pain

OOC: Author's Notes
Status: Complete – This story will contain 7 entries. It is currently on 7/7.

Stitches slowly opens the door of The Prancing Pony, as though the task itself is difficult. Wincingly, he reaches his right hand to his left shoulder to the site of the new crater in his flesh, and tenderly rubs it to submission. After the throbbing subsides he ambles towards the bar, eyes meeting with whoever might be tending it this early in the morning. He flashes a gentle smile, but keeps his eyes down when he orders. Not his proudest moment, nor his most prideful order, to be honest.

The rain pours down on the cobble streets of Bree, overflowing the fountain near the Pony, flooding the lower parts of the city, drowning bug life and filling small ditches. The patter of it creates the familiar white noise, and soaks all who find themselves under it this sunset. As dusk threatens its arrival, Stitches leans his back against a wall, tucked behind an alley and slouching over himself, long since having let his cloak fall from his shoulders.

Eiragerd remembered the day. She could not have forgotten it if she cared to. Yet, she was surprised to find it did not stab her as she dreaded it would for weeks.
It was like any other memory and any other pain now. Looking back, she could not help but admire the growth it had brought about in her. Inspiration hit, and she could not help but write her heart on paper.

Syllea listened quietly as her sister, Em, told her about the reason behind her fear of dogs. After the horrific story finished, Syllea nodded in understanding before quickly saying she had to check on her horses. In truth, the pain in her side had taken a turn for worse when Lynn had helped her stand in the Pony. She hid her pain until she was out of the earshot of her sister. “Lynn, we need to find Rae; I can not wait until morning,” she said in a whisper.

Have you noticed

How the clouds seem to weep with the strong?

As if to show them

That their sorrowful spilling of tears are not wrong.

As you watch them

They often seem to silently bear,

​​​​​​With smile or laugh,

"Just take another step. Sometimes, that's all you can do, my sunshine. Is to just keep stepping."

Stitches steps out his house for just a moment, watching one of the last cold rains of winter, frowning at the signs of spring sprouting at every turn. He reaches a hand past the small canvas awning of the house, letting the rain touch his fingers and palm. He smiles at how cool it feels, how it tingles and rolls around his skin. Looking up from his hand he sees things he often does as he ponders and wanders on his own. Ghosts.

Dru cried out in pain, curling into a ball around herself. Her body was drenched in sweat which in turn caused her tunic and the one blanket she hadn't kicked off, to cling to her uncomfortably.

She tried to take slow, deep breaths, but couldn't control her hyperventilation.

Ash closed the door behind her and leaned back against it. Fortunately, Elgerin was still asleep at this time. The morning was still quite young.