Hee! I got free time and wrote! ^_^ Good for me! 
Thanks for the feedback jamaisrien, Lucid Lady (you'd think I'd call you Sarah by now *grin*), and Sugarplum! Sugarplum, I'd NEVER skip out on a chance to write some good and painful drama. *chuckle* I think I'd hate MYSELF if I had skipped to ten years later. *cringe*
Hope y'alls like! This one is a half-transition/half-emotional scene.
***
King Parn approached his son's room with caution, a deep grief and worry outlined in his aging features.
The king had spent the entire night up, wandering the halls of the castle, unable to sleep due to his concern for the well-being of the young boys that were soon to be soldiers in the army of his kingdom. So when the search party had arrived at the Castle of Tribute earlier that morning, just after the sun had begun its ascent on the eastern horizon, he had been there to greet them.
Of course, his greetings meant nothing to the men who carried the news of the beloved High Priestess of Animaria's death on their lips.
Mave had been the one to communicate the news to the king, and almost instantly, Parn felt as if the wind had been beaten out of him; he had to steady himself on a nearby pile of hay to keep from falling over completely. Precious Opaline - the girl whose hand he had given to Ephane and then Vanault dead. It was unfathomable. Her compassion and caring was never-ending, and in the same respect, her life should have been as well, or at least it should have been much longer than her given thirty years.
From Mave's lips to his own, the king had to call Royal Court and impart the same devastating news to his noble subjects. The murmurs of disbelief echoed his own thoughts the moment he had been told, and afterwards, the women wept openly and the men maintained a solemn silence for their fellow lady, who also happened to be their priestess. The king hesitated on discussing any other business pertaining to the death of Opaline, allowing his people a day of rest to come to terms with her passing.
He ordered messengers to be sent out to each of the villages and into the city to properly and officially announce the death of the High Priestess.
It was only then, after all his business of state was taken care of that King Parn could look to the more important things, such as making sure his son was alright.
The older man half expected to hear objects being thrown and smashed in his son's room as he approached the doors, but he heard nothing of the sort. Nor did he hear sobbing.
He heard nothing, and that caused him greater worry.
"Thane?" The king's knuckles rapped lightly on the fine, aged wood.
He waited for a moment, and when there was no response, he knocked yet again. "Thane?"
When the prince failed to answer his father for a second time, Parn stepped forward and reached for the knob, slowly turning it. Finding it unlocked, he gradually opened it and what he saw confused him.
In the epitome of calmness, Thane sat rigidly on his bed his back to his father and door facing the large window that he had evidently opened to allow the cold winter winds inside.
As the king glanced around the room, he found no signs of rage in the manifestation of broken objects and thought there were no signs of grief, until he heard Thane call out.
"I can't remember what she looks like."
"Who?"
"Momma." Thane turned, his broken, childlike voice giving way to the tears that quietly streamed down his face in two neat lines. "I can't remember what she looked like; I don't want to forget what Opaline looked like."
His father moved to sit next to him on the bed and wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders, drawing his only son close. There was no need for Thane to explain himself, Parn understood all. He knew of the grief his son still carried over his mother's death ten years prior; Parn still carried that pain himself for his lost wife. And again, they were to be forced to share grief over the loss of another woman who had been dear to them both.
"Your mother was quite beautiful," the father began, his voice quiet. "Her hair was as dark as a raven's feathers and to the touch as soft as a rabbit's fur. Her eyes were dark and lively, a mystery of some kind always playing out behind them"
***
Thanks for the feedback jamaisrien, Lucid Lady (you'd think I'd call you Sarah by now *grin*), and Sugarplum!
Sugarplum, I'd NEVER skip out on a chance to write some good and painful drama. *chuckle* I think I'd hate MYSELF if I had skipped to ten years later. *cringe*Hope y'alls like! This one is a half-transition/half-emotional scene.
***
King Parn approached his son's room with caution, a deep grief and worry outlined in his aging features.
