c'est ma raison [de vivre.]
[ đĽ A roaring bonfire in the distance on a pitch black night, with dark silhouettes crowded or dancing around it ] @rudlm
[ â ] In an unfortunate turn of events, the Duma faithful resurgence rose from the ashes and took away their pillar of light. Conrad refused to believe that all hope was lost in the disappearance of the queen Anthiese; despite all evidence and advisers stating otherwise. Of course he knew deep down that there was the off chance that their strings may been severed- considering for the longest of times; the two had spent their lives separated. But Conrad always believed it was never goodbye. This time however, he did not have the same hidden kindle that burned in his heart for comfort. Perhaps it was old age that made the connection difficult, but even now- even in the face of Almâs advisor in red, Lukas- who told nothing but the cold truths-- He wanted to deny the idea of her being no longer. So thus, in the ever moving present- the two stubborn men-- the king and the queenâs brother; seek for her as the world turns. The more time passes, the more Conrad ceases to care for himself. His hair grows, his face left unshaven; and goddess forget the mask- it was he himself, searching for her. For his sake and his own. Just how long has it been? He can hardly remember. Shuffling in the darkness, the two ventured onward out of the woods; mesmerized by the glimmers of embers that brought forth light. Despite how little that was. Shadows danced betwixt and between, and Conrad could swear in the back of his mind the scene played like a book. A ceremony perhaps? For life? Or for death? Quietly he whispers to the other man, eyes meeting upon another; ever bold enough not to leave no rock unturned. âWe should look.â
