A blog dedicated to fictional short stories and role-playing across a spectrum of video-games and fantasy worlds.

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Beckyann Short Number 26

Her blonde hair blew in the wind behind her as the skeletal gryphon carried her high above the rolling plains. Moving swiftly, Beckyann actually closed her eyes and sighed, enjoying the rush of passing over the countryside below her. Far above, the moon and stars shone down in the night upon the grasses of the Arathi Highlands, their light guiding her towards her destination.

Ahead, her goal rose up from the flat lands around it like the broken teeth of some ancient creature. Moss covered stone battlements, many of them damaged by time and warfare, thrust high up into the air and created an outer fortification around the once-proud city of Stromgarde. Within the confines of the walls Beckyann could see lights here and there where torches had been set, the ruins still occupied by men and women of the Alliance who were trying to retake them from the ogres and syndicate members who also had a grip on the once proud city.

Beckyann ignored the torches as she sped over the outer wall, her gryphon heading deep within the city, towards a patch of blackness where no torches were lit. With a smile, she pulled back on the reins, guiding her mount into a spiraling descent towards that black spot. The walls rose up, again looking like hungry jaws as they closed in around her.

She landed in a small clearing, the moonlight shining down on an overgrown and now wild garden, old flowerbeds having given way to an abundance of plant growth. As she slipped from her mount, her boots scraped across weathered patio stones, and she shifted her dress into place, fixing her hair after her long flight.

Around her the city was still and silent, no sound to mar the moment as she patted her dead gryphon once before walking away from it. A thin mist hung in the air in places, the summer's warmth having driven the moisture from the ground and plantlife and left it hanging in the garden like an eerie ghost. She glided through it, pushing her way past two overgrown pillars and heading deeper within the ruins.

Walking down a stone path, she came upon a small marble structure that lay behind the slowly decaying ruins of a church in the center of the city. She smiled when she saw it, knowing that it lead deep into crypts below the surface where the dead lay in repose. She walked slowly past the building, another goal in mind before she would spend time there. As she passed it, her gaze fell upon row after row of headstones, the foliage around them wild and untamed now, obscuring many of them. She nearly giggled with delight, hurrying into the small cemetery.

Moonlight bathed the ancient stones as she walked amongst them, stopping here and there to examine a carving or an inscription. As she pushed deeper into the small forgotten cemetery, her eyes met a particular delight; she spied two heart-shaped stones standing side by side. She walked over to them, slowly sinking down into the grass before them and reaching out. With delicate movements of her black-painted nails, she pried some of the moss from the old monuments. She carefully brushed aside the taller plants that blocked her view of them.

They were intricately carved in loving detail, each heart-shaped with a stone scroll engraved on the front. To Beckyann's delight she saw that the two stones had once been joined together by a stylized wrought iron arrow, piercing both of them through the center. She sighed happily, soaking in the beauty of the piece before reading the two inscriptions:

Mary McTabeth
Loving wife, dutiful mother, loyal citizen. Your light shone too briefly, but was as the sun to us. Without you, the world cannot go on, for you were everything to us. You will be remembered forevermore.

Joseph McTabeth
What man can live with his heart in twain? Taken too soon from us, your love and devotion will carry on into the hereafter, where you shall lie forever by the side of your beloved. We will miss you always.

Beckyann's fingers traced the delicate carvings as she read and reread them over and over, her face thoughtful and her other hand subconsciously clutched over her heart. The inscriptions, the love they represented, moved something deep within her that she barely could understand now. The beauty of that moment, of the stones that represented love eternal illuminated by the pale moonlight streaming into the small cemetery, was to her a most precious work of art. It was something to be cherished and pondered. It was a reminder of mortality, and of the depths of human love. But it was also an affirmation of human perseverance, and the will to go on even when such loveliness was lost.

The death knight sat there for some time, contemplating how wonderful it must have been for the two to have lived, loved, and died together. The dates on the stones showed that they'd had full lives, and died not even a year apart. Clearly meant, no DESTINED to be together for one entire lifetime. It was something she could never have, but something she recognized as the most beautiful and precious treasure in all the world.

Several hours later Beckyann returned to her gryphon, mounting it silently and spurring it up into the sky. If her eyes were glittery in the moonlight and tears stained her cheeks, there was no one there to see it.

She could never let anyone see past the mask after all.

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