alfyn greengrass! (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
concoctive) wrote2024-05-18 07:57 pm
concoctive) wrote2024-05-18 07:57 pm
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SCAWWY 😱 rondo
In the tapestry of floriography, the borage flower stands out as a symbol of emotional fortitude and joy. Its star-shaped blue blossoms have carried the weight of courage since Roman times, believed to embolden warriors on the battlefield. Borage flower and leaves are used for fever, cough, and depression.
week 0, friday
it's friday! and as of friday, probably predictably, rondo is standing by the pyre, his hands laced together, his eyes closed. even with his eyes closed, his expression is clearly, clearly upset, his brows pinched together in what can only be frustration, his mouth a tight line.
across his chest, the inky tattoos of the week have multiplied - the shadows and ink coalescing in more than one spot, spattering a perfectly white cloak. not being strong enough to protect the people you care for. not being strong enough to protect the people you care for. not being strong enough to protect the people you care for. not being strong enough to protect the people you care for. ]
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not being enough. not doing enough. not being able to save anyone. not being there. not being able to help. not enough not enough not enough not enough. are spread out across his visible skin on his forearms, his neck, his collar, and bleeding through the white brown green of his torso as he comes to join rondo with a crunch of dirt under his boots. his axe is held in a tight grip, the hold prepared to defend himself or those around him if needed.
the tension has gotten his spine ramrod straight, and he just.
joins him, though he's staring into the fire as he does. ]
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rondo glances to the side at alfyn when he comes over, his expression shifting across a multitude of emotions - worry, sorrow, something more resigned and prepared, and then he turns back to the fire. squares his shoulders.
... and quietly begins to recite the words of a prayer. he's no cleric, but he knows the right words to say. they're fancy words I don't know because they never write out the prayers, but it ends with aa soft, solemn: ]
... And may the Sacred Flame light your path.
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alfyn remains quiet as rondo prays, staring into the familiar sapphire in such an unfamiliar place. but he knows it's not the sacred flame, no matter how much he prays, hops that their gods can hear them even so far from home, that something can be done. but as heh finishes the prayer, his eyes close, and his palm is pressed to his chest as he bows his head forward in respect.
he may be a child of dohter, but aelfric lights the path for many across all of orsterra. ]
May the Sacred Flame light your path. [ is echoed, before he straightens up again and takes a deep breath. ] Gods.
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[ the blue flame. even if it's not theirs - its sort of rueful, as he drops the prayer hands and brings one to rest on his heart, staring at it. ]
That... as things here have reached a fevered moment, to see the light of the Flame even like this.
[ he can't summon it, not here. it rests in the sword at his hip, dormant, stolen. but it's here, flickering away, a sign of some kind. it has to be something. ]
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It's comfortin' and unsettlin' at the same time. I watched my friend kindle the real deal in so many churches, and felt the warmth of it, so it almost feels like bein' back home. Just followin' Ophilia around and helpin' her...
... s'kinda reminder. Hope.
I just don't know what it means, in this kinda place, with these kinda things happenin'.
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with that aside though... rondo looks into the flame, mouth pulling into a frown. ]
Hope, I think - or strength, at least, for adversity. [ ... ] I... find myself wondering if the cult saw fit to punish us, and... to punish Death, as well.
[ the words twist a little further on his chest, and he swallows. ]
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maybe aventurine would be alright. maybe he could've done something.
but what about death? where were they? where were any of their masked overseers? ]
... you're not the only one. [ him, too. and others. ] Maybe the trick they used to hide us meetin' 'em didn't work as well as they thought. Or some other cult folk found out.
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[ so he has to wonder - is that true? was aventurine targeted by random happenstance, a side punishment for their attempt of rebellion? ]
... Even so, I... From what they said before, I... if they were so bothered, we may have been immediately left to sleep forever, not just overnight. The fact that we are alive is... I don't know what it means. I'm not sure what any of this means.
[ aside from the fact that it's a pointless, frustrating, and upsetting loss. still... rondo is the flameguard - he must uphold justice even in moments of great injustice. he glances over at alfyn, and after a moment, lifts his hand to squeeze his shoulder. ]
But we'll find out.
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[ it doesn't make a lot of sense, in the long run. they're missing a lot of pieces and he's not exactly thrilled with it. he's never liked death, even if the earth of orsterra in caked in the blood of so many wars. even if he's lost so many people - his father, zeph's parents, his own mother. even if there's been blood on his own hands.
losing more people and disappointing her flicker in ink across his skin, over his heart, but he doesn't notice as he looks back at rondo when he glances his way. ]
... 'cause we're alive, we can find the answers. Knowin' the why will be nice, for sure, but we can't just throw the chance we have away. Not while we have it.
[ even if they've lost two people, and there was nothing alfyn could do for them, that doesn't mean that he's going to fail the remaining 33 that still live. ]