Her great grandfather's words were getting to her, making her mind stir.

 

One and two, breathe Ada.

 

Was this Godan's doing? Was the universe punishing her? Was she cursed?

No. These were rubbish thoughts.

She had these impressions before, a few years ago when her father died. It took her a while to realize that is was not her fault, nor his, nor Ser Conrad, nor Miss Lucia. It was the way things were, it was the way life was. All she wanted was to keep her family but it seemed like they were slowly leaving. One by one. Who was next?

 

"By the time I leave this earth my only worry is that you will find it as an excuse to bury yourself further. But know that is not you speaking but rather the sorrow which bites at your heart, the pain that makes you not want to leave your bed, the memories which you can’t escape even with closed eyes."

 

Ada went to grab her sword, returning to her spot from before. Once more, she closed her eyes, slowing down her breathing, counting. She read it in a book somewhere that doing this can help with calming down. When she was ready, she went back into her fighting stance. Her guilt, sadness, and anger still lingered around but she felt confident this time around, reciting the last couple of sentences from her letter. 
 

"So face your fears Ada, through you runs the blood of the first Knights of Haense and his descendants, there is courage in your very being - ready to burst at any moment. So be you, do what you are meant to do and overcome your ordeal and be the Knight you were born to be."


Breathe Ada, just breathe.

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Catlaya nurses her newborn daughter as she reads over the letter, brows furrowed together “Such an odd word; ‘love.’” She ponders, placing the letter on her mantel. She strides back across the room, staring out the window at the rain.

 

”The weather knows my mood before I do.”

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Sitting under a grown apple tree in the Colborn keep, the newly legitimized Lorence arvid Colborn held his journal, sketching about on its soft papers. Inside, the pencil would start forming shapes. Shapes of the man that inspired so much joy in the teen’s earlier years. 

 

As Time went on after the incident, Lorence found himself wanting to be alone most of the time, with a few exceptions. He grew angrier for simple things, something that he had never done before. He had changed because of this.

 

“Mik…mik never thanked eym for..everything..” He sobbed one day, sitting under that very tree, hugging his legs close to his chest. The teen cried, alone, despite what his great grandfather said, he couldn’t bring himself to go to someone. He felt that everyone was grieving in their own way and that he would just burden them with his own grief.

 

His drawings lessened, he felt no inspiration to make something when all he felt was an emptyness deep inside. He would open his journal to a fresh page, only to close it a few moments later, looking up to the leaves of the apple tree, tears flowing down his cheeks once again. He still had so much he wanted to share with Adrian…

 

Lorence would visit Adrian often, sitting beside his bed and sitting in silence. Sometimes he would talk of his day, or of his encounters with his friends, not knowing whether the old man could hear him in his coma or not. He just wanted to share these moments with him, even if he wasn't conscious to experience them 

 

No matter what, Lorence promised himself one thing, he would not disappoint Adrian, he would continue to make him proud, no matter what.

 

Spoiler

We'll miss you Juliusss! thank you so much for being so supportive with everyone in the Colborn fam. I'm so proud to be a part of this family <3

 

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Sigismond frowned, a sadness to his pale eyes, as he thought to himself, "I thought he'd be fine, at least I had one pleasant conversation with him, may the Creator safely see him to the Seven Skies."  

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[!] It was one month after the incident. The moon was at its peak as its moonlight was seeping through the window. There, Adrian lays on his bed unconscious as he had been asleep for the entire month. However, the room started to grow chilly as the windows began to frost but the aura  of the room began to change... Calm, warm, safe, and a familiar aura that Adrian could have recognized. Like meeting with a friend or relative you haven't seen in ages... Beside Adrian's bedside, a translucent yellow man in yellow armor slowly becomes visible as he looks over Adrian with a solemn expression... The yellow man reached out to Adrian with his hand as he closed his eyes as his form began to shift into unrecognizable floating yellow translucent goo as the goo started to drift towards Adrian's head. There the goo entered into Adrian through the mouth and down the throat soon fusing with the rest of his body...

 

---

 

Adrian only saw the dark void within his mind. No matter how far Adrian walked in this flat dark plane, it was always jet black. There was no light present though despite the fact, Adrian can see himself as if the sun were out. Every step Adrian took, he could tell the floor rippled as if he was standing in the tiniest layer of water. However, in the distance he sees a white tree. A familiar looking tree. Upon closer inspection, on one of the branches of the tree, a yellow dove could be seen perched on one of its branches. It stared at Adrian, and watched him. But the yellow dove seemed welcoming, urging Adrian to come closer. The same aura from the room could be felt as it grew stronger as Adrian stepped closer which urged Adrian even more. Adrian started to pick up the pace as he stepped closer until he was full on sprinting towards the white tree...

 

Upon Adrian's arrival to the white tree. The yellow dove continued to stare down at Adrian before extending its wings and looking skywards... Adrian blinked and just like that, he was in Karosgrad. The only difference he could see was that the white tree was in the center of the square and it was oddly silent for a city. There was no living signs of life anywhere to be seen except for the yellow dove in the tree. The yellow dove then looked back down towards Adrian as it hopped off the branch. Gliding down. Until the yellow dove landed on Adrian's shoulder. The yellow dove then nuzzled itself against Adrian's neck and Adrian could not say he was completely alone anymore.

 

It didn't last however as when the sun started to rise in the mortal plane, the yellow dove flew back up into the tree and stared back at Adrian as within one blink of an eye. Everything turned back to darkness. Adrian was alone again... However, whenever the moon reaches its peak. The tree reappears and every time, that same yellow dove could be seen on one of its branches. Excited to see Adrian once again and perhaps show him something new...

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