Lost in Musings
[Locked from muses. Auberon's been coming off as puffball lately. Thought , I'd give a little clue to what's really going on in his head. And yes, this qualifies as both A) brooding and B) emo.]
Auberon lays on the clean white linen with such absolute stillness, that had anyone been brave enough to look in the room, they would have feared him dead. What they were seeing was the tired body was taking it's ease, while the troubled mind raced.
He hated the spring, had every year for the last ten. Ever since they lost her. March twenty-first was always the worst. On that anniversary each year, a single letter of petition that came from Mab, the only truly civil thing to pass between the two of them since she woke up. It was a simple request, not unreasonable. The only reason he knew it was a different letter each year was because he kept the old ones in a drawer at his desk, reminders of what he had cost himself and her.
Mab wanted the killer of their unborn child dead by his or her hand. The death of a single, pitiful woman would end all the fighting, all the war between them. And he would give it to her, in a heartbeat, if he thought it would make things better. But the truth was, if she didn't have the woman to hate, Auberon didn't know if she would be able to live with herself through the pain. To truly face the loss. And whatever his relationship with her at the moment, he had to admit to himself that he loved her.
So he would continue to wander through this half world, distracting himself by trying to help the broken, strong women around him that reminded him too much of her, by coupling as a way not to think, by Hunting, by ruling. Maybe forgetting that he loved her.
Auberon lays on the clean white linen with such absolute stillness, that had anyone been brave enough to look in the room, they would have feared him dead. What they were seeing was the tired body was taking it's ease, while the troubled mind raced.
He hated the spring, had every year for the last ten. Ever since they lost her. March twenty-first was always the worst. On that anniversary each year, a single letter of petition that came from Mab, the only truly civil thing to pass between the two of them since she woke up. It was a simple request, not unreasonable. The only reason he knew it was a different letter each year was because he kept the old ones in a drawer at his desk, reminders of what he had cost himself and her.
Mab wanted the killer of their unborn child dead by his or her hand. The death of a single, pitiful woman would end all the fighting, all the war between them. And he would give it to her, in a heartbeat, if he thought it would make things better. But the truth was, if she didn't have the woman to hate, Auberon didn't know if she would be able to live with herself through the pain. To truly face the loss. And whatever his relationship with her at the moment, he had to admit to himself that he loved her.
So he would continue to wander through this half world, distracting himself by trying to help the broken, strong women around him that reminded him too much of her, by coupling as a way not to think, by Hunting, by ruling. Maybe forgetting that he loved her.