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Post by Wren Rae Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 14:39:04 GMT -6
Wren Rae knelt before the altar, her hands folded in silent prayer, her lips barely moving. It had been so long since she had been to a cathedral without one of her husband...late husband....or one of his men to watch her. She found that just not feeling the eyes of the men she so feared on her made her prayers come much more freely. She enjoyed the solace that speaking to God offered her.
She had been here at the cathedral for several hours. She had lit a candle for her late husband's soul and prayed for forgiveness for the wickedness she had committed in killing him. She couldn't help that she felt terrible amounts of guilt, despite being horribly mistreated by her husband. She felt as though the blood on her soul would never be washed clean. It was for this reason that she had spent so long praying.
But while she prayed, her thoughts strayed to her family. She wasn't even sure how many were alive or if they still cared for her. She prayed for the strength to forgive her family, especially her brother, for abandoning her when it mattered most. Yet there was still anger in her heart. She was afraid that she would be unable to let it go, and thus unable to reach heaven in the afterlife when that time came to her.
After several moments more, she concluded her prayers, kissing the cross she held between her hands before tucking it under her dress. She got to her feet smoothing down the fabric, a dress that the Lady Aislynn had been so gracious to give her until she was on her feet. She let her fingers slide over the fine fabric before turning to leave the cathedral, her face lowered as she walked, the veil from her hood able to hide most of her face.
She was almost to the door when she saw a pair of boots in her vision. She was unable to stop before running into the owner of the boots. She stumbled backwards slightly, able to keep her feet. She blushed and turned aside, hiding her face even further.
"Forgive me, my lord."
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Post by Lord Laeghton Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 14:55:50 GMT -6
 It wasn't often that Laeghton decided to return to Solraya, and when he came, he didn't stay long. Sure, he had lots of problems and all, but he also had his own Lordship to watch over. He was the only one in his castle, with no wife or children any longer; if word ever got to Tyrian that he was out of Avonderre, even for a day, they'd invade. God knew he couldn't afford that. Thus were his visits to his home kingdom brief--that, and that he didn't want to see the faces of all the people who had failed to find him his sister. He'd give so much for her not to be dead. So much.
But he needed to heal himself, one way or another. Right now, it was looking like alcohol wasn't the remedy. Church? Maybe. But God had cast lots and Laeghton's was gloomy and desolate. He wasn't favored of God, that was for sure, even though he may have been favored by the monarchs of Solraya. But it was worth a try, wasn't it?
He glanced up morbidly at the cathedral as it rose in front of him. It was a looming place, and he felt almost unworthy to go in. But he told himself the same thing he always did when life presented its hardships--he was living for both himself and his sister, and he had to live it to its fullest (he'd not done well at that, really). And that was the only reason that he stepped onto the stairs of that cathedral and mounted them, until he was finally at the entrance. His head down, he felt the presence of someone else. When a young woman nearly ran into him, he just kept his head low, as if in prayer, and mumured, "No troubles, madam." He continued on and walked to the altar to light a candle for his sister, to pray for her soul.
It was only by chance, or by divinity, that he looked back at the woman. Something was familiar about her... She looked about to leave. Without thinking, he practically yelled, "Wait! He hadn't meant to be so disrespectiful in the presence of God.
