Gone with the wind

A general forum for all in-character posts as they relate to Act VI: Absolution, the characters that inhabit the world at large, and the events that help shape both.
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Nedoral
Posts: 90
Character: Matteo Ponz (deceased)

Gone with the wind

Post by Nedoral » August 28th, 2021, 10:12 pm

[Cast of characters: Gryhun Kren, Galryth Winterborn, Ashford Reed, Vera Silvercrest, Lucien Silvercrest, Matteo Ponz]
[Unfortunately I didn't have access to the journal of the event, so if desired feel free to complement this tale with your character's point of view for the purpose of completeness]


They all said it. The farmlands doc said it. Gryhun said it. The landlord said it. She was bad, 'twas a bad idea. But Matteo was as stubborn as he was homesick, only "home" meant something different to him: a week-long expedition amidst the Pearl Sea was home, or perhaps even a test run of the newest fleet vessel across the Bay of Good Men. Home was the smell of salt in the air, the crashing of the waves against the varnished hull. A neglected seaside shack was the next best thing.

Even when Gryhun and the man with the silvery hair had him all the way down south to somehow work a way to cleanse the tainted wooden walls, deep down he knew what would eventually take place. There was little surprise when numerous Kaelius associates were waiting for him, with Ashford, the bigshot himself, amongst them. They were all of the same mind: the cabin would have to go. They came prepared to do what it had to be done.

Everything happened so fast, and most of it is just flashes in his memory now: his muffled breath inside a borrowed mask, witnessing the pitiful condition of the bloodied interior; his gaze following the group as they piled dry lumber and cloth to arrange the pyre; the man who ultimately made her burn when he hurled something towards her. And now she burned, carried away by the same western wind which fanned the flames.


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Matteo just sat there, his eyes misty not solely because of the rolling fumes bellowing from the fire. It'd take at least a month to erect the simplest hut, in the mean time he'd need to find alternate lodgings. His workshop wouldn't cut the deal, with all the dust and wood shavings to flare up old allergies if he elected to sleep on the hard wooden floor. He vaguely remembered someone offering lodgings in a few pamphlets circulating that week though...

Yet he would remember her. Bye, love.

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