Post by Deleted on Nov 15, 2015 6:40:16 GMT -5
Tomorrow he was leaving the city.
Tomorrow he would be boarding a ship and sailing away from her to Calandria. He would be returning home with the body of his mother and would be taking care of the arrangements for her to be led to rest in the family tombs. The celebration of her death would not come until her next birthday- July the year following- but he would be making the speech on behalf of his family and explaining to the population that the woman they loved as a Countess was gone.
The thought made him shudder uncontrollably, or perhaps that was the trundle of the carriage he was in that made it feel like he was moving involuntary.
Tomorrow was tomorrow.
Today he intended to be less morbidly obsessed. Today he intended to find light in the sweltering darkness of his mind. It felt guilty, to be looking forwards to something, in this time of pain and grief, but truthfully he was. He was glad Gwynevere had agreed to see him before he left for Calandria, her letter made him remember that there was a world outside of his self-obsession.
His grief had reached the second phase. For the last five days he had been in a place of disbelief. Then, yesterday, on asking the Duke of Calandria about the journey of his mother’s body, the denial and the avoidance had been pushed away for something more. He felt angry and with that anger was an irrational anxiety and a frustration that she had left him. He felt embarrassed and ashamed that she had been too weak to get up of the ground again. And he felt embarrassed and ashamed that he felt so angry… it was a cycle that he seemed unable to escape.
Alfie had had three serious fits in a row. He had been disoriented and not himself for the last week.
But with time alone he had reflected on his thoughts and feelings and perhaps he was starting to come to terms with that had happened and that third phase did not seem so out of reach.
He also knew he would feel better having told his sister, and having the opportunity to be there and support her.
Alfie’s fingers brushed over the bare skin on his wrist- where the beads he had given her had once lain – and he smiled fleeting to himself as he rode the roads in the carriage, and made to collect the lady for their afternoon together.
~~
@gwyneveredeschenes
Tomorrow he would be boarding a ship and sailing away from her to Calandria. He would be returning home with the body of his mother and would be taking care of the arrangements for her to be led to rest in the family tombs. The celebration of her death would not come until her next birthday- July the year following- but he would be making the speech on behalf of his family and explaining to the population that the woman they loved as a Countess was gone.
The thought made him shudder uncontrollably, or perhaps that was the trundle of the carriage he was in that made it feel like he was moving involuntary.
Tomorrow was tomorrow.
Today he intended to be less morbidly obsessed. Today he intended to find light in the sweltering darkness of his mind. It felt guilty, to be looking forwards to something, in this time of pain and grief, but truthfully he was. He was glad Gwynevere had agreed to see him before he left for Calandria, her letter made him remember that there was a world outside of his self-obsession.
His grief had reached the second phase. For the last five days he had been in a place of disbelief. Then, yesterday, on asking the Duke of Calandria about the journey of his mother’s body, the denial and the avoidance had been pushed away for something more. He felt angry and with that anger was an irrational anxiety and a frustration that she had left him. He felt embarrassed and ashamed that she had been too weak to get up of the ground again. And he felt embarrassed and ashamed that he felt so angry… it was a cycle that he seemed unable to escape.
Alfie had had three serious fits in a row. He had been disoriented and not himself for the last week.
But with time alone he had reflected on his thoughts and feelings and perhaps he was starting to come to terms with that had happened and that third phase did not seem so out of reach.
He also knew he would feel better having told his sister, and having the opportunity to be there and support her.
Alfie’s fingers brushed over the bare skin on his wrist- where the beads he had given her had once lain – and he smiled fleeting to himself as he rode the roads in the carriage, and made to collect the lady for their afternoon together.
~~
@gwyneveredeschenes