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Post by Wren Rae Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 15:11:51 GMT -6
Wren Rae watched the shadow move across the floor as the man moved past her. She let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She had been waiting for the feel of a palm against her skin for her incompetence. She didn't want to admit it, but her marriage had done more damage to her soul than she was willing to admit. She wasn't sure who she could trust, even in her home city. She wanted to feel safe, but she felt only afraid. She supposed that would eventually disappear once her husband's death was farther in the past. Once the man had passed, she inclined her head in respect to him before moving to the door where she had left her cloak. She was pulling it around her neck and fastening it delicately. She was on her way out the door, nodding to the keepers of the church before beginning the descent down the stairs. "Wait!" The shout startled her into turning quickly. Her eyes locked a moment with those of the man she presumed had shouted. Her breath stopped and her heart skipped a beat. This man looked so much like how she remembered her brother, except he was a shadow of the man she remembered. The memory was too painful and she turned, continuing her descent down the steps. What if it was Laeghton? What would she have to say to him? He had abandoned her to her fate. She begged him for help, but had heard nothing from him. Why would he care about her now?Lyrics (c) Poets of the Fall Design (c) Rylah |
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Post by Lord Laeghton Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 15:32:42 GMT -6
Laeghton had spent a long time in the shadow of his own pity. Self-pity. Something he wallowed in and craved until he could have no more. God probably hated him for it, and he was surprised he'd not been punished more under the eyes of an angry god. Had his kingdom been pried from his grip, maybe then he would have felt rightfully avenged. The problem was, he still had everything.
Everything but his sister. The paradox of it all was enough to make him sick. Enough to make him drink. Enough to make him miserable with all the wealth in the world surrounding him. It was pitiful, he knew. But he knew nothing else anymore. In a kingdom that wasn't really his own, he felt like an outsider, looking from the outside in on a community that was slowly going to ruins because of him, the idiot Lord Avonderre. It was his fault that his people were falling to shambles. He should be doing something about it, anything. But he was ignorant.
He was perplexed by the woman at the back of the church. She looked so familiar, but he couldn't place her. Then again, he could place nothing and no one these days. He probably wouldn't recognize himself had he a looking glass. A look of recognition flashed across her eyes and he knew she knew him too.
Then he looked, closer.
No. No, it couldn't be so. But she turned to leave and even though he'd already made one uncalled-for outburst, Laeghton had to stop her. He called down the aisle, turning, "Wren Rae?" If it wasn't she, he'd sound stupid. But he had to try before this woman left. If it was Wren Rae, she'd changed a good deal. But he could handle that-- if this was his sister, his quest was over! He'd found her! Then again, it could well be his mind playing drunken tricks upon him.
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Post by Wren Rae Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 15:58:12 GMT -6
"Wren Rae?" The two words were enough to stop her cold. Her name, spoken questioningly, as if he didn't remember her existence. She bit her lower lip as she stood on the steps of the cathedral. She could feel the eyes of the people around her on her, and her hand strayed up to her necklace, her breath short. She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to talk to her brother, nor did she want to run again. After several moments, she half-turned, not making eye contact with him again. She offered a half-curtsy. "My lord," she acknowledged. She didn't want to seem impertinent or rude, but if it was Laeghton, all she wanted to do was slap him for playing with her like this. Now that she was back here in Sol he cared about her? The hand at her neck squeezed the cross tightly. "Is there something that my lord requires of me?" she asked, ice coating all of her words, despite her best efforts to keep her voice neutral. She didn't want to think of him as her brother. It hurt too much to think of it. Lyrics (c) Poets of the Fall Design (c) Rylah
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Post by Lord Laeghton Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 17:45:13 GMT -6
He bit his lip and nearly scolded himself. What a fool he was, looking everywhere for Wren Rae and always doing stupid things (usually in public) when he saw someone that resembled her. Like Katie. She looked so much like Wren Rae, and he'd gotten so close to her so quickly. He needed to stop stupid things like that and keep on living his life.
The girl at the door didn't turn around for a very long time and Laeghton was convinced that, once again, he'd made a fool of himself by calling upon a girl that was really dead, and naming her someone he didn't know at all. He took a deep, embarassed breath and sighed. But then, she turned around. Her eyes weren't like Wren Rae's, though. They were cold and mistrusting. They weren't full of the light that Wren Rae's were. They were simply... dull. Was this really her though? She answered. It had to be her! Wren Rae! After all these years, and she was still alive! Wren Rae wasn't dead! He turned quickly and was about to go to her when he heard her cold voice.
He raised his eyebrows and the look on his face was of pure astonishment. Did she not recognize him? He, who knew her name? No! It couldn't be so! He looked into her eyes, wanting to know what was wrong. This wasn't the Wren Rae that had left. This was someone else in her body.
