Hearts and Thorns
Rosa wandered quietly down the garden path, until she reached her quiet little circle of rosebushes. She had left Miria and Eva to their own devices... they were grown girls, and surely capable of amusing themselves without her. She had too much to think over.
Gone. Not left, not sleeping... gone. She reached up absently, rubbing lightly at the place where her neck and shoulder met... then sliding the hand back a touch further, her fingertips gently tracing the barely-tangible lines of the scar that graced the back of her neck. In her mind's eye, she saw his eyes as she agreed to let him mark her. She could see the tracery of her own artwork on his skin... he had kept every line she cut into his flesh, seemed to treasure each one. Because she belonged to another, she had only kept the one. It seemed very little to remember him by, now.
Of all the men that had passed through her Requiem, he was... unique. She'd had lovers, and conquests, and students, and rivals, and even enemies. But he alone had become something else. He was neither her prey, nor her inferior, nor her master. He had been her equal... her friend. A rare and precious commodity indeed.
Rosa sighed quietly, letting her hand fall back into her lap as she knelt on the soft grass by the flowerbeds. Maybe when Aroex came out of his room, finally, she would find out what had happened to him, but she didn't suppose it mattered. Nothing could last forever, really, not even the Damned. Still, she would remember him, for as long as her forever lasted. It would be her last promise to him.
"May the wind be ever at your back, Connor...."
As she rose to head inside, she absently remembered another promise, one she hadn't been able to keep. She never did get a chance to teach him to dance.
Gone. Not left, not sleeping... gone. She reached up absently, rubbing lightly at the place where her neck and shoulder met... then sliding the hand back a touch further, her fingertips gently tracing the barely-tangible lines of the scar that graced the back of her neck. In her mind's eye, she saw his eyes as she agreed to let him mark her. She could see the tracery of her own artwork on his skin... he had kept every line she cut into his flesh, seemed to treasure each one. Because she belonged to another, she had only kept the one. It seemed very little to remember him by, now.
Of all the men that had passed through her Requiem, he was... unique. She'd had lovers, and conquests, and students, and rivals, and even enemies. But he alone had become something else. He was neither her prey, nor her inferior, nor her master. He had been her equal... her friend. A rare and precious commodity indeed.
Rosa sighed quietly, letting her hand fall back into her lap as she knelt on the soft grass by the flowerbeds. Maybe when Aroex came out of his room, finally, she would find out what had happened to him, but she didn't suppose it mattered. Nothing could last forever, really, not even the Damned. Still, she would remember him, for as long as her forever lasted. It would be her last promise to him.
"May the wind be ever at your back, Connor...."
As she rose to head inside, she absently remembered another promise, one she hadn't been able to keep. She never did get a chance to teach him to dance.