A tear wells up in the corner of his eye, rolling down his face and leaving a trail gleaming in the moonlight he was sat beneath. He quickly wipes it away, looking around with an expression of mild alarm- but all was clear. Thank spirit, he wouldn't be able to handle mockery- or even worse, sympathy. The 18 year-old shakes his head, his crimson locks falling around his face like a fiery halo. His mind was the worst place he could be, because when he was alone and thinking, then the grief was unavoidable. Father... brother... uncle... gone. Those four words caused him more pain than he would like to admit, more sorrow than he could ever bring himself to show. Why did they have to go, lives snuffed out like candles? He was more alone than ever, surrounded by friends. They couldn't reach him where he was, couldn't sympathize, couldn't say they've felt the same loss. How could they? He couldn't ask that of them, so he just sat, alone and in pain, waiting for it to pass over like a storm.
Shaking himself from his reverie like a dog shakes off water, he stands, and begins walking. He doesn't know where he's going, he doesn't care, he just needs to get away. The pace he is moving at accelerates, until he is running, running through the streets as though chased by some unseen danger. His thoughts fade, and a grim smile flashes across his face- he's achieved his goal, he's running away from the pain. And until he stops, he's free. Free from the burden the pain brings. Free from the responsibility dumped on his shoulders as the new patriarch. Free from the ghosts of his dead that will forever haunt his mind. Harlon... Emeric... Benedict... dead. He runs faster, fleeing from the thoughts that have him at their mercy. Beads of sweat are rolling down his face, but his breathing and cadence are regular, he'll keep running until he can't stand. Coward... His thoughts taunt, weakling... they say, Unworthy... they scream. His speed fades, he stumbles, falling forwards. On the floor, lain there, and alone. After what seems like several hours later- though in truth it's been 5 minutes and 27 seconds- he moves, rolling over and pushing himself into a sitting position. It's time to face his demons. It'll be for the better, or so he hopes. He closes his eyes and prepares himself for emotional torture- or at least, that's what he's anticipating.
He sees them. Three faces he knows well, as well as his own. Harlon. Emeric. Benedict. And he knows they're dead. He knows this is just a memory. And he wishes they weren't. That's what he wishes, more than anything. Then the image changes. Harlon, a sheet covering his chest, covering the stab wound to the heart that ended his life. Emeric, his body wet, his robes hanging off his lifeless body, his eyes open and staring at Loic without seeing them. They never again would. Benedict, being stitched up as the life drained from him while Loic lay useless in the bed less than 3 metres away. It hurt like hell to see that again. It hurt to remember that they had gone, that never again would his father or his brother or even his traitor uncle ever talk to him again would they even look at him. Even speak to him. And thus, the second tear fell.
Yet even in darkness, there is light. And in the depths of his silent pain, someone had reached out to him. Someone had comforted him in ways they didn't realise. They'd eased his pain with their laughter. Smiled when he frowned. Laughed when he'd felt like crying- even if he hadn't actually. Juliette Vauclain. His best friend. His most trusted ally. His very-nearly girlfriend. She understood him. She helped him. He missed her presence when he was alone, even if only for a few minutes. And there was Eric too. That little slizzar, he was oddly endearing. He guessed that it wasn't entirely appropriate for him to be friends with him, but he wasn't going to bother to change it.
He sighed, and with that exhalation opened his eyes, the pale blue in sharp contrast to the crimson hairs falling about his forehead. A smile danced on his lips at the thought of Julie, but it was their as briefly as the thought, fading into a solemn face. He ran one hand through his hair, and with the other pushed himself off the ground where he sat. His mind wandered as he did so, thinking of Lizzy and that damn idiot Tanoro, but he moved his thoughts past them too quickly for his face to form into the scowl it always wore when in the presence of Tanoro. As he stood, he spared one last thought to the three dead, before running off through the streets again, back to find Gideon and discuss trade and family matters again.
Shaking himself from his reverie like a dog shakes off water, he stands, and begins walking. He doesn't know where he's going, he doesn't care, he just needs to get away. The pace he is moving at accelerates, until he is running, running through the streets as though chased by some unseen danger. His thoughts fade, and a grim smile flashes across his face- he's achieved his goal, he's running away from the pain. And until he stops, he's free. Free from the burden the pain brings. Free from the responsibility dumped on his shoulders as the new patriarch. Free from the ghosts of his dead that will forever haunt his mind. Harlon... Emeric... Benedict... dead. He runs faster, fleeing from the thoughts that have him at their mercy. Beads of sweat are rolling down his face, but his breathing and cadence are regular, he'll keep running until he can't stand. Coward... His thoughts taunt, weakling... they say, Unworthy... they scream. His speed fades, he stumbles, falling forwards. On the floor, lain there, and alone. After what seems like several hours later- though in truth it's been 5 minutes and 27 seconds- he moves, rolling over and pushing himself into a sitting position. It's time to face his demons. It'll be for the better, or so he hopes. He closes his eyes and prepares himself for emotional torture- or at least, that's what he's anticipating.
He sees them. Three faces he knows well, as well as his own. Harlon. Emeric. Benedict. And he knows they're dead. He knows this is just a memory. And he wishes they weren't. That's what he wishes, more than anything. Then the image changes. Harlon, a sheet covering his chest, covering the stab wound to the heart that ended his life. Emeric, his body wet, his robes hanging off his lifeless body, his eyes open and staring at Loic without seeing them. They never again would. Benedict, being stitched up as the life drained from him while Loic lay useless in the bed less than 3 metres away. It hurt like hell to see that again. It hurt to remember that they had gone, that never again would his father or his brother or even his traitor uncle ever talk to him again would they even look at him. Even speak to him. And thus, the second tear fell.
Yet even in darkness, there is light. And in the depths of his silent pain, someone had reached out to him. Someone had comforted him in ways they didn't realise. They'd eased his pain with their laughter. Smiled when he frowned. Laughed when he'd felt like crying- even if he hadn't actually. Juliette Vauclain. His best friend. His most trusted ally. His very-nearly girlfriend. She understood him. She helped him. He missed her presence when he was alone, even if only for a few minutes. And there was Eric too. That little slizzar, he was oddly endearing. He guessed that it wasn't entirely appropriate for him to be friends with him, but he wasn't going to bother to change it.
He sighed, and with that exhalation opened his eyes, the pale blue in sharp contrast to the crimson hairs falling about his forehead. A smile danced on his lips at the thought of Julie, but it was their as briefly as the thought, fading into a solemn face. He ran one hand through his hair, and with the other pushed himself off the ground where he sat. His mind wandered as he did so, thinking of Lizzy and that damn idiot Tanoro, but he moved his thoughts past them too quickly for his face to form into the scowl it always wore when in the presence of Tanoro. As he stood, he spared one last thought to the three dead, before running off through the streets again, back to find Gideon and discuss trade and family matters again.
There you go! It's a story about my noble character Loic, and a little insight into what he's dealing with right now. Uhm, right... Tags.
So I included @AtticCat @Ghirko and @UrnackOfIrtath and technically @Razrei
And @SpamanoTomato might be interested.
@anyoneelseivemissed
