Torn Asunder, Forever Changed

[Lirinya 4021]

 

 

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“I never did imagine that this day would come.” 

 

A strange silence lingered over the streets of Portoregne, heavy with anticipation even whilst it slept. How long until another raid bell was rang? How long until another letter called them to rescue. How long until it was them, next?

Households stored their armor and weapons by the front door, and the regiment- those who had sworn their lives to the nation, sat on the edges of their seats. Prepared. Ready.

 

But one can easily forget the basics. These were people, each with family and friends from various nations spread all throughout Aevos and it was in these times of war that these relationships suffered worst. It was a sad reality for many, those who had spread themselves from North to South- East to West now found themselves unable to make the journey safely.

 

But what made it worse, oh- what made it much worse, was that this war had begun as the new generation closed in on their adult years. Fifteen, Sixteen and so on- Nations of Balian, Ravenmire, Hyspia- they saw their youths swiftly pried away from their friends with a swift rip. Tragic.

 

The day's events had concluded peacefully enough. Gate duty had been uneventful, and Isidora was thankful for that. She returned to ground level and removed her helm, adjusting the veil beneath it. A choice she had made on her sixteenth; to don the garb long term as a sign of her reverence for GOD. It was part of who she was, her faith- her belief and in times like this, Isidora was truly grateful for it. 

 

The square was quiet. It had once been a place filled with laughter and joy as the children of their generation, those from nations near and far, built relationships that promised to remain a lifetime. And yet, now? Isidora panned to the Aviary where the attendant stood, beckoning her over. Another letter. 

 

This one was from Ravenmire. Now an enemy state but before? There had been promises made to visit the place once it was constructed. Alysanna had been so excited to introduce Isidora to her home- the poor girl had spent what felt like a lifetime bunkering down in tents ‘til the place was rebuilt. “Signed, Allerick,” the letter concluded in decorative, refined cursive. Typical- he was a well written individual, and would make for a wonderful steward or government official one day. 

 

“Graza teu, Adio.”

 

Isidora departed back toward the Palace, a path well walked in her eleven years within Portoregne. She stopped to browse the stalls, to peer into the fountain and to smell the roses that grew besides the cobbled path. Such familiarity and yet, none of it bored her. It was comfortable. It was peace, her peace.

 

The journey took her to a crossroads; to take the path home and to the Palace or to take the path to the Basilica, to pray. Isidora chose the latter- it was in times like this where solace and his guidance was needed the most.

 

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The Basilica was devoid of attendees this eve, save the few holy men and women who tended to its upkeep. Of course, the citizens slept and recouped their physical energy. Their spiritual energy would come later. It was a perfect time for personal prayer.

 

Isidora took down the aisle, her helm discarded neatly at the entrance, her hands washed clean of the day’s work. A Lorraine cross, a physical trinket gifted to her by Lothar, hung from the belt of her armor. She took it between palms and held it tight as she made the slow and purposeful journey toward the dias.

 

Faith was a beautiful and powerful thing. It was as though in an instant, from the moment Isidora stepped through into the holy church, did she feel a sense of belonging and calm. She took to her knees, the metal of her armor as it folded at its joints echoed through the otherwise silent hall. 

 

“Holy Father,

 

It is in times of conflict that we as humanity often lose sight of what it is to be ourselves. We lose sight of what it is to live within your light and in your image. Love is often abandoned for hate; calm is replaced with anger, and togetherness is replaced by endless trials that offer no peaceful compromise.

 

We have- I have lost access to friends and freedoms we were once afforded. No longer may we travel and bond, share prayers under your watchful eye- share celebrations within the safety of peace.

 

I do not wish to ask for much, except your protection. Please protect those of our youth who promise to raise our generation above the conflict of their fathers. Of all nations; allies of enemies. The Canonist peoples who are conscripted to fight despite their personal beliefs. It is they who should be watched over.

 

May your blessings protect the many,

Amen.”

 

The many… the youth recalled the moments where she had met her friends. Alysanna- at the Palace when the Prince of Ravenmire and his family had attended to visit John. Allerick- Alysanna had introduced him as her twin. They had an outstanding promise to visit Petra’s bookstore and Miguel. Dear, sweet Miguel. It had been the exchange with Hyspia, where the two had met. He had given her a gift and, well- Isidora had felt so awkward, she had practically melded with the shadows. 

 

And then there was Lothar. 

 

There was no risk to their relationship being split asunder by the war. They resided within the same Kingdom after all. But there was another threat that loomed above. What if he was hurt? Taken? What if…

 

“Holy Father,

 

Under your watchful eye, Lothar has grown to be a pious, devoted servant of the faith. He promises to protect and guide the Kingdom in his reign and until then, has swore to fight for what is right.

 

I ask, from deep within my heart, that you protect him at all cost. It is selfish, and for that I ask for forgiveness. I know in myself that he fights for the right and proper reasons, but if I can not-

 

May your blessings protect the many,

Amen.”

 

Isidora was unable to conclude the prayer. A piece of her could not admit her fears to even herself. Her doubts, not of the strength of the people nor their reason to fight, but of herself. What if she was not strong enough to protect the boy she had given her heart to? What if the cost of this war was the loss of loved ones? Not only Lothar, but Alysanna, Allerick, Miguel… all of the children of Aevos they had grown with. 

 

She rose from her place and signed the Lorraine over her form. 

 

She had letters to write.

 

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To those not mentioned within the story, thank you for making Isidora’s childhood something to remember. 

Arowyn, Theo, Patrocleia, Adriana, Aera, Tobias, Lenora, Owyn, Aurus, Aedric, Louis and Miroslaw. The great gaggle of Balianese and elsewhere who have spent the last eleven weeks RPing with her. 

 

I hope this war brings you all some memorable RP and character development.

[Navigator 4260]

Somewhere, Owyn Hector also prayed, by a pyre, citing litanies and prayers for his friends and now brothers-in-arms.

 

-

 

Elsewhere, Miguel looked out the window, hoping one day to see his friends once more.

[TaraJess 2848]

Aera had condemned herself to the Hold since the fighting started, though below in the crypts she was often found at the foot of the state of Saint Harald. It seemed every day a new candle was added to the collection, a new prayer sent off for the many dead of the battles that waged. Was it not Saint Harald who buried the dead of both sides of war, not just his own?  Should we not pray for both sides? That men make it home to their wives and children? Should we not pray to one day be reunited with those that had been torn from us by gruesome politicking?

[Yeetboy0206 1574]

Estevot sat in the Church, praying not for himself, but for his children, and all the children on both sides of this war, that the hatred and evils of the corrupt Church does not taint them and that they will be spared the brunt of the suffering and pain that war brings, suffering and pain that no child should ever have to know.

[FredrickTeufel 356]

Prince Allerick Rostova's hand went to quickly swip a quil across yet another parchment, the ink spilling across the page then in a savage hurry as he wrote more and more. It would seem he had done more writing in recent days instead of holding a sword. His breath came heavy to him then as he finished, heading over to the aviary then. His boots lightly trod against the cobbled streets of Earosgrad. His eyes drawing to a close then. "I pray they've not yet forgotten me. I've at least not forgotten them. . ."