#day282020

[rhysgoodwin]

Day 28 - Cemetery @daily-writing-challenge​

Rhys had never met his mother; she had died the day he was born, choosing his life over her own in her first and final act of selfless love towards him. He didn’t know much about her, although he did know that she was younger than he was now when she got pregnant.  No father was ever mentioned, nor any family.  Even after her death no one came forward to claim her as family or friend. At least she didn’t die alone.

When Rhys was a bit older, the matron of the orphanage brought him to the cemetery where she was buried and he was given sunflowers to lay on her grave. This had become an annual excursion for him, and although the matron stopped joining him after a few years, she was always happy to provide him sunflowers from her garden.

This year was no different, and thankfully there was an abundance of sunflowers to be found in Westfall.  After selecting a few of the largest flowers he could find, he made his way towards the cemetery in Elwynn Forest where she had been buried. It was always a solemn affair even though he had never met her, nor did he even know what she had looked like.  Someone once told him that he had her eyes and her dimples, but there were no photos nor records anywhere to be found.

He slowed his pace as he approached, noting a figure wearing all black and carrying a bouquet of sunflowers with him.  While Rhys couldn’t tell exactly from this distance, he did note that this strange man appeared to be close to where his mother’s grave was located.  Cautiously approaching to get a better look, he stopped walking and watched.  He had always wondered if there was anyone else in the world that had known her, and if they also knew that he existed.

What if….

Rhys’ grip tightened around the stems of the sunflowers as his eyes went wide.  What if this man was family?  What if this was his father?  Although he did look older, maybe he was her father?  Not exactly something you ask a complete stranger in the middle of a cemetery. Instead he maintained a respectable distance and silently debated if he should say anything. He could feel the nerves creeping in and catching in his throat, he knew that if he had tried to speak, everything would have come out in a stuttering jumble of word vomit.  

His hands had now begun to shake from the building anxiety, causing him to drop the sunflowers to the ground.  Quickly, he bent down and gathered them all together, ensuring that none of the petals had been crushed too badly by his own clumsiness.  Surely now the man had to know that he was here.  

Eyes darted back up and...nothing.  No one.  The man was gone, vanished into thin air. Rhys frantically jerked his head around and turned to look in every direction, but no one was there.  Someone had been there, right?  Slowly, he approached the headstone, noting that the fresh bouquet of sunflowers and baby’s-breath had been laid upon her grave. He scratched his head in confusion before reluctantly crouching down to set his own sunflowers with the others.  Maybe it was best not to think about it too hard, it was that time of year, and Rhys was not a big fan of the spooky season.

[theconstructsworld]

Daily Writing Challenge Day 28 - Reconcile This is a type of poem called an octelle

A glacial sheen has shrouded all,  barren forests and rime appall. Harvest’s cinders set ablaze, build and surge on through the days. Early morning’s frigid light, reconciled with the night. A glacial sheen has shrouded all, barren forests and rime appall.

@daily-writing-challenge​

[konietzko-sylvoran]