"My lord? Don't my lord me, Wrennie! It is I, Laeghton! Don't you recognize me?" he approached her, his voice almost crying out in vain. If she didn't know him... perhaps he would try and commit that vile act again. Here. In the church. He could kill himself. He didn't want her to forget him--she was the only thing in his life that had mattered for a long time. Did she hate him now?
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Post by Wren Rae Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 17:58:55 GMT -6
"My lord," she said again, reinforcing her distance from him. "A church is no place to have this conversation. There are those who come here for solace and for prayer, and a conversation such as this one, is more than likely to disturb the quietude." She looked up only as far as the necklace around his neck. She didn't trust herself not to break into tears while talking to him. She looked at her hand and spoke softly. "I would be hard pressed to forget your face, Laeghton. Even long after you have forgotten mine..." The last part was added almost inaudibly. He was mere steps from her and she could feel herself shaking. She wasn't sure if it was from fear or from fury that he dared to walk into her life after everything that had happened. "I'm afraid I must return to my lodgings, my lord," she said when he was close enough to touch. She turned to leave, afraid that if she didn't move, she wouldn't be able to control herself or her actions. Her eyes were brimming with tears already and she didn't want him to see how much this hurt her. Lyrics (c) Poets of the Fall Design (c) Rylah |
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Post by Lord Laeghton Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 18:18:43 GMT -6
What was she doing? What in the world had she done when she was gone? Who was she anymore? Surely this ice-cold girl wasn't his sister. Not the sweet, compassionate, intelligent sister he'd last seen at Castle Avonderre. Then who was she? Where had she been? He had so many questions, that only time could answer, and by the looks of it Laeghton didn't have much time before she bolted.
He had no conviction in his voice, just worry. "Then come home," he pleaded, "come back to Avonderre! Wren Rae, I've thought you were dead for five years!" He didn't understand why on earth she was acting like this. She hated him, and he didn't know why. If he knew, he'd fix it! But--he didn't. That was just it. What was going on?
Forgotten her?! Forgotten? Forgotten, indeed! He'd not spent a waking, or probably a sleeping, moment that he didn't think of her! He drank because of her! Hell, he'd ruined his whole life thinking she was dead! What lies had been told to her? "Wren Rae, I've forgotten nothing! I kept those old letters, memorized every single line--I've forgotten myself thinking of you! I missed you, sister!" his voice was pleading and a tear escaped his eye. Didn't she see? Whatever she was angry about, he would fix it. He just wanted to know that the girl he loved was still in there somewhere. He wanted to fix her. Something was wrong.
Without thinking, he grabbed her arm. "You canna leave," he begged. "Not again."
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Post by Wren Rae Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 18:41:23 GMT -6
Her eyes, shining with tears, flicked upwards to his face. "You...want me to come home...now? After all these years?" Her voice was shaking. This she knew was because of anger. She tried to keep her voice down to not disturb the people at prayer. "You've forgotten nothing?!" she couldn't help her voice raising. She looked around, embarrassed, then looked to the ground. "Laegh...how can you say that? If you have all the letters that I sent you, then how can you stand there and say you didn't forget about me?" What about all the letters she had sent him where she begged for his help. "If you missed me, why did you never return any of my letters? I stopped writing after a year of receiving no responses to any of my letters." She felt his hand wrap around her arm, and she couldn't help herself from letting out a small whimper of pain. He'd managed to grab her where her husband's hand had left bruises. Though they were healing, she was still sore from many of them. She turned her face further away from him so he wouldn't see the tears that fell from her eyes. Lyrics (c) Poets of the Fall |
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Post by Lord Laeghton Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 18:52:55 GMT -6
If he'd done something to make her hate him like she so clearly did, Laeghton didn't remember. But whatever it was, he wanted forgiveness. He'd apologize. He'd make it up to her, however he had to. By God, he would have his sister back--that's all he'd wanted for five years. "Yes, I want you home!" he said, as though it were obvious. He ignored her ire. He had to.
