The warm summer air felt cool for a moment against his tear moistened cheeks as the old gnome stepped out into the street. A fleeting thought traipsed through his malaise.
Canals side, dwarven district. Nice view.
That she had picked this place made it somehow all the more special despite the horrid scene of her final few moments that played over and over in his mind like some kind of a macabre picture show. He'd committed every bit of it to memory, filling in the blanks as best he could from what wasn't shown in SIMS' data record.
He sniffed away a tear. That all too familiar copper scent stung his senses. It would cling to him a little longer he knew. It always had.
His was a meticulous mind. Still rather sharp and nimble despite the lethargy of age. He'd seen these macabre images before, all too often, throughout his career as a doctor plying his trade through out several vocations. At an early age he'd learned well how to steel himself to the brutal reality of it all. He'd always felt something for those involved, though he never once let himself feel it.
Why would he? He'd felt it all before so why relive that nightmare. But now it was back again. The ancient forgotten past came back to mingle with the present. It was fresh in his mind. The faces of all those he had lost before. The weight of it all...
There might have been something there. Some kind of a clue that might lead him to... something... and so the picture show would continue until he was exhausted. It was his way.
His feet shuffled across cobbled stones accompanied by the faint off beat -tok- of the staff he used for support. Cail's thoughts wandered as his feet meandered through the groups of pedestrians on their way home from late evening services. No one so much as paused to take notice of him. As with most gnomes, he was as good as invisible, and maybe that was just as well.
At some point he noticed that the sun had fully set and street lamps lit his path. Following the lights he turned down a lonely way that brought him to the foot of the cathedral steps. He placed a foot on the first step and paused.
Why? He wondered. Was he going to confess? Would he go to pray? Pray to what? Confess to whom? Who would listen? She might, but not yet. Not tonight.
His slow shuffle continued.
There was no way for the old gnome to tell just how long he'd been standing at toes' edge looking down into the dark abyss of the reservoir bellow the valley of heroes. The sound of his chauffeur pulling up to a gentle stop behind him woke the old gnome from his stupor.
Cail didn't really hear what the man said. He turned, climbed into the side car and said "Take me home." A fit of tears overtook him along the way. The bumps in the road toward Goldshire masked his sobs while the warm night air dried the streams of tears. Turning toward Northshire he had the man stop.
[1/2]
Canals side, dwarven district. Nice view.
That she had picked this place made it somehow all the more special despite the horrid scene of her final few moments that played over and over in his mind like some kind of a macabre picture show. He'd committed every bit of it to memory, filling in the blanks as best he could from what wasn't shown in SIMS' data record.
He sniffed away a tear. That all too familiar copper scent stung his senses. It would cling to him a little longer he knew. It always had.
His was a meticulous mind. Still rather sharp and nimble despite the lethargy of age. He'd seen these macabre images before, all too often, throughout his career as a doctor plying his trade through out several vocations. At an early age he'd learned well how to steel himself to the brutal reality of it all. He'd always felt something for those involved, though he never once let himself feel it.
Why would he? He'd felt it all before so why relive that nightmare. But now it was back again. The ancient forgotten past came back to mingle with the present. It was fresh in his mind. The faces of all those he had lost before. The weight of it all...
There might have been something there. Some kind of a clue that might lead him to... something... and so the picture show would continue until he was exhausted. It was his way.
His feet shuffled across cobbled stones accompanied by the faint off beat -tok- of the staff he used for support. Cail's thoughts wandered as his feet meandered through the groups of pedestrians on their way home from late evening services. No one so much as paused to take notice of him. As with most gnomes, he was as good as invisible, and maybe that was just as well.
At some point he noticed that the sun had fully set and street lamps lit his path. Following the lights he turned down a lonely way that brought him to the foot of the cathedral steps. He placed a foot on the first step and paused.
Why? He wondered. Was he going to confess? Would he go to pray? Pray to what? Confess to whom? Who would listen? She might, but not yet. Not tonight.
His slow shuffle continued.
There was no way for the old gnome to tell just how long he'd been standing at toes' edge looking down into the dark abyss of the reservoir bellow the valley of heroes. The sound of his chauffeur pulling up to a gentle stop behind him woke the old gnome from his stupor.
Cail didn't really hear what the man said. He turned, climbed into the side car and said "Take me home." A fit of tears overtook him along the way. The bumps in the road toward Goldshire masked his sobs while the warm night air dried the streams of tears. Turning toward Northshire he had the man stop.
[1/2]
Edited by Caileanmor on 7/1/2015 12:55 AM PDT
