55th of Fall
513 AV
15th Bell
"You can't run with standin' feet."
Wisdom from a dead man. But it was Liam's perpetual counsel, whether it be in jest or sincerity. His younger siblings heard it so often it was easy to disregard the quietly spoken comment, eyes rolling the only response he'd receive. If he was lucky the object of advisement might nod sullenly, only to appease the eldest Skellig. In the man's absence the memory of his voice was all any of them had left.
As a child Liam was quite nearly a god to his only sister. Infallible and an idol by whom all things were judged. Even after his demise and the unflattering secrets he kept to himself were on display he was still the exemplar of piety and sagacity. Nothing could dissuade her from thinking less of her brother. It was dangerous to think so highly of one person but Hadyn knew of all her vices this was likely the least troublesome.
Running a finger across the paltry attempt at a wood carving the woman heard her brother's deep baritone speaking those words she'd come to expect him to say. He'd had an unhurried manner of speech that incited misguided irritation from others, his patiently drawn out words a mockery of whatever situation caused the other to be irate. For her part his voice was everything good and safe.
His favored affirmation was close at hand lately, both a comfort and a warning as the days passed. For all the drama and uneasiness pervading her life Hadyn felt decidedly empty when alone. Mostly because she didn't allow herself to think too hard on anything. It was an exercise in futility and frustration. Those closest to her were either doggedly interested in probing her for feelings or causing undue turmoil. There were times all she wanted was to be left alone. No more fussing, no more attempts at getting her to discuss emotions and no more gods damned conversations that left her with more questions than answers.
The poorly executed form of a horse lay on its side, neither smooth nor particularly accurate. Ioan was the artistic one, handy with a piece of wood and knife in ways that astounded his family. The figures he brought forth from a seemingly useless stick were both beautiful and intricate. Her carved equine was crude, one leg shorter than the other three, the head abnormally large. Not to mention rough. Her child would be riddled with splinters for his troubles.
With a sigh she pushed the lamentable figurine into the shadow beyond her candle's light. Unable to even make her child a toy the woman rested the side of her head on the palm of one hand, staring sideways at the unadorned wall of her apartment. She deplored the new habit she'd developed of self condemnation. Before this event Hadyn was entirely confident and assured of herself. Now... now she was reduced to a servant of tumultuous emotions. It was a place she'd been before and built high stone walls to avoid.
The baby kicked and the woman was on the verge of tears. What was she doing? Liam was right, no one could run with their feet in one place. But she was entirely lost. Was it better to move even without a certain destination? How she longed to ask her brother, seek his counsel for these matters were foreign to her. If she were to guess she'd imagine Liam would tell her to reconcile with Orion. To find some way to make things better between them - if only for the child's sake.
Yet Hadyn knew that ship had already sailed. There was nothing to reconcile. They were two entirely different people with no hope of making anything work as far as a relationship. Could they be amicable and courteous toward one another - sure. But asking for anything more was like attempting to forge a sword from silk. If both had tried a little harder from the start Hadyn couldn't deny there would've been hope. But now they barely tolerated each other, all for the sake of their unborn child. It was regretful, especially to other folks. But all Hadyn could do was accept it as a fact of life.
Running a hand along the wide curve of her belly the woman released a sigh. She was easily exhausted though she loathed inactivity. More than that she deplored the way her horrid emotions pulled at her heartstrings. Every now and then she would feel the surge of loneliness mount in her breast, begging her to find someone to hold her. To wake up to a body beside her. To feel her flesh against someone else. It occasionally brought her to tears.
Despite all this a warmth flooded her heart when she considered the baby. Hadyn barely realized she was capable of the love she felt and it left her disarmed. A person so used to shunning the affections of others that didn't suit her fleeting needs, this overwhelming devotion was strange and wonderful. Part of her hoped Orion would eventually feel the same about his son or daughter. But another part hardly cared.
513 AV
15th Bell
"You can't run with standin' feet."
Wisdom from a dead man. But it was Liam's perpetual counsel, whether it be in jest or sincerity. His younger siblings heard it so often it was easy to disregard the quietly spoken comment, eyes rolling the only response he'd receive. If he was lucky the object of advisement might nod sullenly, only to appease the eldest Skellig. In the man's absence the memory of his voice was all any of them had left.
As a child Liam was quite nearly a god to his only sister. Infallible and an idol by whom all things were judged. Even after his demise and the unflattering secrets he kept to himself were on display he was still the exemplar of piety and sagacity. Nothing could dissuade her from thinking less of her brother. It was dangerous to think so highly of one person but Hadyn knew of all her vices this was likely the least troublesome.
Running a finger across the paltry attempt at a wood carving the woman heard her brother's deep baritone speaking those words she'd come to expect him to say. He'd had an unhurried manner of speech that incited misguided irritation from others, his patiently drawn out words a mockery of whatever situation caused the other to be irate. For her part his voice was everything good and safe.
His favored affirmation was close at hand lately, both a comfort and a warning as the days passed. For all the drama and uneasiness pervading her life Hadyn felt decidedly empty when alone. Mostly because she didn't allow herself to think too hard on anything. It was an exercise in futility and frustration. Those closest to her were either doggedly interested in probing her for feelings or causing undue turmoil. There were times all she wanted was to be left alone. No more fussing, no more attempts at getting her to discuss emotions and no more gods damned conversations that left her with more questions than answers.
The poorly executed form of a horse lay on its side, neither smooth nor particularly accurate. Ioan was the artistic one, handy with a piece of wood and knife in ways that astounded his family. The figures he brought forth from a seemingly useless stick were both beautiful and intricate. Her carved equine was crude, one leg shorter than the other three, the head abnormally large. Not to mention rough. Her child would be riddled with splinters for his troubles.
With a sigh she pushed the lamentable figurine into the shadow beyond her candle's light. Unable to even make her child a toy the woman rested the side of her head on the palm of one hand, staring sideways at the unadorned wall of her apartment. She deplored the new habit she'd developed of self condemnation. Before this event Hadyn was entirely confident and assured of herself. Now... now she was reduced to a servant of tumultuous emotions. It was a place she'd been before and built high stone walls to avoid.
The baby kicked and the woman was on the verge of tears. What was she doing? Liam was right, no one could run with their feet in one place. But she was entirely lost. Was it better to move even without a certain destination? How she longed to ask her brother, seek his counsel for these matters were foreign to her. If she were to guess she'd imagine Liam would tell her to reconcile with Orion. To find some way to make things better between them - if only for the child's sake.
Yet Hadyn knew that ship had already sailed. There was nothing to reconcile. They were two entirely different people with no hope of making anything work as far as a relationship. Could they be amicable and courteous toward one another - sure. But asking for anything more was like attempting to forge a sword from silk. If both had tried a little harder from the start Hadyn couldn't deny there would've been hope. But now they barely tolerated each other, all for the sake of their unborn child. It was regretful, especially to other folks. But all Hadyn could do was accept it as a fact of life.
Running a hand along the wide curve of her belly the woman released a sigh. She was easily exhausted though she loathed inactivity. More than that she deplored the way her horrid emotions pulled at her heartstrings. Every now and then she would feel the surge of loneliness mount in her breast, begging her to find someone to hold her. To wake up to a body beside her. To feel her flesh against someone else. It occasionally brought her to tears.
Despite all this a warmth flooded her heart when she considered the baby. Hadyn barely realized she was capable of the love she felt and it left her disarmed. A person so used to shunning the affections of others that didn't suit her fleeting needs, this overwhelming devotion was strange and wonderful. Part of her hoped Orion would eventually feel the same about his son or daughter. But another part hardly cared.
