Lone
24 December, Fendarfall, 304 AC
20:52
It was a snowy afternoon that day, the lights of the town were burning vividly like a sun during summertime. The residents were slowly wrapping up their busy day and were preparing for the day to come. It was almost Christmas, after all, who could forget about that?
A few people were still having a chat with each other, the snowflakes gathering on their coats and scarves, while colouring the landscape with a gentle white texture.. Small children were happily playing in the snow, while their parents simply watched them.
Suddenly, the distinctive sound of boots stepping on the snow could be heard. The steps weren't hasty, but they were heavy, leaving deep footprints behind the man who was currently walking towards one of the residences. Some citizens flicked their gaze to him, and even fewer of these people recognized the man after all those years.
He stepped up to the oak door, hesitating briefly before giving a hard knock, the sound echoing through the silence. There was no answer, but the man, seemingly a Nelfin, wasn't satisfied with that. He knocked again, and eventually it paid off. The door gave a small creak before it was finally opened by an elder man, who at first looked a tad grumpy that his rest was disturbed, but his frown twisted into a small grin as he recognized the man stood in front of him.
"Och, lad, hasn't it been a while?" the elder spoke in a soft tone, gently nudging his shoulder with his cane "Ye've grown. A lot."
The Nelfin chuckled gently, nodding "Guess I have, friend."
"What brings ye here, mh?"
"The usual business. Can I erh. Have the key?" he asked, his tone silent and humble towards the man, who simply nodded "Just a moment, I'll get it for ya."
The retired man turned around, shuffling back into the dark hallway. The noise of metal clanking against metal was heard, before he eventually returned, extending his arm. A silver key was between his thumb and index finger.
The Nelfin extended his hand, and the man pressed it against his palm.
"Bram.. A word of advice.. Don't beat yerself up over the past. It happened. Yer not gonna achieve anything with prayers and lighting candles."
The black-haired Altalar simply nodded "It's what I do, Heinn. I'll consider your advices, though. I'll see you soon." with that, he swiveled around, starting to slaunter down the path once more. The door shut with a small 'thud' right after.
21:15
He was starting to get tired from walking up a hill, but eventually he reached the housing he had to be at. Despite its state, he recognized it. It was his house, after all.
He slid the key into the lock, twisting it a few times before it complied, slowly opening as he pushed against it. As he entered, he went to kick off his boots, throw off his jacket and close the door before the cold winds would lower the temperature inside.
Slowly, he turned back around, letting his gaze fall on the room he once lived in. A soft sigh escaped him, before stepping forwards again, his feet shuffling around on the carpet below him. Eventually, he nodded, going to sit down on his knees, sliding the bag from his shoulders as he sat it down besides of him, going to open it. Carefull as to not break the content, he'd retrieve the items inside of it: Two candles, a box of matches, a black and blue scarf, and lastly, a bit of incense. He set the candles down besides him, the scarf around his neck, before going to light the candles and the incense. The smoke slowly filled the room, as he inhaled through his nostrils, the incense clutched between the first three fingers of his right hand.
Slowly, his thoughts dwelled off to what had happened the past years..
Firstly, he had lost his brother. While his cause of death was still unsure, he was heartbroken about his death. Stijn and him were close, like brothers should be. Avenging wasn't an option either, for he didn't know how.
Not too much later, his wife divorced him. Another heart shattering moment. His breathing shivered slightly, as for a few tears rolling down his cheeks as he thought about this. She wasn't just his wife, she was his friend. Now she was neither of the two. She had left him for a man he now despises. After all he did for her, she left.
Months after, he had received a letter about the burial of his uncle, who was his last family member at that point. His uncle took care of him after his father's death, and he did a damn good job at it, too. The tears kept rolling down his cheeks as a result.
Last, but not least, the death of a dear friend of his, her name to be kept a secret to other people, for he didn't want to bother people with the story. It was too long, too complicated. He didn't want to share.
His eyes eventually opened again, them being bloodshot from the amount of tears. Slowly, he muttered "I have lost my brother. I have lost my wife. My friends. My uncle."
"But I will not lose my honor. I will not lose my love."
And, shortly after.
"I will not lose myself"
He stood up, blowing out the candles and incense, before turning around, gathering his stuff, and heading back outside again.
