Aurelius
Posted: Mon Oct 31, 2016 12:35 am
Old, boney fingers pick up a quill pen, and dip its tip thrice in a bottle of ink. The fresh ink upon a fresh scroll of paper now records a forgotten old man's message for the love of his life.
"My dear,
I will be delivering a package for the blacksmith.
Keep the soup warm for me.
Aurelius"
----
The city had become a confusing and noisy milieu for Aurelius. His old, grey eyes still saw and understood much, but could not always keep up with everything. He sat on a comfortable bench in the East Gate district square, his lips curved in a broad smile he offered those who walked by. Some returned the smile, some did not, Aurelius did not mind. Kindness was in his heart and he wished to share it.
He was a man way past his prime, now suffering from the many curses of old age. The Gods seemed to only laugh at his clumsiness and slow steps, or so it felt. No longer was he a part of the activities of the city nor a member of a wizards' guild. As an outsider, he surveyed the everyday comings and goings of younger folk, busy with their daily tasks. Oh, how he wished to be part of it all again. He wished to dance with his beloved, carry her when she was weary, and find all the comfort he craved by looking into her ocean blue eyes.
But death was gaining up on Aurelius. He could feel the air get chilly at times, and the hair on his neck stand up. He could feel it, and he feared it. In the emotional chaos of such moments, his boney hands trembled and grasped onto the cloth of his robes tightly, and his eyes almost lost all life as he stared into oblivion in utter fear. In such moments, he found solace in another world, another realm. One within his own mind, safely locked away.
Within that world, color returned to his skin that was far less wrinkled, he was hailed by the warm and welcoming scent of fresh baked bread upon his vigorous steps up the stairs that lead to his home. Within that world, as he opened the door, he was greeted with hugs and kisses from his beloved, and invited to the table just few steps from the doorway. He felt the soft carpet beneath his feet, and could smell the scented candles his beloved had lit. He was home. They sat down together, and talked about their day. They held hands across the dinner table, and they talked more and more. In times of trouble they took care of one another, and found the answers to every question troubling their minds simply by looking into one another's eyes. Such were they, and it pained Aurelius to snap out of it all once more, as heavily armored guards made their usual noise storming by.
His hazy grey eyes looked around him as the world once more shifted and changed into something else. His mouth wide open he watched his world crumble into dust, and like a phoenix, rise again from the ashes, yet not as the same. Confused and covered in cold sweat, he wanted to return to the one place he still knew.
He stood slowly, and began his short walk back home.
"Home..."
Upon opening the door his pale lips curved into a gentle smile that reached his eyes. Scrolls and old tomes littered across the cold floor greeted him. A few burnt candles here and there. Questions without answers, as well as symbols arcane and mysterious were all over the wooden walls. A mixture of many scents, some herbal, some perhaps even toxic. The house had not felt a woman's touch in decades.
He sat on the only chair in the dining room otherwise void of furniture, and started sharing the day's many events...
"My dear,
I will be delivering a package for the blacksmith.
Keep the soup warm for me.
Aurelius"
----
The city had become a confusing and noisy milieu for Aurelius. His old, grey eyes still saw and understood much, but could not always keep up with everything. He sat on a comfortable bench in the East Gate district square, his lips curved in a broad smile he offered those who walked by. Some returned the smile, some did not, Aurelius did not mind. Kindness was in his heart and he wished to share it.
He was a man way past his prime, now suffering from the many curses of old age. The Gods seemed to only laugh at his clumsiness and slow steps, or so it felt. No longer was he a part of the activities of the city nor a member of a wizards' guild. As an outsider, he surveyed the everyday comings and goings of younger folk, busy with their daily tasks. Oh, how he wished to be part of it all again. He wished to dance with his beloved, carry her when she was weary, and find all the comfort he craved by looking into her ocean blue eyes.
But death was gaining up on Aurelius. He could feel the air get chilly at times, and the hair on his neck stand up. He could feel it, and he feared it. In the emotional chaos of such moments, his boney hands trembled and grasped onto the cloth of his robes tightly, and his eyes almost lost all life as he stared into oblivion in utter fear. In such moments, he found solace in another world, another realm. One within his own mind, safely locked away.
Within that world, color returned to his skin that was far less wrinkled, he was hailed by the warm and welcoming scent of fresh baked bread upon his vigorous steps up the stairs that lead to his home. Within that world, as he opened the door, he was greeted with hugs and kisses from his beloved, and invited to the table just few steps from the doorway. He felt the soft carpet beneath his feet, and could smell the scented candles his beloved had lit. He was home. They sat down together, and talked about their day. They held hands across the dinner table, and they talked more and more. In times of trouble they took care of one another, and found the answers to every question troubling their minds simply by looking into one another's eyes. Such were they, and it pained Aurelius to snap out of it all once more, as heavily armored guards made their usual noise storming by.
His hazy grey eyes looked around him as the world once more shifted and changed into something else. His mouth wide open he watched his world crumble into dust, and like a phoenix, rise again from the ashes, yet not as the same. Confused and covered in cold sweat, he wanted to return to the one place he still knew.
He stood slowly, and began his short walk back home.
"Home..."
Upon opening the door his pale lips curved into a gentle smile that reached his eyes. Scrolls and old tomes littered across the cold floor greeted him. A few burnt candles here and there. Questions without answers, as well as symbols arcane and mysterious were all over the wooden walls. A mixture of many scents, some herbal, some perhaps even toxic. The house had not felt a woman's touch in decades.
He sat on the only chair in the dining room otherwise void of furniture, and started sharing the day's many events...