Memory is Punishment [PK]

[confusedjester 811]

 

[News spread of the Vourkehardt's passing...] :(

ignore the fucked up formatting i cant fix it ;c

 

 

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“You dangle at the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth.”

 

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As the night grew cold, did Anneliese Vourkehardt grow still. Having kept herself buried in her chambers for years past, with only short visits into the outside world, did her mind grow restless, yearning for freedom.

Freedom of what? Freedom to live? Or the freedom of death? Anne knew naught, but she knew it was her last day. 

Her health waned. Her body, once strong, grew tired. Every movement accompanied with an ache, a machine left untreated. Her mind, once sharp, now dulling once more.

She spent her last day out of her room, steps slow, as a braid amassing eleven-feet dangled from her head, dragging along the ground. Anne had never cut it, not once. She never would. 

It was a symbol, a token, to remember her ancestors, her parents, who passed away long ago.

It carried within its weaves the memories of her father, bright and sunny, and her mother, clouded, unpredictable as a wave. Their life. And their death.

It held first-greetings, Ani meeting Baldric for the very first time in Reinmar. Meeting Wernher, meeting Valeska.

Horrors woven in, Stein’s body burning, charred, fleshy smoke billowing above the crowd. Eduard’s head, rolling off the gallow in a heap of torn muscle.

The braid contained heartbreak, when her beloved betrayed her over, and over, and over again. Weakness, as she forgave. Over. and Over. and Over again.

Weight, of sunken shoulders, as she failed. In being a wife, in being a mother, in being a sister and a daughter.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

The braid grew longer, intertwined with the fate of a life lived in sorrows and shadows, in haunts and confusion, as her mind took a toll, rotting inside her head.

Gray strands appeared. Her fiery locks stained with dull hues. It was as her youth began to wrinkle, did she reflect.

Memories, not nightmares, not horrors…

Her wedding day. The happiest day of her life.

The day her children were born. A new purpose bestowed.

Talking with her sister. Every word was remembered.

Dean. The man she should've married.

Meeting her grandchildren. A sign that Anneliese could rest easy. A finality that she was no longer alone.

—

She spent that day speaking to her son, cradling his face, observing his ashen hues a final time. Her beautiful son, now grown into man, scars blemishing his skin. 

She spent that day further in Agrenost, speaking briefly with her beloved sister. Briefly, only briefly. 

Finally, she spent that evening in the presence of faces, new and old, at a small dinner. Her final fast had come to an end. Anne had a slice of pie, the last thing to ever grace her tongue.

It was odd to sit there, lonely in the knowledge that she would be faded away by sunrise. But Anne sat, and smiled, enjoying the lasting cacophony of small talk. It was simple. Peaceful. 

Her steps thereafter carried her back to Caladras. She gazed upon the castle, dragging a pallid hand across the grooves of the stone as she neared the gate. Anne entered, taking graceful, fluid steps to her chambers. She then painted the hours away, until her wrist could no longer bless the canvas.

She changed to her nightdress, laying down, hands asleep on her stomach as that braid of hers coiled around her arm.

A breath was taken, calm, slow.

Anneliese rested, staring up at her cold, shadowed ceiling. Her eyes went to a close, and for once,

 

Everything went quiet.

 

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[Letters were then distributed to their addressed people. Do not metagame :c]

 

 

 

 

 

 

Amon 

Spoiler

 

Dear Amon, 

My firstborn son. From the moment you were born, I knew you were a hidden gem- something special. You were always there, even in your youth, at my darkest hours. You experienced things I wish I could have shielded you from, and I am sorry I failed you in that. I want you to know how thankful I am; how grateful, how proud I am, to call you my son. I have spent my later years regretting how I raised you- that I had done it poorly, that I had failed you, and Safiyaa and Nalia, that you deserved a better mother. But you are someone so intelligent, thoughtful, loyal, kind… with a mental fortitude I could only dream of… I must've done something right in raising you. My ibn, I speak your name with the utmost of pride, of the man you’ve become, and the stellar physician you had practiced to be. 

