Post by Sher on Aug 20, 2011 15:13:24 GMT -5
01.22.3189
Rukbat's morning rays shone through the translucent skin of Norrath's wing sails. The green was perched atop the wall along the outskirts of Lemos Hold proper, wings mantled as wild emotion ripped through her. Emotions that were leaking over from Hers in a steady torrent. There were no words of comfort to speak. Norrath couldn't tell Hers that everything would be all right. Though the blizzard had finally dissipated, it had taken something precious from Breda.
Dannie, the six month old boy that had brightened their boring days on the watchtower, had somehow crawled into the unfeeling cold of the outer corridor. Dongal himself had found the boy there, when the fretting of a sleepless night had awoken him to the realization that the boy was not in his sleeping basket.
He would never forget the sight of that poor little face, blue with cold, stiff and unyielding.
The burial had not been a satisfactory one. Breda, still in shock and completely speechless these few candlemarks, had stood and watched unblinking as her flesh and blood drifted down the river in a burial raft. She stood there still, calf-deep in bitterly cold snow, though all the mourners but her husband were gone. She found words, spoken softly, in a monotone. "How could you leave the door unlatched?" she whispered.
Dongal rubbed red eyes with a numb hand. "Breda," he began, a broken sob making his chest heave. "I didn't mean to. It was an acci-"
"Shut up," Breda said, in the same low, toneless voice. "I never want to see you again." She spun on legs aching with cold and staggered away. Behind her, she could dimly hear a fresh round of weeping tearing out of her husband's throat. She couldn't think of how perfect they had been together, or the burden of guilt added to his pain. All she saw when she looked at him was the face of her beautiful baby, never again to smile.
Norrath was torn between sharing Breda's opinion and pleading with her to talk it out, but the usually talkative dragon knew better than to try reasoning with Hers just now. Instead, the green clung to her perch as Breda dug through the room, packing clothes, oddities, and one lovingly knit baby blanket. Frustration roiled through Norrath, and finally she let it out in a high-pitched keen, an echo of her earlier grief.
Where would they go? How could she keep Breda alive, when her mindmate already felt dead...?