#hoq

As they left, [my] cheeks filled with tears  and [my] hollow chest twisted with agony.  Their departure did not occur willingly, but reluctantly,  they marched and I do not know what land they traveled.  My friend, what am I to do after them,  give me advice for the advice will be followed.  [Our] get-togethers have become rare, and without him there is for me to do,  my heart is preoccupied and worried about him.  My misfortune holds me back from what I desire,  as the wings of a bird are restrained by a net.  I wish for patience but my heart does not obey me,  how does one rise up whose legs have let him down?  If you have lost a confidant, mourn him with me,  for we all share in that together.  What  catastrophe! No one escaped its doing,  among all mankind, it hit slaves and kings equally.  The hands of the enemy took possession of our loved ones, and left no one behind.  For what afflicted them I would pay their ransom,  with my life and what I own.  The house of guidance became idle after their departure,  and the blood of Islam was shed.  Where are those who ruled over all mankind?  Where are those who owned all, where are those who reigned first?  After them I stood in the house asking her about them, about what they had gathered and owned.  The worn ruins and empty rooms answered:  Yes, here they were and have perished. Don't mistake tears merely for water flowing down cheeks, for they are the essence of love flowing.

In a lot of ways, it perturbed her. To know she could be in a crowded room, filled with noise and chatter and countless beings, and still only have eyes trained on him. As if his very being was enough to cancel the rest of the world out. 

There was something about him that called out to her (like the sea she so dearly loved), something about his presence that spoke of a comfort and familiarity she hadn’t been able to find thus far.

but now, in this very moment, as she stood next to Fjord who reminded her of the sun (so bright, so brilliant, and perhaps, just as kind), it was as if the fire (the passion) she’d lost at the tender age of 15 was attempting to ignite itself once more. 

It was as if simplicity was an idea that the Venturi Household could not comprehend, could not grasp in their minds filled with webs and complexities.

He approaches her and oddly — very oddly, as in this has never happened before and he wonders if maybe she is a ghost after all — his heart starts to thump.