07-17-2017, 06:16 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-18-2017, 02:11 AM by DrinkToMeOnlyWithThineEyes.)
Returning to his paperwork, Erumollien began sorting through various contracts and petitions, skimming what each roll entailed before he decided to respond to his consort's words.
"That is my memory." He said bluntly, setting his quill aside as he gave the feather a gentle stroke, recalling his sister's playfulness before she had to fight and kill in his name.
"The woman impaled by arrows was my sister, she was my Shield and Sword as well as my Dark Hands, ready to do everything if I so commanded it, the man with pale hair and dark eyes, protecting the injured was my brother, he was the heart of my family and he was the perfect image of my mother, and the man whose head was thrown your way in your nightmare was my father, he was my tutor and pillar. He taught me all I know as king now." To prove a point, he allowed a memory to wash over him, to come to the very front of his mind.
He recalled the moment their family portrait was done. He recalled Airemana seating herself between him and his father's feet and Glandur leaning against his seat, all of them in their formal regalia looking stern as if they could hold no smile...all of them save Glandur who was unable to prevent his smile for who else could the painter be but his brother's beloved? Erumollien felt a somber smile paint itself upon his lips. He recalled scolding his brother until he realised his brother cannot be faulted for being happy.
"I lost my family to this war," He said softly, "killed by your soldiers if I were to recall." He could remember Beriadan swearing fealty to him the evening when he had managed to find it in himself to look at his father's corpse, stitches running round his neck.
Ignoring those memories that had surfaced, he pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing, "This is something that comes with bedding a high elf, you feel what we feel and see what we see." He explained, "I normally have my walls up to keep Beriadan from feeling anything but after the war..." He shrugged, he did not wish to say that he no longer had the strength nor will to bring his walls up once more. The loss of his family was enough to take away any will he had to partake in anything that had made him smile and it had stolen away his strength to build his walls to protect his cousin from his thoughts or emotions. Now he cannot keep that from his consort either.
"That is my memory." He said bluntly, setting his quill aside as he gave the feather a gentle stroke, recalling his sister's playfulness before she had to fight and kill in his name.
"The woman impaled by arrows was my sister, she was my Shield and Sword as well as my Dark Hands, ready to do everything if I so commanded it, the man with pale hair and dark eyes, protecting the injured was my brother, he was the heart of my family and he was the perfect image of my mother, and the man whose head was thrown your way in your nightmare was my father, he was my tutor and pillar. He taught me all I know as king now." To prove a point, he allowed a memory to wash over him, to come to the very front of his mind.
He recalled the moment their family portrait was done. He recalled Airemana seating herself between him and his father's feet and Glandur leaning against his seat, all of them in their formal regalia looking stern as if they could hold no smile...all of them save Glandur who was unable to prevent his smile for who else could the painter be but his brother's beloved? Erumollien felt a somber smile paint itself upon his lips. He recalled scolding his brother until he realised his brother cannot be faulted for being happy.
"I lost my family to this war," He said softly, "killed by your soldiers if I were to recall." He could remember Beriadan swearing fealty to him the evening when he had managed to find it in himself to look at his father's corpse, stitches running round his neck.
Ignoring those memories that had surfaced, he pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing, "This is something that comes with bedding a high elf, you feel what we feel and see what we see." He explained, "I normally have my walls up to keep Beriadan from feeling anything but after the war..." He shrugged, he did not wish to say that he no longer had the strength nor will to bring his walls up once more. The loss of his family was enough to take away any will he had to partake in anything that had made him smile and it had stolen away his strength to build his walls to protect his cousin from his thoughts or emotions. Now he cannot keep that from his consort either.