Disclaimer and author's notes:
See part 1.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Dolente: to play in a sorrowful, mournful manner
Alex stands in silence. She followed the little path past the grove of trees, walking through the wavering shadows; there were whispers of wind and leaves and soft snowfall all about her.
Here in the field, everything is clearer and quieter, because everything is frozen. The mantle of white snow is smooth and unbroken; the sky above is a solid dull gray colour, heavy and leaden. There is no breath of air touching her cold cheeks, no sudden gusts or breezes.
The flowers she carries in one hand are lightly dusted with snow, an edge of crystalline frost on each blossom. She kneels now and gently lays the bouquet in front of the tombstone, nestling it amid the snowdrifts. She does not read the name engraved on the hard granite surface; she does not need to.
Alex mourns in silence. Her blue eyes are silvered over with grief, and her cheeks are pale. She is frozen, and her tears are frozen. She has not cried for him; this anguish is too strong and terrible to weep. The numb coldness has struck her shivering heart into deafness, blindness, and muteness.
The wind picks up; the trees are rustling nearby, their branches crackling. It is a bitter wind, raw and sharp; it bites and stings her viciously. She draws her coat about her, huddling her hands into her pockets.
Alex leaves in silence. Her slender figure, dark against the white purity of the snow, soon vanishes amid the trees.
~*~*~*~*~*~
See part 1.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Dolente: to play in a sorrowful, mournful manner
Alex stands in silence. She followed the little path past the grove of trees, walking through the wavering shadows; there were whispers of wind and leaves and soft snowfall all about her.
Here in the field, everything is clearer and quieter, because everything is frozen. The mantle of white snow is smooth and unbroken; the sky above is a solid dull gray colour, heavy and leaden. There is no breath of air touching her cold cheeks, no sudden gusts or breezes.
The flowers she carries in one hand are lightly dusted with snow, an edge of crystalline frost on each blossom. She kneels now and gently lays the bouquet in front of the tombstone, nestling it amid the snowdrifts. She does not read the name engraved on the hard granite surface; she does not need to.
Alex mourns in silence. Her blue eyes are silvered over with grief, and her cheeks are pale. She is frozen, and her tears are frozen. She has not cried for him; this anguish is too strong and terrible to weep. The numb coldness has struck her shivering heart into deafness, blindness, and muteness.
The wind picks up; the trees are rustling nearby, their branches crackling. It is a bitter wind, raw and sharp; it bites and stings her viciously. She draws her coat about her, huddling her hands into her pockets.
Alex leaves in silence. Her slender figure, dark against the white purity of the snow, soon vanishes amid the trees.
~*~*~*~*~*~