[Flashback] Hope born of Sorrow [Solo]

[Talen Stirling]

Late Afternoon, 17th Fall 504 A.V. A black shadow sped through the rain, a dark flicker on a background mixed with colourful houses and heavy, almost ash-gray rain. The sound of drops cascading into pools everywhere silenced the splatter of light feet hitting puddles from the rest of the world. The street was empty, and Talen's breath alone sent small clouds of white breath out into the evening air in quick bursts. Soaked to the bone, clad in only shorts and a white linen shirt, he could expect a thorough beating from his father when he came home... If his father had still been alive. The realization of that truth caused Talen to halt, his run only broken after a few loping steps and a skid in muddy water. He would never be there to yell at him again. To scold him when he did something wrong, and tell him how to do it right. The sound of metal on rock as he dropped the tip of the longsword he'd carried all this way onto the ground echoed a short way through the street. He looked about, it was hard to recognize where he was, everything was distorted by the rain, twisted into unfamiliar shapes. Looking up, he recognized the glimmering spire of skyglass that heralded the Chapterhouse of Priskil. It seemed to reflect the thousands of raindrops falling all around it, a constantly shifting pattern. He didn't like it. All this change. Using the much too long sword as a makeshift crutch, he turned around and looked up at the chapterhouse. Suddenly, he felt heat bubbling under his skin. The same violent rush of blood that had caused him to run away after the guardsmen had returned carrying his father's sword... And the man himself. He shouldn't, couldn't be gone. With a strangled cry that barely managed to emerge through what felt like a rock in his throat, he grabbed the sword with both hands and threw rather than swung it over his shoulder. The weight of the weapon felt immense, almost causing him to fall backwards. The handle almost slipped out of his grasp, yet he managed to force it onwards with quivering arms. It barely made a scratch in the heavy wooden door of the chapterhouse. With a hiss of air, Talen lifted the sword sideways just above the ground, and swung it back towards the door again. It made a clattering sound as it hit the stone steps below it after striking it's target to no avail. He stared at the door, it's dead silence and inability to move almost defiant. Then he struck it, again and again, the handle of the blade felt rough against his hands as his arms trembled in their effort to lift the heavy blade. The steel glittered with raindrops as it surged through the air, only to bounce back from the wood with it's weight sending Talen falling backwards onto his backside in the wet street. He looked up at the door and building with his hazy almost gray blue eyes, close to the colour of the raindrops reflecting in the skyglass spire. He felt hopeless. He didn't know why he had attacked the door. His father had been a faithful to Priskil, praying to her every night and serving in the simplest of ways that he could. Yet he'd been abandoned by hope in The Unforgiving, taken from him by death and darkness. He swiped away some of his hair from his eyes as he looked up at the building. It looked beautiful, and he remembered the stories his father had told him of Priskil, the times he'd explained the nature of his hope for his family and his life. Perhaps he could find that solace from sorrow, seek the path that his father had followed, and make him proud. That would be his hope. He leaned forward, and grabbed the handle of the longsword. It felt reassuring to the touch, the weight of the weapon less of a surprise than before. He stabbed the tip of it into the ground, and hoisted himself up with that and his other hand. Suddenly, he felt tired, cold, and sad. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, and furiously wiped them away with his free hand - Big boys like him didn't cry, only girls did that. Once done, he took a big breath of air, waved at the Chapterhouse with a faint Prayer on his lips and swung the sword carefully up onto his shoulder so that the flat of the blade rested on it. And walked home.

[Tabarnac]

XP Award! Talen XP Award: Observation +1; Longsword +1 Additional Notes: Aw, poor baby Tal. It’s a good thing nobody saw him defacing the Chapterhouse door or they might have taken the longsword and given him a good spanking with it! Feel free to PM me if you have any questions or concerns. Keep writing!