#lmsrstarter

Oh, her body is a temple of w o e, every fiber yearning for release - for the saccharine taste of the joy once had in the past. Her countenance, etched with childish innocence, begs for the surrounding world to show one ounce of mercy to a blackened soul. SAVE ME FROM THE DEPTHS THAT DRAG ME DOWN, SAVE ME. Ghosts linger around a weary frame, fingers dipped in crimson memories, regret flowing through tired veins. She was once a child of innocence, loved && cherished, now her breast sported the mark of a traitor - no longer welcome among the rolling hills of her country all because she yearned for what truly belonged to her. A sigh escapes the lips of a defeated girl, knuckles turning white as they held tightly to the reins that guided a faithful beast towards French court. Oh, the sight of such a place, even from a distance, brought warmth within her frame. This the only safe haven now, her only home && within it held the closest person she had now - her only companion who had not left her in the dark in hopes she would dissipate without the sun. No, he had been there for her, constant letters && correspondence - but there were words unsaid. Words that stayed on a slack tongue, hand always stopping before she could write how much he meant to her. How could she reveal such things to him? He had been married, yet their kiss still lingered on her lips, a simple gesture of passion that had a lasting impression. Did it still mean to much to him? Their exchange happened so far in the past she doubted he recalled it so much as she did. She was a fool, her heart suddenly needing him to continue beating. Love, she supposed it was, something she was not sure she wanted to revisit. Yet, there she was, rushing towards him, desperate to feel his touch and hear his voice again. Roslin needed him, his support and his pity. It was something she would never admit aloud or deep within herself, for how could she possibly admit that she needed the support of another when she had been so strong on her own for so long.

It is late when she settles in, unpacks all her belongings like miserable memories, leaving them behind when she enters the hall. Oh, how these halls are haunted by things she wishes to forget - recollections of a past life when she was not such a damaged girl. But her feet carry her on && she moves through the halls with a candle in hand, flames dancing across her pale features. A picture of beauty in these dark halls, she is a copy of her mother, a woman who roamed these same halls years before she was even born. How she wished those times had been better for her mother than they were now. So many tragedies, so much pain in such a small amount of time. She soon finds herself outside of a door, hands shaking as she debates whether her decision to return was the right one to make. What if he did not want to see her? What if he found comfort in another woman’s arms after his wife’s unfortunate demise? Was she worth more to him than she thought or was she a mere friend he fostered feelings for? There were so many unanswered questions, so many doubts, yet her hand raised to alert her companion of her arrival besides.

When there is not an immediate answer, worry strikes deep within her stomach. Perhaps she should not have returned to this place, especially not to this mans room at such an hour. There was so much wrong with what she was doing, her actions likely to cause rumors within the castle, but when everything in your life feels wrong - you do the one thing that feels right regardless of the consequences. For what was life if there was nothing in it that inspired the will to live? For Roslin, Bash was the one thing that kept her going, even on her darkest days. The hope that she could love again, trust again, burned brighter than the sun within her mind.