Post by Moira ap Eiluned on Feb 19, 2013 14:06:52 GMT -8
Moira watched him in the flames of the fire, watched him as he went about the routine that was now his life, caring for the mad angels that were the heart of the Freehold he now tended. She knew she shouldn’t do this, reopen the wound, bare her soul to bleed…yet here she sat, watching Hans.
Some days were better than others. Some days she could find strength in his memory, in what they had. Some days she could pretend that mere death separated them, that she would meet him in a future life. Some days she could distract herself with a puzzle, or a lesson, or a task. And then…and then she would see something terrible, or wondrous, and turn to share it with him.
And he wasn’t there.
The Dreaming had denied their Oath, withdrawn her blessing, refused to give it to them in any form. Hans was right. The Dreaming was a jealous lover, unwilling to share her priest with any other. But the Dreaming couldn’t erase her feelings. Blood for blood, bone for bone, life for life. The feelings that the oath embodied were not removed with the Oath. Only Hans had that curse, and that gift.
A hundred other oaths, a thousand other friends, could not erase this one loss. But neither could she let this loss destroy the joys of those other oaths, other friends. Hans, her Hans, never would have wanted that.
Tears filled her eyes, blurring the image of Hans she watched in the dancing flames. She knew she shouldn’t do this. The heart she loved had been burned out by the searing white light of the Dreaming, forged to a purity of purpose that denied all others. What walked now was less a man and more a living vessel of the Dreaming. For one brief moment she found herself hating the Dreaming, wanting to hurt Her, rend Her, steal from Her as She had stolen, ravage Realms to barren stone, slay a thousand Dreams with cold, cold Iron….
And then the moment passed.
She would never regret a moment with him, not one. Not all the pain of his loss, not all the rage of an Oath unbound, not all the emptiness left without him, none of it could outweigh what Hans had given her in those few short months they were together. And if the man who loved her was gone, still part of him remained and she would be grateful for that. She would be grateful that he found what he truly wanted, what he had wanted more than anything, that he had found his place in the Dreaming and was finally content.
So she watched him, ignoring the lump in her throat, and tried to be happy for him. Tried to ignore the desperate longing to be one of those mad angels he cared for, to have him care for her again. Tried to believe that when the dawn came, this terrible, horrible grief would pass again and she would be well for a little while. It almost always did. Every day was a little better…but then night would come, and her empty bed, and she would remember that he would never be there again.
And then, sometimes, the sun would set, and a cold darkness would seep in from behind the steel shutters, and she would find herself again in front of flame or water, mirror or stone, and she would be watching him, trying so hard to be all right without him…
Blood for blood, bone for bone, life for life. She would remember his love, and find strength therein.
And still she watched him in the flame, for just a little longer.
Some days were better than others. Some days she could find strength in his memory, in what they had. Some days she could pretend that mere death separated them, that she would meet him in a future life. Some days she could distract herself with a puzzle, or a lesson, or a task. And then…and then she would see something terrible, or wondrous, and turn to share it with him.
And he wasn’t there.
The Dreaming had denied their Oath, withdrawn her blessing, refused to give it to them in any form. Hans was right. The Dreaming was a jealous lover, unwilling to share her priest with any other. But the Dreaming couldn’t erase her feelings. Blood for blood, bone for bone, life for life. The feelings that the oath embodied were not removed with the Oath. Only Hans had that curse, and that gift.
A hundred other oaths, a thousand other friends, could not erase this one loss. But neither could she let this loss destroy the joys of those other oaths, other friends. Hans, her Hans, never would have wanted that.
Tears filled her eyes, blurring the image of Hans she watched in the dancing flames. She knew she shouldn’t do this. The heart she loved had been burned out by the searing white light of the Dreaming, forged to a purity of purpose that denied all others. What walked now was less a man and more a living vessel of the Dreaming. For one brief moment she found herself hating the Dreaming, wanting to hurt Her, rend Her, steal from Her as She had stolen, ravage Realms to barren stone, slay a thousand Dreams with cold, cold Iron….
And then the moment passed.
She would never regret a moment with him, not one. Not all the pain of his loss, not all the rage of an Oath unbound, not all the emptiness left without him, none of it could outweigh what Hans had given her in those few short months they were together. And if the man who loved her was gone, still part of him remained and she would be grateful for that. She would be grateful that he found what he truly wanted, what he had wanted more than anything, that he had found his place in the Dreaming and was finally content.
So she watched him, ignoring the lump in her throat, and tried to be happy for him. Tried to ignore the desperate longing to be one of those mad angels he cared for, to have him care for her again. Tried to believe that when the dawn came, this terrible, horrible grief would pass again and she would be well for a little while. It almost always did. Every day was a little better…but then night would come, and her empty bed, and she would remember that he would never be there again.
And then, sometimes, the sun would set, and a cold darkness would seep in from behind the steel shutters, and she would find herself again in front of flame or water, mirror or stone, and she would be watching him, trying so hard to be all right without him…
Blood for blood, bone for bone, life for life. She would remember his love, and find strength therein.
And still she watched him in the flame, for just a little longer.