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Single Author Stories / A letter to a dead father
« on: February 11, 2020, 07:16:14 am »
"Hello,
I don't know how you'll manage to read this, but I'm sure you can do it. I still remember the time we finally laid you to rest, with the small ceremony at the Temple of Talad. It seemed unreal. For months on end, I thought I saw you, keeping an eye on me, after you were gone.
Suppose you'd like to know how I'm doing: I'm doing fine for myself. I've become a good enough smith now, at least I churn out perfect pieces more often than not. I have yet to get even close to your repairing skills - I think it's a bit shameful that I could never repair properly what I've made myself, but I guess they're completely different ways of working.
Of course, I still miss you. After all, who doesn't miss their parents when they're gone. By Dakkru... I sometimes even think about my mother. Not in a bad light, or in a good one either, but sometimes she comes back to me in my thoughts. With how old she must be now, I guess she's moved on already - I hope you have found it in yourself to forgive her.
You should see Sereenya. She's not a cub anymore: just about the other day I got word of her having slain her first ulbernaut on her own. We had... a bit of a fight over it. I mean, I didn't get to hunt my first ulbernaut until, well, until after I first arrived in Hydlaa, when I thought you were gone the first time. She presented me with its heart - you have no idea how hard it is to pretend to be disappointed and upset when all you want to do is laugh and hug that person. But I guess if I started acting like that she'd start wondering what I had done to her real mother. Maybe I should be a little softer on her - after all, whether I like it or not, she's an adult now.
I haven't found anyone to keep me company, yet. I became the councilor of an Enkidukai aristocrat seated in Amdeneir, but he's much too young, and I don't have any interest in him. It seems that I only have friends and acquaintances right now, and I'm content with that. Drinking, crafting, adventuring... I don't do it alone anymore. But I haven't found anyone that completes me, yet.
Ah, I'm rambling. I miss you. Sometimes I wonder what you'd do or say if you were here. And to think we argued so many times over stupid things, and I used to think you knew nothing. But I guess you don't know what you have until you lose it.
The warm breeze rustled the greying fur on the Clamod's face as she climbed up onto the roof of Harnquist's smithy, ignoring the sour look and muttered complaints of the smith (something about 'blasted cats' and 'replacing tiles'). Once there, she sat down carefully, and looked at the closed envelope. The Azure Sun was starting to dim, with that dying light that tinged the city orange. Holding the envelope with both hands, it started to char and burn where her fingers touched as she uttered a soft incantation, the flames consuming the paper quickly. Ashes flew up, picked up by a small gust of wind, and danced towards the middle of the Plaza, disappearing completely before reaching the great, looming statue of Laanx.
And then, Mishka folded her legs some, hugged her knees, and watched the Crystal die off slowly, until the foyers on the houses lit up with candles and torches, and night fell upon the city, with the Enkidukai looking up at the small dots of light that were stuck to the Dome, smaller crystals glinting in the dark.
I don't know how you'll manage to read this, but I'm sure you can do it. I still remember the time we finally laid you to rest, with the small ceremony at the Temple of Talad. It seemed unreal. For months on end, I thought I saw you, keeping an eye on me, after you were gone.
Suppose you'd like to know how I'm doing: I'm doing fine for myself. I've become a good enough smith now, at least I churn out perfect pieces more often than not. I have yet to get even close to your repairing skills - I think it's a bit shameful that I could never repair properly what I've made myself, but I guess they're completely different ways of working.
Of course, I still miss you. After all, who doesn't miss their parents when they're gone. By Dakkru... I sometimes even think about my mother. Not in a bad light, or in a good one either, but sometimes she comes back to me in my thoughts. With how old she must be now, I guess she's moved on already - I hope you have found it in yourself to forgive her.
You should see Sereenya. She's not a cub anymore: just about the other day I got word of her having slain her first ulbernaut on her own. We had... a bit of a fight over it. I mean, I didn't get to hunt my first ulbernaut until, well, until after I first arrived in Hydlaa, when I thought you were gone the first time. She presented me with its heart - you have no idea how hard it is to pretend to be disappointed and upset when all you want to do is laugh and hug that person. But I guess if I started acting like that she'd start wondering what I had done to her real mother. Maybe I should be a little softer on her - after all, whether I like it or not, she's an adult now.
I haven't found anyone to keep me company, yet. I became the councilor of an Enkidukai aristocrat seated in Amdeneir, but he's much too young, and I don't have any interest in him. It seems that I only have friends and acquaintances right now, and I'm content with that. Drinking, crafting, adventuring... I don't do it alone anymore. But I haven't found anyone that completes me, yet.
Ah, I'm rambling. I miss you. Sometimes I wonder what you'd do or say if you were here. And to think we argued so many times over stupid things, and I used to think you knew nothing. But I guess you don't know what you have until you lose it.
With lots of love, your daughter,
Mishka"
Mishka"
* * *
The warm breeze rustled the greying fur on the Clamod's face as she climbed up onto the roof of Harnquist's smithy, ignoring the sour look and muttered complaints of the smith (something about 'blasted cats' and 'replacing tiles'). Once there, she sat down carefully, and looked at the closed envelope. The Azure Sun was starting to dim, with that dying light that tinged the city orange. Holding the envelope with both hands, it started to char and burn where her fingers touched as she uttered a soft incantation, the flames consuming the paper quickly. Ashes flew up, picked up by a small gust of wind, and danced towards the middle of the Plaza, disappearing completely before reaching the great, looming statue of Laanx.
And then, Mishka folded her legs some, hugged her knees, and watched the Crystal die off slowly, until the foyers on the houses lit up with candles and torches, and night fell upon the city, with the Enkidukai looking up at the small dots of light that were stuck to the Dome, smaller crystals glinting in the dark.
Two of those smaller lights looked like a pair of eyes, looking down on her.
