Post by Arianna Barrial on Feb 20, 2014 13:32:58 GMT -8
. o O ( This takes place 'around' the time of Wedding Plans and Dark Light; Little Idea in Kyrie's timeline. )
The candles cast a pleasant glow around the small space she occupied in a house that wasn't hers. Not truly. It would only be a day at most before she and her companion would leave again. She smiled, faintly. For all the rough edges from so little human contact, she grew fond of her friend. There were times it left an uneasy pit in her stomach, and not because she felt it wrong that slowly - most assuredly - her feelings were starting to grow more as she healed from her grief.
It was concerning to her because there was someone she hadn't let go of, yet. Someone that she needed to tell, some how, that she needed to move forward. She had to make peace with that, to acknowledge her former feelings and her need to lay them to rest with her deceased fiancé before she could open up a new chapter in her life.
She glanced at the door that was half-closed, hand cupped over the flame of a tallow candle. For a moment, the blonde surgeon was quiet, watchful, as though she could see into the room. She turned silently away and stepped into the smaller room she had claimed and stepped to the small desk and lit candles.
She settled down with a quiet scrape of wood against the floor and poured herself some of her peppermint tea that had been steeping as she quietly wandered the house. She had thought of what she would say, and wanted the focus of the letter to be on herself and him, for longer than just the past few minutes. It had been on her mind quite a bit as of late.
This boarded-up house was a good place to sit. To write. To finish healing.
So she picked up a pen and set it against the paper...and began to write.
My Dearest Ronald,It's been four months. Four months since I found out you had died the day I did: the day the bombs fell. Only, of course, I came back.
It's been hard. Hard knowing that the life we were going to have is no longer a possibility, hard knowing the feeling I had that you lived, still, was only hopeful denial of the odds. You've crossed my mind countless times since then, countless times more, before. And I can't help but think, sometimes, that if we hadn't started dating, if I hadn't moved to California, if I just stayed in Seattle to finish my degrees...it's likely you could be alive, still... Or so I would like to believe, but, who could really say..?
I know you're where you were called to be. And I know you're watching me, and your family—that maybe you're even reading over my shoulder even as I write to you. You make a fabulous angel, I bet.
We would have been so happy together.
This I know, without doubt. I'm sure we would have had our rough times. Our disagreements. Our fights. But we fought for each other, no matter what. Even our "Romeo and Juliet" romance didn't stop us, regardless of our quarreling family members. Your father came to approve, even, despite his blame of me for your death. Even Armand grew to accept and become amicable...even friendly with you.
You deserved so much more, so much better, than death, Ronald. And you know that if you were alive, and if you found someone else, I could only be happy for you. I'm a surgeon, now, I'm sure you know. I made that dream come true. You would have made a brilliant doctor, Ron.
Maybe part of me did know. Maybe that was why I didn't rush to Seattle to find you... If I knew, how long would it set me back on that? Would I even be a surgeon, now? Did you help and encourage me to stay with my grandfather in 'Asgard'..? Even if you didn't, thank you.
But, my love, I have to let you go. I know you'll be there, wishing me the best, too. You always have been a good man, and a gentleman. Sadly, a dwindling sort of man, even - or maybe especially - in this new and different world I find myself in.
Just know, either way, that I love you, now. Part of me always will, even though I need to move on. Neither of us would have wanted the other to be lonely their lives. So maybe I'll meet you in a different time, another life. Even I won't be able to live forever, I don't think. Maybe we'll be friends, then, or maybe we'll be lovers. But for now...I think I might have found someone. Only time will tell on that notion. Either way, I need to live and be happy. More than that, I want to.Until We Meet Again,
Arianna
She sighed as she finished, then folded the letter and slipped it into a small envelope before carefully writing a name on the top. Ronald Harris. Arianna smiled and then moved a small, decorative container of metal beside the desk.
she lightly brushed her lips against the envelope and then carefully set the entire thing aflame with the candles that had kept her company in her writing. She watched it a moment and then murmured a quiet and thoughtful prayer. Of hope that the letter would reach him. Of thanks for being fortunate enough for all the blessings she had in her life. The woman with the faint sensation of tears upon her cheeks dropped the brightly burning envelope into the container and sipped the last of her tea, watching until the flame sputtered out...
...and all that was left of her old life were the ashes that her new life would be born again from...
Arianna knew peace with that thought and quietly blew the candles out, one by one, to find her way to bed in the dark. She dreamed no dreams and slept deeply, at ease and comforted with a profound sense of peace...and the warm glow of hope.