Fall 18th 514 AV
Early Morning
Syna was barely peaking up over the horizon as the subtle kiss of wind swept along the dusty streets of Sunberth. The smallest of zephyrs kicked up collecting in a whimsical dust cloud that danced to an unheard melody. In that early morning hour the sound of footsteps reverberated off the walls of the chipped, dilapidated structures standing watch over a forgotten corner of Sunberth. Forgotten because it was of no importance to anyone really. It was there, people perhaps traversed it every day unthinking of the memories that whispered on the winds.
But she remembered. She recalled.
The zephyr took its final bow billowing away onto the winds carried to parts unknown. The performance was watched and observed by a one-woman audience. Her forlorn brown eyes the only bit of her face that was visible. Those eyes turned to the forgotten corner of Sunberth to rest upon the gutted corpse of a broken building. Once the building might have stood strong against the winds that played so wistfully in the streets. There might have been a time where it laughed in the face of storms. That time was no more. With steady footsteps she approached the skeleton of a place she recalled clearly only in her dreams. Even with the death that clung to the charred husk of a building she brushed a hand over what remained of the entryway with tender fondness.
“Dark are the memories that slumber here but bright will be the day when they are avenged…”
The ghost of a vow made long ago skittered across her consciousness. Her movements were almost reverent as she tiptoed through the dust of the burned building. To her, the black scorch marks were still fresh with the heat of the fires that left them. To her, the grey and brown dirt and dust was the ash left behind from that fateful night. Who remained to remember it? She did not know. She would find them though.
She would find them all.
Out of the corner of her eye something caught her eye bright in the vibrancy of its color as one of Syna’s rays brushed across its surface. Pausing in her inspection of the last remnants of her old home, Amisyria looked at the spot presently touched by sunlight.
“Do you look down upon this fetid corpse and feel sorrow too, Sun Goddess?”
Quietly the woman ducked under a fallen beam gliding over to the corner. Crouching down she held her cloak tightly about her frame with one hand as she reached for a royal purple pillow tinged grey with age. It was partially burned and torn but some color still remained. Gently Amisyria ran a thumb over the now coarse material recalling a time when it had been much softer. She did not weep. She did not feel anything. The echo of feelings stirred in her heart but too many bitter years had gone by for her to truly give in to them. Amisyria closed her eyes retreating to her memories. In them she could smell cheap incense. She heard the moans, the tickled laughter and art of seduction all around her as she and her sisters played their trade. She could hear the rich voice of her mother and even taste the watered down tea they sometimes shared.
Then she opened her eyes and the ghoul of reality reared its misshapen head. Gently she returned the pillow to its grave with a final caress, her hand lingering on it as she clung to the last thread of a time when things were happier. If only just.
Early Morning
Syna was barely peaking up over the horizon as the subtle kiss of wind swept along the dusty streets of Sunberth. The smallest of zephyrs kicked up collecting in a whimsical dust cloud that danced to an unheard melody. In that early morning hour the sound of footsteps reverberated off the walls of the chipped, dilapidated structures standing watch over a forgotten corner of Sunberth. Forgotten because it was of no importance to anyone really. It was there, people perhaps traversed it every day unthinking of the memories that whispered on the winds.
But she remembered. She recalled.
The zephyr took its final bow billowing away onto the winds carried to parts unknown. The performance was watched and observed by a one-woman audience. Her forlorn brown eyes the only bit of her face that was visible. Those eyes turned to the forgotten corner of Sunberth to rest upon the gutted corpse of a broken building. Once the building might have stood strong against the winds that played so wistfully in the streets. There might have been a time where it laughed in the face of storms. That time was no more. With steady footsteps she approached the skeleton of a place she recalled clearly only in her dreams. Even with the death that clung to the charred husk of a building she brushed a hand over what remained of the entryway with tender fondness.
“Dark are the memories that slumber here but bright will be the day when they are avenged…”
The ghost of a vow made long ago skittered across her consciousness. Her movements were almost reverent as she tiptoed through the dust of the burned building. To her, the black scorch marks were still fresh with the heat of the fires that left them. To her, the grey and brown dirt and dust was the ash left behind from that fateful night. Who remained to remember it? She did not know. She would find them though.
She would find them all.
Out of the corner of her eye something caught her eye bright in the vibrancy of its color as one of Syna’s rays brushed across its surface. Pausing in her inspection of the last remnants of her old home, Amisyria looked at the spot presently touched by sunlight.
“Do you look down upon this fetid corpse and feel sorrow too, Sun Goddess?”
Quietly the woman ducked under a fallen beam gliding over to the corner. Crouching down she held her cloak tightly about her frame with one hand as she reached for a royal purple pillow tinged grey with age. It was partially burned and torn but some color still remained. Gently Amisyria ran a thumb over the now coarse material recalling a time when it had been much softer. She did not weep. She did not feel anything. The echo of feelings stirred in her heart but too many bitter years had gone by for her to truly give in to them. Amisyria closed her eyes retreating to her memories. In them she could smell cheap incense. She heard the moans, the tickled laughter and art of seduction all around her as she and her sisters played their trade. She could hear the rich voice of her mother and even taste the watered down tea they sometimes shared.
Then she opened her eyes and the ghoul of reality reared its misshapen head. Gently she returned the pillow to its grave with a final caress, her hand lingering on it as she clung to the last thread of a time when things were happier. If only just.
