Gone

I was walking through the streets into town when I overheard the gossip. I only heard some of it, I confess. But Artin. Something was wrong. Lei had attacked Artin. Lord… I needed to see him. Quickly.

I ran to the triage. Nearly punched through a Nursia.

The Morgue was cold. So were his hands. His eyes. His face. His chest. He was far too cold for life… That blank stare, the stare of death. Will it ever cease to gnaw at my soul? I fear it. I always have. What life shall he have, now? What death? His dull, decaying eyes keep fixed on my face.

We had fought, last we spoke. He was angry at me, in some ways, and I him. But Lord… Oh Lord. He’s gone.

He’s gone.

And the last words I told him were get out.

How shall I ever forgive myself?

A young man and woman speak in the gardens together. With one lame arm, he prepares his horse to leave. The woman is of Farin descent, but with piercing sapphire eyes that follow the man’s moves as he paces, slowly. She is on her knees beside a bed of flowers, weeding, as they talk. Worry and frustration etch her brow, and his face shows signs of hurt. The voices sound distant, just clips of their argument quietly overheard.

…Make a choice. You do not have time….

…don’t you -dare- say it. I care for you, and you know it. I cry for you, Artin. You bloody know I do… During the mass. I was there. I thought I’d lost you, and I cried. How can you say I didn’t care?…

..You hurt me, Nayiv. But I am used to hurt, so I do not mind… 

…Go. Just go. I need peace from this. Get out…

The Vandagan obliges. Once he rides off and the gates close, the young woman falls to her knees. Alone, with her head in her hands, she cries.