June 1, 2009

In Which Holladrin Whispers Westward

February 14, 1158

Holladrin was ordinarily a rather verbal young woman with a certain grasp for wording, conversation, and correspondence--and yet, for some reason, she found herself putting down her quill, staring in resignation at the page, blank save for the words "Dear Octavius" in her own delicate, slanted hand.

Perhaps it was that she was simply tired--it was rather late, after all. Or maybe it was because the last letter she had recieved from him had been so incredibly beautiful it would undoubtedly put any drabble she could come up with to shame. In fact, not a single one of his letters had been anything short of poetry; if Holladrin had a way with words, then what Octavius possessed was nothing short of lingual omnipotence.

Of course, she was probably one of the blessed few who knew that--he'd always been rather shy.

Oh, to hell with it! She would finish the letter in the morning; it wasn't as if she could have it delivered tonight anyway. Besides, this way, she would have the night to think about what to write.

Her mother had always slept with a newly-recieved letter under her pillow, and in the morning, she had always had a reply. She had claimed that the words came to her in her dreams; Holladrin decided she would try that tonight.

After a quick coughing fit, she made her way to her bedchamber's west-facing windows and gazed at the horizon, as she had done every night since the arrival of her brother Roderick's first word from Naroni. So many of the people she had grown up with, the people she cared about, now lived there, in that land that was all but a mystery to her. Octavius, her cousins, Roderick, the nephew she'd barely known and the nieces she'd yet to meet...

Not for the first time, she found herself wishing that she had been allowed to go with her father and her brother Oswald. She wanted to see Roderick and Ietrin again, to finally see Leara and Camaline. She wanted to visit with Celina and her babies, Severin and his babies, Octavius and his babies...

Another bout of coughing overcame her. They had been frequent this evening, she mused as it ceased--perhaps she would have her maid sleep on the couch in her room, just in case.

"Goodnight, all of you," she whispered westward, though she knew there was no possible way anyone in Naroni could hear her. "I miss you."

Her mind was made up, she decided, feeling another coughing spell coming on; someday, she would see Naroni. Before she died, she would go to Naroni.

NEXT CHAPTER:

6 comments:

Van said...

Again, sorry about the short post. Oh well, at least I managed to get two up in one day.

Phoenix said...

Awww...Holladrin seems so lonely!! :( I can't wait to see her in Naroni...if she lives that long I guess!

eclectictsunami said...

Aw, Holladrin...

Van said...

She is pretty lonely. All she has for company right now is Athalia, really, who's preoccupied with her kids. Well, her and the servants, I suppose--Holladrin seems like the type to be friends with people who are supposed to just be her servants. But yeah, without her brothers and father, and a lot of the cousins she grew up with, I'd imagine the poor girl has been doing a lot of letter writing.

Penelope said...

I love the idea that to someone out there actually WANTS to go to Naroni (that land of misfits, outcasts, criminals and banished princes).

I like Holladrin. I hope she makes it to Naroni tooooooo!

Van said...

And to think, she wants to go there for to be with the misfits, outcasts, criminals, and banished princes she loves :)