Damn the Northman. Damn him for what he caused.
That is what the Nelfin thought to herself while she stepped off the carriage, now in the territory of Rothburg. Her steps, usually styled with grace and weightless elegance, were now riddled with wobbles -- tripping here and there right off the bat. With an empty bottle in hand, the former Silveirall trudged not for the palace, but for the off-path that led into the village. The carriage driver seemed to pay no mind to Seris's given state. She was a knife ear, after all.
Seris could not help but recollect all of what happened throughout the months. The arrest, the wait, the week in the shabby, window-less cell, the interrogation, and everything after. Was it all really so long ago? Surely not. Yet, to her mind, in its stupor, it felt both ages ago yet also as if each event only happened but mere weeks ago. No matter how she tried to tackle the memories, even her superior mind was incapable of fighting off itself -- or was it really her mind that was her enemy? The famed Erudite was not so sure any longer.
Her drunken steps carried her beyond the village of Rothburg. She was past curfew -- the High Lord would probably notice one of his busiest servants not turned in for the night. She would surely be scolded come the morning, perhaps even a cut in pay as her punishment. O', damn it all.
There were plenty of late night villagers still roaming the streets, even at the hour present. Most paid no mind to the idiotic-looking Nelfin that stumbled over her feet, while some wolf-whistled, or others threw every bit of curse at her as she meandered along. Seris did not care.
The fields were what she wandered to, no longer letting her feet be tickled by the blades of grass beneath her. Now, the long stalks of wheat brushed against her legs, her dress skirt, and even her bare arms. The Altalar smiled to herself, even began to laugh. If she were in a clear state of mind, maybe she would have thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of wandering through the fields like she did, but there was no clarity within her mind. What she saw ahead of her was not entirely of the present, but mostly of the past.
His eyes were still on her; how could she ever forget the feeling? His gaze was burned into her mind, the way he had looked at her that final day. His eyes, usually so full of life, energy, and youth seemed heavier, then. How had she not noticed? How had she not noticed the difference even in the way he held himself up?
Seris stumbled, falling forwards. Her arms sloppily lifted, barely shielding her face from the stalks of wheat that poked against her skin while she tripped, managing to land somewhat on her side. The Nelfin could barely even utter a clear curse while she tried to get up. Her dress was covered in dirt, even some mud giving the late episode of rain that fell during her carriage ride.
"Oh, isn't this lovely," the former Silvert said in a mildly hysteric tone. "Isn't it just?!" With a few wobbles, she was slowly able to stand upright. The Nelfin had even managed to hold onto her bottle throughout the whole stumble. Her landing spot had caused plenty of wheat to be crushed, even under her light-weight body. Not that Seris cared.
Dear Moon, and dear it was, greeted her soon enough, peeking out from some wandering clouds in the night sky. The Altalar looked up, and for a moment, she was blinded -- lifting a hand to cover over her eyes to some degree. She found herself laughing once again.
"Is this how it felt for you, to be so unable to look at me for longer than a moment?" she asked no one in particular, as there was certainly no one present around her. "Is this what you intended? To dazzle me and distract me? --To leave me vulnerable?!" The Nelfin erupted into a good fit of laughter, her usual chorus running sloppily from her mouth due to the amount of whiskey she had finished off that evening. "You haven't won. No, you shall never win."
Her ramblings were cut short by another series of stumbles, her feet cycling while she faltered twice more in rapid secession. This wild, juggle of a struggle made her arms, similarly, windmill at her sides. Once she caught herself, Seris broke; gradually, then without restraint. The Nelfin could no longer mask her words with laughter, so instead, she screamed and cried to the open sky.
"I want it back! I want it back! I want it back-- and you have stolen it from me! How dare you-- How dare you! I shall never forgive you, never in my years! I will never forgive you until you come back and return it to me!" Seris wailed, for once in her life scrambling over her words; stuttering, pausing to breathe in, voice breaking.
Her cries of pain and anguish echoed over the fields, fading long before they reached the borders of Rothburg. Not even the wind could carry such a mighty voice, the powerful voice of one, single Nelfin woman who was so angered by the mortals she walked around. Her hand, dainty and feminine like the rest of her features, threw the emptied bottle of whiskey in an upward arch to the moon. She cried aloud, filled with angst.
"Damn you. Damn you to a land of no return! Damn the Northerners! Damn you!" she wailed, repeating the last statement in a drunken frenzy while she stomped her feet. She pressed her muddied shoe into the wet soil over and over, throwing her tantrum before she toppled over once again. Seris's face was stained with tears, some of which slid onto her nose, over her cupid's bow, and into her mouth. Her lips were wrought in anguish as she clutched over her heart, and curled her body into a ball.
Perhaps she was not as powerful as she wanted to be. Perhaps she never would be. She was never meant to be knocked off her golden throne by the hand of one mere man, yet never had she felt so at a loss. Her heart was gone, and without it -- how would she function? The pain in her chest swelled, bringing her further into tears as she wallowed in the wheat fields, alone and undisturbed.
The moon mocked her from above, casting its light onto her frame with a gentle touch. It did not peel its attention away from her as Seris sobbed to herself, staining her sharp features with her own warm, overflowing tears. The Nelfin tucked her head towards the earth, away from the glaring moon and stars above her -- cowering from its beckoning beauty.
"Bring it back to me, or so help me. Be damned where you stand, cruel man, and never share the same space as I. What you have stolen can never be replaced, and such an injustice I wish upon you tenfold. Damn you, and damn your horde of Northerne dogs. Begone, but only return it to me. Else, never shall I see such sad eyes again."
