No Loose Ends
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Tucked away in the deepest part of the Shiverpeaks, a rather Derelict Homestead, it's tending and maintenance neglected. By all outward signs uninhabited, save for the soft flickering of light through the broken windows. The dim light flickering, nearly drowned out by the wind gusting through, carrying the snow further into the building. The light, belonging to nothing more than a small wood stove, burning steadily near the back of the room.
The Inhabitant? Tucked away in the far corner with her guest, a blanket pulled around her thin frame for some amount of warmth, hiding her usual heavy coat and gear. A box sitting beside him, having been handed over, pried from where it had been hidden beneath the floorboards.They sat close, near shoulder to shoulder, almost touching but just a breath away, much as they often did.
They were speaking plainly now, both too weary for the usual verbal circles they tended to run. “He loved you.” There was so much more to it. But those simple words drowned out the rest, the words turning muffled and making little sense against the twisting of the knife in her heart. So she did what she knew best and looked away, turning her attention to the seeping wound in her hand, applying more pressure to see it cease, nodding along some to show she was listening. As much as she could at any rate.
Shoulders dropping she pushes back her hood, trading the warmth for being better able to see the man who sat at her side. How long he had been talking for, she wasn’t entirely certain. She knew she had been speaking back, but couldn’t place what was said, only really retaining the tone of it all. “Why are you telling me this now?” She manages in a soft whisper, raising her gaze to meet the mans for the first time since they had started speaking, searching for an answer there as much as within his own words. “I do not leave loose ends.” He offers by way of explanation, speaking in an even tone. It was honesty as plain as he ever offered, though she understood the depths of the words. Offering another nod she lowers her gaze once more to her hand, pulling away the cloth to replace the glove, giving a little squeeze of her hand to find the leather comfortable against the fresh wound once more. She did not miss a beat, continuing the conversation as if nothing had been said to that end at all. A smirk here and a soft snort there as they spoke of things that were and had been.
She looks up, seeing the hand extended down and the offer to move over towards that stove, the only source of warmth in the room. Taking the hand, the normally hooded woman follows her old friend across the room, moving to sit near the fire, once more choosing a spot on the floor, barely allowing their knees to touch. Still maintaining relatively light conversation, she takes the kettle, one of the few signs she had lived here, setting it on the fire to boil the water for tea. The warmth would do them both some good. Tea was served without ceremony, the kettle taken from the fire before it boiled and whistled, saving the peace and the quiet of the room. Still they spoke around the tea, words soft and gentle. Her gaze wanders over to the man, often, most often even when she felt he was not looking her way. Watching him with an almost sad smile, trying to pry the pieces of the familiar from the strange. He was standing now, looking down at the woman still seated by the fire. “I must go.” He speaks softly, setting the empty mug to the side. “Would you join me? You can…” He hesitates, a barely noticeable pause. “Have all the answers you seek.” Remaining there, the man stares down at her, waiting for a response. She looks up at the man, then back to the mug, caught in a deathlike grip in her hands. The lump began to form in her throat as the sadness she had been trying to keep at bay began to creep back in. “Surely you understand this is no small request.” She begins, voice barely above a whisper and only drifting further, lost to the howling winds of the storm outside. “I understand. Ask yourself this. What is here that you would stay for?” He continues to stare down at her, watching her carefully as the question is posed. Silence. The woman sat in silence for several moments before offering her soft words, words she was loathe to admit out loud. “I fear the memories will fade, if I am not in this world where they were born, to see them and breathe life into them again.That I will lose those things that I have left that mean the most to me.” She swallows slowly, throat suddenly dry despite the tea she had just been drinking. Lowering her gaze to her empty mug she stares within it, as if the empty space at the bottom held the answer she was looking for. Another nod from the man follows, and a soft word of well wishing. A pause, maybe only a second and maybe longer. Time did not seem to be working as it should, at least not to her. Before he had the chance to move to leave a quick and almost panicked whisper leaves the woman. “I did not say I had made my decision. I was speaking to my hesitation.” She turns her gaze upwards to the man once more, seeking his gaze. His brow raises slightly, almost as if surprised by her quiet outburst. “I am out of time.” He presses, keeping his own voice soft within the storm as he extends his hand, calm gaze settled upon the woman still upon the ground. A shaky breath follows the mans words as she inclines her head in a nod. “Promise me one thing.” She murmurs, prying her grip from the mug. Heart beating rapidly she speaks, words not even truly making sense to her own ears. A promise requested, meaningless and empty as she knew it was not to be. Still she speaks, words of trust and a veiled plea to not be left alone. Still she hesitates, holding her gloved hand out, just shy of the mans as she waits for him to accept her unspoken terms. He stares hard at her for a long moment, still and silent as if looking for something. Signs of a change of heart perhaps, or some other answer himself. “I promise.” Those words come in a soft whisper, the weight of them cutting through the winds more than the sound of them proper. It was only then that she paused, setting down the mug upon the Hearth as she moves to take the mans hand, pulling herself to her feet and leaving the blanket piled up on the floor where she once sat. Gaze turned up to him, the woman watches him carefully, put at least somewhat at ease by the calm way he held himself. He drew her in, wrapping his arms about her in a warm embrace, holding her close as if to seek to calm her fears. And she welcomed it. Bowing her head to rest against his chest, taking that briefest of moments to listen to his heart beat and the rise and fall with his breath. He started speaking once more and she remained still, listening to the voice rumble up from within his chest. “I know it is a great deal, and you are afraid. Don’t be. I will -always- take care of you. You have my word.”
