Of Monsters and Flowers [Sihtric Kjartansson]

Act I: Chapter Four

Dunholm
Kingdom of Northumbria

The resonance of whispers from the two girls sat beside Lynette did little and less to calm her hectic nerves as she stared ahead of her with tired eyes and a pounding head. Intertwined fingers and hands clasped firmly together in a position which is so familiar yet felt that much more distant troubled Lynette. Her lips called for their revival as she gripped on tighter to the wooden crucifix in her hold- as her knuckles turned white, ghostly white, from the sheer strength in hopes that she would feel some semblance of normalcy.

An emptiness that drifted passed her scornfully as if to say she was being forgotten, a feeling that was well known yet ignored by her perhaps in a manner to submerge beneath layers of skin and bone to hide. A feeling that had become a fear, a concernment of being disregarded as her mother had done, as her father did to her. It was peculiar for Lynette a place where she had always thought herself to be important, to be cared and remembered had slowly began to ease its grasp the fingers loosening and beginning to return to a veiled side.

Unknowingly as she sat perched on the floor, her knees digging into the ground her own fingers had began to loosen their hold on the crucifix. Concealed behind a wall, a secret place of in the fortress, hidden from sinful eyes and torturous minds Lynette sat beside Claennis and Fria, each consumed by the words they spoke.

Had her words lost their meaning? In a way her mother's may have done, it would seem as if this is destined.

Lynette went to stand up but as she did Fria's hand wrapped around her wrist stopping her, "You can't go yet your prayer is but half done." She whispered.

Lynette frowned, annoyed.

"I think I know how much I need to pray." She snapped.

Claennis looked to the side "Fria let her go." She spoke gently.

The hand unravelled from her skin and Lynette stood silently, an empty shell of continuous thoughts yet she had no more to say, her head tilted down and she sighed "I'm sorry for snapping at you."

Fria shrugged her shoulders "I was just letting you know, I don't know the next time we will be here." She replied.

Fria was right, the mere fact that they are here praying in a manner that would unleash the vilest of horrors upon them if they were to be found meant they could not always allow themselves to find comfort between these four imperceptible walls. So tiny and hidden yet so vastly open to them. As the softly hallowed wind quickened Lynette sat back down her eyes downcast and her hands fisted beside her, she did not have any more words to say but she sought the solace of quiet and it was enough to keep her.

In-between the cracks of silence Lynette felt herself slip into the darkness of past memories, those which she had tried so hard to abandon yet they were ever unrelenting, they were a part of her, each and every single one and her conscious made sure she never forgot.

Cold water seeped through her flesh, unforgiving, Lynette submerged her hands into the basin a cloth wrapped in her palm as she soaked up the water before she turned and looked to Kjartan. He stood with his looming shadow behind him, dark and cruel just as he is, Lynette held her breath, lips stretched shut into a firm and thin line- she would not make the mistake of breathing too loud, not again.

His tenebrific eyes lacked any light they stared ahead as he spoke to a man. Lynette walked forward and stood by him, she did not wish to disturb him not when he was already seething in a pit of anger. Suddenly he snapped his gaze to her and glared she almost instantly understood and reached up with shaky hands Lynette placed the wet, water soaked cloth onto Kjartan's bare arm and rubbed washing away any speck of dirt there.