Frostdrop1 858 Share Posted February 24, 2023 The Man You Will Not Be Life is cruel and unfair. Any semblance of happiness may be retained or harshly stripped on fickle whims. And while the tides of fate are beyond the control of any single man, one can control how they navigate the storm. Spoiler OOC: This will be bridging the roleplay gap that is part of Audo's arc that he's undergoing alone and without company given he's a character that currently hides much of himself and has a strong distaste for his current predicament, and generally has a habit of finding unhealthy ways to cope. It recounts some of his experiences, hints at some wider ones, and pathes a path forward for him to be resilient in the face of challenges for the betterment of his family. Within the depths of Staalgrav, the room of the Young Master Audo Weiss went untouched by his presence in the days following the wedding. Only one person was privy to his absence - his newly wed, Veronica Weiss. Though it should be noted that her knowledge came not of her careful observance but of her last sighting of her husband in a brief moment of melancholy they shared as they sat beside the rain-swept docks of Sheffield port. “I hate this family,” Audo lashed, though his teary gaze remained glued to the distant waves that grew ever-closer, “It brings nothing but pain.” Showing tears to women was weak, or so he had learned. Perhaps his words were, too. Though the spilling of his heart with such wrath did nothing but scar it. In his stubbornness, despite knowing that the lady he loved was surely pained too, he had chosen to remain alone, merely promising not to do anything rash. A wilting candle-flame licked weakly at the encroaching shadows with which Audo has surrounded himself. His lone form slumped over the desk allotted by the budget the military held to decorate each room of the barracks. Ever-present, the tug of sleep pulled at his weary form and yet it eluded him for with it came visions of that which haunted the recesses of his mind. All that were by his side were two celebratory jars of Zvaervauld Lilac Honey, lovingly crafted and adorned with imagery fit for the Houses of Weiss and de Pelear, and a bottle of Carrion Black. The singular owner of the jars, however, was dead for all Audo knew. Death, which haunted him. Even in his happiest of days, there it lingered as it threatened the tethers of his friend to this world, as it threatened himself, his brother, his father, his sister: Death. “Form a ‘V’, wait for it to charge!” Came a call he understood. In the tense waiting of the moments before the clash of the Haense forces and the invading Inferi, all was quiet except the screams of the commanders. The boy was too young to know who all the people were, merely that he had picked the front with the one family did know, the de Pelears. The Grand Prince had attended the Eastern front, too, and yet the boy’s father had not. “Now!” The cry broke, and in a wave of unison the soldiers sliced at the sides of the flaming boar that rushed through - before shrieks followed and the imps upon its once-armoured back fled as cannonballs smashed down into the crowd from their own side. Disoriented from the crash, some distant awareness that the boar was wreaking havoc on the backlines lingering, the boy took up arms when a new order followed, to charge the Inferi with the other loyal citizenry of Haense. Perhaps GOD smiled upon the loyalty shown that day, or perhaps He pitied the whimsy of a child who wished to save his father’s mind. Either way, through some miracle the boy, though blinded from his shattered glasses, lived the battle in place of his unfortunate allies. He was a blessed one, to escape Death - to sob into the arms of Felix Weiss. He was a blessed one, to ward off Sorrow with the Carrion Black his father gave him. Audo Weiss shifted his gaze from the jars of honey to a bottle of Carrion Black that sat upon the desk. Unopened, it lingered on the rim of the candle’s light. Tauntingly, it dared to glimmer just like the jars of honey under the scrutiny of the man’s gaze. He reached for the bottle, grasping it firmly as his torso rose from the desk with a groan. With a practiced hand, he unscrewed the lid. The stench burned. The boy wrinkled his nose and coughed after he sipped from the king’s goblet. Carrion Black was all the king ever drank, a vile-tasting tar as far as his tongue was concerned! Though his eyes watered, and the lad’s body thoroughly rejected the intake of the alcohol, he slid the drink in front of Karl III: a bad taste