- Messages
- 225
- Character Biography
- Link
A scarred hand twined with one that had never known the bite of steel as intimately. Had never held closed a wound that stole the final breath of another. Had never felt the life flow freely out of someone near and dear to them. Friga's little hands had known little more than hard work in her life.
And would be blessed for only a short time longer to only know mundane toils such as sowing seeds or brushing horses.
A blessing that had been stolen from Skuld so long ago now, that she seldom remembered much else. Knowing all too well the sound of steel singing in the air. The slight difference between a bolt whistling and an arrow singing. The dull but ever present ring in her ears reminding her of times when war raged, and fire crept through the lives of those that did not deserve such pain visited upon them. Of the countless times she had watched those simple folk break silently before the result of someone's ill wishes.
Of being saddled and underway as she watched the shovels rise and fall. To weigh down those folk on their way to the hills that held their dearly departed and add their most recent fallen to the count to rest peacefully besides those that had gone before them.
The silence that would hang in the air behind them clinging to the troop as if a warning to their next stop on their eternal march of the impending troubles that might visit them as well. The Black Rose Templars were never looked upon with joy, as their appearance announced with certain clarity that some among them knew woe and death as if it woke beside them every morn. The slight squeeze against her fingers brought her back and out of the past.
Back and away from those haunting thoughts paired with images that made her stony eyes gaze beyond those around her for too long. Thoughts that drew away the girls mother to a time which only the strongest of tinctures would allow her to slumber peacefully.
Stony blues stared into verdant greens.
As much as her daughter had been spared the stifling teachings of the Zajac's, she knew all too well the weight upon her mother's shoulders. A little shared between them for the solemn event they were finally able to attend. Neither had seen her father for near on six years now, and the faint hope of seeing him once more had died in their final journey to this place. Safety from the reprisals of those wronged by House Banick had sealed away the hope and given the two the final piece of knowing that they would not see the man once more.
For as solemn as they were, the two still held themselves with a pride that both the Zajac's and MacArthur's would find appropriate. They had no body to prepare, nor any final item to denote his resting place proper besides what the two had in their memories and prepared.
A small offering plate rested atop the sheet-bound sticks and straw. Set carefully upon a flat rock that rose from the ground as if an altar prepared by natured with mother and daughter both beside it, observing the silence that hung between them for some time. Drawing upon their memories for happier times to impart upon their personal ritual. The salt they had placed some days prior now scattered across the plate, no doubt by some wandering animal that had passed by. The earth beside it damp and pressed down and no doubt equally disturbed by the same unknown creature. They dared not touch any items that rested on the stone. Leaving it as it was given the connection Keiran had felt to the land around him. It would feel as if they had betrayed his love for everything that existed around him if the world's contribution were disturbed.
Instead, Skuld slipped a hand beneath the dark clothes she had donned and fetched the flint and tinder she had brought with.
Friga remained silent as she wound her own hands together. In quiet awe of the place they had picked for this sending ritual of her father's spirit. She understood well that her father was not returning to them, and it saddened her greatly to know they would never go hunting in the woods again. Or ride their favorite horse to town for the sweet treats they both indulged in when time allowed. All of the little things she could remember about him, clung to as if they would suddenly take flight from her mind with this final act.
Skuld kept the burning sting of tears back as her daughter raised an arm to wipe the sleeve against her eyes. This was the second time now in her life where she had buried someone that had deserved a much longer time.
She thought the feeling of longing and loneliness had been burned out of her when her brother had passed so long ago now. Realizing now that it had only been pushed away to fester and build in the back of her mind as choked out a sigh. She had put this off in hopes of some faint sign that Keiran was still alive. That some missive would arrive in that familiar harried script he used when time was short to scratch out a message. But it never arrived, and the need to focus on Friga rather than cling to false hope had spurned her to finally admit to herself that longing for a return would only give her daughter a fruitless goal.
"You never said you were leaving..."
