Post by Sayvahn on Apr 3, 2016 4:12:58 GMT
Lodan changed from Winter to Spring gently. The trees became fuller, the cold air no longer tearing at the green layers, no longer asking the tree’s to slip off their evergreen gowns. The forest, the land, the everything relished in the calm, and it seemed that even the mortars had forgotten to fall. Sayvahn even forgot that they did, but the feline had been working on ways to forget ever since Corey had left. Yet, forgetting proved to be difficult.
The barber abandoned his home a few days after the incident. Took the scraps that the boy had left for the old man and ran— ran to his shop, ran to M.I. Both promised some sort of closure. The shop didn’t smell of beer and smoke, didn’t have the scars from that day. But the shop did have a chasm. Dust layered, and Corey’s corner had become stacked with books and other materials. Whatever couldn’t fit in the pocket dimension was thrown upstairs in the Wig shop, which too, seemed empty without the boy.
M.I on the other hand had become a second home, one where, on nights that the feline did not want to be alone, he would find Lasair. Their relationship, if it could even be called that, seemed to go back and forth during this time. Yet, it couldn’t be avoided. There was nowhere else for the barber to go.
Except during his times of walking, of exploring. Nature had become his sanctum, one that he retreated too many times. It was during one of these “retreats” he spotted a woman had yet to see in a very long time.
“Isn’t that? By god, it is.” Sayvahn saw the doctor’s form walking in the distance, her tiny frame somewhat recognizable, but that mask: the mask is what gave it away. The feline had not seen her since Castamere, which had worried him, somewhat, yet the barber knew she was too stubborn, and too persistent, to die by the hands of Sveden fools, or anyone, for that matter.
Fixing his posture, the older man sped up his pace to catch up to the woman, following her, from a distance until the raven’s form disappeared into what seemed like an abandoned church. How peculiar, but not surprising. The derelict matched Vieka’s personality— the mystery, the stoicism, and most of all, beneath the vines, and tangles, a beauty that all could recognize, but a decay that only a few would appreciate.
At the thought, Sayvahn smirked, making his way to the church to see what the cryptic woman was up to.
The barber abandoned his home a few days after the incident. Took the scraps that the boy had left for the old man and ran— ran to his shop, ran to M.I. Both promised some sort of closure. The shop didn’t smell of beer and smoke, didn’t have the scars from that day. But the shop did have a chasm. Dust layered, and Corey’s corner had become stacked with books and other materials. Whatever couldn’t fit in the pocket dimension was thrown upstairs in the Wig shop, which too, seemed empty without the boy.
M.I on the other hand had become a second home, one where, on nights that the feline did not want to be alone, he would find Lasair. Their relationship, if it could even be called that, seemed to go back and forth during this time. Yet, it couldn’t be avoided. There was nowhere else for the barber to go.
Except during his times of walking, of exploring. Nature had become his sanctum, one that he retreated too many times. It was during one of these “retreats” he spotted a woman had yet to see in a very long time.
“Isn’t that? By god, it is.” Sayvahn saw the doctor’s form walking in the distance, her tiny frame somewhat recognizable, but that mask: the mask is what gave it away. The feline had not seen her since Castamere, which had worried him, somewhat, yet the barber knew she was too stubborn, and too persistent, to die by the hands of Sveden fools, or anyone, for that matter.
Fixing his posture, the older man sped up his pace to catch up to the woman, following her, from a distance until the raven’s form disappeared into what seemed like an abandoned church. How peculiar, but not surprising. The derelict matched Vieka’s personality— the mystery, the stoicism, and most of all, beneath the vines, and tangles, a beauty that all could recognize, but a decay that only a few would appreciate.
At the thought, Sayvahn smirked, making his way to the church to see what the cryptic woman was up to.