Falls

She was gone. Despite his best efforts, he had missed her by years. His twin had disappeared from these lands long before he took his first step on the island. Whispers had reached his ears that Nemesis had been spotted in the lost islands. He had been searching desperately for his twin and the news had brought the first stirring of hope in his chest. Now, the remnants of a weak fire lay sputtering in the hole he called his heart.

Doth thee misprise me sister? What has't I done to earneth thy ire? eons has't i endeav'r'd to heareth thy voice and yet I am at each moment one grise behind. Doth thee despise all of Camelot 'r is't just I?

A melancohlic look danced along Bedivere's features as he knelt at the edge of the falls. He stared at his reflection, searching for answers that had no intention of making themselves known. Perhaps if he stared hard enough, the Lady of the Lake would appear to him as she had to Lancelot and bequeath him his own Escalibar. A sword that would banish the shadows of uncertainty and regret.

"I needeth thee sist'r. Wh're has't thee gone?"

Standing, the white stallion turned away from the water. It would not gift him with what he sought. No one seemed to be able to give him a clue on where Nemesis had last resided or who she had belonged to. He had met another dead end and perhaps this time he would not get another lead.

I misseth Camelot. This place doest not feeleth liketh home."