Thursday, December 21, 2006

A begining (a story in the making)

His knee ached again. It always bothered him this time of year, of course, but that wasn't what troubled him, he thought. His skin was slightly irritated, especially where it used to touch hers, but that wasn't it either. It was a sunny day, as most were in these parts. Well, mostly sunny, he thought. He was sitting sprawled in the shade of Symbol's Street's Excelsior Cathedral, trying to take in a rare quiet moment. The grass here was certainly greener than his old home. In fact, almost greener, which was pretty good given the fairly steep water prices. That wasn't what bothered him either though. No, he sighed inwardly. If it were only as simple as that.
"Your grace", a voice said.
"Yes. Is it time then?" he asked.
"Yes, your grace".
"Very well. Here, help me up, would you?"
"Of course, your grace".
Damned mannered bastards, he thought. Sighing again, this time not as inwardly as he would have preferred, he allowed himself onto his feet. Grasping hold of his staff, he began his march, starting to surround the familiar water pond.
"Not today, your grace", said the voice.
"Oh? Why not?"
"After yesterday I'm afraid we've had little choice, your grace".
"Indeed. How unfortunate". He'd rather longed to stroll by that pond a bit, finding it quite soothing. An uncommon calming effect on him, he mused. The bile was only mild this morning, thank the goddess. That wasn't what troubled him either, of course. That feeling was a matter of fact by now, a constant battle to be fought without giving it too much thought, or at least to appear as such, he smiled bitterly to himself.
"Well then... lead on", he said.
The Cathedral's side gate was looming to their far right, beckoning occasionally as the sun hit the decorative signs and notes. The gate was actually leading to a separate hall linked to the cathedral, he now noticed. You can say whatever you want about the guy, he thought, but his remains have secured a rather splendid mausoleum for themselves, unlike so many others. He paused for a moment, examining the wood carvings on the door, then, swallowing a sigh, clicked the intercom button. The first few bars of "When Doves Cry" chimed, surrounding the opening entrance. "Here we go", he thought.