A FADING SUN [PK]

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THE FADING SUN

Spoiler

[OOC WARNING: Though TOS compliant and careful to not thread too much on the topic, this post is, still, centered around anxiety, depression, general mental struggles and concludes with a character taking their own lives. If these themes are sensitive to you - do not read]

---

 

“We grow old, Owyn.”

 

The sentence felt like whiplash nowadays. It was so long ago, yet it felt like a mere week or so. It called him back to a time of relative normalcy, where things seemed to work in his favor. The kindling of adolescent love, the rowdiness of two boys growing up together - siblings by bond and kin by blood. Socializing with Princes and peasants alike, with the pit he’d fall into only at the corner of his eye. Though that pit had always been there. Looming. Calling. But before, he had no reason to answer it. No. Life was beautiful. Life worked the way it was meant to work. 

 

“I love you, Owyn.”

 

She was his anchor. She had always been his anchor. When he signed the writ of Louis’ disownment, it was her shoulder that he wailed on. She was everything that mattered, and she had never let go of him, nor left his side. He knew it would hurt her. He knew that it would cut just as deep as it cut into him. He knew. He knew. He knew. But there was a pain. An aching. An indescribable self-loathing that he just couldn’t shake. A constant cloud that not even the sun rays of her love could clear. Self-pity. Self-loathing. The sense that he wasn’t enough. That his every attempt and action amounted to nothing. His approach with the Rouennais did not work. His approach with the Church rendered him excommunicant. His approach with his brother, ignored. More, and more, the cloud grew.

 

“You are my son, too, Owyn.”

 

Every bitter reminder of the good times seemed to get overshadowed. His life hadn’t been that bad. No, not at all. He had a woman he’d soon call his wife. He had a family to cherish and be cherished by. He had friends. So why could he not shake away this unshakeable cloud? Why? Why had it anchored itself in such a way on his soul? Why was it that even in the good, the happy, the fulfilling, he found naught? Her company did not light him as much as it used to. He found solace, still, in her arms, but no longer felt the warmth of her embrace.

 

“I respect you, as a man, Owyn.”

 

It was cold. It was empty. It spiralled down further and further. Sleepless nights, and the few nights where he did sleep, he did not rest. Cursed to dance in his dreams with Lady Resent, and share a drink with the Reaper. That pit which had only been at the corner of his eyesight now found itself presented promptly in front of him, as the only viable choice. Inviting him to throw himself in, to forfeit everything in exchange for some false peace. False. That word did not mean anything to Owyn - peace was the only thing he saw. Peace to the screeching of voices and thoughts in his head. Peace to the anxiety that made him choke on his own breathing. Peace to the sadness that hung over his heart, which her love had so desperately tried to break. Peace from loathing himself. Peace from resenting his own existence.

 

“Invite me to your wedding, Owyn.”

 

It was peace that he wanted. Peace of mind. Peace of spirit. Peace. Part of him wailed and begged him to not do it. To understand he wouldn’t find peace - no, he’d find damnation and eternal suffering. It was the easy way out. The coward’s way out, as men often said. A cheap way to avoid the world’s problems. The same part begged him on and on. You’ll leave her? It stung. You’ll leave your family? It stung. You’ll give up everything you fought for? It stung. Staring out into the barricaded, defended and thoroughly changed streets of Portoregne, from the abandoned windows of the Savoyard Manor, Owyn treated himself to one last sunset, one last glass of wine, and one last look at his pair off the rings he’d gifted her. 

 

And it stung no more.

---

LETTERS

 

To Konstantina vas Ruthern,

 

Spoiler

“Konnie,

 

You did not deserve me, my love. Out of all, you were the one thing that kept me going. That made me see hope and light in the world. That kept unknowingly convincing me to persist. I don’t think apologies will, in a million years or more, save me from my fate. I will miss you. I will miss your embrace, I will miss your soothing words, I will miss the adorable way you turned away from me to hide your true feelings. I will miss you. My only regret as I leave this world is that I did not put a ring on your finger. That I did not fulfill my promise to you, that we would grow old together, that I would cherish you for the rest of our days. I am sorry, my love. You were there for my highest and my lowest, yet I’ve robbed you of the right of attempting to save me from myself. I hope you’ll forgive me. I love you.

 

Owyn.”

 

---

To Louis de Savoie,

 

Spoiler

“Louis,

 

Give father a chance. I beg of you. Though we turned you away, we still loved you. The pressure that was on us, on him. . . It is no excuse to buckle. I suppose I was the one who broke our promise, though. I apologise, my brother. My friend. I don’t have much else I can think of saying to you. I loved you. Throughout and regardless of it all, I loved you. I pity that I did not get to say it one last time.

 

Owyn.”

 

---

To Theódoros Ashford de Savoie,

 

Spoiler

“Theódoros,

 

I’m a coward. In the waking moments of what could be a return from glory, I rob you of someone you loved as a son. I couldn’t take it anymore, my father. I wish I had the strength to persist. I truly do. I will miss you. I will miss you oh-so much. Tell Catherine, Gaspard, Edmound, Lucien. Tell all of them that I will miss them. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be stronger.

 

Owyn."

---

Spoiler

Owyn was an extremely fun character to play, though admittedly, he began to get more and more stressful to play as time went on. Written and framed to be a deeply flawed character, both in general personality as well as actual mental issues derived from abandonment, over time it became extremely challenging to not have certain reactions OOCly while writing for him, and to change that would require a massive character shift that I feel would not do him or the people that roleplayed with him any justice. I don’t like self PK’ing characters, purely because I think it’s never a fitting end for a story. However, with Owyn, as grim and morbid as it may sound, I do believe he met his fitting end. I’d like to thank @Mykei , Kai, @tcs_tonsils_ , @Jihnyny , @sondher, and everyone else who made playing Owyn be such a wild rollercoaster of emotions and interactions. I hope you guys don’t hate me for bringing his story to an end, but, it felt fitting, and as I explained - I couldn’t keep it going on an OOC level. Look forwards for everyone to meet the new concepts I’m thinking of bringing along. Blood for Ashford.

