i_amhungry (i_amhungry) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2009-01-19 06:31:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | hoban washburne, much |
Much adu about Nottingham (Much's arival, Wash)
Things were not as they once had been.
There had been a time when Robin was a carefree outlaw, laughing in the face of the Sheriff, daring him into games of cat and mouse. The young Earl had been a spirited man of good humor and boundless energy, he had, in short, had a heart. That was lost these days. England seemed infinitely more gray and the gang, such as it was, had fallen into darker times. Their battle to right the wrongs of injustice had blurred, their pristine ideals stained with blood, his once master was turning into a man he no longer knew, and it pained much to a degree he dare not speak.
He knew why of course, they all did. None of them returned form the Holy Land the same as they'd left it. Each had suffered and left something behind...D'jaq and Will stayed. Allan gave up his chance to be the right hand of Gisburne and his intended regime. Much had lost part of what he admired and envied most in Robin, bur Locksely had suffered more grievously of all.
In all the years and all the bloodshed of war, Much had never seen such pain as he saw in Robin's eyes as the lady lay dying in his arms. Even then her strength carried on, she wed him with her last breath and she herself pulled out the killing blade to put her own body to rest. That was the turning point for his master. That was when Robin of Locksely, Earl of Huntington, hero of the King himself, lost his heart.
They had returned to England, leaving behind memories and bodies. The second such time they had returned home from the Holy Land as changed men. Now even's Much's attempts to amuse, some less intentional than others, fell to deaf ears. Plans became simple, all out attacks, blood for blood more than principle now. What had begun as a war of right against wrong, justice against injustice had turned into something else. Robin lost all hesitation for killing, his thirst for vengeance was unquenchable.
Long nights of sleeplessness and silence followed, and Much would often wake to see Robin sitting and prodding the fire or gazing upward to the sky with a grimacing frown. He refused to speak of it, Robin would not even let the men bring up the subject of her death, only her being avenged seemed to be a topic and only then if he broached it.
So then it had gone, their personal war spilling over until it threatened to consume and destroy them along with those they fought. And such love did Much have in his heart for his brother at arms that he refused to leave his side, he defended him to the gang when he became unreasonable. This was not what Marian would have wanted for him, but Much knew this was the way Robin would be.
Sunlight dawned on one of their latest capers, just as they were escaping the walls of the castle grounds at Nottingham. The guards were right behind them, the ladders would take too long , they had to make a jump for it. With a whispered prayer Much pushed himself off the ladder and prepared to hit the ground.
It took rather longer than he expected. Quite a bit actually. Enough that his scream rose to a pitch that threatened the concept of his masculinity. "WHAAAAAAAA!!!" His arms wind milled and his body twisted round bringing him face to face with his certain demise. The ground beneath him was a white expanse ..heaven? Had he already died and this was --
*thushhhh*
Cold. This was not heaven. That or the Host had taken to enjoying wintry climes. Much struggled upward, finding no purchase for his hands as they sunk deep into the snow each time he tried to raising himself with them. Finally curling himself to a ball seemed to work. Once able to get his feet under him he stood, knee deep in snow..in midsummer? Hands went to his hips as his head bobbed a few times in agreement with his own musings that this was indeed most odd.
Standing in a silhouette of his own spread eagle form in the snow, Much decided he had fallen and hit his head. Not unlike the men from the Crusades who sore to seeing fairies or devils dancing in tea cups. There could not possibly be snow, the castle had no snow on it-- Where was the castle?
Startled he turned about, thrice. No sign of the imposing stone walls could be seen. A shaky hand rose and pulled his woven cap form his head, oh dear lord. Had he said something to offend the Almighty? Again? No sign of the castle but in the distance, not too distant he could see towering structures, taller than any he'd seen before. He could see them clearly even the light reflecting off the myriad of windows. No one had glass so pure as to do that. So...where was he?
"Lord, I know not what I have done. But I beg of you...clear my mind of these visions and I will fast for a day until I realize what my sin has been." Much squeezed his eyes shut and held them tightly closed as he recited the lords prayer before opening them again. Gifted open that sight of seeing...all the same impossibilities he had seen before.
"Alright Lord, I see. I have done something so heinous you wish me to be properly repented of it before curing me. I do see that, and the wisdom in it. But if you could perhaps..hint..edge me along to what it might have been...." No response from the heavenly host. "Ah..the virtue of patience. I see. Of course then Lord, I shall wait until you see fit to help me discover my sin that I may properly atone for it." Much nodded and sat down, folding arms and legs into himself as best he could. His eyes shut in a condition of deep reflection.
"Normally O' Lord I would not presume such....but owing to the cold...might you please see fit to show me the error of my ways sooner rather than later I would be most infinitely grateful."