ولدي الجميل، كم أحبك كثيرًا.,

Mother

 

 

Safiyaa

Spoiler

 

Dear Safiyaa, 

My daughter, my miracle, oh how blessed I was when you arrived. A brave soul,  fiery heart. You remind me of myself when I was young. You have spent your life encapsulated by the rage your father left you, and I am sorry I could not put out the flames, and instead I stoked them. We have made up since then, and because of that, I can finally rest in peace. 

You are now a mother as well. It will not always be easy. My dear ibnam, you must know that the moment you hold that first babe in your arms, that they are your purpose now. A mother cannot be selfish. A mother must sacrifice. Your children above all else must come first. Their happiness is your happiness. I know you, ibnam. I know you will be a great ommi, and  I will always be with you. Just remember, it always gets better. Time heals all wounds, as they say. From days to decades, you will always be their mother, no matter what conflicts arise. There is no one I know who loves greater than you. 

Your heart is big, and it is good.

ابنتي، التي تحمل كل حبي،
Ommi

 

Nalia

Spoiler

 

Dear Nalia, 

My chosen daughter, you are so sweet, so full of life- a confidence I envy. You appeared when I needed you most. You saved my life, ibnam. I am so glad I found you, and provided you with a safe haven. My biggest regret shall be that I did not get to spend enough time with you. There is so much for you to learn, to see, that I will never bear witness to. I am sorry. Death knocks upon my chamber door, and I will not see you again. How I wish I could see the woman you become. The world is your oyster. Reach out and take it.

I love you more than my heart can say.

ابنتي المختارة،

Ommi

 

 

Auris

Spoiler

 

Dear Auris,

I would not be here, if not for you. You have been the only thing that has kept me sane, when all the light ebbed from my visor. You are my best friend, my most trusted soul. I can never repay you for your kind hand, your aid with my children when I was rendered unfit in some hours. I will miss you so much, so, so very much, dear sister. I hate to ask you for anything else, but please take care of my children as I go. I know you will- your heart is so very big, so very big for your family. Please take care of them. Please let someone take care of you, too. Do not suffer alone in your grief. 

I love you.

Thank you for being my sister. 

Love, Anne

 

 

Father...

Spoiler

 

Dear Father, 

You will never get this, but I will write it anyway. 

You are the reason I became anything. I owe my entire life to you. There are not enough words that I can use to express my thanks, my gratitude, my love for you. After enduring hardship after hardship, you took a chance on me, all those years ago, to bless me with homage. A family.

There is nothing I did to deserve it. There is nothing I can do to repay you. There are days when I ponder my existence where I wonder why you adopted me. I can think of no good reason, yet I know you do not do things without purpose. 

I am so glad, so very glad, that you found something, that I cannot see in myself, as a good reason to keep me.

I am sorry for where I fell short, for my mistakes, for my head, for my mind. I apologise for all of it. 

I hope I made you proud, father. I am sorry I did not thank you earlier.

Love, with my entire heart,

Ani

 

 

My grandchildren

Spoiler

 

To my grandchildren, 

I am sorry I do not get to watch you grow, and I will keep things brief.

Take care of your mother, your father, and each other. You are family. Forgive one another, understand each other. Dont give your parents too much grief…

Love, 

Jadda

 

 

Russandiel :)

Spoiler

 

Dear Russandiel,

Thank you for being trauma-twins with me :).

Love,

Anne

 

 

Emmerich

Spoiler

 

Dear Emmerich,

My nephew. You will be a fine warrior. I know you expressed worries of your soul and its goodliness, should you continue on the path of Knighthood, but I know, and can positively tell you, Emmerich, that you have a good heart. A pure heart. All will be well. 

Love, 

Amma

 

 

Viago

Spoiler

 

Dear Viago,

I know we were not very close, but I am proud of you for all you have done with being Patriarch. Continue to protect the family. With me dies the memories of the Vourkehardt’s humble beginnings, a legacy that Baldric, Wernher, Valeska and I worked so hard to build. Protect it, for it is sacred. Our history is rich with trials and tribulations, a story that I ask you spread to your children, and them to theirs. I know you will do good things.

