November DWC Day 3 - Mortality
He had forgotten just how quiet the house could be without his sister Kara around. She had moved out about a year ago now despite his assurances that she was more than welcome to stay as long as she needed. She wanted to give him his space, but mostly she was finally ready for her own space as well. It was comforting knowing that she could make it on her own, and that he didn’t have to worry as much about her. He still would, of course, that was his job. They still visited each other on a regular basis, and would have the occasional sleepover that usually involved barbeque and animal onesies. But he had to admit, he missed having that constant presence in his house.
Perhaps it wasn’t her specifically, but just having someone around to break the insufferable silence. He dropped the book he had been reading with an annoyed sigh onto his lap and glanced up to the clock on his wall. 8pm. It was still early, yet all he wanted to do was to go to bed and hope that tomorrow morning would rid him of this hollow feeling inside his chest and these creeping thoughts of his own mortality.
Things were, by all accounts, going well in his life. Amberlight Smithing was thriving and had no shortage in work, the Tarts continued to perform in front of crowds all over Azeroth, and the ‘other job’ afforded him small luxuries whenever he desired. Yet here he was, unable to escape his own melancholic feelings and intrusive thoughts.
Even though the two still had a lot of love for each other, Dyra and he had split a while ago. It was neither of their faults, they just never managed to be on the same page. She was still more of a free spirit, and he was ready to settle down and start a family. It had been a long time since he had seen her, and he wasn’t expecting her to show up and work the After Dark show. He had felt that familiar pang of grief when he saw her, and again when she whispered those sweet, loving words into his ear that caught him off guard.
They eventually departed with the promise to see each other again soon; he by himself, and she - in true Dyra fashion - with a group of others, so he found out later through Ryland. That stung more than he thought it would.
He picked up his comm and flipped through his contacts, pausing on Dyra briefly and considering before continuing to scroll. Everyone he typically would have messaged tonight he already knew to be busy, and even then he wasn’t sure he wanted to bother anyone while he felt this way. He tossed the device across the room onto a chair so he wouldn’t be tempted, nothing good ever came from sad texting. He scooped up the rainbow shawl sitting on his nightstand and pressed it to the lower half of his face, breathing in the scent. Of course it no longer smelled of his late wife, but it was still a comforting gesture. After clicking off his light, he rolled over and attempted to find some sleep. Tomorrow will be better.
@the-purple-elf @succulent-tart @rylandfalkov @daily-writing-challenge