A Life Well Lived [PK]

[tcs_tonsils_ 2829]

"We had not spoken in quite a long time, though now I suppose it is far too late for that, no?" The poet of Jerovitz squated next to the crypt that Nikolai Kortrevich had been placed in. Borris tilted his head slightly, glancing to the slightly smaller stone coffin that rested beside him. "You know, I never was a big fan of hers, perhaps I told you that many moons ago. You might have taken me under your wing, and treated me like a son, but I can't say she was anywhere close to being my mother, let alone someone I cared for." Borris sat down, resting upon the stool that sat in one of the corners.  

 

"She promised me, once upon a time, that me and her were going to find herbs or something, I can't quite remember what we were doing- oh, she said it was a suprise. Then she road the both of us to the cave where the creature lived that ripped both of your eyes out." The Kortrevich's gaze floated from the unmoving stone slabs up to the walls of the crypt. "Oh how I screamed at her, cursed at her for her stupidity." His features soured as he kept a stony-eyed look upon a crack that had forced in the surface of the stone. He trailed it, watching as it branched off into a multitude of different cracks. "I tried to help her once, or you, or you both- back when I was still a child, back with her first pregnancy. I was sure that Esmee hated it here, I was sure she hated you, and that she hated me. And you know, that feeling never really went away... her hating me at least... I know, it took a while, but I know she loved you."

 

The poet let out a long, shaky sigh. "Emelya's gone, though she wasn't very present... Vasilia is gone... though same thing, I suppose. Now your gone, shes gone, my sisters are probably dead- as good as, I suppose. Eileen- Everything is different. I can't even think clearly on my poetry- it has been ages since I produced anything that didn't have to do with the King, or a war, or knights..." Borris rested his head against the cool stone as he let his eyes close. Yet there was not darkness, there was the warm oranges of the flickering light on the opposite side of the room that he could see from the backside of his eyelids. 

 

"I liked you better with one eye, Nikolai. I think it makes for a better story.... plus, people are always asking you, 'Hey, you, how did you lose your eye? Or... atleast in theory that is what would happen... who knows." 

 

After many moments of silence, Borris opened his eyes and stood. "You know, I have been away from Haense for so long... perhaps it is time to make my return, no?" Then he left, letting the only sound that remained in the crypt, the burning of tourchlight. 

[Adstrom 547]

Two shimmering glasses of a stark golden brew found themselves into the hands of distant men. One became ensnared in the ironclad grip of a man whose cigar was lit ablaze for the the first time in many years, and the other fell balanced inbetwixt scarred fingers of a Hawk trapped between worlds. Both shed what could be shared tears of some detached, mournful sorrow.

[Sarven 1696]

*Though Yvian knew not much of the man he would sign the lorraine* "May he rest in the seven skies..."

[Kalehart 1062]

After receiving the news, Valentyn takes a few moments to reflect on his previous interactions with his grandfather, and the small fortune in mina that he had been gifted with over the years. Regretting that any donated artworks would now be rather pointless, he otherwise doesn't fret, and soon regains a tired smile. Returning to his painting, Valentyn quietly ruminates on the many things he'll have to ask when they next speak.

[Amayonnaise 1535]

Some years beyond, a lone, crippled figure would approach the Crypt within which the Kortrevich rested. The greying, wrinkled woman would sit beside it for some time in silence, refreshing herself with water from her canteen and some berries she had gathered on the way. Eventually, she straggled to her feet and hobbled off once more - leaving a dried, preserved flower in her place.