Love,

Anne

 

 

Malna

Spoiler

 

Dear Malna,

My friend, I am sorry to leave you now. I know you have experienced so much loss- and I am terribly sorry I must add another to the list.

You watched me grow from youth. We became friends, and I am very glad we did.

I will miss our talks. 

I am sorry we never got to have that picnic in Jun-Lei.

Love, your friend,

Anne

 

 

Victor

Spoiler

 

Dear Victor,

 

You are one of my oldest friends. I have known you well, since our time in Balian. 

 

I will miss you. You always had a knack for good advice.

 

Farewell,

 

Anne

 

 

Dean

Spoiler

 

Dear Dean,

 

You will never receive this, but I must write it. I wish I had told you,

 

I wish it was you, who I had met. I wish it was you, who I had married.

 

I will see you in the Heavens.

 

Your beloved, 

 

Anne

 

 

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OOC:

Spoiler

OOC: okay so anneliese is my oldest active character- back in like… march of 2022-2023 i was like ‘yk what lets make some ginger street orphan’ and i hadnt rlly roleplayed on lotc beforehand… i was never able to get into rp bc of my lack of aura, so i js ran around... until FunkehMelon started rping w/ me and i infinitely gained so much aura from his presence it was so cool

 

i luved anneliese so much- she was a super wacky roller coaster of a character, my first experience for literally everything lotc related... she is my fossil from my fleeper noob era in reinmar ;c

 

without FunkehMelon, ickyNuN and Melonth, i never wouldve gotten to where I am on this server so tysm u guys, ilysm, it was a hell of a run on anneliese and the humble vourkehardt beginnings

 

anne experienced so many highs and lows, creating a very complex, deeply emotional character who i loved writing- i dont think there will be another persona i loved as much as anneliese

 

tank u guys for making me aura lotc player w/ anneliese ok bye

 

PS: she died of old age

 

[Tainga 521]

Auris woke beneath the willow tree in Angrenost.

The familiar red and white checkered blanket was soft, but it might as well have been stone. Dew clung to her lashes. Her clothes were damp. Her breath fogged in the morning chill. And sunlight, gentle and golden, broke through the branches. The wind whispered through the leaves, and for a moment—perfect, stolen moment—there was peace.

In her sleep, she had been with Anne.

They were seated together on the hillside, sharing a bottle like they had so long ago, when they were younger, louder, untouchable. The sun was setting, bleeding gold and crimson across the sky. It bathed everything in the kind of light that made you believe the world could be kind, if only for a little while. 

They were drinking like they had the night they first met—over some ridiculous contest in the library halls of Númenost. That night, they'd gone from strangers to something far more dangerous: sisters. 

There had been laughter.
Soft. Tired. Real. 

There was silence, too. But not the cold kind. The good kind. The kind between people who don't need words to say what matters.

And eventually, Auris stood.

"I should go," She said, brushing her palms on her trousers. "Ceru's waiting. I promised her I'd sleep tonight."

But Anneliese only looked at her, eyes heavy, smile too steady. "Farewell, sister." She said. 

Something twisted in Auris' gut.
Something final.

Auris turned to look back, just once. She should have said, 'Until we meet again.' That's what she always said. That's how it was supposed to go. But she didn't. 

"Farewell, Anne." She replied instead, then smiled. Gently. Blindly. And walked away. 

She woke before she could look back again. The wind stirred the willow's long arms overhead. Leaves rustled. The peace clung to her still, like mist. 

She was still smiling faintly when the footsteps came. Boots on soft grass. Slow. Hesitant.  A man approached, eyes cast down. Auris sat up, brows knit. He said nothing at first. Just held something out to her—sealed parchment, the edges trembling in his hand.  "I'm sorry," He murmured and left.

