Liz Griffith (veileddarkness) wrote in lab_rinth, @ 2015-09-02 13:10:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !week thirteen, elijah whitaker, letha silivasi |
She blames herself
Who: Letha & Elijah
When: Week Thirteen: Monday Feb 23rd - Late
Where: Pierdut House
Summary: Letha going through the motions after losing a loved one
Warning: Unsure
The Pierdut house had a somber feel about it, the rooms were quiet the lighting was low. It had just the right feel for a funeral, or a wake or a vigil; just the right feeling to remember Jeremiah. Letha had lost plenty in this life of hers, so much so that she thought she would be prepared for how much it would hurt; she had been wrong. The loss of Jeremiah hurt much more than she would have thought.
Jeremiah had been her childe, a man she had turned into a vampire many decades ago. She had saved him from death then, he’d fallen ill to a sickness that he couldn’t be cured of. He had such talent as a musician and she had fallen in love with him, and had wanted to make him hers. They hadn’t stayed together long, however. He had decided to go off on his own, to follow his dream as a musician.
It had hurt then, when he had left her, but this hurt even worse. She would never see Jeremiah again.
It had been a joyful moment when he had come back into her life not long ago. He’d brought with him his music and laughter, he’d reminded her how lovely life could be, how joyful…and he’d also reminded just how harsh and maddening it could be.
This morning, as she had been sleeping as many vampires do when the sun comes up, Jeremiah had risen from the bed they had shared and had walked out into the back garden, letting the sun burn him until he was only ash. She had no body to bury and the slight breeze had done away with any ash, scattering it about the garden.
Letha had felt the moment Jeremiah had done what he had done. The link was opened just enough that she could feel him, even if she had blocked him from feeling her. It was like a shot to the stomach, her insides seemed to catch fire, jerking her awake. His name had been on her lips as she had raced through her home, down the stairs and to the door that went out to her garden. It had been too late, she had fallen to her knees at the door and watched, sobbing as his ash had scattered.
Later, when she could get control over herself, she had risen and placed a message to have a wake; her home would be open to those that wished to pay respect to Jeremiah’s memory.
The wake had been a few hours ago, it was late and still Letha could not bring herself to move from the couch she had taken perch upon. Others had come and gone, paid their respects and now…she just sat.