it may be, but it was not one of Death - yet. Unlike the young one, when the king raised the goblet to his own lips he could drink as if it were water. He afforded the boy a passing glance, before returning it to the room and those that squabbled across the table before him. Even after Karl III passed, he had words of wisdom for his cupbearer, his shield against would-be assassins. Upon receiving the goblet of the late king, inside a stained black void, Audo was bestowed with a wish that made his heart sink: ‘I hope that you will not become an alcoholic by the age of fifteen’. Perhaps those words might have done some good if spoken while the king had lived. A bottle of Whiskey in his hand, a teenager, Audo sat in the crypt of the kings of yore. Though Karl III had yet to find his resting place, for some years he had made a habit of visiting the likes of Sigismund III ‘The Golden’. His visits started as a naive apology, but had grown into the likes of a one-sided discussion. Some part of him believed the king must’ve been well-loved, and surely such a king would care unconditionally. As he talked, and talked, of the grand Felix Weiss and of the inquisitive Haus Weiss, and of all that tore at his family and his mind, but only the dead were present to hear. He talked, he drank, and he stumbled home. Yet, home was not to be where he would find himself. Drunk as he was, he cursed his younger sister, Sierra Weiss, for failing to heed his warning of safety for the youngest, Via Weiss. “You’re a disgrace to your father!” A call came, as Audo staggered out of the tavern. Speak of the man, and he shall appear. Unfortunately, as Audo stumbled out he fell into the graces of his mentor, Georg I. As he spoke, Felix stood aside. Unrelenting, the glare of the patriarch bore into him and the bottle of whiskey each time Audo swung it as he spoke. Being pleased that the king chose Audo for a task was far from Felix’s mind. Hunching, Audo huffed out a cough, “Papej!” He cried after a hit was laid into his gut. In a feeble attempt to defend himself, he lashed out for Felix’s towering form, only to end up on the ground. With a harsh grasp, Audo’s head was yanked back and in the following moments, he was drowning in whiskey. It burnt his eyes, his nose, his lungs; he spluttered though continued to fight. Empty, the bottle was shattered against the far wall on the alley. In his stupor, Audo could not land a single attack and once pulled to his feet, another hook laid into his gut. His back connected with the alley wall as the contents of his stomach splattered the cobbles below. Felix Weiss, an umbra, loomed before he stooped down to eye-level with his blubbering, pathetic boy. “Son, you’ve hit rock bottom.” But by that time, they were not the only ones in the alley. Felix’s wife, Maria Weiss, looked upon the scene from afar, approaching when she saw fit. A mother, this woman was not - not to Audo. Their time spent together had been minimal, and accepting another figure into his life at such a late age was something he had thus far failed to do. And yet here she stood, to mother him at supposed rock bottom. Her words were not easy, and not all comforting. She was as harsh and as stubborn as Felix and his heir. But even so, she cared. Perhaps a meaningless nothing in any other situation, Maria retrieved a shattered piece of glass from the floor. Outstretched towards him, what little light did shine into the alley glimmered from the rough edges of the remnant. “Take this as a reminder of the son you will not be.” Clasping the Carrion Black in his hand, Audo Weiss raised it to his lips. The bottle tilted ever so slightly, but none of the liquid inside kissed him. Slowly, he drew the bottle away, staring down to the contained blackness. As the candle-light flickered, the reflection wavered in the glass. His grasp tightened; the bottle shattered against the wall, spilling its guts against the wall and floor. Creaking, the chair tilted as Audo raised himself to sit back. A solemn glower fell over his features as he observed the pool of Carrion Black growing at the base of the wall. If Death and Sorrow wanted him, they would have to fight for him. 14 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
AnimeWolf0080 1493 Share Posted February 24, 2023 Spoiler What a lovely read! 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
TeawithFrisket 2616 Share Posted February 25, 2023 Spoiler Poetic are you now? *yoda hums* 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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