Story #2

[dmjewelle]

By kitmun : Memories.



My Lord,

A year has passed since your passing, yet your image has never faltered in my mind’s eye.

I still see the smile you only give me, never fully turned upwards, for that is one full of pretense and only for those who show in kind. No, mine comes from your eyes, those cherry-red eyes which look like tiny blood-filled bubbles; those thin your lips into a line, the edges barely curled. That is your smile for me, our secret smile, the smile that orders me a thousand times over.

I look to the bouquet in the vase, a combination of rosemary, pinks, sweetpeas – I smile and remember when we headed to Somerset with the good Doctor and Lady Marcella, and there you were, kneeling to get a closer look at the flowers, carefully touching the petals with your fingertips as though they would crumble at the slightest. The wind brushed through your hair, your brows furrowed, deep in thought.

Your fountain pen lays untouched at your desk. It brings to mind the letters you wrote to various nobles and ignobles alike, laced with your forthrightness and thinly-veiled malice. The smug glint in your eye as you stamp your family crest onto the drop of wax, as if daring the recipient to stand up to you. Indeed, every detail, every nuance, every gesture of your being, the way you walk, even the clean scent of your clothes – these memories, they consume me, they nourish my soul, and in turn comforts me.

I eagerly share these memories with the good Doctor and Lady Marcella, to remember that a young but great noble once walked with us as a friend and equal. However, they only shake their heads in despair, stare at me with piteous eyes. They insist that none of these memories happened, that it was all a fabrication. I have lost my footing and allowed my mind to be betrayed by Morpheus; my eyes have been clouded, they claim. The Doctor speaks of an overwhelming despair that have me conjure these “memories” of you, while Lady Marcella implores me remember the “true” memories of you.

I know better – it is they who are blind and deluded. My mind speaks true, and it is clear to me, for was I not the one who clothed you, fed you, assisted you in every manner conceivable? How could the memories of a passing acquaintance ever compare to what I have? No, it is I who continues to stand strong, as I once was to you.

And should I falter, it will be the death of me.

Eternally yours,
Your faithful servant.



Kidchan, you'll be illustrating this for the doujin. You've got your Aleister story now, go binge on chocolate.

Comments

;_;

[number304.livejournal.com]

Mr Tyme~~~~~~~~~

i think that's how it was spelt <.<

;____________;

Re: ;_;

[dmjewelle.livejournal.com]

Yes it was. ^^