"Rigor Mortis" and "Abrosia" from Hyades
I feel a bit guilty for constantly updating little drabbles as opposed to the actual story. Inspired by an Elizabeth Bishop poem. Sorry in advance for any awkward sentences. I tend to write those a lot, haha:
Velvet curtains were drawn so as to prevent no more than a sliver of yellow light into the cold parlor, which settled upon the pallid figure's viscera like spooled gold across a white statue.
The prince slumbered in silent and lonesome eternity.
Lord Dragmire, as he stood upon the dais before the oaken casket, recalled the crippling chill of the armistice eve in Aldous Hyrule's wan complexion. Juste Hyrule, as the Gerudo recalled, first heir to the throne of Hyrule, assumed the very corpse of Aldous years ago on the final night of the war. That night, even blackness of the snow-laden field failed to hide the prince's stiffening cadaver beneath a reddening shroud; there had been no service, no suffocating crowd of infantrymen beside the carcass of the hapless, mangled prince. A footsoldier simply stole away with the heavy conscience of having slain him, and throughout the remainder of the night, there was a curious silence in the wilderness that surrounded the confounded, wretched beings of Hyrule. Something was noticeably lacking in the afterglow of that single event. A great release transpired that none bore witness to, yet was profound enough to have bequeathed a terrible sensation of solitude lingering in the stillness of the atmosphere for many more wintry nights.
It was the eve of the armistice that unsettled Lord Dragmire, and it was the eve of the armistice that taught him that a prince's life in times of war held just as much value as his subjects'. Status, wherever the laws of the natural world were concerned, meant nothing.
It was always war that pitted friends against one another, made them realize their disparities, and turned them into murderers whose only stimulus was the prejudice of their nation. It had always been that way, he knew, and the effects were never quick to resolve from fear of one another to understanding.
In the parlor, far to his right, Lord Dragmire was being eyed warily by the princess. He had encroached too assertively upon the affairs of the Royal Family, and she was very displeased. What his motives were, she did not know, yet she was insistent upon setting her thoughts against his.
Sensing the princess' hostility, Lord Dragmire turned to match her glower as he stepped, with much egoism, off the dais.
After all, it was not his father who wept as to why the remaining heir could not have been a boy.
__________________________________________________________________
She had, all at once, become the most admirable and sustainingly beautiful young lady in Hyrule, to him. And he, she thought, was never particularly attractive, with his sharp, exotic features so starkly disparate from any Hylian's definition of beautiful. He was too much, too overwhelming, too wild.
No matter how reserved he kept himself, he could never hide the fact that he was from a rugged race of people--a race that her own people would call savage, and yet, he understood her, gave her what she needed from a companion.
And she loved him for that.
Velvet curtains were drawn so as to prevent no more than a sliver of yellow light into the cold parlor, which settled upon the pallid figure's viscera like spooled gold across a white statue.
The prince slumbered in silent and lonesome eternity.
Lord Dragmire, as he stood upon the dais before the oaken casket, recalled the crippling chill of the armistice eve in Aldous Hyrule's wan complexion. Juste Hyrule, as the Gerudo recalled, first heir to the throne of Hyrule, assumed the very corpse of Aldous years ago on the final night of the war. That night, even blackness of the snow-laden field failed to hide the prince's stiffening cadaver beneath a reddening shroud; there had been no service, no suffocating crowd of infantrymen beside the carcass of the hapless, mangled prince. A footsoldier simply stole away with the heavy conscience of having slain him, and throughout the remainder of the night, there was a curious silence in the wilderness that surrounded the confounded, wretched beings of Hyrule. Something was noticeably lacking in the afterglow of that single event. A great release transpired that none bore witness to, yet was profound enough to have bequeathed a terrible sensation of solitude lingering in the stillness of the atmosphere for many more wintry nights.
It was the eve of the armistice that unsettled Lord Dragmire, and it was the eve of the armistice that taught him that a prince's life in times of war held just as much value as his subjects'. Status, wherever the laws of the natural world were concerned, meant nothing.
It was always war that pitted friends against one another, made them realize their disparities, and turned them into murderers whose only stimulus was the prejudice of their nation. It had always been that way, he knew, and the effects were never quick to resolve from fear of one another to understanding.
In the parlor, far to his right, Lord Dragmire was being eyed warily by the princess. He had encroached too assertively upon the affairs of the Royal Family, and she was very displeased. What his motives were, she did not know, yet she was insistent upon setting her thoughts against his.
Sensing the princess' hostility, Lord Dragmire turned to match her glower as he stepped, with much egoism, off the dais.
After all, it was not his father who wept as to why the remaining heir could not have been a boy.
__________________________________________________________________
She had, all at once, become the most admirable and sustainingly beautiful young lady in Hyrule, to him. And he, she thought, was never particularly attractive, with his sharp, exotic features so starkly disparate from any Hylian's definition of beautiful. He was too much, too overwhelming, too wild.
No matter how reserved he kept himself, he could never hide the fact that he was from a rugged race of people--a race that her own people would call savage, and yet, he understood her, gave her what she needed from a companion.
And she loved him for that.
This entry was posted by Evanesced_04, on
Sunday, November 18, 2007.
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Lovely, lovely, lovely, as ever. =) The second passage is my favourite.
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