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| Final goodbyes; tag: Anne | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 1 2010, 10:08 PM (89 Views) | |
| Henry Percy | Dec 1 2010, 10:08 PM Post #1 |
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Takes place after la mélodie du cœur Each breath Henry took carried a new wave of pain into his heart, shaking him to the core. It felt like he was walking on shards of broken glass, forced to dance by the demons of his own conscience. Holding his broken lute in one hand, that hand shaking so violently that Henry had to clasp it with the other just to prevent himself from dropping the lute. The mark left on his cheek was still slightly red, with the exception of the scar burning white, emphasized by the rouge of his cheeks. Henry’s hair covered his face from curious onlookers, but there were none to be seen. The hallway was empty with the exception of a scurrying servant here or there. Henry paid them no mind as he made his way back to his room, desolate and forlorn. He occupied quarters where the servants of the Cardinal Wolsey rested, and as the future Earl of Northumberland, was able to command his own room. It was this room that he now hurried to, intent on spending the night alone, trying to fix his lute, trying to take his mind off anything, everything. He would pray, spend hours at his alter, frozen in time, and ask God for forgiveness, beg God, with tears streaming down his face, to deliver him. Dragging his way over to his room, he barely avoided colliding with the statue that barred his entrance. He was not looking to see where he was going anymore. The tapers now being lit as a result of the overwhelming darkness could not offer enough light for Henry to see through the confines of his golden hair. Slowly, his hand fumbled on the latch of the carved door, eyes looking down, stumbling into the room to face complete darkness within. It was a cold night, made colder by the darkness of his lodgings, where the only source of light came from the reflection of the snow on the ground, a thin layer, white and crisp, and the dying embers in the fireplace. The room itself was luxurious, filled with anything anyone could want for. It was kept clean at all times by the servants, Henry’s own. Each aspect of the room was a work of art, where only the richest and most noble of man could only buy the materials needed for that room. It was the world Henry had grown up in, effortlessly expected every luxury to be his. As he let his eyes sweep over the room, his face ashen pale except for the glowing red mark on his cheek, he noticed a cloaked figure, from what Henry could tell a woman. His eyes widened, and he blinked several times to make sure he was not hallucinating, but sure as night, she was there. Henry did not recognize her at all, but had enough sense to call out. ”Who’s there?” His voice uncertain, but authoritative. After all, this was the room of a noble, and only nobles were allowed inside. |
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6:35 AM Jul 11