Heart Sick (May 13th) - [Adan]
Nov 30, 2017 16:55:16 GMT -5
Post by Runa on Nov 30, 2017 16:55:16 GMT -5
Ever since Beltane, it was like the women of the city had conspired to pull the loveliest, lightest ensembles out for use. There were plenty of blue linen dresses, the same shade as the vaulted, cerulean heavens over the hill city, and light greens that were like the spring grasses. Runa’s favorite, though, were the ones that were bright and cheery yellow, golden like the sunshine that spilled over Edoras, or the hair that the people of her country sported.
The day outside was beautiful; the number of passers-by that made their way by her window were indicative of that. A small, frail hand pressed against the glass, and she watched as the people laughed, volleyed pleasant, bright conversations between themselves as they moved whither and thither. Their cheeks were bright and pink, full of health and life.
Runa, for a moment, caught her own reflection in the pane. Thin, sunken features with drawn ash-white skin, blue eyes that almost held no flicker of light at all, and dull, blonde locks. It was her blue-hued lips, though, that made her unforgivably noticeable as ill. And with the reflection so near the sky in the window, they looked even bluer.
Runa’s shoulders slumped, and her dull eyes once more focused in on the street beyond her home. The beautiful women who passed by, with their fair smiles and lively limbs—everyone would notice them.
She was as good as invisible, the way she kept like a haunt to her home, eying the outside with longing. It had been the outside, though, that had made her this way. She had taken ill after running with Beorhtric and Ingulf over the plain in February, and she had never recovered. Her mother said it was her heart, that it was a miracle she was still there at all.
But this was not life. This was worse than death. At least in the Halls she would be beautiful, able to be herself, ride horses like her brother, learn swords with her uncles. Here, she was tethered to her sill, waiting for Bear or her father to help her to bed.
A tall, handsome figure was hurrying through the street, dodging and weaving between the many bodies out and about with mussed dark-blonde hair and smudged white shirt. Beorhtric always seemed in such a rush to get home to her, though she could never understand why. He should have been going out, meeting someone special and starting his own family. She envied him, and wanted to make sure he did not miss his chance; he did not need to be bound to this house as she was. Yet there he was, rushing home, catching her face in the pane and smiling to her.
There was always relief upon his face; as if he was surprised to find her still alive.
“Happy name day, my Runi!” The man exclaimed as he opened the door, sweeping inside and straight to her side to press a kiss to her cheek. “You’re looking well today,” he added thoughtfully. “Are you up for a jaunt to the market? There’s something waiting for you down there.”
“I…I don’t know,” Runa answered, voice low and barely a whisper. She cast a look once more to the beautiful day, the people milling about outside. She was not sure she wanted to venture outside; not when the people of the city were going to give her strange looks, or ones of pity. She was not sure which one she hated more from the adults, but the children gasping and mumbling as she passed, the small ones that cried—those were the most painful.
Such a beautiful afternoon was sure to have filled the market stretch with people already preparing their homes for summer; the orders for shoes for the midsummer’s ball were already pouring into her father’s shop, or so he had said. Runa was not sure she feeling up to dealing with the looks today.
“Let me change,” Bear hummed, a hand stroking her hair as he leaned in once more to kiss the top of her head. “The fresh air will do you good, Runi,” he added. “And I would love for my sister to join me.”
She looked up to him, eyes tired, yet said nothing. Slowly, the young man turned and began to pace back toward his bedroom, face falling as soon as his back was to the window and its patron.
“Mother, I’m home,” he called, even as he slipped into his bedroom and stripped himself of the sullied white shirt, sifting through his chest of drawers for another. A woman, blonde-headed and gentle in appearance, came to his door.
“Are you still going to take her to the market?” She asked quietly.
“I think it will do her good,” Bear answered equally as quiet, slipping a blue, clean, and unwrinkled tunic back on.
Hildred’s face pressed deeper into a frown. “I’m not sure it’s worth the risk today, sweetheart.”
“She will love the cake, Mama, why’re you worried? What happened?” He crossed to her, frowning with a bent brow.
“She…she had the dream again. With him,” the woman said, the voice barely a whisper.
“What in Bema’s name is it? Witchcraft?” Beorhtric asked, jaw tightening.
“I don’t know—but she described him, Bear. It’s him. It’s Ceolmund. I was there when he…when he…” She kneaded her lips together, blue eyes for a moment growing damp. “Runa never met him, did she?”
“…No,” Bear admitted hesitantly. “I barely saw him once he joined the Eored myself.” A strange, uncomfortable silence fell over them, and Hildred dropped her eyes to her wringing hands. “Did…did he say—?”
“Yes,” Hildred said lowly. “It’s how all the dreams go, isn’t it?”
Beorhtric frowned, and pressed his lips together. “If you want, I’ll just run and get the cake to bring back—”
“Oh…oh, no, take your sister. She’s been sitting at that sill all week, and I…I think you’re right. She needs the fresh air. Just…just be mindful,” Hildred slowly said.
Bear nodded, leaning to press a kiss to his mother’s cheek. “I will, Mama. We’ll be back soon.” It was not long before he had put a shawl over his Runi’s shoulders, and lifted her to her feet, lacing their arms together at the elbows. “Come, Runi! To the market!” He said, voice pleasant despite his sister’s blank expression.
