Love comes in many forms.
Speaking about it, imagining it, and melting at the mere prospect of it can leave you giddy with its richness.
But defining it, expressing or experiencing it - that's a different game.
Elijah - the heir to the throne of...
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It stopped raining.
I softly touched the droplets of rain with each of my fingers, popping out the bubbles. The small watery circles ended their splatters onto the railing, easily letting me caress them.
But how could it stop?
How could it stop, just like that?
I shut my eyes tightly, knotting my fingers together.
"Elijah? They're waiting for you." Lia whispered from behind me, placing her palm on my shoulder as we looked out at the borders of our villages, from the balcony.
I stayed silent; staring up at the plain clouds that had cluttered together, forming their own families.
"Eli...you have to come out. They're going to take the body out to complete the final rituals, it's only respectful that you're there."
I held in the breaths that were prepared to become ragged, rapidly blinking away the moisture threatening the corner of my eyes.
The little calluses on my fingers shivered as I parted my hands and left them to the side.
Do not break.
"L-let's go."
Lia's glance curved down to sympathy but I denied it by shaking my head.
"Please don't say anything. Let's just go."
She nodded her head, turning away as she walked forward and held the door open for me.
I exited my chamber.
Some things were inevitable.
The languid slow steps were noticed too well by the servants around.
The dragging hesitation in every pace forward bleared everything out too well.
And the perpetual sway that tried its hardest to take us away from accepting the reality.
The reality that everything comes to end, whether it was supposed to or not.
Nine minutes passed, and we reached the place where everyone had quietly gathered.
My father's arm was tightly hung over my mother's neck - his other arm weakly limping at his other side - as she supported his crumbling and bruised stance.
The soldiers were compulsively stationed at every pillar, still seemingly recovering from the blackout they had been forced under, the previous night.
Eyes drooping, bodies almost pathetically slumped, but still attempting to appear as if they had enough strength left in them to consciously pass into the next week.
Atleast, they're still alive.
I nodded at everyone acknowledgingly, and we all straightened ourselves, somewhat prepared.
