This was it.
The hour he had known was coming for years was finally at hand. A half-full battered leather pack was unceremoniously slung onto the bed, its contents still yet to be finalised. Sharp green eyes scanned the room mentally sorting the useful from the ornate – some writing implements and parchment, a few durable clothes, his design notebook, a pair of robust leather fingerless gloves, his last present from Riselle. He runs his thumb across the soften leather in thought. She was the only one to be fully aware of his trysts to Farstriders Square in the late hours of the night. Long hours of repetitive striking tools had started to generate large calluses on his palms, so she had bought him the gloves as a preventative measure and to better aid hiding his antics from the parents. Riselle had always been the smarter of the two of them he mused as the gloves were stuffed in.
The sun was fast heading behind the horizon, and a lazy golden light bathed the room as he solemnly removed his embroidered shirt , replacing it with a less decorated and more hardy grey shirt and well worn durable trousers. He contemplated taking the garments with him, for the golden elven embroidery depicted fine leaves and swirls that many a tradesman would pay handsomely for such exotic wares... the thought was dismissed as he placed the folded item back into its drawer – he needed no aid from this place, any coin he would have, would be of his own making.
There was one last item to retrieve. A thick set wooden desk with ornate legs, piled with barely opened magical tomes and unused quills loomed at him threateningly. He frowned at the inanimate object. How he hated that desk. The worthless hours he had spent pouring over its useless books and scrolls attempting to force his brain to comprehend and perform fantastical tasks that he knew were simply forever beyond his reach. The entire room really was just a lavishly decorated mock prison in which he had wasted his youth. Although, the time hadn't been completely wasted. On the reverse sides of various arcane exercises and enchantment scrolls, depicted intricate designs of sleek armour. Had anyone been bothered to look at the scribbling, they would have seen great care in the ergonomics and articulation of plate armour – erratic notes marking what material to use and where to obtain maximum strength and beauty for the wearer. With a grunt and a hefty clout to the furniture revealed a loose floorboard, as well as dislodge the well of ink from its nest. It rolled down and shattered on the floor leaving a trail of black-blue splatters in its wake. Within the recess laid two bundles wrapped in fine golden fabric – one tied with a black ribbon, one with a blue, as well as small leather bound book. He takes only the blue ribboned bundle and secrets it within his shirt. Replacing the board and desk as they were, taking care not to disturb the tell-tale ink puddle, he scans the room one final time, lost in the history of his now ex-home. No more would he be forced into hiding, but equally no more would he have the comfort of 'home' and all its usual securities. The concept of loneliness crept into his subconscious chillingly.
A sharp tapping breaks his spiralling line of thought and he is surprised to see a small red swiftwing, common to the area , land at the open window hop about on the stone ledge his little beady eyes questioning the room, with a sharp chirrup, soar away as swiftly as it came into the warm oncoming night. Rotharian grins slightly at first, then broadly at the significance of the gesture. Grabbing his backpack heading out the door, more confidence in his gait, he turns and offers a slight wave at the now empty window "... and goodbye to you too Mr swiftwing"
Two empty high backed seats opposite stared back at Ravahra, silently mocking her singularity as the quiet clatter of cutlery announced it was mid dinner. Her parents flanked either end of the long decorated table not covered in as many splendid dishes as it once did, but a feast fit enough to grace should any high quality company happen to stop by. She quietly poked steamed albacore and fruit around her plate noting ironically, its dead eyes looked how she felt inside. Knowing deep down what the answer is before she even asks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, quietly
"Father, is Rotharian not joining us tonight?"
The following silence thickens her blood as the blonde male glares at his wineglass on its way to his lips.
"No. Nor again."
The elegant lady at the opposing end of the table gives the slightest of nods in understanding to her remaining daughter and then sips her own wine in quiet resignation.
"..Oh..." She resumes poking her fish with much less interest than before, as a small tear wells in her eyes.
Ravahra stared out into the moonless night from her large bay window at nothing in particular, the old solid knotted tree had grown so close it practically had invited itself into her quarters. But she liked it that way, all three of the siblings had liked the outside – the wind on their faces as they ran about the grounds, playing with the crispy rust coloured leaves of perpetual lazy ends of summer, the girls especially had an eye for the flora of their homeland. An arrogant cricket chirped in the red flowering bushes below challenging the equally loud crickets residing in the curiously floating golden urn of trailing white flowers. She puts her arms on the ledge and rests her chin pouting. Why couldn't be like the old days again? Fun and simple, when they were together as children...
"Rav... RAV! Look at THIS!" A muddy beaming boy with long messy chestnut hair comes tearing up to a pair of girls on the lawn who had been previously inspecting the petals of a large white flower in one of the many flower urns. He proudly presents the younger of the girls with his clasped dirty hands and wide smile, careful not to smudge their claret pinafores. She frowns at him and the 'gift'
"Is it a spider?" she asks fearfully, backing off and eyes widening at the memory of the LAST gift Roth had brought her.
"I thought you liked animals?" he jeers at her fear
"Well, not icky ones with horrid legs and pointy teeth... and..." she flusters off. The elder of the girls absentmindedly toying with her long braid chuckling at the other two.
