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Chime paced across the room, the soft whisks of her silk skirts blending perfectly with the tiny silver bells braided into her hair. Her graceful steps took her past the sapphire colored blossoms and richly woven rugs that decorated the sun drenched room. As she passed a beautiful blue and white brocade panel her eyes filled with shimmering golden tears.
“Charlie..” She spoke the dead man’s name softly, her voice trembling with pain and grief.
Her thoughts tumbled over one another as she drifted towards a large desk in the corner of the room. She hadn’t wanted the man to die. He hadn’t deserved to die. He was no traitor, no terrorist in Margeaux’s army. He had only been a tired old man, trying to do the best he could for what was left of his family.
Chime stopped pacing and settled into a high backed chair. “ Lady, I don’t know if I can bear much more death.” She whispered into the silence of the room.
In agitation, the woman stood once more and began to pace again. The carpet was soft, but she didn’t see the white and blue hexagon patterns beneath her bare feet.
In her mind rats scurry in the shadows of the aqueduct. The smell of sewage, and rot filled her nose until she thought she would gag on it. Her hands, scratched and caked with dirt, carefully smoothed down the black hair of the young Legion Soldier. He was dead, had been dead for at least a day, but the horror on his face had not faded. And in his dead eyes she could see her own failure shining out at her like an accusation.
“I am so sorry.” She breathed the words, struggling to hold back a sob.
“Charlie..” She spoke the dead man’s name softly, her voice trembling with pain and grief.
Her thoughts tumbled over one another as she drifted towards a large desk in the corner of the room. She hadn’t wanted the man to die. He hadn’t deserved to die. He was no traitor, no terrorist in Margeaux’s army. He had only been a tired old man, trying to do the best he could for what was left of his family.
Chime stopped pacing and settled into a high backed chair. “ Lady, I don’t know if I can bear much more death.” She whispered into the silence of the room.
In agitation, the woman stood once more and began to pace again. The carpet was soft, but she didn’t see the white and blue hexagon patterns beneath her bare feet.
In her mind rats scurry in the shadows of the aqueduct. The smell of sewage, and rot filled her nose until she thought she would gag on it. Her hands, scratched and caked with dirt, carefully smoothed down the black hair of the young Legion Soldier. He was dead, had been dead for at least a day, but the horror on his face had not faded. And in his dead eyes she could see her own failure shining out at her like an accusation.
“I am so sorry.” She breathed the words, struggling to hold back a sob.