celestine allison argent (lovesthechase) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2014-01-23 10:32:00 |
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It took him some time before Charming persuaded himself to really try and return to the Homelands. Yes, he visited the fake Beast's territory, and it all resembled what he was used to somewhat, but it wasn't home. He heard tales that if he went far enough within, he might find something he thought was long lost to him. He took to the new world much easier than most of his kind; Charming was very adaptable, it was part of his legend. He moved in and out of other tales, playing the leading role, and then took his leave once his interest waned. He sold his name and lands when low on money, although he managed to get them back and retain his status. When that happened, Charming gave up on them returning home. It was lost to them. The Adversary won. They were refuges and looking backward would serve no purpose. They left family and friends behind in order to survive. Charming was not one to dwell. Still, he decided it was time. He was tired of being in a snow covered strange place, and Fabletown wasn't much better. The streets were empty there too. And they were right. He could scarcely believe it, but as he trudged along in the snow, his toes frozen and his mind full of furious thoughts, he stopped in his tracks. He stopped feeling the cold and released the negativity spread over his shoulders like armor, because in the distance he saw the castle that only existed in his dreams. He sometimes wasn't certain if they were memories, if he knew what his land looked like. And this was not it exactly, the snow was covering the land so it was not in its full glory. Charming kept walking until he got to the gates. It was quiet. That he expected. They all fled. The castle was in disrepair, it was touched by centuries without care, and much of what he remembered was somber, lost, rubble. It should have bothered him, but Charming went into the courtyard, turning and gazing up at the sky, at the walls he used to love. He had memories here, before he went down a path he couldn't come back from, when he was young and adored and saw his future as endlessly exciting. The throne room was cold and dirty and the wind whistled through the empty hall. Once it was full of warmth and chatter. It still held a strange type of beauty, eerie as it was, and he could close his eyes and picture it. Perhaps that could happen again. His father no longer sat on the throne, and it was knocked over, collapsed on the floor. He tried to right it, but it was broken for now. It would have to be replaced. Everything would. Charming sank to the ground next to the throne and touched the wood. Was it grief that struck him then, causing his heart to feel ready to burst? Or was it joy? He couldn't tell the difference anymore. How long had it been since he felt anything true at all? The cynicism and jaded callousness melted away, and he closed his eyes tightly. He was home. |