05-24-2011, 09:24 PM
And your spirit still lives on....
Charlemagne nickered loudly outside of the old Victorian home. The cart to his side held evidence of the goings on inside of the home, and the horse was not happy to be tied up. It wasn’t out of spite but his mood today had angered Saluce and he needed his horse today, even if he had decided to just be out in the field acting like he had something better to do. Saluce was in the home, the second story to be exact, his tools laid out along the floor as he surveyed the damage to the home. All the anger and hatred he held for the once alpha of this land had washed away from him as memories flooded him of what he was. He had come un-announced figuring no one would live here, but he gathered enough that Gideon still resided here. The behemoth didn’t care if he held any objections, the scarred male needed help, and this task needed to be done.
A great loud grunt escaped his lips as he strained to remove a chunk of the tree that had fallen on the once bustling home of Conor and Bris. It was a shame, a great shame that the home hadn’t been repaired and that those two vibrant individuals weren’t filling this house with their happiness. A few months ago one could have come to the conclusion that this would have remained forever, and those two would have filled Dahlia with their children. That nothing could have broken their world so vividly, so disastrously that the image and shape of Dahlia would be forever changed. The heave was successful as the brute pushed the great log off the framework and into the yard. It was step one of many, next he’d have to salvage what he could then add in new boards and redo the roof. He’d need an extra hand and if Gideon showed up he’d put him to work, hoping he could assist him as best he could. No longer did Saluce look down on that man, he had been through so much while he had been away and now it wasn’t worth him teaching him anything other than compassion.
But he was here more as a tribute, Saluce was sure that something foul had befallen Conor. He couldn’t say with a hundred percent certainty but he was sure that Conor had met his demise within Anathema. So Saluce worked, to restore the memorial to his spirit, the side they all knew and loved. For what secrets the man held, what sickness that ate at him, he kept secret from them. No Dahlia would remember the liberator for what he stood for, not his downfalls. Conor Soul had freed this land from his father’s shadow, and he had given it redemption from the sins of the father. So Saluce merely acted in auto pilot, working one thing right after another, all kinds of noise and sounds coming from his work area as he started to repair the trusses of the roof.
Charlemagne nickered loudly outside of the old Victorian home. The cart to his side held evidence of the goings on inside of the home, and the horse was not happy to be tied up. It wasn’t out of spite but his mood today had angered Saluce and he needed his horse today, even if he had decided to just be out in the field acting like he had something better to do. Saluce was in the home, the second story to be exact, his tools laid out along the floor as he surveyed the damage to the home. All the anger and hatred he held for the once alpha of this land had washed away from him as memories flooded him of what he was. He had come un-announced figuring no one would live here, but he gathered enough that Gideon still resided here. The behemoth didn’t care if he held any objections, the scarred male needed help, and this task needed to be done.
A great loud grunt escaped his lips as he strained to remove a chunk of the tree that had fallen on the once bustling home of Conor and Bris. It was a shame, a great shame that the home hadn’t been repaired and that those two vibrant individuals weren’t filling this house with their happiness. A few months ago one could have come to the conclusion that this would have remained forever, and those two would have filled Dahlia with their children. That nothing could have broken their world so vividly, so disastrously that the image and shape of Dahlia would be forever changed. The heave was successful as the brute pushed the great log off the framework and into the yard. It was step one of many, next he’d have to salvage what he could then add in new boards and redo the roof. He’d need an extra hand and if Gideon showed up he’d put him to work, hoping he could assist him as best he could. No longer did Saluce look down on that man, he had been through so much while he had been away and now it wasn’t worth him teaching him anything other than compassion.
But he was here more as a tribute, Saluce was sure that something foul had befallen Conor. He couldn’t say with a hundred percent certainty but he was sure that Conor had met his demise within Anathema. So Saluce worked, to restore the memorial to his spirit, the side they all knew and loved. For what secrets the man held, what sickness that ate at him, he kept secret from them. No Dahlia would remember the liberator for what he stood for, not his downfalls. Conor Soul had freed this land from his father’s shadow, and he had given it redemption from the sins of the father. So Saluce merely acted in auto pilot, working one thing right after another, all kinds of noise and sounds coming from his work area as he started to repair the trusses of the roof.