She was still, and always who she was, and the mans words merely drew a soft scoff from her as she lifts her head, seeking out his gaze one more time. Dull emerald peering up from behind an almost glassy layer of tears she had been doing well to hold back. “With all that I have endured, one would think something as seemingly simple as this would be easy.” Another shaky breath follows as she presses closer to the other, seeking that warmth and comfort. “The unknown is never easy.” He begins, words rumbling from deep within his chest. “Though I promise you, it is better than this.” His left hand travels up her back as he speaks, coming to rest against the back of her head. That movement was all she needed, offering that rare gentle smile as she closes her eyes. She moves to rest her weight fully against the man, not trying to fight or pull back, simply taking another slow breath as his right slides up to rest upon her chin. All it took was one quick movement, a clear crack echoing through the room and she was falling limp. He moved quickly, catching her body and gathering her up into his arms to lower them both to the ground. He raises a gloved hand, brushing the hair from her face as he speaks softly, holding her close. “I lied Sheira. I always...” He pauses as his voice cracks “lied. We cannot leave here. It is not allowed.” Tears begin to gather, rolling down his cheeks. “But I will take care of you. Always. I promise.” It was in that moment, when life was slipping away that she felt that pang of regret. Screaming inside, trying to find some way to tell him it was alright. To reach up and wipe the tears. But he was sounding so far away now, she couldn’t make out what he was saying anymore, though she knew he was still talking, at least until he wasn’t and there was darkness, and silence. They stayed there like that, for some time. The man holding her close and rocking her, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. It was quite some time later that he finally moved. Wiping his eyes with the backs of his sleeves and picking up her lifeless form. He carried her across the room, setting her down upon the bed she used. Laying her down atop the furs, he runs a gloved hand lightly over a cheek, murmuring softly. “Rest here. Until I am finished.” The man did not linger long. Moving out into the storm to begin building, using much of the dried wood he had found inside and protected from the Elements. Ready to burn. It took time, but slowly the structure began to take shape, a funerary pyre. He wandered a distance out from the house, finding herbs and flowers to add to it, those sparse plants that grew in such frozen places. Returning to the house he slips inside. Finding the single trunk set near the end of the bed. Within the trunk were the sparse few things she held dear. A few letters and sketches. Porcelain doll and jeweled Nightbloom Lilly. A violin and an unworn wedding gown. He took them all and placed them upon the pyre, laying them out before returning inside once more. Returning to the bed, he gently picks up the woman, holding her close one last time as he moves to set her upon the pyre, amongst those few things she held dear, arranging them to keep them close. The wind of the storm had died down some as he had worked, which suited his purposes well enough. Lighting the Pyre the man steps back, just far enough out of range he would not be caught by the licking flames if the wind were to pick up or change again. He stands, watching as the structure goes up in flames, burning with a bright intensity uncommon in these parts, hand over his heart and unmoving until the flames died down several hours later. Work was never done and there were still tasks to do. Moving carefully through the charred remains he gathers up what he could of her, scooping it into a container and separating as much burnt wood and ash from crushed bone as was possible to do by hand. Sealing that off he returns inside only once more. He remains within only a moment before exiting with hurried steps as the small homestead erupted into flames behind him. Picking up the container of ashes he vanishes into the nights storm, leaving the evidence of the womans life there to burn.
