The trees stretch above him, leaves a bright, riotous array of colors that shimmer with clinging dew, darkened by the damp heaviness of the morning. Even in the encompassing fog and dreariness of the gray morning, there is a beauty that speaks to him. Once, he might never have noticed. Once, he had been focused on his pain far more than anything the earth had to offer him. Once, before Ilka had healed him, he had been a very different man.
He is no longer the man of his youth. No longer so brightly optimistic, with a ready grin upon his lips and endless humor in his heart. He could never be that man again. But neither is he the man filled with boundless sorrow, pain his constant companion and regret eating at his soul. He had never imagined those years ago that there could be this happy medium. That he would age and mature. That he would become a man worthy of Ilka’s love. But he had.
(Sometimes, he still doubts. Sometimes, the demons of his past still come to haunt him. Sometimes, when his heart is breaking for the pain of his children, for gifts both curse and blessing. But they are so much easier to banish now.)
He had left Ilka this morning, curled in the snug little hollow they had claimed as their own. Left to stretch his legs, to see the world anew as he is sometimes wont to do. He always returns of course. Sometimes too quickly, perhaps. Sometimes she comes with him. This morning she had been tired though. A faint smile touches his lips at the understanding that had bloomed. He cannot help the small kernel of hope and joy that had unfurled in his heart (though they couldn’t be certain. But he has a feeling. It has been years since the birth of their last child).
After a short time, his wandering feet have brought him to the banks of the river. He halts there, gaze focusing upon the gurgling waters that stretch before him. For a time, he simply stands there, contemplating the murky flow of the river. Almost absently, he reaches out to pluck at the shadows cast by tree and rock, thoughtlessly creating shapes as he loses himself to his thoughts. He would return soon, but for now, he simply enjoys the moment.
He is no longer the man of his youth. No longer so brightly optimistic, with a ready grin upon his lips and endless humor in his heart. He could never be that man again. But neither is he the man filled with boundless sorrow, pain his constant companion and regret eating at his soul. He had never imagined those years ago that there could be this happy medium. That he would age and mature. That he would become a man worthy of Ilka’s love. But he had.
(Sometimes, he still doubts. Sometimes, the demons of his past still come to haunt him. Sometimes, when his heart is breaking for the pain of his children, for gifts both curse and blessing. But they are so much easier to banish now.)
He had left Ilka this morning, curled in the snug little hollow they had claimed as their own. Left to stretch his legs, to see the world anew as he is sometimes wont to do. He always returns of course. Sometimes too quickly, perhaps. Sometimes she comes with him. This morning she had been tired though. A faint smile touches his lips at the understanding that had bloomed. He cannot help the small kernel of hope and joy that had unfurled in his heart (though they couldn’t be certain. But he has a feeling. It has been years since the birth of their last child).
After a short time, his wandering feet have brought him to the banks of the river. He halts there, gaze focusing upon the gurgling waters that stretch before him. For a time, he simply stands there, contemplating the murky flow of the river. Almost absently, he reaches out to pluck at the shadows cast by tree and rock, thoughtlessly creating shapes as he loses himself to his thoughts. He would return soon, but for now, he simply enjoys the moment.
All things are possible,
shahrizai
even the best of things.
@[Scorch]