[Flashback] Mother dearest

[Alevadra Druva]

20th of Spring, 498av Ale had been training almost nonstop and had decided that today would be a slow day of grooming Lyris and cleaning weapons. Alevadra woke up before the sun, only to pull the covers closer to her face, it was a chilly morning, and Ale did not want to get dressed yet. A few chimes passed before the Druva decided to slip out of bed and prepare for her relaxing day. A pair of thin leather breeches, an off white tunic, and a thick black over tunic, which was thicker and would keep the small girl warmer were laid out on the squires bed. The girl went about putting on the breeches and thin tunic, then socks and a pair of beaten black boots. Her hands made quick work of her long blonde hair, pulling it up into a bun with a short ribbon. The young woman listened to the light trickling of the rain outside hitting the roof and window panes. To Ale, this was just another day, nothing special and nothing unusually. Today was not another day, it was a day the young woman would never forget. Alevadra’s mother had been ill for awhile, and Ale had been kept separated from the whole illness. Victor Druva, Ale’s father believed that Jasme` was too strong and loved him too much to ever leave the living. Alevadra had been a Squire for a season when Victor Druva visited the squire dorms. The morning was overcast with a light drizzle across the city. Alevadra was already awake and was dressing when Victor entered the squires living quarters. Alevadra was putting on an over tunic to help her stay warm through the light, cool drizzle. The squire looked up to see her father, tall with broad shoulders, wearing a soaked white shirt and dark brown breeches. His eyes looked wet, his mouth curled into a frown which seemed carved in place. “Father?” Ale’s voice was full of fear, she had not seen her father sense she became a squire. Her eyes locked onto her father’s, he continued to take large lungfuls of breath, his hands on the frame of the cool, a cold, wet breeze entered the room, splattering Ale’s face with cold, wet droplets. “Your mother needs you.” That was the only thing Victor said before Alevadra Druva ran pass her father and out into the cold rain, her small feet hitting the ground hard as she headed to her parents home.

[Alevadra Druva]

Please, no. Ale repeated in her head, her ears felt like they were ringing. Her feet hit the ground hard, splashing water up around her legs. Her heart was pounding, her throat was tight, her stomach twisted. Her father was not a serious man to his family; he was loving, cheerful, with a loud, boisterous laugh which could fill their whole house. Ale could feel her eyes burn, her mind thinking of the worst possible situations, her mother was dead, missing, murdered. The young woman reached her parents house, it loomed over her as she rushed to the dark wood door, yanking it open and hurrying inside, only to run into something soft and warm. Two arms reached around Alevadra and held her close. Brown eyes looked up to see who it was, Patrick Frent was holding her, and his face was wet. “Jasme` is upstairs. You should go see her.” Frent then let Alevadra go, and the young woman ran up the stairs to her parent’s bedroom. Her mother was under the covers, her hands intertwined over her stomach, her face was pale, and her hair was casually around her on her pillow. A holy man stood over her mother, whispering. Ale’s heart stopped for a moment, she stopped breathing, she stopped listening, she stopped feeling. The girl ran to her mother, jumping, soaking wet onto the bed, next to her mother’s cold form. The holy man seemed startled, but did not say anything to Ale, he finished his prayer and left the room. Ale grabbed her mother’s hands, resting her forehead against her mother’s chest. A low sob finally broke from Ale’s mouth, deep, sharp breaths with cries breaking the silence. Ale lied down next to her mother, her head resting against her mother’s bosom, her hands holding her mothers up to her lips. The young squire laid on her side, curled half on top of her mother.