That is what the Nelfin thought to herself while she stepped off the carriage, now in the territory of Rothburg. Her steps, usually styled with grace and weightless elegance, were now riddled with wobbles -- tripping here and there right off the bat. With an empty bottle in hand, the former Silveirall trudged not for the palace, but for the off-path that led into the village. The carriage driver seemed to pay no mind to Seris's given state. She was a knife ear, after all.
Seris could not help but recollect all of what happened throughout the months. The arrest, the wait, the week in the shabby, window-less cell, the interrogation, and everything after. Was it all really so long ago? Surely not. Yet, to her mind, in its stupor, it felt both ages ago yet also as if each event only happened but mere weeks ago. No matter how she tried to tackle the memories, even her superior mind was incapable of fighting off itself -- or was it really her mind that was her enemy? The famed Erudite was not so sure any longer.
Her drunken steps carried her beyond the village of Rothburg. She was past curfew -- the High Lord would probably notice one of his busiest servants not turned in for the night. She would surely be scolded come the morning, perhaps even a cut in pay as her punishment. O', damn it all.
There were plenty of late night villagers still roaming the streets, even at the hour present. Most paid no mind to the idiotic-looking Nelfin that stumbled over her feet, while some wolf-whistled, or others threw every bit of curse at her as she meandered along. Seris did not care.
The fields were what she wandered to, no longer letting her feet be tickled by the blades of grass beneath her. Now, the long stalks of wheat brushed against her legs, her dress skirt, and even her bare arms. The Altalar smiled to herself, even began to laugh. If she were in a clear state of mind, maybe she would have thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of wandering through the fields like she did, but there was no clarity within her mind. What she saw ahead of her was not entirely of the present, but mostly of the past.
His eyes were still on her; how could she ever forget the feeling? His gaze was burned into her mind, the way he had looked at her that final day. His eyes, usually so full of life, energy, and youth seemed heavier, then. How had she not noticed? How had she not noticed the difference even in the way he held himself up?
Seris stumbled, falling forwards. Her arms sloppily lifted, barely shielding her face from the stalks of wheat that poked against her skin while she tripped, managing to land somewhat on her side. The Nelfin could barely even utter a clear curse while she tried to get up. Her dress was covered in dirt, even some mud giving the late episode of rain that fell during her carriage ride.
"Oh, isn't this lovely," the former Silvert said in a mildly hysteric tone. "Isn't it just?!" With a few wobbles, she was slowly able to stand upright. The Nelfin had even managed to hold onto her bottle throughout the whole stumble. Her landing spot had caused plenty of wheat to be crushed, even under her light-weight body. Not that Seris cared.
Dear Moon, and dear it was, greeted her soon enough, peeking out from some wandering clouds in the night sky. The Altalar looked up, and for a moment, she was blinded -- lifting a hand to cover over her eyes to some degree. She found herself laughing once again.
"Is this how it felt for you, to be so unable to look at me for longer than a moment?" she asked no one in particular, as there was certainly no one present around her. "Is this what you intended? To dazzle me and distract me? --To leave me vulnerable?!" The Nelfin erupted into a good fit of laughter, her usual chorus running sloppily from her mouth due to the amount of whiskey she had finished off that evening. "You haven't won. No, you shall never win."
Her ramblings were cut short by another series of stumbles, her feet cycling while she faltered twice more in rapid secession. This wild, juggle of a struggle made her arms, similarly, windmill at her sides. Once she caught herself, Seris broke; gradually, then without restraint. The Nelfin could no longer mask her words with laughter, so instead, she screamed and cried to the open sky.
"I want it back! I want it back! I want it back-- and you have stolen it from me! How dare you-- How dare you! I shall never forgive you, never in my years! I will never forgive you until you come back and return it to me!" Seris wailed, for once in her life scrambling over her words; stuttering, pausing to breathe in, voice breaking.
Her cries of pain and anguish echoed over the fields, fading long before they reached the borders of Rothburg. Not even the wind could carry such a mighty voice, the powerful voice of one, single Nelfin woman who was so angered by the mortals she walked around. Her hand, dainty and feminine like the rest of her features, threw the emptied bottle of whiskey in an upward arch to the moon. She cried aloud, filled with angst.
"Damn you. Damn you to a land of no return! Damn the Northerners! Damn you!" she wailed, repeating the last statement in a drunken frenzy while she stomped her feet. She pressed her muddied shoe into the wet soil over and over, throwing her tantrum before she toppled over once again. Seris's face was stained with tears, some of which slid onto her nose, over her cupid's bow, and into her mouth. Her lips were wrought in anguish as she clutched over her heart, and curled her body into a ball.
Perhaps she was not as powerful as she wanted to be. Perhaps she never would be. She was never meant to be knocked off her golden throne by the hand of one mere man, yet never had she felt so at a loss. Her heart was gone, and without it -- how would she function? The pain in her chest swelled, bringing her further into tears as she wallowed in the wheat fields, alone and undisturbed.
The moon mocked her from above, casting its light onto her frame with a gentle touch. It did not peel its attention away from her as Seris sobbed to herself, staining her sharp features with her own warm, overflowing tears. The Nelfin tucked her head towards the earth, away from the glaring moon and stars above her -- cowering from its beckoning beauty.
"Bring it back to me, or so help me. Be damned where you stand, cruel man, and never share the same space as I. What you have stolen can never be replaced, and such an injustice I wish upon you tenfold. Damn you, and damn your horde of Northerne dogs. Begone, but only return it to me. Else, never shall I see such sad eyes again."
