Caducity
Posted: Tue Jun 12, 2018 8:37 pm
My sabatons meet marble in a succession of heavy thuds that carry across lonely corridors and quiet chambers. It has been a long time since I have been here, yet I feel myself move through the library with such ingrained memory it might as well be my home.
But it is not.
Familiar books and flagstones greet me in silence but they are now home to fixtures I do not recall, scars not there before and placards of names I do not recognize. Bones reskinned with foreign flesh in the form of pungent cut flowers, decorations and grandeur.
I come to my destination; the Book of Lawgiving, old but still servicing the needs of the Radiant. Names of both villain and ally line each page in tidy entries of varying fonts and inks surely not as tidy as I would prefer but it is the unique way each is penned that brings me some comfort in the loneliness here.
I produce my own feather quill, braced against the steel of my gauntlets as I began to add another addition to the tree of my labors. My thoughts wander as my hand works through the motions of the day to day grind, and I cannot help but feel wrong. In other chambers I can just barely make out quiet conversations of strangers making their respects and squires speaking intently of matters at large yet their presence brings me no solace. Their sounds of existence are frustrating obstacles as I strain to listen for the familiar pattern of clanks that march like drum beats forward, in hopes they would herald the Hoarran or the Mulhorandi or the Helmite.
Ink makes clean lines of text in tidy blocks as my work progresses in the overwhelming silence. Duty is the only cure to a heart that aches and I take to it with naive hope that in the throes of my dedication I would stop trying to strain for signs of familiarity. This hall was my home, these books are my labors and I have been received by the new generation of knights with kindness and warmth. But in their faces I do not see my friends. Instead I met them cold and unyielding, with knots of tombstones burning in my stomach. How could these people replace those who stood before them in my heart?
I go through the motions. I advise, I patrol, I pray, and I write. In these labors I will know peace.
But it is not.
Familiar books and flagstones greet me in silence but they are now home to fixtures I do not recall, scars not there before and placards of names I do not recognize. Bones reskinned with foreign flesh in the form of pungent cut flowers, decorations and grandeur.
I come to my destination; the Book of Lawgiving, old but still servicing the needs of the Radiant. Names of both villain and ally line each page in tidy entries of varying fonts and inks surely not as tidy as I would prefer but it is the unique way each is penned that brings me some comfort in the loneliness here.
I produce my own feather quill, braced against the steel of my gauntlets as I began to add another addition to the tree of my labors. My thoughts wander as my hand works through the motions of the day to day grind, and I cannot help but feel wrong. In other chambers I can just barely make out quiet conversations of strangers making their respects and squires speaking intently of matters at large yet their presence brings me no solace. Their sounds of existence are frustrating obstacles as I strain to listen for the familiar pattern of clanks that march like drum beats forward, in hopes they would herald the Hoarran or the Mulhorandi or the Helmite.
Ink makes clean lines of text in tidy blocks as my work progresses in the overwhelming silence. Duty is the only cure to a heart that aches and I take to it with naive hope that in the throes of my dedication I would stop trying to strain for signs of familiarity. This hall was my home, these books are my labors and I have been received by the new generation of knights with kindness and warmth. But in their faces I do not see my friends. Instead I met them cold and unyielding, with knots of tombstones burning in my stomach. How could these people replace those who stood before them in my heart?
I go through the motions. I advise, I patrol, I pray, and I write. In these labors I will know peace.