04-20-2021, 07:46 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 2.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]Who was he to act as the keeper of Victor Seaborne’s memories?
The thought of visiting his grave had been excruciating following Wren’s silent departure. As if the guilt that had already weighed heavily on his shoulders only amplified now that the secret was kept between not one, but two tumultuous souls. The horror that he’d forever recall at that look on Wren’s face when those bereaved words shakily passed his lips. Victor was gone, and it had been Edmund’s fault. Or that was what he’d tell himself at night anyways. It always was his fault; the man to pull the trigger, to drag scarlet red through the crispness of the winter snow, to dig and dig until his fingers blistered to lay a good man to rest. Ever since Wren’s departure, the thought of recalling those memories were suffocating. He would stand alone in the darkness of the night as he’d inhale a thick plume of smoke. He liked the way it burnt his lungs in the coldness of the mountains, as if his own self-destruction could indeed look that beautiful.
Soon, his fingers had twisted around the cigarette he’d been holding, snapping it in two.
Upon his arrival back to the lodge, he was confronted with the memories face on again. It was bound to have happened one day or another. Wren wished to speak to him privately, and Eddie wouldn’t shy away from his responsibilities when they’d approach him. After putting his children to bed, kissing the both of them lovingly on their foreheads as he thanked each day he could keep them safe, Eddie stepped into the library warily, slowly shutting the library door with a soft click. With the topic of conversation that was due to be discussed, Eddie was sure he wouldn’t appreciate any eavesdroppers. Swallowing hard, Eddie looked across at Wren expectantly. She’d turn to look at him with those calm blue eyes, and it wasn’t a scrutinising gaze whatsoever but he still could feel himself wanting to shrink away from it regardless.
❝ Wren… ❞ Eddie greeted with a soft breath, unsure where he should tread for a moment before approaching and taking a seat at a nearby armchair. He soaked in the warmth of the fireplace, just about the only comfort he felt in a conversation he was gravely aware would compel that same heavy heart he often felt at the memory of Victor. ❝ You wanted to talk. ❞
The thought of visiting his grave had been excruciating following Wren’s silent departure. As if the guilt that had already weighed heavily on his shoulders only amplified now that the secret was kept between not one, but two tumultuous souls. The horror that he’d forever recall at that look on Wren’s face when those bereaved words shakily passed his lips. Victor was gone, and it had been Edmund’s fault. Or that was what he’d tell himself at night anyways. It always was his fault; the man to pull the trigger, to drag scarlet red through the crispness of the winter snow, to dig and dig until his fingers blistered to lay a good man to rest. Ever since Wren’s departure, the thought of recalling those memories were suffocating. He would stand alone in the darkness of the night as he’d inhale a thick plume of smoke. He liked the way it burnt his lungs in the coldness of the mountains, as if his own self-destruction could indeed look that beautiful.
Soon, his fingers had twisted around the cigarette he’d been holding, snapping it in two.
Upon his arrival back to the lodge, he was confronted with the memories face on again. It was bound to have happened one day or another. Wren wished to speak to him privately, and Eddie wouldn’t shy away from his responsibilities when they’d approach him. After putting his children to bed, kissing the both of them lovingly on their foreheads as he thanked each day he could keep them safe, Eddie stepped into the library warily, slowly shutting the library door with a soft click. With the topic of conversation that was due to be discussed, Eddie was sure he wouldn’t appreciate any eavesdroppers. Swallowing hard, Eddie looked across at Wren expectantly. She’d turn to look at him with those calm blue eyes, and it wasn’t a scrutinising gaze whatsoever but he still could feel himself wanting to shrink away from it regardless.
❝ Wren… ❞ Eddie greeted with a soft breath, unsure where he should tread for a moment before approaching and taking a seat at a nearby armchair. He soaked in the warmth of the fireplace, just about the only comfort he felt in a conversation he was gravely aware would compel that same heavy heart he often felt at the memory of Victor. ❝ You wanted to talk. ❞
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I'M OUT OF MY MIND, REPLAYING THE SCENE