<font color=#254125 face=times size=1>each oath I swear%01 each shouldered care; <i> </i></font>

each oath I swear, each shouldered care;
IP: 82.19.140.112
Posted on November 7, 2013 at 03:05:29 AM by t r i s t a n

The candle was burning low, it�s base submerged in a pool of molten wax and as the flame grew smaller, Tristan pressed his nose closer to the pages of his book. The hero was locked in a battle for his life against the man who had murdered his father and stolen his crown. The writer was good, Tristan had been unable to put the book down for hours and the night had begun to give way to early morning. Tristan�s heart pounded excitedly in his chest, and he tightened his grip upon the pages. One moment, the hero was dodging a sneak attack on his blind side...and the next the candle spluttered and died, plunging the bed chamber into blackness. �No, no, no,� Tristan cursed, fumbling in the top draw of his bedside table for a new candle and a box of matches. He managed to burn the tip of his index finger on the hot wax which was all that remained of his previous light source, and the substance stuck to his skin. Too impatient to stop and peel it off, Tristan secured the new candle in the holder and struck the match. The golden glow returned warmth to the richly decorated room, and the prince lit the wick with the match. Sighing in contentment as the flame burned, Tristan returned to his book...and discovered that it had snapped closed in the darkness. The prince swore, and began to thumb urgently through the pages.

Alethea was dancing alone in the middle of the floor of the great hall, her white dress billowing out around her as she turned, illuminated prettily in candle light. Tristan watched her from his place on the dais, the music echoing pleasantly in his ears. The candles flickered...and then died. The prince found himself alone in the blackness which was more complete than any darkness he had ever experienced when awake. The music was still playing, but it was no longer enjoyable, it was sinister, chilling...enough to make him shudder. A sound bounced off the walls of the hall, it sounded like long claws being scraped across wood...something was coming.

Celidon growled as the door was pushed open. He leapt to his feet, his hackles raised, and bounded towards the door, ready to protect his faerie from the intruder. The intruder, it transpired, was Thoth. The cu-sith skidded to a halt, his protective stance transitioning quickly into a welcoming one as his thin tail began to wag. It was his little woof of delight, more than Thoth�s hiss, that dragged Tristan into consciousness. It was just unfortunate that Thoth�s voice was the first thing that the prince was aware of hearing. He groaned as he grabbed hold of one of his goose down pillows and pulled it down pointedly over his ears. �The castle had better be on fire, Thoth� he muttered �or I might actually have to strangle you.� Tristan buried his head into the mattress, hoping that Thoth might suddenly realise what an insane time of morning it was and go away for a few hours. He didn�t. With another groan, the prince pushed himself up on his elbows and looked over at his friend through bleary eyes, his brown hair sticking up in all directions, �what do you want?�

_{photography by Dominic�s pics | Mark Cutler at flickr.com}
Replies:

lift your spirit, set it free. - By thoth November 7, 2013 at 04:22:12 AM
- our actions swift and sure; - By tristan November 19, 2013 at 04:30:04 AM
  - someday you'll walk tall with pride, - By thoth December 5, 2013 at 01:09:28 AM
    - a touch of destiny; - By tristan December 12, 2013 at 02:25:38 AM
      - son of man, - By thoth December 13, 2013 at 02:25:50 AM

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