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Post by Atreija Kaleijwyn on May 19, 2019 16:39:34 GMT
4th of Eleint, 1458 DR Kaleijwyn Residence, Sojrab Sabban, Makers Ward, Central Ward, Calimport T he kettle started to hiss as the water came to a boil. Hot steam escaped the top and the lid clinked as it moved around. Weary hands turned off the stove top and carried the kettle over to a table where two porcelain cups with tea balls in them were waiting anxiously for the hot water. One hand secured the lid while the other started pouring the water in one of the cups. As soon as the liquid enveloped the tea leaves, softening them and releasing their aroma, the pleasant scent of herbs spread throughout the small kitchen and into the next room.
“It’s going to be okay. We’re always here for you”, were words softly spoken by a woman with tightly curled black hair which was pushed back and pulled into a bun. Her dark brown eyes looked compassionately towards the person sitting across from her, while her full lips attempted to put on a supporting smile.
“But why HIM?”, cried the other person. She had her elbows on the table and put her head in both her hands while tears started to well up around her eyes once more. “I told him not to go, but he wouldn’t listen…”
The sobs reached into the next room where two girls were half playing with each other, half listening in on the conversation in the kitchen. Atreija, one of the girls was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed and surrounded by pillows and blankets. Her friend, Caleira, was painting a red clay container with seemingly random colors. Both girls looked absent minded but after a few minutes of silence, Caleira asked: “Do you think I should use blue next? Or does that not go with the blue?”
Atreija didn’t seem to hear her because she was just staring out of the window, lost in her own thoughts, but when Caleira held up the little vase, her friend just shrugged her shoulders.
“Aren’t you sad too?”, inquired Atreija finally.
“I guess so? I don’t think it has sunk in for me yet... But you know Credensio wasn’t a good guy. Mother is shaken of course, but I doubt that many others will cry for him like she does. Heck, even I don’t know how to feel.”
“He wasn’t that bad…”
“What are you talking about? He was constantly picking on you and now you’re sad he’s gone?”
Caleira put down her brush and the clay vase she was painting and looked at Atreija with confusion. Who was wrong here? She for not crying about the death of her older brother or her best friend who loathed him for suddenly changing her tune completely and making her feel guilty for not mourning?
But Atreija didn’t say anything.
Later that night, Atreija was laying in her bed, turning from side to side and couldn’t fall asleep. Credensio was still on her mind. He had been on Atreija’s mind countless times before, usually when she was reliving another humiliation she had endured from him and his friends that day. But this time it was different. This was the last new event related to Credensio. There wouldn’t be any new incidences and there wouldn’t be any new stories. From here on it would just be memories.
Ateija was still unsure of how she felt about the whole situation.
Often enough had she wished for Credensio to find his demise. But she hadn’t really meant it. Not like this. Atreija knew it wasn’t her fault though. It had been Credensio’s own doing. The people he surrounded himself with and the the way he chose to spent his time. His mother probably didn’t even know half the things he was involved in, and Atreija hoped that she wouldn’t find out now.
Atreija pressed her eyes together.
She still wasn’t tired. Not even close to it. But her head began to hurt. She didn’t want to think about Credensio anymore.
But still. Maybe now it was time for her to actually do that thing she wanted to do for so long, but couldn’t. Now one of the obstacles was gone, so maybe she finally had a chance! Atreija began to imagine what her life could look like, how things would change and what that would mean, not only for her, but also the people around her. But as her imagination ran wild, it started to slow down further and further. Just until that momentary thought turned into a dream and sleep overcame her finally.
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Post by Atreija Kaleijwyn on May 20, 2019 18:33:44 GMT
6th of Eleint, 1458 DR Kirrkuk Sabban, Crypt Ward, Outer Ward, Calimport T he funeral took place in a drudach in the Kirrkuk Sabban, also often called the Forgotton Sabban. It was one of three Sabbans which make up the Crypt Ward of Calimport. Whereas the other two Sabbans have mausoleums and crypts in them, the Kirruk Sabban mainly consists of individual graves of commoners. Metal fences separate the different drudachs of one Sabban from another her, quite a stark contrast to the opulent northern sector of the Crypt Ward, the so-called Adlel Sabban, which features thick stone walls with ornaments, magical fountains, elaborately planted courtyards and floors tiled with marble plates, as well as big mausoleums and obelisks paying respect to nobility and other important folk.
Credensio’s grave was simple and only a handful of people came to the ceremony. One definitely felt a sense of shame and while not all people in attendance understood why, Atreija surely did, as did Caleira. At one point a group of people could be seen in the distance. They didn’t dare to come closer, but to Atreija it was apparent that they were there for the funeral. She couldn’t really see who those people were, but later she suspected them to be some sort of criminal liaisons of Credensio who came to pay their last respects but didn’t want to disturb the family.
Atreija never really knew how much his mother knew of his doing, but Credensio and Caleira’s mother was visibly hurt by the low turnout at the funeral. Some neighbors offered a shoulder to cry on, but despite them and close family, no one else attended.
The priest gave a generic speech and was clearly fed lines and stories from his mother, because the way he was describing Credensio’s life and being, clearly wasn’t based in reality. Or perhaps it was. That might have actually been the way he was around his mom. She only knew that side of him. Atreija wished she could have said the same, but to her this whole ordeal just seemed sad and forced. His own mother didn’t even know the life her son had lived.
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