No! Nothing! He'd lived in an earthly Hell ever since he returned home empty-handed. In fact, he had a stone in his garden in her memory, for he'd been thinking so long that she had died. How could she think that he would forget? He, above everyone else, had loved her the most. She was his best friend. What had God led her into? Laeghton got more angry at God with each moment. He couldn't believe a god that did these things. "Wren Rae, I replied to every letter you sent me. And then, I got the letter from Solraya saying you'd gone missing. I held onto every letter you'd sent me before I lost you--they were all I had of you! I looked for you for years, Wrennie!" He was crying now; he couldn't hide it.
He heard her whimper and instictually let go of her arm. Was she hurt? All he could think of now was his desire to fix whatever was wrong with her, in mind or body. He tried to get her to look up at him but she wouldn't. He needed to see her eyes, to search them for whatever had been done to her. He wanted her, above anything, to be home.
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Post by Wren Rae Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 19:09:40 GMT -6
"Laeghton...I...I can't come home...I don't have a home to come back to, even if I could..." She shook her head. "You're a lord....you have your people to worry about. You don't need me around. You've been doing well enough on your own." She twirled the edge of her veil in her fingers. "I'm not who I was before...and you will never be able to love this person I've become." "Obviously you didn't!" She said. "I sent you three or four letters a week when I left Solraya...I begged you to come help me...I needed you more than anything...and I got nothing but silence from you or any of the family. My God I must have written 100 letters, and not a single response. You didn't care that I needed you, why would I think that I was worth saving?" She looked up at him as she heard the tremor in his voice. His eyes matched hers, and she saw the tear trails on his face. She could see sorrow in his eyes, just as she was certain he could see the haunted look in her own eye. She moved her arm to cover the bruised portion he had re-angered when he held onto her arm. She rubbed it gently, breaking eye contact, her heart hurting more to see him cry. Was it real? Or was he merely playing her like everyone else had? Lyrics (c) Poets of the Fall |
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Post by Lord Laeghton Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 19:37:33 GMT -6
Letters? By God, what letters? All he had were the ones he'd gotten before she disappeared, and he'd memorized those like scripts! He was angry, he was hurt, but above all, he was confused. He shouldn't feel like this--he should be glad to see her again, he should take her back to Avonderre no matter what she said--but he cared about her too much. She had a say in things. And, no matter who she'd become, he trusted her.
"Doing well?" he nearly yelled, his temper rising but not in anger. It was a desperate sort of cry, but a masculine version. "I've been the worst of any of my days, Wrennie! Why, what do you think I've been doing? Courting? Having dances? No, Wrennie! I've been drinking and trying to k--" he stopped dead in his tracks. No. Not even she needed to know that. "No, Wren Rae, I love you no matter who you are! Be the devil, if you will! Just come home!"
He looked directly into her eyes, in need of some comprehension. She wasn't making any sense now. What had happened to her? Had she gone mad? Who had hurt her? Who had changed his beloved?
"Oh, Wrennie," he sobbed. He cleared his eyes and looked at her again, another bout of ire rising. "Letters? I got no letters after the one that mother sent telling me you were gone! My God, if I had I would have come to you in no time, Wrennie! You're mistaken, sister. Just come home." His voice was angry, but he wanted to be comforting. He just wasn't that kind of man anymore. But he cooled himself and watched her closely. After a short silence, he whispered, "Who did this to you?"