Her fingers were numb as she broke the seal. She unfolded the paper slowly, carefully, like it might fall apart if she moved too quickly. And there, beneath the willow, with the sun still warm on her face and the dream still fading behind her—

She read her sister's final words. 

Once.
Then again.
And again. 

The words didn't blur—they broke. 

A sob caught in her throat before she realized it had left her. She folded forward, the letter crumpling in her hands as the truth struck all at once, brutal and cold and merciless. 

Anneliese was gone. 

Gone. 

She hadn't said goodbye. Not properly. Not truly. 

Not like she should have. 

And now—

Only three of her siblings, out of ten, remained. 

[TomFunks 756]

 

Emmerich had known Anneliese only a short time. In this time, he had surmised that she was an anxious sort, but not born in such a way. There were remnants of a care-free girl that danced around in her eyes. He had wished, one day, to coax that joy from her, if able. It was an impossibility now.
The towering figure spoke of her family with as much care as she did caution. Worry mingled in her words more than resolve. It was their future that she dreaded, more than hers. In that mind addled by a fog of time and fear, hers was a life already at its end. She was correct in the end, he supposed.

The news passed from one member of his kin to the next, each stallion coming to think and remark of the fiery-haired elder. It was only in the quiet aftermath that he allowed himself to think, and amidst the thoughts, to cry. Alas, he had wished to know her better.

 

 

---

 

When she was younger, a watchful eye had always kept itself over her. Even in its passing, the eye remained. It was often affixed, always in hope of her sanctuary. It was proud to have tread a path with her and to have embarked upon something brave. In her final deliverance, he accepted her with arms open and longing. There, upon the highest of places they could climb, they would find the possible eternity to sit and speak as they had many a time wished for. It was as they had done upon the rooftops of their old home.

 

But before then, and before eternity, she was first embraced in the warmth of memory and family. 

“I missed you, dear. Now come, your mother has too.”

[MercyAzalea 405]

 

 

---

 

 

⫸⋙✦⋘ ᛁ ⋙✦⋘⫷

“Anne held the reins tight while I struggled to keep pace. Now she’s gone, and the burden falls heavier; but the wider field knows no mercy for those who falter..”

⫸⋙✦⋘ ᛁ ⋙✦⋘⫷
 

 

[!] In the depths of grief, a poem was published entitled “Anneliese”. [!]


They say the wind now dances light,
That dawn spills gold upon the moor,
Yet all the world feels dimmer still
Since when she walks through fields no more.

She was the flame the dusk obeyed,
A mane of fire, long and low.
She led when we were but untried foals,
Wherever she would ride, we'd follow.

Not born beneath our bannered name,
Yet none bore Vourke's weight so well.
She stitched her soul into the reins,
And in her gaze, the strong could dwell.

The pasture stirs, the stallions cry,
The forge still sings, the leather bends;
But hush has claimed the stable’s heart,
And time rides slow where her path ends.

So I shall braid the embered strand
And wear her memory in my mane,
And whisper to the restless breeze
That love, once lost, is not in vain.

Work Wilts Weakness, but not the ache of you.

 

 

 

---

⋙✦⋘
 

 

---

 

⫸⋙✦⋘ ᛁ ⋙✦⋘⫷

⫸⋙✦⋘ ᛁ ⋙✦⋘⫷

 

Xenathra Netherwind was, frankly, God knows where. The iconic window cleaner was known for her frequent descension back into the wild forests, only to return on a bright summer’s day when the wind blew an ounce too strong, whispering her summons to her chosen kin.

As the sunlight streamed through the borders of those trees, a certain dark elf noticed a familiar sigil embossed onto a lost page. She picked it up, head tilted curiously as she pondered… 

Those silly horse people had lost their page.

She was convinced that those horsepeople would be lost without her intelligence and ruthless guidance. Netherwind thusly embarked on her journey to Caladras to return this lost flyer, unbeknownst to her that the wording announced the death of one of her beloved horsepeople.

“Honestly… I must do all heavy lifting for horsepeople… I wonder where Horsefather has been. So quiet recently.”

