11-26-2011, 07:34 PM
What entails below will be the story that will at long last begin to unravel the past between Aryeon and Urameil...
Ethereal drapes, silken and blue, blowing in the slight breeze from open windows.
Extravagant decorations adorning a forlorn wall. Plaster peeling at the corners of the walls.
None had walked these halls for centuries. It had been abandoned; forgotten, sitting idly as it was from the day it was left to rot. No one had come since. No tax collectors. No state officials. No distant relatives. Not a soul.
For the first time in almost a millennium, someone dared disturb this peaceful limbo. The massive front doors thrust open, a hefty draft bellowing through the foyer. Dust and broken glass tumbled across the floor, the molded curtains flopping. Then a silence, followed by heavy footsteps. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. At the entrance, there stood the last sons of the house, one limp and cold in the arms of the other: Aryeon and Urameil Sunsong.
Aryeon’s face was as still as a pond. His expression blank, almost in disbelief, did not waver once from the gust of wind at his back, or at the memories his heart was flooding full of. Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, lips pursed to a frown, he merely walked into the empty halls before him. His gait was just as still and stiff; he never limped or stumbled. He merely kept his modest walking pace with no change, arms outstretched with the body of Urameil cradled in them.
Urameil’s own face left no betrayal as to his condition. It was white and sickly, cold to the touch. His eyes were blank, showing nothing of what his final thoughts may have been. His mouth was exposed, instead of being covered by a scarf as it usually is; it too held no expression. Indeed, it was hard to even believe that he was a corpse; he could have easily passed off as a mannequin. Following behind both men was a lone scraggly cat, mewing hoarsely as it kept pace nearby.
”Aryeon! Come quickly!”, a voice exclaimed from a room nearby, down a long hallway.
Aryeon remembered this hall. The arrangement of the rooms, the artwork adorning the walls, the now-ruined furniture hardly changed from the day he left.
”Where is he, where is he?!”, a child yelled as he excitedly ran into the room he was called. He was a lad of no more than ten years old, an amount that meant next to nothing to most Quel’dorei. His hair was a reddish brown, eyes wide and full of joy. He dropped aside his arcane contraption toy at the door and scurried over to the bedside, hopping up and down with eagerness.
Aryeon stared down at the bed. It is, or rather, was, a luxurious king-sized setup with silken curtains and decorative pillows. He silently lowered Urameil’s body down, placing it on the moldy, dusty mattress with a great creak as it supported the body’s mass and weight. The cat ran over and jumped up, nuzzling itself against a lifeless, open palm. It purred within a few seconds, although the purring sounded like grating pieces of metal together.
”Aryeon, this is your new baby brother”, said an older looking elf with floating arcane orbs around his head. He kneeled beside the boy as he spoke to him beside the bed, showing him a newborn infant elf in its mother’s arms. The boy looked at the infant curiously and crooked his head, then was silent for a moment. At last, he spoke, “Why is he so ugly looking?? I thought babies were cute!”
Sur enough, the infant was not the best looking child around. His eyes were a bit lowest, and the face was rather long as far as newborns go. Regardless, the man reprimanded his child, “Aryeon! Don’t say such mean things about your brother. He was just born, is all. He’ll look better as he gets older.”
The boy looked at the man, then the newborn babe again. He shrugged and smiled, “Alright, I’m sorry that you’re ugly because you’re just born, little brother… uh…”, he paused mid-sentence, looking confused. “… what is my brother’s name, anyway??”, he finally asked aloud.
“A name, hmm…? Well…”, the elderly man began to speak.
“What about… Urameil?” the mother piped in, still cradling the child in her arms. “Urameil Sunsong. I think it a good name, don’t you, Aryeon?”
The boy stroked his chin in faux thought, and then grinned widely. “Yeah! I like it, mama!” he exclaimed happily as he picked back up his arcane toy. “That’s a good name, almost as good as my name!” he added on with a laugh, which was soon joined by the two parents in the room…
Aryeon’s expression finally broke. Tears streamed down his face as he held aloft his truesilver stave, gathering holy magic in every part of his body. The entire room rattled as feeble glass knick-knacks fell and tumbled across the floor, a divine wind filling the room and ruffling the curtains violently. He stood over the body of Urameil as it lay on the bed, the sudden change in mood scaring the cat off with a defensive hiss and spat. Aryeon continued to focus all of his energy into his being, all of him glowing with Holy Light as it shone through his eyes, and then his mouth as he began to chant feverishly in Thalassian tongues, all the while failing to hold back his sobs.
He swept his stave over Urameil’s profile, focusing the holy power into it from within his own body. A surge drove through them both, Aryeon’s religious chants continuing as he neared the completion of the resurrection ritual. It was all very noisy and upsetting to the ears, yet amidst it all, a distinct beat is heard. Thump. Thump. Thump. The distinct beating of a heart. The flow of blood through the body’s veins. The flesh was becoming healthy once more, as Aryeon fell to his knees, the tears now dried on his face. He stared at Urameil’s body for what could have been the longest minute of his long-lived life. The flesh was willing, but now the question was the soul? The heart would beat, but Aryeon watched stilly as he waited for the lungs to once more draw breath.