Skuld broke the silence around them. Friga casting her eyes sideways to her mother as she watched the woman move with a surprising grace around the stone. A hand reaching out to touch the little altar and keep her winding circle from wandering to far from its center as she spoke.
"You never said goodbye..."
Her walk slowed as Friga tried to cling to happier memories. To keep herself quiet as her mother's gaze drifted from outside the circle to focus on the altar.
"You were gone before we knew it..."
The harsh sniffle the only break in her words as she rounded the altar, standing before that familiar crest Keiran had given her. The only item Skuld had left out for the elements and wild creatures to observe on the tiny pyre yet to be lit.
"And only the gods know why..."
Skuld's hands unfurled, dropping the tinder shavings and flint on the only space that the altar allowed her to work as Friga felt her smile wobble and shake in light of her mother's words.
"Countless times we had need of you..."
She arranged the tinder at the edges of the sticks and straw. Dried from the morning dew that had present earlier in the day as Friga wiped at her eyes once more but managed her continued silence behind her mother.
"Countless times we cried..."
Both were silent as they could be with the admission. The stifled sounds of tears another shared thing between them in this moment as the MacArthur crest was taken and carefully pinned in place on her daughter's cloak. The grass beneath her feet seeming to part before it could disturb the silence of the ceremony.
"If love alone could save you..."
The plate set aside before the flint nestled into her palms as she placed them against one another and took in the sight of their altar a final time.
"You never would have died..."
Friga spoke from behind her mother. Their voices coming together in a somber tone. Voices of worn leather and a spring breeze the final sending to a father and husband.
"In life we loved you dearly..."
The first strike of flint sent sparks dancing across the stone top but did not catch. Dying in their tiny spirals beside the cloth-bound figure. Friga stepped back, dropping the sleeve from her eyes to fetch the doll she had placed at the base of a tree.
Placed in such a way it watched over the stone. A silent guard to her father's pyre as she held it close now in one arm and stepped closer to her mother.
"In death we love you still..."
The second strike of flint sent a cascade of sparks down and into the heart of the effigy. Bitterness welling in her throat at being made to do this.
"In our hearts you hold a place..."
A third strike sent another shower of sparks into the kindling as the ends of twigs and shavings began to slowly catch and curl. Her mouth curling from that hateful glower to one that trembled with the effort of keeping back tears.
"None shall ever fill..."
Each word seemed to stoke the embers atop the stone in place of effort. The sudden light from those growing embers casting shadows in her eyes as longing and regret burrowed itself deep within her.
"It broke our hearts to lose you..."
A small hand wound itself tight into the cloak Skuld wore as the flint found its resting place with a muted clack. A hand now free and finding itself wrapped around her daughter's shoulder as if to ward off the feelings that filled them both.
"But you did not go alone..."
A small ember caught true as a breeze rolled across the hillside and finished what had been started. Acting for them before they could rescind their actions. As if they had any desire to do so.
"For part of us went with you..."
Her eyes stung as she watched the little body made of straw and sticks catch. Her whole body tensing as she tried to keep herself silent. Feeling warmth across her cheek that fought against the bite of chilly air across the hillside as her hand tightened around her daughters shoulder.
"The day you were called home..."
The final words spoken as the little effigy began to burn bright and hot. The ends curling as the flame grew to cover the whole stone top.
She wished with all her being that Banick would have relinquished his claim to her husband's contract. Had allowed Keiran to live a simpler life like they had planned. To grow old along side her and watch their daughter grow with nary a worry in the world about what happened around them. But fate seldom had little charity for those seeking a simpler life.
How often in the past she had arrived too late to aid those folk in need of her service. Too late to do more than stifle the current pain with no salve to offer the lingering effects of loss besides a quickly given word of sorrow before she moved on to the next woe. Never to linger on the hardship of others but to focus on trying to stop the next. And now she knew their pain intimately. How harsh the world could be and how cruel it could be to steal from others even a shred of peace.
Knew in some way how they felt as she clung to the only thing she had left of her husband.