 

---

⋙✦⋘
 

 

---

 

⫸⋙✦⋘ ᛁ ⋙✦⋘⫷



"Anneliese carried herself with a fire few could match. I witnessed her growth; fierce, steadfast, quietly resolute. She bore the weight of her house with a grace often misunderstood. Now her absence is a heavy silence I carry between duty and memory, and I regret the visits left undone. Words alone cannot ease such a loss."

⫸⋙✦⋘ ᛁ ⋙✦⋘⫷

The cold stone of Ritter Tower bit through the thick cloak as Ivona von Ostturm rose from her desk, the weight of the missive pressing heavy in her hands. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows along the chamber walls as she moved toward the hearth, the only warmth in the icen room. The flames crackled, sending brief glimmers of braided light that danced across the cold ground like long-forgotten memories.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she unfolded the letter once more, eyes scanning the words until they rested on the name that stopped her breath; Anneliese Vourkehardt. The name echoed in the silence, and Ivona slowly sank into the worn chair beside the fire, disbelief rooting her to the spot.

Anneliese is gone.

The room seemed to chill further, as if the loss itself had drawn the warmth away. Her mind flickered back to the countless letters Anne had sent, each a quiet plea for her to visit. How many of those letters had she ignored? How many seasons had slipped by, buried beneath duty, pride, and stubbornness? She had told herself the ties of blood were all that mattered. That Anneliese was not for her to fret about. She had scorned Anne’s choice to adopt a child, believing the Vourkehardt name should be kept pure, unbroken.

How cruelly blind I was.

And yet Anneliese had carried that name with more strength and grace than anyone could claim by blood alone. The irony was sharp enough to draw blood.

She pressed a hand to her chest, where the ache had settled; quiet, relentless. Words of regret burned behind her steady gaze, but she would not speak them aloud. Not yet. Not here.

I should have come sooner.

But now it was too late. The flames before her flickered, fragile and fleeting, like the life of the sister she had failed to visit, and soon did that timber burn out, the only sign of its presence lingering in the scent of smoke and despair. The silence stretched long and cold in the room, and  Ivona was left alone with the weight of what might have been.

⫸⋙✦⋘ ᛁ ⋙✦⋘⫷

 

 

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WER RASTET, DER ROSTET.

[sujilicious 173]

rip my goat

[Seva 624]

Spoiler

Right after eating Kimchi at my house???

 

[confusedjester 811]

1 minute ago, Seva said:

  Hide contents

Right after eating Kimchi at my house???

 

Spoiler

yah it did me in sryy 

 

[jihsoo 746]

1 hour ago, confusedjester said:

Dear Safiyaa, 

My daughter, my miracle, oh how blessed I was when you arrived. A brave soul,  fiery heart. You remind me of myself when I was young. You have spent your life encapsulated by the rage your father left you, and I am sorry I could not put out the flames, and instead I stoked them. We have made up since then, and because of that, I can finally rest in peace. 

You are now a mother as well. It will not always be easy. My dear ibnam, you must know that the moment you hold that first babe in your arms, that they are your purpose now. A mother cannot be selfish. A mother must sacrifice. Your children above all else must come first. Their happiness is your happiness. I know you, ibnam. I know you will be a great ommi, and  I will always be with you. Just remember, it always gets better. Time heals all wounds, as they say. From days to decades, you will always be their mother, no matter what conflicts arise. There is no one I know who loves greater than you. 

Your heart is big, and it is good.

ابنتي، التي تحمل كل حبي،
Ommi

 

There within the stone clad walls of Formindon, did that fiery-haired daughter sit upon the cold floors of her home. An azure stare, once the eyes of her mother's lover, once did spark ablaze in passion and ambition suddenly came to a still - a crackle, before a dampening feeling set those embers to silence, extinguished. A tremble. A quake. Safiyaa clutched onto the letter, eyes trailing, over, and over her mothers final words she had wished to impart to her, one piece of her once breathing existence etched into ink upon a piece of parchment, and yet, no matter how many times she held and clutched onto it in her fists, it would never be the same as holding her dear mother in her arms again. Sacrifice, her mother had always spoke to her about her sacrifice as a mother - and that indeed it was, ever protecting Safiyaa between her arms of snotty tears, ever shielding her ibnam from the heartache, ever always a healer to Safiyaa's scabs or broken bones.