“… Brother.”
~Act I~
Ethereal drapes, silken and blue, blowing in the slight breeze from open windows.
Extravagant decorations adorning a forlorn wall. Plaster peeling at the corners of the walls.
None had walked these halls for centuries. It had been abandoned; forgotten, sitting idly as it was from the day it was left to rot. No one had come since. No tax collectors. No state officials. No distant relatives. Not a soul.
For the first time in almost a millennium, someone dared disturb this peaceful limbo. The massive front doors thrust open, a hefty draft bellowing through the foyer. Dust and broken glass tumbled across the floor, the molded curtains flopping. Then a silence, followed by heavy footsteps. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. At the entrance, there stood the last sons of the house, one limp and cold in the arms of the other: Aryeon and Urameil Sunsong.
Aryeon’s face was as still as a pond. His expression blank, almost in disbelief, did not waver once from the gust of wind at his back, or at the memories his heart was flooding full of. Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, lips pursed to a frown, he merely walked into the empty halls before him. His gait was just as still and stiff; he never limped or stumbled. He merely kept his modest walking pace with no change, arms outstretched with the body of Urameil cradled in them.
Urameil’s own face left no betrayal as to his condition. It was white and sickly, cold to the touch. His eyes were blank, showing nothing of what his final thoughts may have been. His mouth was exposed, instead of being covered by a scarf as it usually is; it too held no expression. Indeed, it was hard to even believe that he was a corpse; he could have easily passed off as a mannequin. Following behind both men was a lone scraggly cat, mewing hoarsely as it kept pace nearby.
”Aryeon! Come quickly!”, a voice exclaimed from a room nearby, down a long hallway.
Aryeon remembered this hall. The arrangement of the rooms, the artwork adorning the walls, the now-ruined furniture hardly changed from the day he left.
”Where is he, where is he?!”, a child yelled as he excitedly ran into the room he was called. He was a lad of no more than ten years old, an amount that meant next to nothing to most Quel’dorei. His hair was a reddish brown, eyes wide and full of joy. He dropped aside his arcane contraption toy at the door and scurried over to the bedside, hopping up and down with eagerness.
Aryeon stared down at the bed. It is, or rather, was, a luxurious king-sized setup with silken curtains and decorative pillows. He silently lowered Urameil’s body down, placing it on the moldy, dusty mattress with a great creak as it supported the body’s mass and weight. The cat ran over and jumped up, nuzzling itself against a lifeless, open palm. It purred within a few seconds, although the purring sounded like grating pieces of metal together.
”Aryeon, this is your new baby brother”, said an older looking elf with floating arcane orbs around his head. He kneeled beside the boy as he spoke to him beside the bed, showing him a newborn infant elf in its mother’s arms. The boy looked at the infant curiously and crooked his head, then was silent for a moment. At last, he spoke, “Why is he so ugly looking?? I thought babies were cute!”
Sur enough, the infant was not the best looking child around. His eyes were a bit lowest, and the face was rather long as far as newborns go. Regardless, the man reprimanded his child, “Aryeon! Don’t say such mean things about your brother. He was just born, is all. He’ll look better as he gets older.”
The boy looked at the man, then the newborn babe again. He shrugged and smiled, “Alright, I’m sorry that you’re ugly because you’re just born, little brother… uh…”, he paused mid-sentence, looking confused. “… what is my brother’s name, anyway??”, he finally asked aloud.
“A name, hmm…? Well…”, the elderly man began to speak.
“What about… Urameil?” the mother piped in, still cradling the child in her arms. “Urameil Sunsong. I think it a good name, don’t you, Aryeon?”
The boy stroked his chin in faux thought, and then grinned widely. “Yeah! I like it, mama!” he exclaimed happily as he picked back up his arcane toy. “That’s a good name, almost as good as my name!” he added on with a laugh, which was soon joined by the two parents in the room…
Aryeon’s expression finally broke. Tears streamed down his face as he held aloft his truesilver stave, gathering holy magic in every part of his body. The entire room rattled as feeble glass knick-knacks fell and tumbled across the floor, a divine wind filling the room and ruffling the curtains violently. He stood over the body of Urameil as it lay on the bed, the sudden change in mood scaring the cat off with a defensive hiss and spat. Aryeon continued to focus all of his energy into his being, all of him glowing with Holy Light as it shone through his eyes, and then his mouth as he began to chant feverishly in Thalassian tongues, all the while failing to hold back his sobs.
He swept his stave over Urameil’s profile, focusing the holy power into it from within his own body. A surge drove through them both, Aryeon’s religious chants continuing as he neared the completion of the resurrection ritual. It was all very noisy and upsetting to the ears, yet amidst it all, a distinct beat is heard. Thump. Thump. Thump. The distinct beating of a heart. The flow of blood through the body’s veins. The flesh was becoming healthy once more, as Aryeon fell to his knees, the tears now dried on his face. He stared at Urameil’s body for what could have been the longest minute of his long-lived life. The flesh was willing, but now the question was the soul? The heart would beat, but Aryeon watched stilly as he waited for the lungs to once more draw breath.
“… Brother.”