 

[Jihnyny 5233]

 

Louis had never known tears. To him, they were a rarity, a sign of ease, of joy in a life complete in struggle. The missing point of hardship. But now, they came, as alien as death itself. His eyes burned as if they’d been struck by a dozen, casted balls of malflame, each tear; a wound that stung and refused to heal. 

 

Louis reached for the ache, his hand scraping uselessly against the cold ferrum of his plate. His fingers traced the leather that held his armour, desperate to grasp something real, something that might ease the crushing weight that had befallen his shoulders. 

 

And then, his mind reached to a distant memory; a conversation, now tainted by time and regret. The one that had set their fate, the one that had tied him to a path he now saw as a fool’s road. “Owyn, we grow old.” But Owyn was dead, no longer would Owyn grow old, no longer would they ever be the brothers of templar and scholar. 

 

There was no enemy to cleave in two, no living man to spill the blood of. Only a dead man’s name to carry the weight of his blame. Owyn’s death had left nothing but silence, and yet, the ache within him screamed louder than any foe he had befallen. 

 

Louis felt powerless, and still; he fought on. 

 

Spoiler

 

Ty Navi :) I will miss Owyn, he was the first character that I was able to build a relationship with in humanity. o7 , ty for making such a spectacular character. 

 

[sondher 797]

That morning, Konstantina woke and reached for Owyn by instinct—natural, unconscious, the way a flower turns toward the sun. Dawn bled through the gauzy curtains, soft and golden, and revealed the parchment left behind.

 

Maybe he’d gone sentimental again, leaving her a love note just because. That was her first thought—the kind that made the Ruthern roll her eyes, dramatic as ever, even as a faint smile played on her lips.

 

The handwriting was unmistakably his, slanted and alive.
Time folded in on itself. . .

 

The letter slipped from dainty fingers like a dove shot mid-flight and drifted onto the floor, and so did she. Something inside of her broke, yet no sound was emitted. There were no screams -- just a hollow hush, the kind one would only hear in the air of a chapel when everyone has already left. The tears were slow, silent, reverent.

 

That day, Konstantina left everything behind but the letter and the ring, which now hung cold and heavy against her chest.

 

There she began her trek, barefoot through morning frost, to the convent.

[__Stal27 2126]

The wine sat untouched.

 

It was poured with trembling hands, the deep crimson ichor that was crafted by the Savoyard himself sloshed over the rim of the goblet as the bottle was fumbled. It was never meant for the one who poured, it was meant for him. For a reunion, a conversation between two, a jest with the weight of the world left outside locked doors.

 

But there was no one to listen, no one to talk to, and no one to drink the Savoyards wine.

 

His breath came soft and shallow, his fingertips tightening around the edges of the letter, its parchment creased where his fingers dug in, crumpling the very letter who's contents only he and Isidora were privy too. He had read it too many times since it was delivered to him atop the city's walls, the words branded into his mind, but still, he thought some flicker of doubt that would tell him this had all been a mistake. That Owyn would come stumbling through the door any moment now, rolling his eyes at his own dramatics, calling Lothar a fool for believing it, declaring it as his audition of being apart of his inner-circles.

 

But now it would not come, now there was nothing.

 

He exhaled sharply, pressing his knuckles against his temple as if that could silence the thoughts. He wanted to be angry. He should have been angry. But anger could not find purchase in the hollow ache carved into his chest. Only grief remained. Instead, as he rose from his very seat, his hands clenched against the edge of the table as he tried to steady himself. His limbs felt cumbersome, as though the very grief had settled into his bones. He eyes to the open window, where the sky had darkened, where the stars shone into existence against the backdrop of the setting sun.

 

He spoke then, "Perhaps you were always the setting sun. . . brilliant. . . but never meant to stay."

 

[tcs_tonsils_ 3666]

Somewhere in the ether, in a place out of time or space, a figure would emerge with a smile upon his face. With hands interlocked before him, he watched the newcomer with admiration. “Well done, you, the Sun-bathed. Your hardships were many, but you shall not be so easily forgotten.” The Last of Savoy, gestured forth to Oywn, “Come, come. There are many who wish to greet you.” 

[nikoisniko 165]

"His cousin?" 

Sabrina's voice was filled with disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing as the news sank in. She fell silent, unsure how to respond to such a revelation. The Lady turned away, lost in thought, her expression uncertain.

"I remember, before the war- the two of them were inseparable—Owyn and Louis," Sabrina continued, her tone distant. "Hell, I used to spend so much time with the two myself at Balian, or at least ran into them in every corner of the world..."

She paused, her gaze distant as if recalling those memories vividly.

"They were like brothers." -  "At times, I even believed they were."

Her eyes closed, a brief moment of silence hanging in the air before she spoke again, her voice steady.

. . . .
 

"May he rest in peace."

[Lirinya 4021]

13 hours ago, Stal27 said:

Isidora

 

With all that happened and was still happening, Isidora watched the Prince with a cautious gaze. How would it effect him? They had been friendly, yes. Not as close as he and Miguel but friendly still, and with how humanity was split... friends were important now.

 

And now another was gone, cast into the skies with god himself..... that's what she'd tell herself.

 

"Some people are too bona for this life," she justified to Lothar softly, hand resting atop his shoulder, "and perhaps, in this war stricken land, it is better for him there and net here. Better, perhaps, where the wars of man and the wars of life can net trouble him now."

 

"May he rest, the ever setting sun."