#thetryst

For such a large island, there were many amenities that were accessible to the public, but such options became null when one was seeking solitude, or more specifically, avoiding others.  For the past few weeks, the trail had become a new sanctuary, where the faint but comforting sound of the waves could be heard from a distance, and the gently rustling of leaves against the sea breeze formed a melodious song with the cheerful chirp of the island birds serving as the most complementary choir.  

It had been said that things would get better with time, but Idris always found such notion disagreeable.  It had been almost ten years since the death of his parents, yet the pain was always there, lingering and refreshing itself at the most inopportune time, a wound that was bare to the harshest element, accessible to be opened, and prodded at any time.  And now, in addition to this part of his past, there was a new loss - one that was form from an unfortunate series of circumstances and events, filled with errors, missed chances, and bad timing, exacerbated by his own stubbornness and naivete.  

In the midst of all the emotional turmoil and drama, the paperwork for name change had been hovering in the back of his mind.  Idris had refused to think about it, knowing its implication and the kind of repercussion such action would bring should the procedure be successful.  Yet, in spite of all the pain and disappointment that came with the betrayal, he would be lying if he denied that he had not wanted the Wolfe name to become a reality.

But at the end of the day, all that remained was still pain.  Pure, unadulterated pain.

Logic dictated that he should stay away from Viggo Wolfe, from the source of conflict and betrayal, from the danger and the unrest; while human emotion would dictate that Idris should despise Viggo for using him, for taking away a part of him that he would never get back; but Idris did neither.  He was unable to be angry at Viggo, let alone dislike or hate him.  As for reason, that had been long lost since Idris found himself attached to the man who had allegedly betrayed him. Allegedly. Because somewhere deep down, in spite of all the damning evidence, Idris Cain Wolfe still refused to believe it.

Idris Cain Wolfe.  The name that was now four days old.  It sounded foreign but strangely wondrous at the same time.  The pressure to reverse the name change was still there, and even Idris did not realize just how much he wanted to keep this new surname until he started finding reasons to counter Kristoff Vaulkner’s order.  Lessons learned had been the excuse given, although it could not have been further from the truth.  Wolfe meant missed chances, it meant what Idris could have had if he had led a normal life; and if he was never to spend the rest of his life with Viggo Wolfe, then he should be allowed this surname to be kept for remembrance.

For such a large island, there were many amenities that were accessible to the public, but such options became null when one was seeking solitude, or more specifically, avoiding others.  For the past few weeks, the trail had become a new sanctuary, where the faint but comforting sound of the waves could be heard from a distance, and the gently rustling of leaves against the sea breeze formed a melodious song with the cheerful chirp of the island birds serving as the most complementary choir.  

It had been said that things would get better with time, but Idris always found such notion disagreeable.  It had been almost ten years since the death of his parents, yet the pain was always there, lingering and refreshing itself at the most inopportune time, a wound that was bare to the harshest element, accessible to be opened, and prodded at any time.  And now, in addition to this part of his past, there was a new loss - one that was form from an unfortunate series of circumstances and events, filled with errors, missed chances, and bad timing, exacerbated by his own stubbornness and naivete.  

In the midst of all the emotional turmoil and drama, the paperwork for name change had been hovering in the back of his mind.  Idris had refused to think about it, knowing its implication and the kind of repercussion such action would bring should the procedure be successful.  Yet, in spite of all the pain and disappointment that came with the betrayal, he would be lying if he denied that he had not wanted the Wolfe name to become a reality.

But at the end of the day, all that remained was still pain.  Pure, unadulterated pain.

Logic dictated that he should stay away from Viggo Wolfe, from the source of conflict and betrayal, from the danger and the unrest; while human emotion would dictate that Idris should despise Viggo for using him, for taking away a part of him that he would never get back; but Idris did neither.  He was unable to be angry at Viggo, let alone dislike or hate him.  As for reason, that had been long lost since Idris found himself attached to the man who had allegedly betrayed him. Allegedly. Because somewhere deep down, in spite of all the damning evidence, Idris Cain Wolfe still refused to believe it.

Idris Cain Wolfe.  The name that was now four days old.  It sounded foreign but strangely wondrous at the same time.  The pressure to have his name change reverse was still there, and even Idris did not realize just how much he wanted to keep this new surname until he started finding reasons to counter Kristoff Vaulkner's order.  Lessons learned had been the excuse given, although it could not have been further from the truth.  Wolfe meant missed chances, it meant what Idris could have had if he had led a normal life; and if he was never to spend the rest of his life with Viggo Wolfe, then he should be allowed this surname to be kept for remembrance.