Post by Deleted on Apr 3, 2016 5:19:55 GMT -5
The Duke had made good on his word and had arranged for them to board one of his ships heading south on an express trade route. Alfie didn’t know the ins and outs, only that the boat leaved the docks in three days’ time and that the inlet, from which they would travel, was a good two days ride out of the city. Once on the boat, it would take a second course of two days before they landed in the Harbours of Laguardio and a little part of Alfie could not wait to meet with the clear waters of home. Of course, there was a part of him that had no wish to leave at this time or for this reason either.
Alfie was not travelling alone. Horatio had offered to accompany him. This company was a reason to look forwards to the journey. It was a boy’s adventure. And it allowed him to push the grief down into his stomach a little further and ignore it for a little longer.
His mother’s body had been prepared for the journey and was boxed in a black wagon, curtains drawn over the windows and black ribbons tied in the attire of the horses. It was relatively respectful, really speaking, and left no imagination for what the horses were pulling or why riders were accompanying them.
They had stopped at an inn, east of the city, to allow the horses to water and rest and for the men to take time to regroup too. Spending the night, for the journey to be continued. The morning was hot, the last bursts of the summer sunshine fighting through. Alfie had been quiet most of the way. He had not shared in the conversation with the other men, he had not really reached out to communicate or speculate what lay ahead. But rode at the side of the van that carried his mother and seemed unable to break his thoughts free.
He had not slept well and had heard the voices of the men, drinking, for many hours after he had sequestered himself away.
Now, this morning, he did not take breakfast with the others inside. But had brought it outside wand was sitting under a tree, opposite the inn by several paces, he sipped from fresh water and lay deep in thought. His odd coloured eyes –one green, one blue – dancing over the scars on his left wrist; scars that had been covered with beads until late…
~~
@horatiocapitani / Kit
Alfie was not travelling alone. Horatio had offered to accompany him. This company was a reason to look forwards to the journey. It was a boy’s adventure. And it allowed him to push the grief down into his stomach a little further and ignore it for a little longer.
His mother’s body had been prepared for the journey and was boxed in a black wagon, curtains drawn over the windows and black ribbons tied in the attire of the horses. It was relatively respectful, really speaking, and left no imagination for what the horses were pulling or why riders were accompanying them.
They had stopped at an inn, east of the city, to allow the horses to water and rest and for the men to take time to regroup too. Spending the night, for the journey to be continued. The morning was hot, the last bursts of the summer sunshine fighting through. Alfie had been quiet most of the way. He had not shared in the conversation with the other men, he had not really reached out to communicate or speculate what lay ahead. But rode at the side of the van that carried his mother and seemed unable to break his thoughts free.
He had not slept well and had heard the voices of the men, drinking, for many hours after he had sequestered himself away.
Now, this morning, he did not take breakfast with the others inside. But had brought it outside wand was sitting under a tree, opposite the inn by several paces, he sipped from fresh water and lay deep in thought. His odd coloured eyes –one green, one blue – dancing over the scars on his left wrist; scars that had been covered with beads until late…
~~
@horatiocapitani / Kit