Topic: Memorial of longing heart

haddassawarrior

Date: 2015-05-19 12:56 EST
Large feline prints lead from the entrance to the cemetery through the winding paths to the older, less visited parts of the area. Just a step or two behind these prints is the evidence of wheels carting something extremely heavy behind the large cat as if it were pulling the object much like a work horse would.

If one were to follow these tracks it would take them past the tombstones and into areas which harbor mausoleums, large grave markers with angels, pillars and various woodland carvings. The area had a much more elegant, ancient era feel to it. The trail would lead even past these to a secluded corner where weeping willows group around a small pond their branches drooping like a curtain to protect the area from the curious eyes of passerbys. It was here, the would find the large wagon loaded with supplies and a figure with long auburn waves, black feathered wings, and feline features.

The place had been sorely neglected when she had first arrived; the waters of the pond dark, murky and full of muck, the grass overgrown and full of briars. The figure had worked through the night clearing the area around the pond, her calves and arms were covered in scratches and the black gown she wore was tattered and dripping. Her freckled face usually so bright and animated was streaked with mud which had trails where countless tears had worked their way past deeply blue eyes.

The ponds waters now were clear, full of water lillies with coy and goldfish swimming about the depths. She had also just between the trunks of two willow trees, looking over the waters was a large slab of alabaster stone. It was here, with her shoulders shaking and tears streaming her fingers, shifted into sharp strong talons worked life into the cold surface. Taking small breaks to poor water over to make it more pliable, she forms a structure with a face she knew and could carve without looking.

Piercing eyes she longed to look into came forth to stare into the souls of those who came upon the statue, fingers traces strong cheeks and jawline which she wished to caress, talons drag to surface the long strands she feared she may never feel brush her face again. The feeling of loss was so upon her she could hardly breathe, fingertips moving over lips whose taste she was starved of. The man of stone that stood before her as she stepped back would easily be recognized by any who knew him, her gaze sweeping over the form to rest at the base to read the inscription she had also slaved over

"In Honor of James Lebeau, Lost for a time, forever sought by his faithful wife and loved till her last breath"

She knew it was probably best to take her things and go back to town, to people and company that could distract her. But now that her task was done and the man who claimed her soul stood before her, even in stone, she couldn't bare to leave. So moved to kneel beside him and wept till so exhausted she drifted to sleep, curled at the feet of the man she would search for till he was found or her heart stopped beating.