[Alevadra Druva]

Victor opened the wooden door and softly closed it behind him. Ale could hear soft words being spoken between Patrick and her father, there was a short silence before she heard a loud thud; then a panicked Patrick trying to comfort Victor. The words between the two men were quick and quiet, Alevadra couldn't understand what they were saying, she could only tell who's voice was speaking. Her father sound upset, Patrick did as well, but his words were softer, calmer but still rushed. Victor could be heard moving from the front door area towards the stairs, his heavy leather boots were distinct against the wooden floorboards of the landing. The young Squire listened as her father dragged himself up the stairs, his feet were slow and heavy, she could hear his boots scuff the wooden stairs as he made his way to his wife and daughter. Alevadra’s weeping had become quiet quite, her body continued to shake softly as her fingers grasped her mothers. Victor entered the room and stood in the doorway, towering over the bed his sad, old eyes looked down at his child and loving wife. Victor said nothing as he slowly moved to the side of the bed, sitting down next to his dead wife. His large, rough hands touched the side of Jasme`s' face. Silence remained in the room as Alevadra continued to cry on her mother's chest. Victor and Ale remained in the room for a full bell before the Priest returned to quietly speak with Victor. “We must take about what we shall do for ceremonies.” Victor nodded and kissed his wifes' forehead, and then his daughters. It only took a few chimes before Patrick went up the stairs to sit with Ale. The young woman had remained silent through the past bells. “Ale?” The girl moved her head, bloodshot, wet, eyes moved to look up at the knight. “We need to leave...” Ale's face moved to face away from Patrick. “They need to move her.” Patrick was silent for a moment. “Yes.” Several chimes passed before Alevadra sat up. She looked down at her Mother's body and kissed her forehead. “I love you,” Ale whispered in Pavi against her Mother's forehead. Ale spent a moment fixing her mother's hair and then placed her Mother's hands over her stomach, intertwined again. Patrick stood and offered his arm to the young woman, the arm Ale ignored and slid off the bed. The squire went down the stairs slowly over to where her Father and priest were, sitting at their dinner table. They spoke softly, Victor nodded to the man across the table, only moving once he noticed Ale and Patrick behind him. “You can stay here tonight, Ale, the ceremony will be in the morning. Same goes for you, Patrick.” The offer was more of a demand to the two, Patrick took it as an order and nodded swiftly. “Ale and I will be back, I am going to take her to see Lyris, we will be back soon enough.” Visiting Lyris was just a cover for moving Jasme` from their house into the temple for Prayers and preparations. The ceremony would be short and sweet, her mother followed Tyveth closely, filling her life with honor and truth. Even though she had not told her daughter that she was ill, the woman believed herself aligned with Tyveth; and so, her funeral would be full of praise for the good. Patrick and Ale left the house and slowly walked through the dreary morning. The rain had stopped and only a soft mist filled the air. The sky was dark and the city had only a dull rumble of activity. “Your mother was an amazing woman.” Ale was silent, but Patrick continued to speak. The squire found herself ignoring the young knights words, she knew her mother, she did not need someone to confirm her qualities for her.

[Alevadra Druva]

The pair ended up in the stables before noon. The stables were fairly empty, only a few souls were present quietly tending to their horses. Ale walked straight to Lyris, who was snoozing quickly, back leg cocked and a dull snore rose from her swaying head. “What will they do with her?” Ale asked Patrick as her left hand brushed across Lyris' side. The horse woke up and moved her head to see her disturbed her nap. “Well... Everyone in Syliras is cremated.” Patrick trailed off, there was no need to get more graphic. The squire nodded slowly, taking the coat brush and rubbing down Lyris' dusty coat. Alevadra nodded to Patrick slowly as she continued to tend to her horse. “You do not need to babysit me.” “I'm not.” Ale stopped brushing and looked over Lyris at Patrick. “Then why are you here with me?” Patrick was silent for a moment, it was clear the question caught him off guard. After a moment of the two staring at each other, the knight spoke up. “Because I need to be with someone.” Silence fell between the two again, a sharp tension could be felt as they continued to look at each other. This was the first time Ale had ever seen part of Patrick that was past his joking, playful demeanor. Alevadra was seeing the weaker side of Patrick. The squire was the first to break eye contact. “If you don't want me here, I can go elsewhere, the tavern or just wander the streets. “No, stay. I need help with Lyris, cleaning her hooves is hard for me to do alone.” Patrick moved over to Ale's side of the horse and the two went to work cleaning the horses hooves out with a strange hooked shaped tool. It took almost a full bell before the two finished cleaning up Lyris. The squire and Knight did not waste time heading back to the Druva house. Upon entry to the home, Victor was setting the table for three, a pot of stew sat in the center of the table. “The beds are made for the both of you, we will eat then collect your mother's ashes, we will go out tomorrow morning.” Victor motioned for the two others to sit and eat. The three sat down at the table, and quietly ate their meal.

