Hushed Willows “my temper would perhaps be called resentful.”
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Ooc — Ellie
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couvert ⇀ hushed willows, elysium
temps ⇀ early morning
sommaire ⇀ without much purpose or pretense for settling, sont is drawn to elysium, lulled by the familiary serenity. as it stands, what's compelled him to have come to the wilds remains unknown
@Lily & anyone else welcome!

“I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding— certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of other so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.” 

Tʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴠɪsɪᴛᴇᴅ Rʜᴀᴇsᴜɪᴀʟ ᴀ sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛ ғᴇᴡ ᴛɪᴍᴇs
, Sontés had become familiar enough to know Mordaunt's haven had very few willows.
The ones that the sanctuary did have would only be found when they were meant to be - wanted to be, needed to be. The justice remembered well of the time when the false fanatics had ruined the haven's blessed children; remembered, because he had been the last line of defense to sentence the apostles when their leader had fled Kiomaralis's respelendant wrath.

Otherwise... even without having been born there, Rhaesuial would imprint itself in any which way on one's soul. Whether through meeting those born within its realm, being tended to or transactioned with, that unholy spirituality settled there, whether you wanted it to or not. This sense of evoked serenity is what drew the retired minister to the embrace of these creaking, calm willows.

Like Rhaesuial, they were a personal rarity. So, regardless whether it was overly inappropriate or not to linger here, the umpire did so either way. After having aided in the restoration of the far-northern sanctuary, having seen the twins off to where he'd now arrived, and all that had followed... the weight of weariness wasn't unfamiliar to him. Neither was fatigue.
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“my temper would perhaps be called resentful.” - by Sontés - February 04, 2019, 08:10 AM