Post by Erytheia Hellebore on Aug 28, 2019 8:17:19 GMT -5
The noble warrior stood, and the people looked to her.
For she was a beacon - hope given form, yet still only human.
Within that truth there was great promise.
If one could stand against the night, then so too could anyone - everyone.
In her hand the warrior held a Rose. And her aura burned bright.
For she was a beacon - hope given form, yet still only human.
Within that truth there was great promise.
If one could stand against the night, then so too could anyone - everyone.
In her hand the warrior held a Rose. And her aura burned bright.
❝
“Vulcan and Paeon,” Erytheia had repeated with a nod when Verdant had spoken about her other siblings, indicating that she was focusing on the conversation. Knowing how to listen and how to speak were things that she had learned very early on. The subtle flow of a conversation was usually indicated by the presence of certain mannerisms in body language - the Hellebore heiress had experienced enough to both read through the tics of others and to suppress her own when the conversation was taking turns where she did not wish it to go. It was almost an expected skill one had to learn in the upper echelons of society where even the slightest errant movement of an eyebrow or a crimp of the corner of one’s mouth could lead to many, many repercussions in those social circles. This, of course, led to inane and meaningless talk, or conversations layered so thick and deep that a common man on the street might never have any idea what it was really about before it ended. To say that she harbored nothing but distaste for such an environment was, to put it lightly, an understatement - but Erytheia Hellebore knew how to play the game, even if she didn’t like the rules.Continuing to listen as Verdant spoke about her oldest sibling, Erytheia gave little responses that didn’t break up the flow of the other’s train of thought and let the words wash over her. It was high praise that Verdant gave her sibling - but more tellingly, it was honest praise. Words that came from the heart. For a moment, the Hellebore heiress wondered what it would be like to ever hear her mother speak of her in such words and in such tones of warmth and pride.
She couldn’t imagine it, no matter how hard she tried.
But that was fine, wasn’t it? Everyone had their own way of showing their love. Just because the elder Hellebore had never held her like other mothers held their daughters, just because she had never been anything less than strict and demanding with regards to her position at school, Sanctum or otherwise - just because she had never had a word of praise for her, and never wiped away her tears at night - it didn’t mean that Alramandi didn’t care. Such was the weight of the Hellebore legacy, and their obligation to those who had helped them reach such power and status. If Erytheia could measure up to those standards, high as they were, she was certain her mother would have never needed to be so harsh.
“No, I do not. Nor sisters, for that matter. It is unfortunate, but it is not uncommon for my lineage to have a single heir. The better to focus attention on through childhood, you understand. I have many cousins from the branch families, but… well, truth be told, they are as strangers to me. Some of them I have not even met.”
Some of the melancholy she was feeling bled through in the slight dip her gaze took towards the table, and the minute pause as her hand reached for her glass. But it was only a moment, and when she again lifted her red eyes to meet the younger girl’s green there was no trace of that sadness within them, only Erytheia’s usual gentle warmth.
“The way you describe your brother does make me wish for a sibling of my own, though. It would be nice indeed to have some familial companionship besides that of my parents. Would it be presumptuous of me to assume that you learnt combat skills from… Aaron, I believe his name was?”
They were seguing now into the finishing phases of the meal - or at least, she was. The ninth course had been whisked away when she had been done with it - another one, maybe two, and then their time here would be over. While she did not think staying to chat would have been looked upon unkindly, if at all, there were far better places ways to hold a conversation, rather than across a wide table and in a restaurant when you were done eating. A little basic courtesy to the staff and owner, or so she felt.
“You certainly seem well acquainted with his combat styles, at the very least,” she added, almost as an afterthought, with the barest hint of a twinkle in her eye.
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MADE BY MIZO