[Alevadra Druva]

Alevadra did not accompany the two men to get her monther's ashes. She stayed in the empty house, washing dishes. The cool water slowly murked up with bits of remaining stew. It was her mother's stew. A sharp twinge of pain hit Ale's chest. She was gone. She was really gone. The young woman would never see her mother again. She would never smell her, hear her, feel her. This was it. The watered down bits of stew floating around her fingers were one of the few remaining reminders. And it was fading. What if she forgot what he mother sounded like? Looked like? “Fool! You won't forget!” Ale half yelled to herself, slapping her own reflecting, splattering water across the floor. She was done with this. The childish actions of the young woman led her back up into her old bedroom. The blond collapsed on her bed, her boots still on her feet as she hugged her pillow against her face. Why had Tyveth taken Jasme` from the world? How could he? Ale wondered if this was a test, a test of her faith. The young woman thought silently, her mind was muddled. “Ale is asleep, boots on and everything. Looks like the poor girl just passed out.” Patrick said quietly to Victor. “Good... Good. Tomorrow will be hard for her.” The two men nodded to one another and went their separate ways. Victor back to his room, and Patrick to the additional bed in Ale's room. The morning was a strange one to Alevadra. It was bright, sunny, warm, it was a happy day. Today was the day they would spread Jasme`s ashes. The woman got up to an empty room. Victor and Patrick were already down stairs. Ale slowly made her way down the stairs. “Ale,” Her father stood from a chair at the table, walking towards Ale as she descended the stairs. “I was about to wake you... It's time.” Ale nodded slightly, her brown eyes avoiding meeting her fathers. She didn't want to do this. She had to do this. The trio left the house in silence. Victor carried a small wooden box closely to his chest. Patrick walked next to Ale, his left hand resting on Ale's back. Birds chirped around them as they walked through Syliras. Victor wanted to spread her ashes where they had met, at the north gate. It took half a bell as the pace Ale was dragging her feet to reach the North Gate. A light breeze pushed past the group, out of the north gate and into the wilds. “Almost there.” Victor whispered to the box in his arms. His eyes were wet, a tear streaked down his face as he passed over the threshold. Ale watched her father, Patrick did as well. The two younger ones stood back as the elder opened the box, taking out a small handful, only to open it to the air. “I shall always love you, my dearest Jasme`.” Pavi left his lips as he spoke to the wind which carried his wife away from him. Victor motioned to Ale, it was her turn to say good bye. The box was held out to the young woman. It took a few moments before Alevadra could move forward. She didn't want to. She wasn't ready to say goodbye. A nudge from Patrick moved her forward, and small hands took the box. Ale looked down at what remained of her mother. Grey powder. This wasn't her mother. This is what remains in the fireplace. “For the truest of the true be the ones whom Tyveth bless.” Her fingers reached into the box and picked up the small amount of the remains that was left in the container. “The purest of the pure be the ones with eternal happiness.” Slowly she opened her fingers, and like a fine smoke, the remains spread out across the damp grass. Ale watched her mother float away. She was gone. That was it. Her eyes burned as her vision blurred. She was gone forever. -Fin-

[Archon]

Illumination of Development Alevadra Druva +2 Animal Husbandry +1 Running Lores: Death in Syliras, Caring for a horse (Basic), Mother's Stew, The pain of losing a parent Care to see more? : A couple Animal Husbandry experience points for the care of your horse, and a point of Running experience for running through the rain. Notes:A very touching and emotional thread. A little repetitive at times, but not enough to truly detract from your story.