Kiernan Manley (wingsofwyverns) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-06-06 07:59:00 |
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When Kiernan woke, he stayed put, staring at the ceiling for a long while. He didn’t have to report in today – he had the day off, and he didn’t even have to ask for it. It was tradition, after all, enough that his superiors in both the Riders and the Rangers didn’t even question it anymore. His colleagues, also, knew not to bother him today, and he had free reign of the dragoon training hall regardless of who might have it otherwise reserved today. They’d be told to expect him. This was not a day that Kiernan looked forward to, but today, this year, he found that it was not a heavy heart that weighed him down. It was his own thoughts. What are you doing? Twenty-three years is long enough, don’t you think? But Torin… … wouldn’t want you to waste your life. It’s just one day. A day you could be spending living in the present instead of the past. What are you doing? With a sigh, Kiernan peeled himself from the mattress and swung his legs over the side of the bed, holding his head in his hands. It’s tradition. And what if… What if what? Kiernan lifted his head and stared at the toy swords from his childhood that leaned against the wall in front of him, the toy swords that he and Torin used to play with before moving onto “borrowed” bamboo poles from the neighbor’s garden. It was strange, really, that when he sold the house that was what he took with him to remind him of his older brother, of all things, and not anything else. He still didn’t understand why, but it was not that question that bothered him. Why dwell on this? It’s been twenty-three years. He didn’t even live for twenty-three years. Just the seventeen. But if I don’t remember him… … but I always do. Why is today so different? He rubbed his temple, the same thoughts storming through his head for some minutes more – he couldn’t keep track of how long exactly – before one thought crystallized: It’s time to move on, Manley. Kiernan let that revelation sit in his head and churned over it again and again, doing all he could either to let go of it or to grab a firm hold upon it. It was noon by the time he stood from the bed, showered, put on his armor, and went to work. |