The trees around them groaned and grumbled with the wind in a chorus of mourning for the pair as they watched the little effigy burn bright against the overcast sky.
And would be blessed for only a short time longer to only know mundane toils such as sowing seeds or brushing horses.
A blessing that had been stolen from Skuld so long ago now, that she seldom remembered much else. Knowing all too well the sound of steel singing in the air. The slight difference between a bolt whistling and an arrow singing. The dull but ever present ring in her ears reminding her of times when war raged, and fire crept through the lives of those that did not deserve such pain visited upon them. Of the countless times she had watched those simple folk break silently before the result of someone's ill wishes.
Of being saddled and underway as she watched the shovels rise and fall. To weigh down those folk on their way to the hills that held their dearly departed and add their most recent fallen to the count to rest peacefully besides those that had gone before them.
The silence that would hang in the air behind them clinging to the troop as if a warning to their next stop on their eternal march of the impending troubles that might visit them as well. The Black Rose Templars were never looked upon with joy, as their appearance announced with certain clarity that some among them knew woe and death as if it woke beside them every morn. The slight squeeze against her fingers brought her back and out of the past.
Back and away from those haunting thoughts paired with images that made her stony eyes gaze beyond those around her for too long. Thoughts that drew away the girls mother to a time which only the strongest of tinctures would allow her to slumber peacefully.
Stony blues stared into verdant greens.
As much as her daughter had been spared the stifling teachings of the Zajac's, she knew all too well the weight upon her mother's shoulders. A little shared between them for the solemn event they were finally able to attend. Neither had seen her father for near on six years now, and the faint hope of seeing him once more had died in their final journey to this place. Safety from the reprisals of those wronged by House Banick had sealed away the hope and given the two the final piece of knowing that they would not see the man once more.
For as solemn as they were, the two still held themselves with a pride that both the Zajac's and MacArthur's would find appropriate. They had no body to prepare, nor any final item to denote his resting place proper besides what the two had in their memories and prepared.
A small offering plate rested atop the sheet-bound sticks and straw. Set carefully upon a flat rock that rose from the ground as if an altar prepared by natured with mother and daughter both beside it, observing the silence that hung between them for some time. Drawing upon their memories for happier times to impart upon their personal ritual. The salt they had placed some days prior now scattered across the plate, no doubt by some wandering animal that had passed by. The earth beside it damp and pressed down and no doubt equally disturbed by the same unknown creature. They dared not touch any items that rested on the stone. Leaving it as it was given the connection Keiran had felt to the land around him. It would feel as if they had betrayed his love for everything that existed around him if the world's contribution were disturbed.
Instead, Skuld slipped a hand beneath the dark clothes she had donned and fetched the flint and tinder she had brought with.
Friga remained silent as she wound her own hands together. In quiet awe of the place they had picked for this sending ritual of her father's spirit. She understood well that her father was not returning to them, and it saddened her greatly to know they would never go hunting in the woods again. Or ride their favorite horse to town for the sweet treats they both indulged in when time allowed. All of the little things she could remember about him, clung to as if they would suddenly take flight from her mind with this final act.
Skuld kept the burning sting of tears back as her daughter raised an arm to wipe the sleeve against her eyes. This was the second time now in her life where she had buried someone that had deserved a much longer time.
She thought the feeling of longing and loneliness had been burned out of her when her brother had passed so long ago now. Realizing now that it had only been pushed away to fester and build in the back of her mind as choked out a sigh. She had put this off in hopes of some faint sign that Keiran was still alive. That some missive would arrive in that familiar harried script he used when time was short to scratch out a message. But it never arrived, and the need to focus on Friga rather than cling to false hope had spurned her to finally admit to herself that longing for a return would only give her daughter a fruitless goal.
"You never said you were leaving..."
Skuld broke the silence around them. Friga casting her eyes sideways to her mother as she watched the woman move with a surprising grace around the stone. A hand reaching out to touch the little altar and keep her winding circle from wandering to far from its center as she spoke.
