With sky more pink than blue, the morning sun had begun to rise well beyond the towering walls that encircled the great city, keeping it still in shadow. Saxon had woken later than usual. Since his return, it had become a battle between his sister and he to see who slept the worst and rose earlier than the other. Today he dragged himself out of bed so late that Tylen had likely finished her coffee and had begun her daily routine. Yet it was still too early for the rest of the household to rise, leaving the siblings with only the company of the morning frost and chirping birds when they took to their respective balconies.
Wrapped in a plush black robe he had borrowed from a cousin, Saxon took a seat on a cushioned wooden chair and set down his mug of coffee on the side table before drawing the folded newspaper from the hold of his armpit. As with each day since his arrival in Salma, he enjoyed his peace out upon the balcony overlooking the district while he nursed his coffee and caught up on the latest news and gossip.
Today had started with little difference when he pried open The Lookout and draped the paper to rest partly across his lap. Reaching for his coffee, he brought the mug up for a slow, slurping sip while his frigid hues darted and scanned across the front page for anything that might be of interest. Catching a glimpse of the headline regarding the father and son ambushed by centaur, that peace he had sought had already begun to unravel. Grave memories were instantly brought to the forefront of his mind, leaving a hefty weight sinking in his gut, but he pressed on and forced himself to read beyond the title.
Not but halfway through the first sentence, porcelain crashed and shattered around his feet. “No - no. Please gods, no.” Saxon plead and surged to his feet, knocking the chair behind him to topple over and he read and re-read the first line repeatedly as if maybe the names might vanish and be replaced with those less familiar to him.
“FUUUUCK!” The man bellowed out his frustration and impending anguish so loud, it cracked like thunder across the streets below, startling finches from a nearby tree to take to the sky. Hands shook while still clinging to the parted paper until he could no longer take the names now burned into his head and found himself out of his mind, ripping and shredding the parchment into dozens of pieces large and small.
How easily he could have fallen apart and crumbled to the balcony like the mug. The thought alone of his friend having been murdered could have sent him spiralling. Worse yet was the boy who had once come to be like a son of his own. It would have been so easy to let loose streams of tears welling up and reddening eyes so full of agony, and to wail and mourn that which was lost - but there had been a survivor.
Knowing well enough there would be time to grieve, Saxon wiped at his eyes and around his splotched features, composing himself as best he could manage. Heavy breaths gave way to one shaky and steadying, then he turned to head back into the warmth of his chambers. There was no delay as he urgently threw on whatever dirty clothes had been handy and thrust the rest haphazardly into a worn rucksack. Only a handful of minutes had passed since first reading the headline and already the man was storming from his room with a bag slung over his shoulder and a note left upon his unmade bed.
“Emergency. I’ll return in a few days. - S.”
@vulnaret @tylenaguillard for mentions )
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