Clack. Clack. Clack. Valder paced through the house endlessly. If Arvanna's parents, who lived next door, had ever bothered to look in they would see his figure slink past a window, only to reappear in the other direction three minutes later.
His hands, large and rough in their nature, were wrung behind his back, for fear of the touch of anything in the house would bring the memories rushing back to him. Silence. Not the serene type either. Valder wasn't sure he could ever get used to it. But this was her wish, so he would recognize it. He found himself lounging on her plush pillows, running a hand over the table that was so low to the ground.
"Another cup?"
Valder turned, greeted by her smiling face. The empty cup still warm between his palms. Not to far away from her,all of Arvanna's needles, crochet hooks, and knitting supplies rested, waiting to go to work again. His eyes drifted back, only to find an empty space where a cheery visage had just been. With a shuddering sigh, Valder closed his eyes and stood shakily to his feet, pacing back and forth, exploring the same rooms he had seen a hundred times before.
Already, the plants seemed more lively. When Valder had arrived, they were covering the entirety of the house, wilting. What had once been an energizing sight, lively and beautiful, turned dreary. The light that spilled in through every window passing through the foliage only sending that bleak ambiance through the home. Arvanna's parent's arrival had changed that, the farmers helping the clueless Vanguard to tend to them. They left as they came, red eyed and dry of throat. Still, not a single plant would dwindle or succumb for lack of protection and care. Though he had told himself the same of Arvanna, and the rest of the First. And what good came of that.
It wasn't long before he found himself in the kitchen, surrounded by yet more plants. As well as his gift to Arvanna on her birthday, resting on the counter. Had it even been a month since that day?
If the green and white wasn't enough, the stained glass window had begun to illuminate the kitchen in a rainbow of colors. Valder stared at it a good long while, gripping at the counter. Had she put it in? The house, so white before, had decorations strewn and adorned in every nook and cranny. She was always quite colorful herself and it reflected in her style. Before he knew it, Valder was closing and opening a droor idly, fingers locked around the knob.
"The one on the right? By the Spitleaf?"
Valder grumbled, pulling out a knife deftly after some deliberation. He didn't even know what a damned Spitleaf was, just got lucky. A screech and awkward shuffle and he was back in the chair, light fingers brushing darker ones as he handed the utensil over. There she was, smiling as always, dipping the knife into a jar of mango jam. Preserves? He couldn't quite make it out. Some words, a joke, and he was throwing back his head in laughter, the chair tilting under him from shear weight. When his head fell forward again, he was staring at the wall across from him. White wall, a knife in his hand, the chair across from him pushed in. Lips parted in jovial laughter closed, face sinking with his heart.
Shadows passed over the walls as the bear of a man made his way to the bedroom. Her wardrobe still had every article of clothing she ever wore. When he opened it even her scent lingered. What she wore when they spent time together, what she wore at her birthday, even her wedding dress. All save her uniform.
"Gods how much do you need..." he murmured, the reply a hand not his own gesturing to the dozens of fashionable outfits and a friendly attempt to wrap an arm about his broad shoulder in an awkward hug.
Valder answered with the same, nearly slipping as his arm shot through open air when it slid through the imaginary figure, only to catch himself hard on the wall.
A slam and the wardrobe was shut once more. Valder wouldn't destroy the clothing or get rid of it. But he would have to move the wardrobe elsewhere. The bed however, would need to be replaced. There were far to many memories in this place, some could linger, some could go.
Yet they would always be with him as would she. Try as hard as he might, Valder could and would not rid himself of every memory of his closest, dearest friend. She'd always be around. Away from their careers, the pair of them would fill this house with laughter whenever he had bothered coming around. Valder would see her in everything, he knew, and he'd welcome it all. Because one day, they'd meet again to share more laughter and tales together. He would spend more time with Dawn. He would go to Lions Arch to meet up with Ira as he promised. He'd be there for his Vanguard as best he could. They had left for Orr without him. But he'd be there. As he strapped his boiled leather on, his roughspun tunic, and gathered his armor, he promised himself once more. "Live well."