 

A decade.

 

It took a decade to put out the flames, the rage, her anger - the need for vengeance. Her flames stoked from loss. It seemed all odds came to steal away from the woman without hesitation. Her father. Her grandfather. And now, Anneliese. Time, and time again did her mother ever remind her how much they were alike; yet time and time again, Safiyaa would deny that connection in search of her own identity. And yet, it seemed, that part of her was stolen and taken captive with her mother. 

 

As Safiyaa continued to clutch onto that very letter, grasping, clinging onto the last bit of her mother left, wails and a heart-wrenching cries came out for Anneliese, someone she could never hold again, someone who would never hold her face and wipe her tears, no matter how messily it ran. How her hands picked at her daughter's hair for leaves and twigs. How worried she was the day she found out her daughter was courting. For time that she would never get back that could have been spent in forgiveness. For time that she could have celebrated the continuation of her mother's bloodline. Mourning and grieving, similar words escaped her lips, 

"I just want mein Ommi back."

 

All that she had left was her memory.
 

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

[Metamancy 1759]

Spoiler

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 

[Marthia 273]

 

The elder Wick passed through the streets of Numendil, heard the news, and hastily scanned the short letter. Amid the clatter and constraints of her armor, Russandiel rushed home and sat down at her dining room table. What follows is her own letter—one that, of course, would never be sent. Instead, it was burned in the flame of a candle lit upon a shrine dedicated to fallen friends and loved ones. Among the falling ash, a prayer was whispered, pleading with GOD that the written words not fall on deaf ears, even in death.

 

Anne, my dearest friend,

In all these years we shared together, I always understood that life is not always as it appears. Skewed in many ways by perception. Loss is best at distorting it.

 

Anne, my dearest friend,

Rest well. You were so loved, and will always be remembered. In short passings, I was always made so light on my feet with your presence. Though I never knew if it brought you that same joy, you were a light in all things dark.

Thank you.

Flame guide, my friend.

 

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Little Sascha, like her sister, had never known loss—until now. Amid the whirlwind of chaos, all she could do was stand and watch, powerless. Just last month, she had shared a carefree day with her Jadda.

 

How could a moment so full of light turn so quickly into one filled with longing and sorrow?

Why had Death come to greet her so soon,

whispering its name

before she was even old enough to grasp its meaning?

 

Spoiler

Anne was such a unique character in so many ways. Although I did not witness Anne's life in its entirety, what I did see was a very complex and thought out character. As always, Jester did a fine job with her. In many ways, Anne was very similar to Russ. Both sharing complexity and traumas (hehe). Thank you, Jester, for giving Russ a friend. 

 

Edited May 30, 2025 by Marthia

[NoxIndigo 106]

“Mama…?” The timorous youth tugged gently upon the soft edges of Anneliese Vourkehardt’s sleeves, his voice small and shy as it oft was. Anneliese had silently hoped that her son would grow more sociable in time, yet it seemed that, if anything, each passing day only rendered him quieter.

 

It was a beautiful morning. Early birdsong permeated the streets of Portoregne and cool dewdrops had settled over the common greenery, providing a rare and much-needed respite from the sweltering, southern climate.

 

The towering woman’s ginger tresses glistened luminously in what tender streams of sun did persevere through the thick boughs of their canopied garden. “Ja, mein ibn?” Her tone was light, though flecks of concern gathered like rain within the recesses of her stormy irises. “... What’s wrong?” Anneliese prodded, stooping forth to meet her son’s gaze.

 

There was a beat, and the boy’s stare fell, cast unto the dirt below. “Mama, promise you won’t forget me,” he whispered, falling forth and clinging desperately to the hem of her dress. 