"You never said goodbye..."
Her walk slowed as Friga tried to cling to happier memories. To keep herself quiet as her mother's gaze drifted from outside the circle to focus on the altar.
"You were gone before we knew it..."
The harsh sniffle the only break in her words as she rounded the altar, standing before that familiar crest Keiran had given her. The only item Skuld had left out for the elements and wild creatures to observe on the tiny pyre yet to be lit.
"And only the gods know why..."
Skuld's hands unfurled, dropping the tinder shavings and flint on the only space that the altar allowed her to work as Friga felt her smile wobble and shake in light of her mother's words.
"Countless times we had need of you..."
She arranged the tinder at the edges of the sticks and straw. Dried from the morning dew that had present earlier in the day as Friga wiped at her eyes once more but managed her continued silence behind her mother.
"Countless times we cried..."
Both were silent as they could be with the admission. The stifled sounds of tears another shared thing between them in this moment as the MacArthur crest was taken and carefully pinned in place on her daughter's cloak. The grass beneath her feet seeming to part before it could disturb the silence of the ceremony.
"If love alone could save you..."
The plate set aside before the flint nestled into her palms as she placed them against one another and took in the sight of their altar a final time.
"You never would have died..."
Friga spoke from behind her mother. Their voices coming together in a somber tone. Voices of worn leather and a spring breeze the final sending to a father and husband.
"In life we loved you dearly..."
The first strike of flint sent sparks dancing across the stone top but did not catch. Dying in their tiny spirals beside the cloth-bound figure. Friga stepped back, dropping the sleeve from her eyes to fetch the doll she had placed at the base of a tree.
Placed in such a way it watched over the stone. A silent guard to her father's pyre as she held it close now in one arm and stepped closer to her mother.
"In death we love you still..."
The second strike of flint sent a cascade of sparks down and into the heart of the effigy. Bitterness welling in her throat at being made to do this.
"In our hearts you hold a place..."
A third strike sent another shower of sparks into the kindling as the ends of twigs and shavings began to slowly catch and curl. Her mouth curling from that hateful glower to one that trembled with the effort of keeping back tears.
"None shall ever fill..."
Each word seemed to stoke the embers atop the stone in place of effort. The sudden light from those growing embers casting shadows in her eyes as longing and regret burrowed itself deep within her.
"It broke our hearts to lose you..."
A small hand wound itself tight into the cloak Skuld wore as the flint found its resting place with a muted clack. A hand now free and finding itself wrapped around her daughter's shoulder as if to ward off the feelings that filled them both.
"But you did not go alone..."
A small ember caught true as a breeze rolled across the hillside and finished what had been started. Acting for them before they could rescind their actions. As if they had any desire to do so.
"For part of us went with you..."
Her eyes stung as she watched the little body made of straw and sticks catch. Her whole body tensing as she tried to keep herself silent. Feeling warmth across her cheek that fought against the bite of chilly air across the hillside as her hand tightened around her daughters shoulder.
"The day you were called home..."
The final words spoken as the little effigy began to burn bright and hot. The ends curling as the flame grew to cover the whole stone top.
She wished with all her being that Banick would have relinquished his claim to her husband's contract. Had allowed Keiran to live a simpler life like they had planned. To grow old along side her and watch their daughter grow with nary a worry in the world about what happened around them. But fate seldom had little charity for those seeking a simpler life.
How often in the past she had arrived too late to aid those folk in need of her service. Too late to do more than stifle the current pain with no salve to offer the lingering effects of loss besides a quickly given word of sorrow before she moved on to the next woe. Never to linger on the hardship of others but to focus on trying to stop the next. And now she knew their pain intimately. How harsh the world could be and how cruel it could be to steal from others even a shred of peace.
Knew in some way how they felt as she clung to the only thing she had left of her husband.
The trees around them groaned and grumbled with the wind in a chorus of mourning for the pair as they watched the little effigy burn bright against the overcast sky.