✧˚.❃ ↷ˊ- 𝕃𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕆𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤 ✧˚.❃ ↷ˊ-

♤° The churches gravel °♤

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Ships: Lander☆
Genre: ?
Au: 1800s

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He sat on the porpoise stone, holding a quill in hand. He soaked it into the dark and oozy ink, writing away on the ancient piece of paper grasped in his palms. His cloak draped behind the stone, his blazer brushed to the highest standards.

A fog cascaded through the graveyard, a large, stony church held before it, igniting shadows across the graves, dark and shallow appearance. It carried a ghostly atmosphere, yet a scent of calmness within it. It resembled peace for the young writer.

He always acknowledged the fellow peasants before him, their corpses lying in the graves that were dug into the ground. Ravens sqwarked repeatedly, flapping their wings in the oak trees. Fog had found its way through the city's surroundings and into the gentleman's safe space. Although, it didn't make much of a difference.

He stared up from his sheet of paper, gazing at the grave sat in front of him. It had the name, "Shannon Wickham", embroidered on the heart of the grave, she was his mother. She passed away due to an illness back in 1864, that was 10 years ago, she had just turned 34. The young writer was 23 now, yet, he still visited his mother everyday, hoping she'd take interest in his writing.

He could smell a ghastly scent from a nearby workhouse, families and loners from the ages 2+ had to work and learn there in the poorest conditions. He had broken out of one of those a few weeks back, he still had many scars and brusies from several beatings he had gotten for not getting his job correct, which was picking cotten from the machinery. They'd get slapped and hit by belts and sharp sticks, even just for not counting correctly.

He washed the thought out of his mind, switching his eyesight over to the church again. Weeds had started to overgrow, taking up the concrete that was building the church's structure. A grand and metallic water fountain rested in the centre, the only clean water in the town lying in its whirlpool. Flowers had begun to wither and collapse, it just showed there was no one with a pure heart to even visit the yard, except for the writer that is. He placed variarites of plants on not just his own mothers, but other people's as well. These could be roses, tulips, bluebells, and others.

Suddenly, the great, wooden doors of the church opened slowly. A fragile but tall latter came out of the monastery, he looked overwhelmed to the head. He walked down a few of the steps before sitting down on one of the steps, looking down at the ground.

The one who was in the graveyard beforehand, kicked a miniature rock, trying to get the others' attention. The slightly taller male looked up from the ground, his big, golden eyes lingering into the periwinkle pair. He gave a tired smile but frowned straight after. The other sighed, he couldn't just sit there and do nothing. He pulled another piece of paper out of his bag, and begun to sketch.

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The younger man with sunny-couloured eyes, placed a rock at his fingers, getting irritated. Suddenly, he felt a small pat on his shoulder. He looked up to see the same man who kicked a rock earlier, "Hey, you looked disappointed, so I decided to draw this for you," His voice sounded sweet and gentle, not to mention it had an accent to it. He cautiously took the artwork out of the wisteria-eyed's hands, looking at it, "Is that..me..?"

"Mhm! I used my finest quill and made sure to use different kinds of ink for specific parts. You look stunning and I thought it would be a nice gesture since you look extremely down. Do you like it?"

The golden-eyed was speechless, his mouth gawking at the masterpiece, "Good? No, no, no, no, this is fantastic! I've never seen a piece of art this...amazing is the word. You could really do something with this talent," He complimented, smiling at the one who drew it.

The other smiled awkwardly, a small blush on his face from the praise, "Well, I'm actually more of a writer. I was writing when you first came out of the church. My name is Alexander by the way, I go by Zander though, you?"

"That's a very formal name, but I'm Luke!" The auburn responded, Zander sitting down beside him.

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I wrote this in Science-

Hope u like it!!!

Have a good day or night! ●○