Arcaea/Dining Hall Late 08-09/Aerywyn's Wish
The steam clouded the room immediately as the water was released into the bathtub. Aerywyn absent-mindedly watched as the women went about their business, one young women laying out the towels, another pretty thing fetching more of the jugs from their place near the hearth. Amidst it all was the tall widow, commanding the throng to and fro like a hardened commander with his veterans. The lady Yrisa was a handsome woman despite her age, already into her fourties and yet had not faded as many other women may have. He noted the smell of summer flowers on her as she passed him once and twice, and wondered how that smooth, milk white skin would feel agaisnt his chest whilst that bonny brown hair tumbled free from its bun about her body, framing those eyes, dark as midnight...
She caught his stare for a moment, narrrowing her eyes at him. Ysira's lips then curled into an exotic smile as she whispered something to girls around her. They quickly looked him over, expressions ranging from humoured to appreciative. Aerywyn sighed in exhaustion, and began unlacing his tunic. After a short spell of giggling Ysira ushered the women out of the lord's quarters, giving a final flirting glance back at him before leaving too.
He threw the tunic on top of his greatcoat, and a pair of breeches soon followed. Humming softly to himself, Aerywyn broke through the surface as he slid himself into the bath. The dirt from the long journey floated free from his legs and arms, and he practically melted in the pure exctasy that his weary body was experiencing. Without hurrying he removed the silver chain from around his neck, watching the tiny sanctum and the little silver ship silently clang agaisnt each other. After setting them down, he reached for his ears and removed the two small silver hoops, before allowing himself to sink lower into the bath.
By the time he was drifiting on the edge of sleep (which was not long), Aerywyn heard the sound of a door opening and closing. Then being locked. He wondered if he still had enough energy from the long ride.
"You must be awfully tired...", came a woman's voice.
Aerywyn Haerthorne Banker of Arcaea
It was cold when he woke. So very cold...
There was no longer the steaming bath, nor the warmth and sweetness of the woman in his dream. He knew that at least, but everything else passed at the edge of his conscious mind. There was mud staining his coat and chainmail, the recent rains having made the roads treacherous indeed... Thats right... I was... travelling? Gods...
Aerywyn shook his head, but even that caused his vision to spin violently. He bit down the rising bile, and thought he could taste blood. Red and gray spots appeared in front of his eyes. After sitting still for a few minutes he attempted to get up, but vertigo immediately assailed him, sending him crashing to the ground again. With confusion this time mingled with the pain, he felt cold, white snow beneath his head. The rolling hills, the grasslands were gone now, and above him he could see the tops of trees, covered with the same kind of blanket that smothered the earth.
Fear began his vile assault, like an old foe fighting with such renewed vigour as Aerywyn had never felt before. A wolf howled in the distance. He began shivering violently as he was sure he felt hot, foul breath on the back of his neck. Shade-like at first, the materialised from the gathering mist, and all else dissapeared. The hot fear, the sounds in the night; all were gone, and the emptiness drove the spike of fear piercing deep into his soul.
"Tirilyn... Tirilyn!", Aerywyn cried out between rasping breaths.
His brother gave him a sad smile, undisturbed by his own state so much as Aerywyn's so it seemed. Here was the younger brother, feeling the fear and horror of losing his twin again, and again, and again.
Then he was gone. Aerywyn was left alone again, like all those times as a child wandering lost across the fields and forests in his dreams. His throat was painfully dry, and he felt the hot tears streaming down his face. He raised his arm to get a better look at, and cringed at the sight where the long gash was now encrusted with mud and blood. No doubt the infection had weakened his mind, and Aerywyn cursed it.
But there was no time to idle on his thoughts now. It would only get worse if he did not head out soon, and his men were no doubt looking for him. Throwing up his hood to hide his reddened eyes, Aerywyn limped away, searching for his horse and his men.
Aerywyn Haerthorne Banker of Arcaea
"... M'lord?".
Belfas, Aerywyn's scribe, called over from the side of the window. Aerywyn noted that he seemed to be a bit agitated, if not a little scared, even hesitating in his speech, which was something he rarely ever did so steady was the man.
"What is it?", Aerywyn asked with not a little concern.
"I think you should amend that letter... look at this".
A telescope (one of Aerywyn's prized possessions) was offered to him, and Belfas turned it down to what he wanted him to see. Although he raised an eyebrow questioningly, Aerywyn took the telescope and adjusted it so he could better see what he was looking at.
He withdraw again, shock and terror in his normally calm blue eyes at what he had seen of the threatening gestures a certain lady had been offering through another window. He smiled helplessly at Belfas.
"Add a post script to those letters...". He gulped to compose himself. "The wedding between Sir Jenred AND the... wondrous, mystical beauty of the Duchess Edara Kindon. If this union were to be disturbed in any way, I and all of us would be most distraught to see a single tear grace her angelic composure".
Aerywyn Haerthorne
Banker of Arcaea
Laying the quill aside, he let the sunlight play across the still wet words on the page. Wearily Aerywyn admired the work his addled mind had produced, though it seemed strange to himself even as it was written... yet the words had come so easily. He sighed in exhaustion, wondering where he got the energy to waste his time on something like that when all his mind wished to do was sleep. One more time however he looked at the words, filling him with both sadness and joy. A most intriguing melancholy.
"The heart...", he whispered to himself softly. It was a puzzle to him.
The title!
Instinctively Aerywyn took up the quill again to hastly scratch a few more words at the top of the page. Underlining it, he dropped the quill and left the parcment upon the desk and sat back in the chair. It was not long at all before he dozed, and the faint whistle of breath could be heard passing between his lips.
Poem for a poet; a homecoming
Home is where the heart shall reign But the mind is but a guest, For the sinner begs to sin again; For what he knows is best.
Happiness is a childs lie, Yet a child’s mind is aiming high. The waning moon doth seem so bright, For the sinners hands are wings tonight, And though I cannot see from my eyes, The sinners joy is coming nigh. Remember, a dear child, her heart, her light, That brave doth leave into the fight.
But a childs arms are growing weary, And the sinners lies are plain to see. I lay me down now, for I see so clearly, To home she holds me, and in my heart I am free.
Aerywyn Haerthorne
Imperial Chancellor of Arcaea
