There was a state of confusion that one had hidden under the surface at all times. Showing anyone else the core of oneself was riddled with exposing one’s darkest fears to be used against them. Frankie had only begun to piece together the extent of the past year’s deception and deplorable plot against him and his family. He had strived so hard to maintain a balance all for it to be set ablaze in his forced absence. The Antiva he had loved and cherished had diminished in such a way he barely recognised it as something he held so dearly, changed as it was.
Along with a great deal more.
He had never entertained the thought of finding comfort in another other than his wife, but that is what had unfolded when devoid of the majority of his facilities. He did not, however, regret the difficulty he’d ensued unknowingly. Alfred was slipping in his old age. Disappointing. Still, he couldn’t avoid the overwhelming truth that much of what he clung to in stabilising a rational response had all but dissolved. Frankie merely couldn’t tell which end of the scale his emotional state resided, utter devastation, or understanding? Neither? Both? The only person who could help answer that was his wife.
Arranging a letter was easy, he had his own ways and connections to easily get the note to her. In the shadows of the old ruined chapel he’d waited out of sight and scent, watching her hurried approach. Slipping behind her in the darkness he’d catch her hand just as she’d trip, turning her with ease to right her up and into his firm embrace.
Eyes narrowed,[color=#c14700] “You are not my master. I will go and see who I damn well please.”[/color] His grip over her eased but they remained around her loosely. [color=#c14700]“So you have always claimed.”[/color] There was hurt laced in his voice but the line across his face did not curl.
The passage of time was cruel. To fall asleep knowing and believing so much to then wake up in a new reality would strain any sane mind. With Eularia gone, those behind had informed him of the various developments in his absence. The urge to flee had been so profound that only some stern words from Alfred and Aethra’s hand, somehow that small comforting gesture gave him strength to weather these new revelations.
[color=#c14700]“Our boys are fine. Adaria wished to send you a knife, but I dismissed that train of thought. It is a poor idea of a gift.”[/color] Out of them all, he was most concerned with their youngest. The rage in her eyes. [color=#c14700]“She’s… certainly inherited more of me, than you, my dear.” [/color]
Along with a great deal more.
He had never entertained the thought of finding comfort in another other than his wife, but that is what had unfolded when devoid of the majority of his facilities. He did not, however, regret the difficulty he’d ensued unknowingly. Alfred was slipping in his old age. Disappointing. Still, he couldn’t avoid the overwhelming truth that much of what he clung to in stabilising a rational response had all but dissolved. Frankie merely couldn’t tell which end of the scale his emotional state resided, utter devastation, or understanding? Neither? Both? The only person who could help answer that was his wife.
Arranging a letter was easy, he had his own ways and connections to easily get the note to her. In the shadows of the old ruined chapel he’d waited out of sight and scent, watching her hurried approach. Slipping behind her in the darkness he’d catch her hand just as she’d trip, turning her with ease to right her up and into his firm embrace.
Eyes narrowed,[color=#c14700] “You are not my master. I will go and see who I damn well please.”[/color] His grip over her eased but they remained around her loosely. [color=#c14700]“So you have always claimed.”[/color] There was hurt laced in his voice but the line across his face did not curl.
The passage of time was cruel. To fall asleep knowing and believing so much to then wake up in a new reality would strain any sane mind. With Eularia gone, those behind had informed him of the various developments in his absence. The urge to flee had been so profound that only some stern words from Alfred and Aethra’s hand, somehow that small comforting gesture gave him strength to weather these new revelations.
[color=#c14700]“Our boys are fine. Adaria wished to send you a knife, but I dismissed that train of thought. It is a poor idea of a gift.”[/color] Out of them all, he was most concerned with their youngest. The rage in her eyes. [color=#c14700]“She’s… certainly inherited more of me, than you, my dear.” [/color]
06-24-2023, 07:30 PM