Daily Writing Challenge Day 28 - Reconcile/Cemetery 10/17

It had been over a week, but for him the days had blurred together as his concept of time was lost. He looked like shit, like he’d spent a week in the woods in the bare minimum of clothing and hadn’t cared to even bathe. He hadn’t been there for the farewell ceremony, he couldn’t face all those faces he knew would come. Sivandris and Adrella had helped so many during the rebellion and even before then that they were well liked and loved by many. And Sivandris’s fan base was vast, he’d met and befriended so many that some came from rather far to bid their farewell. But noone knew what had become of the missing link.  For all Kon knew,  he’d be a wanted fugitive and unwelcome in Suramar any  longer. Truthfully he didn’t care, it might take the pain away if someone found him or put a bullet between his eyes for him. He stood there before their gravestones reading the plaques posted for them and the letters and other signs of grieving affections friends, family and fans had set out along their stones.  He wasn’t certain how long he’d been standing there, but he was certain when he wasn’t alone anylonger. He heard the steps slowly approaching, knew them well as the tall, bald giant of a Shal’dorei dressed in a fine suit jacket slowly approached behind him. He didn’t turn to look to him nor did he say a thing. He just stood there and accepted whatever fate would come to him knowing that above all if someone was hired too or even most deserved to kill him, it would be Ramiaell.  With hands clasped in front of him, the Shal’dorei stopped at his side, eyes covered by shades as he stared down towards the gravestones with him. For a long, long time there was only silence and not once had Kon moved from the daze he was in as he stared down at them completely... lost. “I take no pride in beating a man when he’s already down.” Ramiaell finally spoke. His words making Kon turn his head to look to him momentarily with those bloodshot haunted eyes of his. But the second he turned his head Ramiaell brought his fist up into a harsh uppercut straight into his jaw. It shocked and staggered Kon back a few steps but before he could fall or tumble Ramiaell grabbed him, steadied him... then pulled him in for a sudden hug.  The sting of the punch against his jawline was VERY present, but it had also helped jolt Kon out of the state he currently was stuck in. He stared across the fancy jacket of the Shal’dorei that held him against it. “That’s for running away, instead of coming to me.” Kon closed his eyes then and slowly he’d lean more into the arms that held him like a lead weight. But Ramiaell was built enough he could keep himself and Kon both up without hardly any strain. “There’s someone I want you to meet, someone, I think that can help you.” Ramiaell wen ton to say as he placed one hand on Kon’s back just holding him a moment.  “I can’t go back there...” Kon said in a scratchy broken hushed voice.  “No, you can’t. But before you leave at least promise me you will seek help, for  yourself. We can’t change what was done, but I for one, know you were just as guilty as they were. So please...take this card and go meet with him. It’s time to clean you up, before we lose you too.” He said as he slipped the card into his back pocket not bothering to try and hand it to him.  ((Ramiaell was one of the few who understood what truly happened, and that Kon was no more to blame than the others. But it didn’t make the harsh blow sting any less. So instead of seeking revenge, he sought to give Kon a way to clean up, to reconcile in a healthy manner. He needed help, this was his ticket to get him through this mess he was in.)) @daily-writing-challenge​

[talthorn-sylvoran]

Observation

Day 28 - Reconcile

The loud clatter echoes in the training area as the sword hits the floor. The defeated opponent in the form of a larger Kaldorei man is left standing with rising anger in his face. The heavy breaths from excessive practice continue to overtake him as he glares over at the magi in top form before him. How their friendship had changed from what it was before. It used to be so simple and polite, even just intellectually stimulating with hints of competition! Now there was this. 

Talthorn was also breathing heavier, but he was far more calm and collected. A knowing smile on his face as he watches Baelrith. There were no words exchanged right now. Practices lasted longer if he did not give his sass. 

"Again!" the larger man snarls at the other and moves over to snatch up his rapier. 

The magi whips up his sword to give a courteous bow of his head in salute to acknowledge those words. He could do this all day. 

Baelrith was letting this get to him, and it was obvious. Losing brought out the best and worse in him. There was that fired desire to improve, but it also sparked a cruel determination to smash through obstacles. Being competitive in nature, he could not understand how he kept losing to Talthorn of all people! 

Attempting to muscle through a couple motions, Baelrith would try to overpower the magi rather aggressively.

"Oh, oh. You're playing dirty again." Talthorn begins with his speech, able to predict a few more of these steps even in this. 

"Shut up! You're the one that is not doing this fairly! You can't possibly be doing this naturally. What sort of magic are you using!" Baelrith barks at the other. 

The magi laughs at him and continues to meet his blade in controlled motions to block his stronger attempts to strike him. "No magic! Just the power of observation." he grins at the other. 

"Power of....? Don't give me that shit! What do you do? Watch me every time I spar days on end?!" Baelrith snaps his words.

"Yes, actually." Talthorn admits freely after a broad smile. "Your fighting style is incredible to watch."

Baelrith is momentarily stunned, enough for the magi to move in quickly and twist him around in close to swipe the sword out of his hand. As if in a dance, he would push the larger man out weaponless and stumbling backward. Talthorn examines the blades in his hand. 

"So that's how you cheated." the larger man stares down the man in front of him. He was continuing to get more and more angry. 

"Cheated?" Talthorn scoffs. "Is that what you think? Well if it makes you feel better, I observe more than just your fighting techniques." he tosses his sword back to the man. 

"What?! What more have you 'observed', Talthorn?!" Baelrith demands.

