(Posted: Mon Sep 13, 2010 12:10 am)
Beyond The Candle's Light
S'jira had gone back to the Loft that night. Form was worn and heart was weary. As she climbed the ladder that took her from the stables below to the Loft above, she realized how hard the climb was becoming lately. It was not that she was too old for it, for the small woman was only twenty-three just this passing June. Instead, it was a weariness of the heart and soul that was making it difficult.
The Loft was dark, and empty. Save for the moon's light seeing in through the panes of the window, it was dark. When she gained her footing for the floor of the Loft, S'jira felt her way along the one side of the room and lit a single candle. Its ruddy light aided with being able to look around. But it only helped to see within the area of the light it cast. Beyond that, it was dark.
Dressed in one of her favorite, earthy brown dress, she uncinched the simple black leather belt. She slid from the belt her soft-leather coin purse and put both the items to the table. S'jira slid out of the dress and neatly hung it to a hook. In the middle of the room, she stood with nothing on her but the necklaces she always wore: the cat's eye from Panther and the star pendant from Elessaria.
One of the blankets was pulled from the bed and drawn about her. Curves of her breasts and hips were covered with it as she sank down onto the pelts that covered the floor before the small hearth. It was dormant of any fire, but it was a comforting place and she was drawn to it.
As she lowered herself down, she leaned her back and shoulder against the front stonework of it. Her head lulled gently there as well.
A slowly eking madness had made its way in without S'jira even noticing.
A madness of a worry and wondering until the weight of the small woman's heart could not deny it any more. She had brushed it aside at first months and months ago. S'jira knew that she was being selfish and had denied it of herself to feel it, but as one month slipped into another those tugs turned into pangs. And now, pangs were pains.
The swell of her cheek was rested against the coarse surface of stone as tears tracked down her face. Had it really been almost nine months since they had seen one another? Perhaps longer. Days had turned into weeks and weeks into months...in stretches that she had not seen her beloved Panther. Perhaps it was they were both working too hard at first. Then, perhaps travel had kept him from her sight.
Fingerstips of one hand curled into the blanket and held it tight about her, as if she were trying to bind herself up with it and kept something safe. Her other hand snuck out from beneath the blanket to meet touch against the pendants she wore.
With worry for him and the wondering of such a long absence. Was he dead? Had something killed him on a hunt? Had something or someone kept him from RhyDin? The wonderings had truly and finally started to plague her.
The Lady, Elessaria, had been a gentle spot of light that night to see at the inn. But she found that she could not keep the Lady company. It was growing ever-difficult to keep herself company. Work had nearly ruined her hands, she was working so hard to keep busy. And not even travel and seeing her sister in Llothgar had completely eased her. She could not hide the ache of her heart anymore. She simply...hurt and wept because of it. The men who worked the stables below had long-since headed for their homes. They would not hear her crying and she was glad for it. Best it was that way.
S'jira eased herself down upon the pelts that served as rugs before the quiet fireplace, just within the candle's light. She remembered crying for some time - for what seemed hours more- before she remembered nothing more when sleep finally took her.
By the dawning of the next morning, the candle's light had died. Wax was found in a mess at the base and on the table.
S'jira pushed her small form up from where she had fallen asleep on the flooring beside the dormant hearth. Thoughts were groggy and her head pounded.
Eyes had not seen him in a very long time. She nearly wept again just to think of it. But had she not lived through worse? She told herself this again. Then again. The gods knew that she hoped that he was not dead. And they knew that she would think of him.
Friends were there, but to say anything would have struck a cord of being a burden or worse. She simply could not bring herself to do more than to ask if anyone had seen him and to look for him in places that she had seen him over the passed three years.
S'jira drew into her lungs a deep unsteady breath. "My beloved.. " Two, small and simple words. But for any who had known her well at all they were very paramount, singularly or together.
But the day was dawning. She would be expected to be helping on the docks soon. She stood and looked about the empty Loft. A sudden pang of wondering if she had the right to remain there crossed her mind, thoughts. S'jira gently nudged the heavy thought aside.
"He is not dead." Said to self as she stole herself up to a straighter stance. To the gods, she hoped he was not. The last one she had loved and lost had nearly been the death of her -- or so it had merely felt to her.
She washed and dried off before pulling on her plain, earthy brown dress. It was belted about her slender waist. Then she adjusted it a notch tighter and frowned at the realization that she had lost a little bit of weight.
The brush was pulled through her hair without eyes truly on the mirror before her. Then forced herself into motion. The bed that had not been slept in was tidied up and the blanket she had wrapped herself in the night before was neatly folded over on itself and draped over the back of his chair.
Her hand lingered against it for a few long moments.
After the window was opened to let in the gentle, Fall air, S'jira spent another look around the loft and climbed down into the stable area below.
Trygg was taken from his stall and moved out of doors before she hauled her small form up onto the large stallion's back. Bare feet nudged back against his ribs and they moved off in the direction of the docks.
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A Heart's Ache
Tales of S'jira and others from the barbaric lands of Llothgar and beyond.
Moderator: Sjira
- Sjira
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- Location: RhyDin or Llothgar
A Heart's Ache
இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ
~S'jira~
Much can be said without saying a word.
~S'jira~
Much can be said without saying a word.
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