Hello everyone, here is just a little one-shot I began writing during class the other day and just decided to finish it. Just a random work of inspiration that was really quite depressing to write, in a way. I hope you all enjoy:
Oh and guess what! There doesn't have to be a disclaimer because I own all of the characters! Well, I still do not own Tortall... I am planning to acquire it very soon though. Right after I conquer my school.
Sing Sweet, Seraphim
"Papa, where are you going?" A young girl barely five years of age stood by the door, her brown eyes wide and curious.
A middle aged man stopped in the middle of the path when he heard the girl's voice, his girl, his daughter.
The dew touched grass crunched as he turned around to face the whitewashed hut. He and his wife had slaved for hours on end to make their home impeccable. From the hand carved shutters, to the hard stone fireplace. They had worked together to make their dream a reality.
Tears formed in the corner of his eyes as he took in the sight of his beautiful child. Her light blond curls wisped around her ears like smoke in the wind, her rosy cheeks held no trace of the dimples she had when she smiled. The man saddened as he saw her bony arms leaning against the door.
This might be the last time he would see her glowing face, but it was all for the best. Or so he thought. After this, she would no longer look so scrawny, her cheeks would fill out. His wife would have time to spare, spending it doing other things than weaving baskets to sell at the next market.
"I am going away for a little while, Sera."
To one more knowing, they would have noticed how he struggled to keep his deep voice from quivering as he spoke his daughter's name.
"How long?" Her sweet cherubic voice acted like a dagger in the man's heart, but the deep pain he felt at leaving her was worse than any physical wound. Wounds to the skin heal, but this one, this wound to the heart would never be mended.
The father did not answer her question.
Taking a deep, albeit shaky, breath, he turned and began walking back down the road.
"Papa?" The girl's voice sounded pained; upset by her father's silence, his failure to answer her imperative question.
It took all the man had to put one foot in front of the other. To not turn around and sweep the small child up into his arms, holding her close as if the world as about to end.
But she was his world. Her mother was his world. This home was his world. And yet, he had to let it go. He as a father had to leave his world and enter another with the hopes of providing a better life for them.
He heard soft singing behind him. Gentle notes that touched his soul and clung onto it, slowly tearing it to pieces with every step he took away from the source of the music.
Right as the man was about to enter into the wooded path, he turned to face his daughter.
There she stood, in the same place she had been before. Her eyes were closed and he could see tear tracks running down her soiled face. It was her voice he heard and he smiled, despite her ragged clothes and appearance he reminded him just of an angel.
It was this angel he was sacrificing his world for.
Her young voiced stopped and she opened her eyes to see her father staring at her from the woods, tears running down his face as well, staining his travel clothes.
He gave his daughter a small smile before walking into the woods, leaving everything that had ever mattered behind him.
The man whispered into the dark, hoping the night wind would bring his words back to his little girl, though he knew she would not hear him.
"Sing sweet, Seraphim."