Post by §pirit on Jun 12, 2006 13:23:44 GMT -5
She appeared to be quite lost and confused as she tumbled through Tombstone. This place had always been home to her, and in her weakened state, she had to hope that nothing bad would cross her path. And now that her home had burned down to the ground, she had no where to go, and had to depend on her own skills to get herself food, shelter, and somewhere to sleep. All of those skills she had, but hadn't been used in a while. But they would come to her as she did them. Or that's what she was hoping, at the very least.
"Just wish that I had known what father had put into the stove. Maybe if I had known he had that gas on his clothes, I could have pulled them out in time.."
Tears stung her eyes, and she turned her back to the smuldering remains of her home, and her father. Who had been her own family. But don't get me wrong; she wasn't looking for sympathy. She would get over this in her own way. She may weep bitterly, and her heart may ache for a long time, but the pain would be dealt with, in her own way, in her own time. The pain wouldn't be shown, either. Except if you looked in her eyes. That would flicker up, flare up like flames, from time to time, when she was at her weakest in her heart.
Her home, that was now a couple of miles or so behind her, was still smoking. Her father had shoved her out of the door, as a beam from above finally cracked and caved from the flames and the heat, and.. that had been the end of him, sadly. Her scream was so loud and full of pain that it still echoed in her mind, and made tears sting her eyes, just as soon as she pushed them back and started to feel calm, looking around her to keep her mind off of the mess behind her. She was still able to see the house behind her because of the flat fields, with the swaying grass. Somehow, she had used her magic to form a bubble around the fire, so it didn't spread through the fields, to the forest, and burn down everything else that she held dear around her. True, she was leaving. But she would leave with the fields and forests and woods and animals unharmed. One less worry off her mind.
Now she felt emotionally/physically drained and tired. Emotionally drained, for very obvious reasons, and phsyically drained because of how long she'd held that bubble over the 3-bedroom cabin. Willing herself to continue to pick up her feet, one at a time, one infront of the other, step by step. Staring down at her sandled feet, her dress not touching the dusty road. Wouldn't have cared if it did, let the dust get dusty. It was the only dress and skirt that she had left, but she didn't care about clothes. Her heart ached for her father. The only comfort she had was saying a small prayer for her father's spirit to find its way home to heaven, and she'd seen it rise, and fade into the sky. At least she knew his spirit was in heaven now, and at home. Though it made her feel a little better, it still didn't kill all of the pain that she'd wanted it to kill.
Mile by mile she walked. She was about to give up hope of finding a tavern, or a home whose door to knock on, for a place to stay and to rest her tired mind and body, when one came into view. A little up a hill, and passing between two cliffs, the tavern popped into view. Looking older than others she'd seen in the past, but still a welcoming sight to her. Knowing that the first part of her journey was almost over, she sighed in relief, and started to walk a little faster, refusing to limp or show pain of the physical nature. (Though her body ached)
"A tavern is a tavern. I'd rather have one to rest in, than to sleep on the cold ground with only my magic to keep me warm."
"Just wish that I had known what father had put into the stove. Maybe if I had known he had that gas on his clothes, I could have pulled them out in time.."
Tears stung her eyes, and she turned her back to the smuldering remains of her home, and her father. Who had been her own family. But don't get me wrong; she wasn't looking for sympathy. She would get over this in her own way. She may weep bitterly, and her heart may ache for a long time, but the pain would be dealt with, in her own way, in her own time. The pain wouldn't be shown, either. Except if you looked in her eyes. That would flicker up, flare up like flames, from time to time, when she was at her weakest in her heart.
Her home, that was now a couple of miles or so behind her, was still smoking. Her father had shoved her out of the door, as a beam from above finally cracked and caved from the flames and the heat, and.. that had been the end of him, sadly. Her scream was so loud and full of pain that it still echoed in her mind, and made tears sting her eyes, just as soon as she pushed them back and started to feel calm, looking around her to keep her mind off of the mess behind her. She was still able to see the house behind her because of the flat fields, with the swaying grass. Somehow, she had used her magic to form a bubble around the fire, so it didn't spread through the fields, to the forest, and burn down everything else that she held dear around her. True, she was leaving. But she would leave with the fields and forests and woods and animals unharmed. One less worry off her mind.
Now she felt emotionally/physically drained and tired. Emotionally drained, for very obvious reasons, and phsyically drained because of how long she'd held that bubble over the 3-bedroom cabin. Willing herself to continue to pick up her feet, one at a time, one infront of the other, step by step. Staring down at her sandled feet, her dress not touching the dusty road. Wouldn't have cared if it did, let the dust get dusty. It was the only dress and skirt that she had left, but she didn't care about clothes. Her heart ached for her father. The only comfort she had was saying a small prayer for her father's spirit to find its way home to heaven, and she'd seen it rise, and fade into the sky. At least she knew his spirit was in heaven now, and at home. Though it made her feel a little better, it still didn't kill all of the pain that she'd wanted it to kill.
Mile by mile she walked. She was about to give up hope of finding a tavern, or a home whose door to knock on, for a place to stay and to rest her tired mind and body, when one came into view. A little up a hill, and passing between two cliffs, the tavern popped into view. Looking older than others she'd seen in the past, but still a welcoming sight to her. Knowing that the first part of her journey was almost over, she sighed in relief, and started to walk a little faster, refusing to limp or show pain of the physical nature. (Though her body ached)
"A tavern is a tavern. I'd rather have one to rest in, than to sleep on the cold ground with only my magic to keep me warm."