#william03

Meg considered herself to be a young lady of many talents; she had a mind for languages, French coming most easily due to it being her mother's native tongue, but she learned any language presented to the Princess Elizabeth and delighted in each new word. She adored dancing and was always one of the first upon the dance floor at the the beginning of the evening. She craved the feeling of the breeze blowing in her face, sending long tendrils fluttering behind her, as she sat atop a horse tearing across an open field; horseback riding, however, was where her ability for sport came to an end.

Members of the court had gathered outside on a cool, late-September today, huddled in groups amongst a variety of lawn lawn games and activities. She had ended up, much to her chagrin, near the archery range, which had made an enemy of her as a child. Elizabeth excelled at every skill she attempted; her arrows soared through the air and struck true each and every time, while a young scowled at her own attempts nearby. It seemed that while some things changed, others were destined to stay the same.

Still, Meg was not one to give up, even in the throes of defeat. As she situated the bow and placed the arrow, a determined look settled upon her features. She raised the bow, drew the string, and blocked out the sound around her, summoning the voice of the instructor she remembered for her youth, telling to concentrate and take a deep breath before releasing. After a moment she released the bow, sending it flying....and landing on the far right edge of target, nearly missing entirely. Meg let out a groan of frustration, a pout replacing her previous expression.

There were plenty of things that Mike didn’t want to think of. One of things being the subject of death itself - or rather, those he’s lost to it. Maybe that was why he was so against going out to the festival to do something and celebrate it himself - it was just something he didn’t want to think about. 

Yet, on the third day, Mike sits on a bench. His hands cradling his lantern, he stares down at it. He knows exactly who it’s for - for everyone he’s lost in his past. His mother, his sister, brother... 

... Everyone, except for his father. But the more he thought about it, he might as well include him. The man he knew growing up- although to nobody’s surprised...well, fucked, he doesn’t compare to what he knows of him now. The memory of the man who could, at the very least, be nothing but a good father to him was dead and gone - just like the rest of his family. Mike taps his fingers against the sides of his lantern, closing his eyes as he takes in a deep breath.

He doesn’t want to be here, he tells himself. I could’ve just stayed inside, and ignored this completely. I didn’t need to do this to myself, he tells himself - yet...

Here he is, and for the first time in a long time, Mike allows himself to think of his mother. His sister, his brother, and his throat tightens up. For the first time in a long, long, long time, Mike thinks about his family and everyone he’s lost.