Seventh Grain of Sand ◊ Abandoned
Warnings: Death
Effects: [Optional] Sadness and a deep sense of abandonment.
Privacy: Public
"Dastan..."
The female voice calls out so softly it can barely be heard over the sound of bustling of the market that creeps through the opened window. But still, small padding sound can be heard and a child of about 6-7 years old runs to the woman that lies on the bed. Blues eyes framed by chocolate hair look down at her and the child frowns, an expression that doesn’t seem to sit well on his face.
"I'm here Mother."
The child reaches for the woman's frail hand. Her olive skin is matted with sweat, her own gray eyes sunken into what used to be a beautiful face. She coughs, her free hand reaching to cover her mouth and when the fit finally passes, she brings it back down, her cracked lips now stained with blood. The boy reaches for a wet cloth and wipes it away.
"Dastan...baby....I'm so sorry....I didn't want....to leave you so soon....."
Her son looks at her, confusion written all over his face:
"Where are you leaving?"
"Somewhere you can't follow, love. I am going where your father waits for me."
The mention of his father brings a joyful expression on Dastan's face before he frowns again:
"Why can't I come with you? I'll be good, I promise! I really want to meet Father!"
The woman smiles sadly, tears already rolling down her cheeks. That sight alone brings tears into the child's eyes as well, and they easily spill out when the woman closes her eyes, her breathing becoming slow and shallow.
"Please, let me come with you, Mother."
When his mother doesn't respond at all, sobs escape Dastan's lips:
"I'll be good! I'll protect you!....Don't....don't leave me behind....please don't go where I can't follow...."
He lays his head over the now still chest, trying to be as unmoving as his mother is. Maybe if he can prove to her that he can be good, she'll let him come with her. Maybe if he stops moving like her, he'll be able to follow, maybe he won't be left behind...
[The room is silent for a moment before a small, childish sob can be found. A flock of brown hair can be first seen, before the child from the dream actually looks around the room, a small fist rubbing sleep and sorrow away from his eyes. Guess who found a 'card of youth'?]
Mother?
Effects: [Optional] Sadness and a deep sense of abandonment.
Privacy: Public
"Dastan..."
The female voice calls out so softly it can barely be heard over the sound of bustling of the market that creeps through the opened window. But still, small padding sound can be heard and a child of about 6-7 years old runs to the woman that lies on the bed. Blues eyes framed by chocolate hair look down at her and the child frowns, an expression that doesn’t seem to sit well on his face.
"I'm here Mother."
The child reaches for the woman's frail hand. Her olive skin is matted with sweat, her own gray eyes sunken into what used to be a beautiful face. She coughs, her free hand reaching to cover her mouth and when the fit finally passes, she brings it back down, her cracked lips now stained with blood. The boy reaches for a wet cloth and wipes it away.
"Dastan...baby....I'm so sorry....I didn't want....to leave you so soon....."
Her son looks at her, confusion written all over his face:
"Where are you leaving?"
"Somewhere you can't follow, love. I am going where your father waits for me."
The mention of his father brings a joyful expression on Dastan's face before he frowns again:
"Why can't I come with you? I'll be good, I promise! I really want to meet Father!"
The woman smiles sadly, tears already rolling down her cheeks. That sight alone brings tears into the child's eyes as well, and they easily spill out when the woman closes her eyes, her breathing becoming slow and shallow.
"Please, let me come with you, Mother."
When his mother doesn't respond at all, sobs escape Dastan's lips:
"I'll be good! I'll protect you!....Don't....don't leave me behind....please don't go where I can't follow...."
He lays his head over the now still chest, trying to be as unmoving as his mother is. Maybe if he can prove to her that he can be good, she'll let him come with her. Maybe if he stops moving like her, he'll be able to follow, maybe he won't be left behind...
[The room is silent for a moment before a small, childish sob can be found. A flock of brown hair can be first seen, before the child from the dream actually looks around the room, a small fist rubbing sleep and sorrow away from his eyes. Guess who found a 'card of youth'?]
Mother?