With a slow, small shuffle, the two began to make their way toward the city’s center, strange pillars of grey silence amongst the bright, and lively noise.
The day outside was beautiful; the number of passers-by that made their way by her window were indicative of that. A small, frail hand pressed against the glass, and she watched as the people laughed, volleyed pleasant, bright conversations between themselves as they moved whither and thither. Their cheeks were bright and pink, full of health and life.
Runa, for a moment, caught her own reflection in the pane. Thin, sunken features with drawn ash-white skin, blue eyes that almost held no flicker of light at all, and dull, blonde locks. It was her blue-hued lips, though, that made her unforgivably noticeable as ill. And with the reflection so near the sky in the window, they looked even bluer.
Runa’s shoulders slumped, and her dull eyes once more focused in on the street beyond her home. The beautiful women who passed by, with their fair smiles and lively limbs—everyone would notice them.
She was as good as invisible, the way she kept like a haunt to her home, eying the outside with longing. It had been the outside, though, that had made her this way. She had taken ill after running with Beorhtric and Ingulf over the plain in February, and she had never recovered. Her mother said it was her heart, that it was a miracle she was still there at all.
But this was not life. This was worse than death. At least in the Halls she would be beautiful, able to be herself, ride horses like her brother, learn swords with her uncles. Here, she was tethered to her sill, waiting for Bear or her father to help her to bed.
A tall, handsome figure was hurrying through the street, dodging and weaving between the many bodies out and about with mussed dark-blonde hair and smudged white shirt. Beorhtric always seemed in such a rush to get home to her, though she could never understand why. He should have been going out, meeting someone special and starting his own family. She envied him, and wanted to make sure he did not miss his chance; he did not need to be bound to this house as she was. Yet there he was, rushing home, catching her face in the pane and smiling to her.
There was always relief upon his face; as if he was surprised to find her still alive.
“Happy name day, my Runi!” The man exclaimed as he opened the door, sweeping inside and straight to her side to press a kiss to her cheek. “You’re looking well today,” he added thoughtfully. “Are you up for a jaunt to the market? There’s something waiting for you down there.”
“I…I don’t know,” Runa answered, voice low and barely a whisper. She cast a look once more to the beautiful day, the people milling about outside. She was not sure she wanted to venture outside; not when the people of the city were going to give her strange looks, or ones of pity. She was not sure which one she hated more from the adults, but the children gasping and mumbling as she passed, the small ones that cried—those were the most painful.
Such a beautiful afternoon was sure to have filled the market stretch with people already preparing their homes for summer; the orders for shoes for the midsummer’s ball were already pouring into her father’s shop, or so he had said. Runa was not sure she feeling up to dealing with the looks today.
“Let me change,” Bear hummed, a hand stroking her hair as he leaned in once more to kiss the top of her head. “The fresh air will do you good, Runi,” he added. “And I would love for my sister to join me.”
She looked up to him, eyes tired, yet said nothing. Slowly, the young man turned and began to pace back toward his bedroom, face falling as soon as his back was to the window and its patron.
“Mother, I’m home,” he called, even as he slipped into his bedroom and stripped himself of the sullied white shirt, sifting through his chest of drawers for another. A woman, blonde-headed and gentle in appearance, came to his door.
“Are you still going to take her to the market?” She asked quietly.
“I think it will do her good,” Bear answered equally as quiet, slipping a blue, clean, and unwrinkled tunic back on.
Hildred’s face pressed deeper into a frown. “I’m not sure it’s worth the risk today, sweetheart.”
“She will love the cake, Mama, why’re you worried? What happened?” He crossed to her, frowning with a bent brow.
“She…she had the dream again. With him,” the woman said, the voice barely a whisper.
“What in Bema’s name is it? Witchcraft?” Beorhtric asked, jaw tightening.
“I don’t know—but she described him, Bear. It’s him. It’s Ceolmund. I was there when he…when he…” She kneaded her lips together, blue eyes for a moment growing damp. “Runa never met him, did she?”
“…No,” Bear admitted hesitantly. “I barely saw him once he joined the Eored myself.” A strange, uncomfortable silence fell over them, and Hildred dropped her eyes to her wringing hands. “Did…did he say—?”
“Yes,” Hildred said lowly. “It’s how all the dreams go, isn’t it?”
Beorhtric frowned, and pressed his lips together. “If you want, I’ll just run and get the cake to bring back—”
“Oh…oh, no, take your sister. She’s been sitting at that sill all week, and I…I think you’re right. She needs the fresh air. Just…just be mindful,” Hildred slowly said.
Bear nodded, leaning to press a kiss to his mother’s cheek. “I will, Mama. We’ll be back soon.” It was not long before he had put a shawl over his Runi’s shoulders, and lifted her to her feet, lacing their arms together at the elbows. “Come, Runi! To the market!” He said, voice pleasant despite his sister’s blank expression.
With a slow, small shuffle, the two began to make their way toward the city’s center, strange pillars of grey silence amongst the bright, and lively noise.