Through the Years
Apr. 7th, 2013 09:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feredarStory: Through the Years
Year: 971, 973, 975, 979, 984, 1021, 1026, various others
Characters: Deshell, Fesha, Ledam, Ensill, Selmid
He unbound her hair as she tugged him over the threshold into their new home, twining his fingers in the heavy red waterfall, happier than he could say that they were finally married.
She worried, nights when he didn't come home 'til late--not that there was much chance he'd be seriously hurt, even as an inspector, as Lester was relatively peaceful; and there weren't any children yet, and she could support herself even if some disaster struck, so her worry was mostly excessive, but she never felt comfortable going to bed without him, so she waited up for him, every night.
He missed the actual event, Ledam's birth, breaking up a bar brawl and breaking his arm, but when he finally did get there, an hour late, she was smiling, and he held his son, and he lost his heart again, to both of them.
She spent quiet moments whispering to Ensill, as he grew inside her, trying to persuade him to wait until his father was able to be with her.
He knew his obsession with the handless bodies worried her, but he couldn't walk away.
She was more angry than she let on when he brought Selmid home--not because she was unwilling to open her home and her heart to a child who needed both, but because she didn't like the way he'd started keeping secrets, ever since those bodies five years ago.
He was almost relieved, when she finally shouted at him--he'd become aware, in bits and pieces, that things were not the way they should be, between them, not since--but he didn't know how to bridge the gap, and, when she stopped yelling, they sat down to try and figure out how to backtrack and make things right again.
She decided she liked the way their relationship had shifted, after the fight--it wasn't the heady, giddy passion of their first years together, but they weren't headstrong children anymore; this was a deeper, calmer love, strong and abiding.
He was able to spend more time at home, after he became Mayor, something they both liked--more time together, even with Selmid staying with them still.
She thought the house was too quiet some days, missing the noise and...entertainment that three boys born within three years (they guessed, so far as Selmid was concerned) running around could bring, but it still felt full--of memory, of love, of him.
He danced with her, when they celebrated fifty years together, spinning her around more effortlessly than he would have thought possible; she laughs when he unbinds her hair, like he did their wedding night--white silk now, and still beautiful.
She died on a quiet Sunday in April, after a brief illness; he had missed the births of both their sons, but he was there, holding her hand.
He followed her six months later.
They were buried side by side.
Year: 971, 973, 975, 979, 984, 1021, 1026, various others
Characters: Deshell, Fesha, Ledam, Ensill, Selmid
He unbound her hair as she tugged him over the threshold into their new home, twining his fingers in the heavy red waterfall, happier than he could say that they were finally married.
She worried, nights when he didn't come home 'til late--not that there was much chance he'd be seriously hurt, even as an inspector, as Lester was relatively peaceful; and there weren't any children yet, and she could support herself even if some disaster struck, so her worry was mostly excessive, but she never felt comfortable going to bed without him, so she waited up for him, every night.
He missed the actual event, Ledam's birth, breaking up a bar brawl and breaking his arm, but when he finally did get there, an hour late, she was smiling, and he held his son, and he lost his heart again, to both of them.
She spent quiet moments whispering to Ensill, as he grew inside her, trying to persuade him to wait until his father was able to be with her.
He knew his obsession with the handless bodies worried her, but he couldn't walk away.
She was more angry than she let on when he brought Selmid home--not because she was unwilling to open her home and her heart to a child who needed both, but because she didn't like the way he'd started keeping secrets, ever since those bodies five years ago.
He was almost relieved, when she finally shouted at him--he'd become aware, in bits and pieces, that things were not the way they should be, between them, not since--but he didn't know how to bridge the gap, and, when she stopped yelling, they sat down to try and figure out how to backtrack and make things right again.
She decided she liked the way their relationship had shifted, after the fight--it wasn't the heady, giddy passion of their first years together, but they weren't headstrong children anymore; this was a deeper, calmer love, strong and abiding.
He was able to spend more time at home, after he became Mayor, something they both liked--more time together, even with Selmid staying with them still.
She thought the house was too quiet some days, missing the noise and...entertainment that three boys born within three years (they guessed, so far as Selmid was concerned) running around could bring, but it still felt full--of memory, of love, of him.
He danced with her, when they celebrated fifty years together, spinning her around more effortlessly than he would have thought possible; she laughs when he unbinds her hair, like he did their wedding night--white silk now, and still beautiful.
She died on a quiet Sunday in April, after a brief illness; he had missed the births of both their sons, but he was there, holding her hand.
He followed her six months later.
They were buried side by side.