The king had spent the entire night up, wandering the halls of the castle, unable to sleep due to his concern for the well-being of the young boys that were soon to be soldiers in the army of his kingdom. So when the search party had arrived at the Castle of Tribute earlier that morning, just after the sun had begun its ascent on the eastern horizon, he had been there to greet them.
Of course, his greetings meant nothing to the men who carried the news of the beloved High Priestess of Animaria's death on their lips.
Mave had been the one to communicate the news to the king, and almost instantly, Parn felt as if the wind had been beaten out of him; he had to steady himself on a nearby pile of hay to keep from falling over completely. Precious Opaline - the girl whose hand he had given to Ephane and then Vanault dead. It was unfathomable. Her compassion and caring was never-ending, and in the same respect, her life should have been as well, or at least it should have been much longer than her given thirty years.
From Mave's lips to his own, the king had to call Royal Court and impart the same devastating news to his noble subjects. The murmurs of disbelief echoed his own thoughts the moment he had been told, and afterwards, the women wept openly and the men maintained a solemn silence for their fellow lady, who also happened to be their priestess. The king hesitated on discussing any other business pertaining to the death of Opaline, allowing his people a day of rest to come to terms with her passing.
He ordered messengers to be sent out to each of the villages and into the city to properly and officially announce the death of the High Priestess.
It was only then, after all his business of state was taken care of that King Parn could look to the more important things, such as making sure his son was alright.
The older man half expected to hear objects being thrown and smashed in his son's room as he approached the doors, but he heard nothing of the sort. Nor did he hear sobbing.
He heard nothing, and that caused him greater worry.
"Thane?" The king's knuckles rapped lightly on the fine, aged wood.
He waited for a moment, and when there was no response, he knocked yet again. "Thane?"
When the prince failed to answer his father for a second time, Parn stepped forward and reached for the knob, slowly turning it. Finding it unlocked, he gradually opened it and what he saw confused him.
In the epitome of calmness, Thane sat rigidly on his bed his back to his father and door facing the large window that he had evidently opened to allow the cold winter winds inside.
As the king glanced around the room, he found no signs of rage in the manifestation of broken objects and thought there were no signs of grief, until he heard Thane call out.
"I can't remember what she looks like."
"Who?"
"Momma." Thane turned, his broken, childlike voice giving way to the tears that quietly streamed down his face in two neat lines. "I can't remember what she looked like; I don't want to forget what Opaline looked like."
His father moved to sit next to him on the bed and wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders, drawing his only son close. There was no need for Thane to explain himself, Parn understood all. He knew of the grief his son still carried over his mother's death ten years prior; Parn still carried that pain himself for his lost wife. And again, they were to be forced to share grief over the loss of another woman who had been dear to them both.
"Your mother was quite beautiful," the father began, his voice quiet. "Her hair was as dark as a raven's feathers and to the touch as soft as a rabbit's fur. Her eyes were dark and lively, a mystery of some kind always playing out behind them"
***
WhiteZeo
An Oliverette To The End
---
"Blue, please. Please, wait here for us to return. If I think that you are waiting for me, I will be able to return. I'll definitely come back to meet you without giving up, 'cause I'll never leave you all alone." - Hige to Blue in "Faulty Memories" from Wolf's Rain
An Oliverette To The End
---
"Blue, please. Please, wait here for us to return. If I think that you are waiting for me, I will be able to return. I'll definitely come back to meet you without giving up, 'cause I'll never leave you all alone." - Hige to Blue in "Faulty Memories" from Wolf's Rain
As I expected, I loved this part. I think you can add this to the ongoing list of Sugarplums weaknesses. Yeah. Thane-y-ness can most definitely be added to the list along with Merrick-y-ness. I dont know what it is about them that make me melt. I love them to pieces!
I loved it WhiteZeo! I really did. That was a great working of Mave-y-ness. I dont think you had anything to worry about. You worked your magic, like you always do, and made what you wrote fantastic. ::nods:: Youre awesome! 
)