The arcanist tips his head to reveal a bit more. "I know that you take delight in a multitude of different subjects and studies ranging from advanced magical theories, to refined arcane conduit studies. Your guilty pleasures are those astrology books you think no one notices. Fencing is more of a physical outlet than an art form, and you've never really had competition in that regard because people are afraid to challenge you. You hate losing, but you hate not getting better even more. Harp music makes you smile, you don't like twilight, and your favorite meals are always some sort of kimchi with assorted vegetables. Extra spicy."

Catching it quick, a slight twitch in the larger man's face is visibly seen. What the fel was this! "You've been stalking me for moons how long! Studying all of my techniques?! Parts of my life? For what! So you could take pleasure in beating me down. What is wrong with you! I hate you so much!" 

The magi looks quite doubtful, not surprised or hurt with anything this man has to say about him."Because someone takes interest in what you do? I am not so sure."

Baelrith slices through the air. "This goes beyond interest! I would say that you are.....borderline obsessed!" his brows furrow. 

Talthorn smirks warmly back to the man in front. "You're really not used to people caring about what you do, are you." he gives a bit of a shrug used to this man's dislike of him. 

Baelrith looks to have a storm raging in his eyes. "Fight. Me." he grinds his teeth and glaring through the magi. 

"With pleasure! Let's see if you got any better from the last time." the arcanist smirks, dripping his usual confidence and ready to offer a challenge again. 

As their swords clash again, there is a different ferocity within Baelrith. His movements are focused, precise, purposeful. It was as if he had brought his motion on an entirely different level, and how Talthorn felt the thrill of watching this transformation. It was difficult to catch up with this quicker footwork! Before he knew what had happened, his sparring partner had used his strengths to back him up further and further. A final few dances with the rapiers and Talthorn gasps as his blade flies out of his grasp and he is run through his shoulder. Ripping it out, the magi takes a knee to try to catch his breath.

Feeling his hair being gripped roughly he looks up to those burning eyes. "Did you lose on purpose?!" he can feel the man yell in a fire. 

"I don't do that, Baelrith." he manages some laughter. "Bathe in that victory. It'll be your only one." he grins slowly, definitely going to need a minute.

The larger man studies the magi over as if searching for his lies. But as he accepts that he did win, there is a smile that finally crosses over his lips. "Insufferable." he mutters before he strongly steals a kiss from Talthorn. It seems there was room to reconcile after all. 

@daily-writing-challenge​

(( More teases of a pain point for my mage in this background character yeaaaars before his whole Ellanore end game theatrics. A different sort of disaster in disappointments. For as much as Talthorn is capable of making friends and connections? Sometimes he really does not make the best choices in establishing them or trying keeping those that should not be kept. The learning curve is real. More chapters later ))

[kharrisdawndancer]

Reconciling Herself to the Future

Tinnaire ran a fingertip over the smooth paper. His signature on the required line hit her hard and she thought it odd how her eyes still  watered.  Another sip of whiskey, and she dropped the sheet to shiver back dangerously close to the sink.

She floated through her apartment, time stretching and compressing, with her heart following suit. There were still a few boxes, after all this time; she pulled them out of her closet. Numb but aware of the heaviness that hung uncharacteristically from her spirit, she opened the last packages from a former life, reading over the labels from a former life. Contents were lifted out that would have to get used to their place here. She set them out one by one, lined up. They were nothing special. Some sundries from their office. A fountain pen. She remembered giving it to him.They’d been so young. It felt like so long ago. It was a lifetime ago.

It wrote beautifully. The flow was smooth and the ink was rich, even after all this time. She admired the line of her signature and tilted her head. She refilled her glass and then slid it back into the provided envelope with her lawyer’s name scripted on the address. She sealed it with a tongue still tasting of bourbon.

She would cry later, she was sure. But for now she reached for her comm and pulled up her contacts. It was at the top, just due to luck in nomenclature. She smiled sadly and fired off a short message to the enigmatic “7”.

“Just signed the paperwork. It’s official. Irrevocable differences. Got any time soon? I could use a friendly face to whom I won’t have to explain myself. Maybe that cooking lesson? I’ll buy the ingredients if you tell me what to get.”

@daily-writing-challenge

mentions: @sevensolar

Day28