Post by Kyrie Blaze on Oct 25, 2013 22:46:51 GMT -8
Her Groves were where she found peace and reinforcement with life. Very similar to running, parkour, and playing the piano. But her Groves were her creation, born. And when she sat amongst the plants that had been harvested back on the roof it all began on, Kyrie breathed in the smells, took in the sounds and sights. And as she considered all she had to lose and everything she had to live for, her resolve to live through this grew and shone brightly.
But the blonde did not have much time at all.
She spent an hour, perhaps, there. And then slowly jogged to her place, doing some light vaults and letting her heart sing with the movement and momentum. With the feeling of being alive.
Though she slowed and her run wasn't anywhere near as vigorous as it normally was - she had to conserve her energy and not strain her muscles - the blonde's blue eyes glinted and danced. Life and love and laughter.
She turned up towards her house, the house that was a gift, and exhaled slowly. Her stride did not falter, even as she slowed to a gentle, silent walk. The blonde moved up the steps and in through the door, enjoying the feel of wood and metal. She looked around as she moved through the house, her gaze drinking up every detail.
This space, this house, was irrefutably hers, even though she had yet to truly make her mark on it and make it her home. Already, however, it had touches of herself, here and there, despite the overall spartan appearance of the interior. A throw of deep sapphire was hanging over the back of a simple loveseat. There was a small stack of paper with a large glass weighing it down on the table, with a few notes on what she would like to do. What she might paint on the walls. Details about her Groves and what would need to be done over the winter months. Plans for the water system she had implemented.
She brushed her fingers over the counter-top, eyes soft.
Filling a glass with water, she moved up the stairs. Her fingers trailed against the polished wood of the banister as she moved to the second floor, and to the master bedroom, there. She stood at the door and looked into her room. Her bed was simple. A queen - a luxury, for her; she would have been happy with a twin or double - bed was covered with soft blankets of a pale ice blue, and the sheets were a dark, pearly, storm-cloud grey. The pillows were mismatched, but close enough in colour to the rest of them. Upon the bed was a leopard plush that was her silent, bolstering companion. An excellent snuggler at night.
In the window there hung a set of glass charms, similar yet different to the ones she had made for herself and for others around Christmas time last year. They were multicoloured and suspended on the same apparatus at varying heights. They clinked and tinked in the gentle breeze, throwing coloured prisms and reflections of coloured lights against the wall.
Her clothing - what clothing she had - was hung up neatly within the closet. On the end table beside the bed lay the gift she had been given from Delilah: the book Les Miserables. Next to it was the delicate bottle that could light up the dark. Inside the drawer was the book of music Levi had given her. She breathed in and took a sip of water before finally stepping in.
Kyrie crossed to the bed and set her glass next to the book and bottle. Climbing onto the bed, the blonde slipped her fingers beneath her pillow and took out the one material belonging she treasured above all others: the picture of her family. She stared at the words on the back before flipping it over, gazing down at her family's (and her own) smiling faces. She smiled back, softly, and ran her finger against the surface.
Though she didn't wish to, she moved to the edge of the bed and pulled open the drawer of the end table. She withdrew the music book, the pen beside that. She opened the bindings and selected some of the blank pages at the back. Pages filled with measures and a musical staff just waiting to be used on each of them.
She flipped the book over after closing it up once again. Upon the back of the photograph was her first task. She started beneath the text already there, writing its translation.
She moved to the top of the page and began to write 'new' phrases. Other lessons she lived by, or thought were prominent. Six in total.
The blonde stared at the words, hoping and believing that she would be the one to show him the new writing on the back, just as she had - in recent weeks - shown him the original writing on the back...and her family on the front. Setting the precious photograph next to herself, Kyrie pressed the pen gently to the music sheets.
And began to write.
The request was obvious. In her own death, she asked David to give her the gift of eternal flight. The gift of flight she had relinquished from herself for her mistake. The gift he told her she would never again have.
Never in life.
Kyrie bit her bottom lip, fighting the tears. Two fell from her cheeks and landed against the corner edges of the paper she had used to write an impromptu will upon. It was, however, mostly informal. The gifts she had received would be returned to their rightful owners.
Kyrie smoothed her fingers against her cheeks, wiping away the tears. She lifted the photograph and pressed her lips to it, then tucked it into the sheet of paper that she tucked around it. Upon the smooth surface of the back of the sheet, she penned her name, and that this was her will. She signed it, and left it tucked beneath the edge of the tome on her bed.
Leaving the portion of her heart that was heavy with sadness behind, she grabbed her glass and sipped on her way out. Back down the stairs...and out to her front porch.
To the front porch swing.
Kyrie eased herself onto it, onto the cushions she had bartered for at the market. The soft breeze slowly dried her cheeks the rest of the way. The light shone. There was laughter in the distance. The little touches...the little things. The simple things. Her heart brimmed with emotion, but the slender, tiny blonde breathed in the silence...and believed they would make it out alive.
And Kyrie loved.
And she held hope.