"No no, I promise, you'll like this one" he sheepishly grins back. The trio bend in slightly closer to see as he cracks open his palms. A pair of blue butterflies burst forth in a flutter of wings causing the girls to squeal in delight and giggles. One of the insects decides to eventually rest on one of the white flowers batting its wings lazily in the sun. Carefully the children creep closer to peer at its elaborate wings wide eyed.
"Aaaw Riselle! You made it fly away!" Ravahra sulks after her sisters turn involved a twig and a gentle poking of the bug.
"Nevermind, because the butterfly can't save you from ..." The elder girl sticks two twigs in the sides of her mouth like mock tusks, hunches and raises her arms in to a looming shape "..der bad voodoo of da trolls hahahahahh" And chases after the younger girl who is merrily screaming from glee, fleeing round the flower pots on the lush lawn. Eager to join the new game the boy leaps in save the damsel in distress with a substitute 'sword'-gardening trowel and 'shield' -box lid from his 'armoury' - the servants hut hidden round behind several trees out of sight, more than likely the same location he had found the offending spider earlier.
"Fear not fair maiden! For the glory of Quel'thelas! I will... oops!"
*SMASH*
The boy rubs his head – a collision with the one of the urns had just proven that little elf boys are more resilient than garden ornaments...
Ravahra smiles slightly to herself at the memory then sighs pondering 'What happened to us?'
A strange rustling in the tree next to her window shakes her awake out of her thoughts as a figure emerges out of the shadows of the branches, treading carefully along one of the larger branches, settling on one which could withhold his weight right by her window. She gasps and he raises a finger to his lips to indicate the need for hushed tones.
"Ro..Rotharian? I thought you had gone?" She smiles in relief at her brother.
"Well, I have... I mean, I will. But I couldn't go without seeing you first" he rubs the back of his neck nervously – a habits he'd always had when put on the spot and was looking for the 'right' words to say. She casts her eyes downwards and the smile falls "So it's true then? You are leaving as-well?"
"You know I can't sit here and do nothing Rav" The childish nicknames had still stuck to the now grown graceful priestess before him "Being here, stagnating when I could be doing something worthwhile."
"Riselle?"
He nods with a furrowed brow "Father won't try to find her, caught up in his hierarchy socialite bubble, and Mother is already beside herself with all this. She knows something about this, but I won't pressure her. Riselle can't have gone far yet, and besides..." He brushes the hair from her face and tilts her chin up with a finger to look her in the eyes with his boyish grin "...now you're the prize priestess of the manor, you've long out grown the need for me to save you anymore."
She sniffs and playfully slaps his hand away "oh... stop it." She sighs, her smile returning.
"But honestly Roth, where could she have gone? Do you have any idea where to start? And how are you going to live? Have you thought about any of this?" She fired the thoughts at him rapidly as her clever mind leapt from thought to thought. He raises his hands up in mock defence.
"Shhh, just trust me on this one. You're right, we don't know where she has gone, but I might know someone who does, people just don't disappear, there is always someone who will know something, and this way if I go, I won't be compromising Mother and her position any more. I thought I'd check about town first, then South. Belil mentioned something of a disturbance towards Tranquillen..."
She cuts him off shrilly before remembering they were supposed to be keeping quiet
"You CAN'T ME... you can't mean towards... but they say it is swarming with the undead! Oh Roth you can't!" almost pleading as she tugs on his sleeve in earnest. He gently covers her hand with his and gives a resigned smile
"Rav, you know I'd do anything for you and Riselle. Well the time has come to prove that. I've tried to look after you two as much as I could, and fel knows you've done more than your fair share of looking after me! And... ah... oh come on Rav don't look at me like that, I'll be fine" He rubs his neck again as she looks at him with watery eyes "Better than! I'll find Riselle and we'll be together again, without any of..well.. and... Here" He pulls out the blue-ribboned parcel and hands it to her "Since I can't be here and, well, it might be useful and ready for... but..." He stumbles over his words then hugs her tightly and kisses her on the head. She releases him slowly "Just, be careful" he cheekily winks back before deftly dropping to the ground into the shadows. She tries to pick out his figure moving through the grounds but soon the darkness has all but swallowed his image into the night, only his footsteps on stone growing fainter.
She was worried for him, for her sister. She had read about the changing world, the stories from the city about the writhing undead, and worse- those who had fallen to the corruption of magic itself become dependent husks of their former selves. But she had not been blind for all these years, she knew that Rotharian had skill with a sword, and could best most in displays of sheer brute strength. True, he wasn't the quickest of minds, but his heart was loyal. If anyone could find Riselle, it would be typically Rotharian, and he had yet to break his word to either of them. She comforted herself with these thoughts still staring into the shadows.
"Oops" *SMASH* the footsteps hurry away quicker. Ravahra chuckled, certain things would never change.
In a whirl of her own thoughts, Ellaoris heard the crash of breaking pottery out in the courtyard echo through the window, but did not rise to see its maker. Her satin shoes, stained with the black ink from when she had burst into the empty room before dinner to find nothing but memories and his hollow chair. She just sat on dishevelled bed of her only sons abandoned room, holding his purple embroidered shirt tight to her chest, as tears silently fell down her cheeks.
"Please..." she whispered "Please let my children be safe..."