Adrianal arrived to the infirmary with Avada at his side. He looked withdrawn, holding the little baby girl in his arms to his chest with a wide eyed and broken look in his eyes. His red hair was tied back out of habit, his clothes clean out of kindness of his maids. But his blind eyes were blank, hollow, void of emotion or feeling. He took in a shuddering breath, looking warily to Avada now, “I…thank you….for coming with me today….”
Avada had a similarly drawn look to her face. Though her hair shone bright and silky as ever, her black cloak from the previous night hadn’t been changed. Exhaustion tugged beneath her eyes, a tribute to her long vigils at her friend’s bedside. “There’s no place I’d rather be. I’m here for you both, and for your daughter.” She pulled her lips upward in a kind smile that didn’t touch her eyes, the most reassuring look she could muster. “He will wake. Of that I am confident. He just…needs time. As grass seeds lie dormant for the rain, he needs time.”
The paladin seemed to curl in on himself at her words, disappearing inside himself in the emotional agony. But his daughter reached up, a lovely delight of a child with curly brown hair and wide starlit lavender eyes. She tugged Adrianal’s hair and gave a crystalline whine, it made him shudder alive, taking an uneasy breath as he touched her small heart-shaped face. “Okay….” he whispered, voice barely audible. He was a man only living for the child in his arms now, only functioning because she needed him still.
Avada’s eyes deepened in sorrow. She took Adrianal’s elbow and gently guided him along to his husband’s room. The phoenix on her shoulder seemed to sense his handler’s stress. He fluffed himself up, gazing between her, Adrianal, and the baby.
The room still smelled of incense, and by the altar it looked as though a certain spellbreaker had kept his promises, a very chocolatey slice of cake sat on a plate uneaten upon it. But in the bed, Felo’thore had not stirred, the man appeared in an endless sleep, comfortable, his arms placed by loved ones as if he slept casually even. The astromancer was inert as a dormant tree with a jarring scar along its bark. The mark seemed not as red or blotchy as it did evenings ago, but there it remained a reminder of the trauma the man had been through.
Day 1: Write a diary entry for your character, dated 10 years in the future.
It’s been a long time since I’ve written in this. The days have been blending together into days of both chaos and wonder. The children are growing so quickly, I keep worrying with Felo’thore, wondering if perhaps they were going a little too quickly. He knows of my desire for more, I wonder when we’ll have more…I suppose it’s a discussion for another day.
Orionus fell off a swing set today, he was determined to reach the stars. At the sight of blood I had fainted and Felo’thore had to call Xenus to come check his scrapes and cuts and embarrassingly offer me some ice for my head. Her and Thordemar’s gaggle of children are incredible to see. All blonde and smart and gorgeous, they all have blessedly inherited their parents good looks. One of them was asking me about paladin works today, they met the Knight-Commander it seems and were quite impressed. Perhaps Xenus will teach her in the way of the Light.
Cassiopeia has a crush, to the bane of my entire existence. Vaelrin came for dinner the other night, Orionus had tried to convince him to put a spicy red sauce, pickles, and onion onto his sandwich. The man has a way with children, able to place the massacre of food onto the wayside and not hurt Orionus’ feelings. Cassiopeia though.
Murder was on my mind certainly, though Felo’thore did remind me it is by no way Vaelrin’s fault. Cassiopeia seems to now believe he is a knight in shining armor with his long, flowing hair and that beastly horse he had ridden up on. She had watched his arrival from her window and, ten year old minds being what they are, she was certain it was to be as the fairylands that Felo’thore reads to them at night. She put on one of her favorite “princess” dresses, something Tyleril had sent again and flounced down the stairs like a Queen coming before her court. To my dismay she seems to be inheriting all of Felo’thore’s swagger and charm. Bless Vaelrin’s heart for not being harsh with her, he even kissed her hand and called her “Lady”. I fear for the inflation of Cassiopeia’s ego by that action alone. Through the whole dinner she was determined to sit by him and she chattered his ear off about her tea parties and her dresses. She confided in Felo’thore later that those were the things all fine “Ladies” spoke about with a “Prince”.
Belore above please let that girl grow up to realize Vaelrin is anything but a damned prince. She’s in the kitchen now with Felo’thore; baking him cookies and yearning to send him a letter with updates of her stuffed bunny Duchess. I refuse to be any part of it, the last thing I need is my daughter having a crush on that man. But Felo’thore is abiding by it with great amusement, giving me entire lectures on the importance of child development and positive role models. Positive be damned.
It vexes me, but there could be worse people for a child to have a first crush on, innocent and simple minded as it may be. Despite our bouts and how I sometimes still snap at him, Vaelrin is kind to the children.
Felo’thore is everything a father I told him he would be. The children worship him and the antlers that grow from him day by day amuse them to no end. Though he complains they are quite itchy. A near decade later and we are still so happy, and the fires of our passions have not seemed to dim. Let us hope going into this new year they never do.
That is all I have to write for now I suppose. Cassiopeia is crying in the kitchen. Apparently Orionus has stolen an entire bowl of cookie dough.
There could be worse tortures than an upset stomach.
Tyleril Silversword 