But the blonde did not have much time at all.
She spent an hour, perhaps, there. And then slowly jogged to her place, doing some light vaults and letting her heart sing with the movement and momentum. With the feeling of being alive.
Though she slowed and her run wasn't anywhere near as vigorous as it normally was - she had to conserve her energy and not strain her muscles - the blonde's blue eyes glinted and danced. Life and love and laughter.
She turned up towards her house, the house that was a gift, and exhaled slowly. Her stride did not falter, even as she slowed to a gentle, silent walk. The blonde moved up the steps and in through the door, enjoying the feel of wood and metal. She looked around as she moved through the house, her gaze drinking up every detail.
This space, this house, was irrefutably hers, even though she had yet to truly make her mark on it and make it her home. Already, however, it had touches of herself, here and there, despite the overall spartan appearance of the interior. A throw of deep sapphire was hanging over the back of a simple loveseat. There was a small stack of paper with a large glass weighing it down on the table, with a few notes on what she would like to do. What she might paint on the walls. Details about her Groves and what would need to be done over the winter months. Plans for the water system she had implemented.
She brushed her fingers over the counter-top, eyes soft.
Filling a glass with water, she moved up the stairs. Her fingers trailed against the polished wood of the banister as she moved to the second floor, and to the master bedroom, there. She stood at the door and looked into her room. Her bed was simple. A queen - a luxury, for her; she would have been happy with a twin or double - bed was covered with soft blankets of a pale ice blue, and the sheets were a dark, pearly, storm-cloud grey. The pillows were mismatched, but close enough in colour to the rest of them. Upon the bed was a leopard plush that was her silent, bolstering companion. An excellent snuggler at night.
In the window there hung a set of glass charms, similar yet different to the ones she had made for herself and for others around Christmas time last year. They were multicoloured and suspended on the same apparatus at varying heights. They clinked and tinked in the gentle breeze, throwing coloured prisms and reflections of coloured lights against the wall.
Her clothing - what clothing she had - was hung up neatly within the closet. On the end table beside the bed lay the gift she had been given from Delilah: the book Les Miserables. Next to it was the delicate bottle that could light up the dark. Inside the drawer was the book of music Levi had given her. She breathed in and took a sip of water before finally stepping in.
Kyrie crossed to the bed and set her glass next to the book and bottle. Climbing onto the bed, the blonde slipped her fingers beneath her pillow and took out the one material belonging she treasured above all others: the picture of her family. She stared at the words on the back before flipping it over, gazing down at her family's (and her own) smiling faces. She smiled back, softly, and ran her finger against the surface.
Though she didn't wish to, she moved to the edge of the bed and pulled open the drawer of the end table. She withdrew the music book, the pen beside that. She opened the bindings and selected some of the blank pages at the back. Pages filled with measures and a musical staff just waiting to be used on each of them.
She flipped the book over after closing it up once again. Upon the back of the photograph was her first task. She started beneath the text already there, writing its translation.
Sív pide köd. Pitäam mustaakad sielpesäambam.
Love Transcends Evil. I hold your memories safe within my soul.
Love Transcends Evil. I hold your memories safe within my soul.
She moved to the top of the page and began to write 'new' phrases. Other lessons she lived by, or thought were prominent. Six in total.
Kuć3ak és kuŋe jeläam és andsz éntölam sielerauhoet, andsz éntölam pesädet és andsz éntölam kontsíverauhoet.
May the stars and moon be my guiding light and grant serenity of the soul, protection from all harm and a warrior's heart--peace.
Feldolgaztak. Kumalatak. Kutnitak.
Prepare. Sacrifice. Endure.
Türelam agba kontsalamaval--Tuhanos löylyak türelamak saɣe diutalet.
Patience is the warrior's true weapon--a thousand patient breaths bring victory.
Tõdhän lö kuraset agbapäämoroam.
Knowledge flies the sword true to its aim.
Pitäsz baszú, piwtäsz igazáget.
No vengeance, only justice.
Eläsz jeläbam ainaak, sívamet.
Long may you live in the light, my love.
May the stars and moon be my guiding light and grant serenity of the soul, protection from all harm and a warrior's heart--peace.
Feldolgaztak. Kumalatak. Kutnitak.
Prepare. Sacrifice. Endure.
Türelam agba kontsalamaval--Tuhanos löylyak türelamak saɣe diutalet.
Patience is the warrior's true weapon--a thousand patient breaths bring victory.
Tõdhän lö kuraset agbapäämoroam.
Knowledge flies the sword true to its aim.
Pitäsz baszú, piwtäsz igazáget.
No vengeance, only justice.
Eläsz jeläbam ainaak, sívamet.
Long may you live in the light, my love.
The blonde stared at the words, hoping and believing that she would be the one to show him the new writing on the back, just as she had - in recent weeks - shown him the original writing on the back...and her family on the front. Setting the precious photograph next to herself, Kyrie pressed the pen gently to the music sheets.
And began to write.