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Post by Wren Rae Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 19:57:47 GMT -6
Wren Rae took an unconscious step back when he raised his voice. Too many times had a raised voice been followed by a fist or worse. Her trembling increased and she adjusted her sleeves so he wouldn't see her hands shaking. "I..." she started. She didn't even know how to begin. He was angry with her, and she didn't understand why. He was the one that abandoned her, not the other way around. "How was I supposed to know how you were doing? You never wrote to me..." He voice was quiet, shaking now out of fear. She had never thought men capable of violence when it came to women, but her time in Tyrian had very much changed that opinion. No longer was she so naive. And he'd admitted that he had taken to drinking...alcohol made men do things that they didn't do otherwise. She closed her eyes, wanting with every fiber of her being to accept his offer. "And do what? Return to Avonderre, and do what? I'm no longer a lady, and I'm no use to you. I don't have the money to set up shop and you can't marry me off now...not after..." She hesitated to tell him. "No letters? Laegh, they went out in droves! I needed someone to tell me that it was going to be ok...I hated my life...I wanted to die...I didn't think you cared and that hurt worse than not being loved." She brushed at her eyes. "Who did what?" she asked. "Who changed me? That would be my...my husband." She closed her eyes. "Laegh please...I don't want to talk about this here...not with so many people..." Lyrics (c) Poets of the Fall Design (c) Rylah |
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Post by Lord Laeghton Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 20:28:12 GMT -6
Laeghton was angry, and for what he did not quite know. He saw from his one good eye that she stepped back, and he realised that he was, indeed, yelling at her inside a cathedral. His voice was usually louder than needed, anyway, because of his deaf ear, but this had to be bad. He breathed out a heavy breath, nearly panting. He didn't like arguing with her like this. He loved her, and he wanted her to know that, because she clearly didn't. He lowered his voice to a whisper, although a hint of ire still laced his words. "My God, Wrennie. I thought you were dead all these five years. How would I have--I mean, I did. I wrote letters to you every day, but it was like a diary because I wrote them to heaven." He shook his head.
What did she think she was? Worthless? No, no. She had it all wrong. All of it. And whoever had done this to her had it coming. "Yes, yes, Wrennie! Come to Avonderre. Come back to the castle. It's empty now; it's just me. I've been wanting you back for five years--I can make you a lady again, Wrennie." He sighed. No letters? No! He'd gotten nothing, which had been another reason he'd thought her dead.
"No, I got no letters whatsoever. Like I said, I looked for years for you--if I'd had letters, I wouldn't have roved so long. Don't you know me, Wrennie? I would save you if it cost me my life!" He wanted to embrace her but he knew that she was hurting too much, physically and emotionally, and she wanted none of him. But he could fix her. He could at least try. And like it or not, she wasn't leaving without him on her trail. She'd come to Avonderre. He'd make her. She had to. Her what? What? Husband?! He grimaced, shocked. No. It couldn't be. But he wasn't going to judge her--God wouldn't have it that way. Nor would he humiliate her here anymore. "Alright," he whispered. "Whatever happened to you, Wrennie, you're safe now. Come to Avonderre. Talk to me there. Please, Wrennie, I beg you." A sad spice lit his words. She had to go with him. She had a big piece of his heart, and now they needed to heal it.
But they couldn't do that if she still hated him.
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Post by Wren Rae Mercer on Apr 15, 2012 20:46:44 GMT -6
Wren Rae looked apologetically at those around her. She couldn't raise her gaze to meet his. Every moment she spent talking with him made her heart hurt. She longed to go back to those days where they spent talking philosophy and human nature. But her nature had changed, and she was almost certain she could never go back to those days. "And what did those letters say?" She tried a changing of the topic. Maybe that would cool his anger and give her the chance to get herself under control. "What kind of letters do you write to a dead woman?" She looked at the ground. "If I...if I go with you to Avonderre, I have to at least tell my hostess where I am going...she will worry for me," she said softly. "I don't know that I can stay though. And...and I don't want you to think that I'm forcing you to make a lady of a..." she looked around her and then lowered her voice. "A lady of a whore." "If you would have saved me, then where were you? God I was terrified...where did you think I had gone? Laegh...." she shook her head. "I...don't know...I don't know what else to say. Laeghton, I was in hell these past five years. I don't know what I did to deserve that...or what I did that you would leave me to it..." She twisted her ring on her hand to give her hands something else to do besides shake. She let out a long suffering sigh, then nodded. "I will...I will come to see you in Avonderre...if only to tell you this story. I....I suppose you deserve that much from the sister you thought was dead." Lyrics (c) Poets of the Fall Design (c) Rylah |
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