Simon Basset One Shots

melancholy skies

Clyvedon Castle echoed with the torrents of heavy rain that fell relentlessly on the other side of the slickened windowpanes, large droplets blown in the powerful gusts of the howling evening wind. The tall walls of the impressive and rather overwhelming estate, shrouded in the shadows of the captivating night, were nearly silent. As Simon Basset made his way down one of the long corridors, guided only by the light of the burning brass candelabra held securely in his grasp, it felt as though the world had simply gone dormant.

All of the life once breathed into the land and into the people who inhabited it, suddenly still as if not another soul existed, as the sun drifted past the horizon and disappeared until the next day's new break. But even as the Earth seemed empty, eerily vacant of the beings who walked upon the land only hours before in the lasting stretch of light, the rain continued to pour down upon the landscape. Trailing down the exterior of aged bricks and sturdy foundation, as though tears fallen from the heaven's themselves. Although not a single clap of thunder shook the sky, nor a single strike of lightening illuminated the darkness, the heavy rain blew as if it was a single outcry from the skies above. Attacking the walls and howling out in strangled screams, just as though the essence of a thunderstorm had descended upon the estate.  

Simon woke with the rain. The serenity of the dusk that bled a sharp magenta hue into the lasting streaks of pale plush blue, gone as though the gentle transition into the evening and it's darkening shadows, had simply ceased to exist. The sky was a dark indigo blue, although with the coverage of perceptibly invisible rain clouds, the blanket of night stretched as though someone in the universe had simply knocked over a jar of ink. Allowing it to spill across the atmosphere, shrouding the land below in it's shadows, taking the twinkling light of a million little stars along with it.

For only the moon continued to shine amidst the blanket of near blackness and the overwhelming rush of a tearful rainstorm. The light it shed was as pale as Simon had ever seen it, as his eyes looked to the far window that had been left open a crack in the thick sprawl of turquoise curtains. Allowing for the moonlight to slowly bleed its way into the bedchamber, expanding across the hardwood and settling over the very edge of the bed in the softest breath of a pale white light. It illuminated the sight of trailing raindrops, chasing each other down the glass of the window, until they tumbled over one another into a waterfall that streaked down the pane. Although the skies remained silent except for the echo of the relentless winds, it was not a gentle rain. For even as it fell like the collection of an angel's tears, it pounded against the land with a strong conviction, meeting the Earth in a rush so strong that it strived to nearly wash the sins of the day from it's surface.

Simon had always been one who could sleep with the rain, slumbering through storms that nearly rattled the walls and winds that howled so sharply it could put a poor wolf to shame. But as soon as his bed became no longer his own, shared with a woman who had taken both his name and by a sheer force of God, his heart, Simon found he woke with each insignificant sound. From the slightest creek of the house whose foundation had been worn of decades standing tall, to the softest moan in your dreams that made him awaken with a rush of anxiety. The eve of his wedding had been the last night he slept without awakening to each and every sound that fluttered against his senses, for every night that followed, with your body pressed against his own as he watched as you drifted off, Simon awoke at some point during the stretch of the night to a sound that made him immediately check to make sure that you were alright. Tonight, as the rainstorm raged steadily on the other side of the wall, was no exception. 

However, as Simon's eyes peered open to the pale ray of moonlight that brought to his attention the sight of the rolling rain and his hand moved to tighten against his placement around your waist, all he found beneath the touch of his fingertips were faintly wrinkled sheets. The soft white linen cold as though your body hadn't warmed the material in quite some time, but the gentle scent of your jasmine lotion continued to linger on the edge of your pillowcase. Simon furiously blinked the sleep from his eyes as he pulled his body upwards, sitting straight as he leaned back against the headboard while clarity rediscovered his consciousness. His eyes washed over the sight of the bed left unoccupied by your frame, adjusting to the shadows that presented themselves in the midst of the darkest night hours, and found himself riddled with bemusement. For there were many nights he awoke to sounds that were rather imperceptible and meant no harm and yet, when you slipped from his grasp and out from beneath the sheets beside him, he hadn't been alerted in the slightest.