Beyond The Candle's Light
S'jira had gone back to the Loft that night. Form was worn and heart was weary. As she climbed the ladder that took her from the stables below to the Loft above, she realized how hard the climb was becoming lately. It was not that she was too old for it, for the small woman was only twenty-three just this passing June. Instead, it was a weariness of the heart and soul that was making it difficult.
The Loft was dark, and empty. Save for the moon's light seeing in through the panes of the window, it was dark. When she gained her footing for the floor of the Loft, S'jira felt her way along the one side of the room and lit a single candle. Its ruddy light aided with being able to look around. But it only helped to see within the area of the light it cast. Beyond that, it was dark.
Dressed in one of her favorite, earthy brown dress, she uncinched the simple black leather belt. She slid from the belt her soft-leather coin purse and put both the items to the table. S'jira slid out of the dress and neatly hung it to a hook. In the middle of the room, she stood with nothing on her but the necklaces she always wore: the cat's eye from Panther and the star pendant from Elessaria.
One of the blankets was pulled from the bed and drawn about her. Curves of her breasts and hips were covered with it as she sank down onto the pelts that covered the floor before the small hearth. It was dormant of any fire, but it was a comforting place and she was drawn to it.
As she lowered herself down, she leaned her back and shoulder against the front stonework of it. Her head lulled gently there as well.
A slowly eeking madness had made its way in without S'jira even noticing.
A madness of a worry and wondering until the weight of the small woman's heart could not deny it any more. She had brushed it aside at first months and months ago. S'jira knew that she was being selfish and had denied it of herself to feel it, but as one month slipped into another those tugs turned into pangs. And now, pangs were pains.
The swell of her cheek was rested against the coarse surface of stone as tears tracked down her face. Had it really been almost nine months since they had seen one another? Perhaps longer. Days had turned into weeks and weeks into months...in stretches that she had not seen her beloved Panther. Perhaps it was they were both working too hard at first. Then, pehaps travel had kept him from her sight.
Fingerstips of one hand curled into the blanket and held it tight about her, as if she were trying to bind herself up with it and kept something safe. Her other hand snuck out from beneath the blanket to meet touch against the pendants she wore.
With worry for him and the wondering of such a long absence. Was he dead? Had something killed him on a hunt? Had something or someone kept him from RhyDin? The wonderings had truly and finally started to plague her.
The Lady, Elessaria, had been a gentle spot of light that night to see at the inn. But she found that she could not keep the Lady company. It was growing ever-difficult to keep herself company. Work had nearly ruined her hands, she was working so hard to keep busy. And not even travel and seeing her sister in Llothgar had completely eased her. She could not hide the ache of her heart anymore. She simply...hurt and wept because of it. The men who worked the stables below had long-since headed for their homes. They would not hear her crying and she was glad for it. Best it was that way.
S'jira eased herself down upon the pelts that served as rugs before the quiet fireplace, just within the candle's light. She remembered crying for some time - for what seemed hours more- before she remembered nothing more when sleep finally took her.
S'jira had gone back to the Loft that night. Form was worn and heart was weary. As she climbed the ladder that took her from the stables below to the Loft above, she realized how hard the climb was becoming lately. It was not that she was too old for it, for the small woman was only twenty-three just this passing June. Instead, it was a weariness of the heart and soul that was making it difficult.
The Loft was dark, and empty. Save for the moon's light seeing in through the panes of the window, it was dark. When she gained her footing for the floor of the Loft, S'jira felt her way along the one side of the room and lit a single candle. Its ruddy light aided with being able to look around. But it only helped to see within the area of the light it cast. Beyond that, it was dark.
Dressed in one of her favorite, earthy brown dress, she uncinched the simple black leather belt. She slid from the belt her soft-leather coin purse and put both the items to the table. S'jira slid out of the dress and neatly hung it to a hook. In the middle of the room, she stood with nothing on her but the necklaces she always wore: the cat's eye from Panther and the star pendant from Elessaria.
One of the blankets was pulled from the bed and drawn about her. Curves of her breasts and hips were covered with it as she sank down onto the pelts that covered the floor before the small hearth. It was dormant of any fire, but it was a comforting place and she was drawn to it.
As she lowered herself down, she leaned her back and shoulder against the front stonework of it. Her head lulled gently there as well.
A slowly eeking madness had made its way in without S'jira even noticing.
A madness of a worry and wondering until the weight of the small woman's heart could not deny it any more. She had brushed it aside at first months and months ago. S'jira knew that she was being selfish and had denied it of herself to feel it, but as one month slipped into another those tugs turned into pangs. And now, pangs were pains.
The swell of her cheek was rested against the coarse surface of stone as tears tracked down her face. Had it really been almost nine months since they had seen one another? Perhaps longer. Days had turned into weeks and weeks into months...in stretches that she had not seen her beloved Panther. Perhaps it was they were both working too hard at first. Then, pehaps travel had kept him from her sight.
Fingerstips of one hand curled into the blanket and held it tight about her, as if she were trying to bind herself up with it and kept something safe. Her other hand snuck out from beneath the blanket to meet touch against the pendants she wore.
With worry for him and the wondering of such a long absence. Was he dead? Had something killed him on a hunt? Had something or someone kept him from RhyDin? The wonderings had truly and finally started to plague her.
The Lady, Elessaria, had been a gentle spot of light that night to see at the inn. But she found that she could not keep the Lady company. It was growing ever-difficult to keep herself company. Work had nearly ruined her hands, she was working so hard to keep busy. And not even travel and seeing her sister in Llothgar had completely eased her. She could not hide the ache of her heart anymore. She simply...hurt and wept because of it. The men who worked the stables below had long-since headed for their homes. They would not hear her crying and she was glad for it. Best it was that way.
S'jira eased herself down upon the pelts that served as rugs before the quiet fireplace, just within the candle's light. She remembered crying for some time - for what seemed hours more- before she remembered nothing more when sleep finally took her.