 

Anneliese’s voice faltered upon the unanticipated remark, ringing with the dissonance of shattered glass and broken heart. The boy’s words unsettled her, but she knew why he asked; her lapses in memory; the subtle shifts in personality; the moments of blankness that came over her without warning. Her hand instinctively flew to the small impression just over her left brow. “Ich wouldn’t ever. You are the most precious thing in the world to me...”

 

 

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“Memories,” Amon muttered listlessly unto the cracked stones of his bedroom wall, his visage enwreathed in a palpable darkness. Neither sun nor candlelight reached him in his forlorn sanctuary; only dust, which clung carelessly to every surface of his dwelling like a thick, ashen cloud. Since the passing of his mother, he had withdrawn entirely into the black confines of his room, seen and heard by no one.

 

The silence was tangible, to a suffocating degree. The hearths and candles of his keep had gone unlit for some time, thus casting the residence into a bitter cold; the tidings of winter in Númendil. Half-drunk bottles had once been strewn wantonly across every fixture and surface, but he had since learned that tears were far more intoxicating. Drinking, anyway, was the vice of his mother–one which he had always regarded with silent dissent.

 

His mother had been a familiar and constant presence throughout his life, whose devotion and love to her children was unwavering. Yet Amon knew, and had known from a very early age, that she carried within her a deep sadness. One that, however desperately he tried, could not be counseled.

 

“I failed you,” she would always lament to her son; “I am a terrible mother.” And Amon would always reply, “But are you not proud of me? Let me live then as proof of your success.” It was his solemn dream that, one day, he would find the solution to all of his mother’s woes. 

 

Yet he had been too late and now she was gone.

 

“Ich won’t ever forget you, Mutter. I'm sorry. I failed you.”

 

 

---

 

 

“I WON’T EVER FORGET YOU.”

 

 

---

 

 

 

 

---

 

 

Amon drew upon a deep inhale, breathing in fresh air for the first time in months. His heart was still wounded, and he looked upon the world as though it were a little blacker than it was before. Yet, day by day, he was getting better–and the shadow over his soul began to lift. On windy days, he would still catch the faint glint of a ginger hair; dancing like candlelight and carried hurriedly by warm summer’s breezes. In the clinic where he worked, he would swear upon a comforting scent, overpowering even the concentration of herbal pastes and tinctures which were already so familiar. And on some nights, when all was still and Amon had already settled into bed, the dulcet sound of his mother’s voice would permeate the nighttime cadence, swiftly lulling him to rest…

 

***

 

He looked outward from his home of Caladras, unto the rising sun and rolling hills–the day still young and yet to be had–and all he could say was,

 

“It’s such a beautiful morning.”

 

Edited June 8, 2025 by DuckIndigo

[TheOnlyTub 550]

Spoiler

Dean. The man she should've married.
shout out my boy Dean

 

At the gates of the Seven Skies a very respectful man waited behind the family of his beloved.

And when she eventually made her way to him he smiled his same crooked grin

"I think you still owe me a picnic date."

[KidKrinkles 2043]

Victor had set down the letter and left his hand atop it, splayed out. Almost as if he were pinning it to the ground in disbelief, and he might simply strike the letter for it's words.

 

His eye would travel over towards the bench, to his left, at the end, where she had visited him some years ago. He recalled how drained, how beaten, she sounded, by life.

 

Though he chose not to think of his old, old friend in such a way. He chose to think of how bubbly she had often been: and how funny he found her. She had a good sense of humor, and whimsy, and was a terrible cook.

 

He'd snort, eyeing the silhouette he conjured to mind of the red haired woman. His hand did ease off the letter, simply pulling it along the table to a pinched finger, to fold, and stow.

 

He'd idly waft his hand through the fog and cigarette smoke, and watch the figure fade away.

 

"So long, ol' Anne. Ah'll miss ye."

[chaoscorvus 34]

RESERVED 

[jihsoo 746]

ily jester :3