I, Kyrie "Kiyr" Elysia Barrial do not have many material possessions. Even fewer, still, close to my heart. My joy is my family: past and present, and I am filled with love for them and hope for the future. This message details what I would like to see done with what I do own in the event of my death.
This house that David Blaze gave to me, I give to him and the Dragons as a whole. I hope it will be filled with the future I could not have if I do not live following this battle.
The leather-bound book of music shall be returned to one Levi Kayamei in hopes that its new owner will find much joy and comfort. I could not be what you hoped. I am sorry, but I hope from my memories you can understand why.
Barring that, the music tome should go to Delilah Black, and Les Miserables should be returned to her, as well.
The leopard plush upon my bed I leave to Evelyn and Aryanna Amtrum. Know that I love you, and will always be nearby, watching you grow to beautiful young women.
To Scarlet, I leave my glass hair-bauble. It reflects who I am, and so you will always be able to be near and protect part of me, as you have already done so well. I love you. You have a kont o sívanak. A strong heart. The heart of a warrior. You are fierce and strong, Csitri. Always.
To David Blaze, I leave the one material possession I treasure above all else--the one that truly matters: the photograph of my family. I urge you to live by the words on the back. There are more, with translations for each. I love you, David, and I choose you. I was only waiting for you to choose me, in return. You have given me a home of my own, knowing I hope for a family one day. I would love to have spent that future with you. The fact you would give such a gift even before that...that is a gift beyond measure. I will never be far from you.
To David and Scarlet: Live well. Love deep.
Any remaining items I possess may be distributed as necessary.
I have a final request. If, for an unforeseeable reason, David Blaze is not alive upon my demise, that my family picture be cremated with my body.
After my body is burned and my ashes are gathered, David Blaze and Scarlet may keep a portion, as well as the Sky Force members and those who I trusted the most.
I request that the remainder of my ashes be released to the four winds, hän ku kaśwa o numamet. Sky Owner. If not David in the event of his death, I solemnly ask this of any remaining Sky Force members.
This house that David Blaze gave to me, I give to him and the Dragons as a whole. I hope it will be filled with the future I could not have if I do not live following this battle.
The leather-bound book of music shall be returned to one Levi Kayamei in hopes that its new owner will find much joy and comfort. I could not be what you hoped. I am sorry, but I hope from my memories you can understand why.
Barring that, the music tome should go to Delilah Black, and Les Miserables should be returned to her, as well.
The leopard plush upon my bed I leave to Evelyn and Aryanna Amtrum. Know that I love you, and will always be nearby, watching you grow to beautiful young women.
To Scarlet, I leave my glass hair-bauble. It reflects who I am, and so you will always be able to be near and protect part of me, as you have already done so well. I love you. You have a kont o sívanak. A strong heart. The heart of a warrior. You are fierce and strong, Csitri. Always.
To David Blaze, I leave the one material possession I treasure above all else--the one that truly matters: the photograph of my family. I urge you to live by the words on the back. There are more, with translations for each. I love you, David, and I choose you. I was only waiting for you to choose me, in return. You have given me a home of my own, knowing I hope for a family one day. I would love to have spent that future with you. The fact you would give such a gift even before that...that is a gift beyond measure. I will never be far from you.
To David and Scarlet: Live well. Love deep.
Any remaining items I possess may be distributed as necessary.
I have a final request. If, for an unforeseeable reason, David Blaze is not alive upon my demise, that my family picture be cremated with my body.
After my body is burned and my ashes are gathered, David Blaze and Scarlet may keep a portion, as well as the Sky Force members and those who I trusted the most.
I request that the remainder of my ashes be released to the four winds, hän ku kaśwa o numamet. Sky Owner. If not David in the event of his death, I solemnly ask this of any remaining Sky Force members.
The request was obvious. In her own death, she asked David to give her the gift of eternal flight. The gift of flight she had relinquished from herself for her mistake. The gift he told her she would never again have.
Never in life.
Kyrie bit her bottom lip, fighting the tears. Two fell from her cheeks and landed against the corner edges of the paper she had used to write an impromptu will upon. It was, however, mostly informal. The gifts she had received would be returned to their rightful owners.
Kyrie smoothed her fingers against her cheeks, wiping away the tears. She lifted the photograph and pressed her lips to it, then tucked it into the sheet of paper that she tucked around it. Upon the smooth surface of the back of the sheet, she penned her name, and that this was her will. She signed it, and left it tucked beneath the edge of the tome on her bed.
Leaving the portion of her heart that was heavy with sadness behind, she grabbed her glass and sipped on her way out. Back down the stairs...and out to her front porch.
To the front porch swing.
Kyrie eased herself onto it, onto the cushions she had bartered for at the market. The soft breeze slowly dried her cheeks the rest of the way. The light shone. There was laughter in the distance. The little touches...the little things. The simple things. Her heart brimmed with emotion, but the slender, tiny blonde breathed in the silence...and believed they would make it out alive.
And Kyrie loved.
And she held hope.