Heavy in Your Arms (Eldon)

[Denen Sunsinger]

Spring 20, 511 AV He felt heavy. His limbs were slender, supple, but they felt like lead. Every inch of his body felt weighted down, as if moving it required great effort, or was unspeakably painful. His smiles had once been ready and eager, but they were fleeting and forced, as though the culmination of many events had beaten the very spirit from him. The most menial, habitual tasks were a labor, and as Denen sat in his tent, organizing what was left of his winter supplies—dried herbs and roots, along with old stones and balms—he offered up a faint, weary sigh. He knelt, hands resting gently in his lap, an frowned at the tools before him. He could fix so many things, but not himself. He supposed such was life, though. The woman who cleaned for others never had time for her own house, just as the healer who tended to others never had time for his own heart. Lifting an herb-stained hand, he tucked back his hair, only to have his fingers meet with the pretty gem Sama'el had given him for his birthday. They lingered there, and his throat grew tight. Deft, healer's fingers twisted the cord out of the braid it had been held in for months now, and he looked down at the stone, smooth and cool, as it rested in the palm of his hand. Slim shoulders slumped further, and he curled his fingers around the gem, hiding it from his view. His friend. He knew he ought to be grateful for that alone. It was more than he deserved. Sama'el had put up with his presence for as long as he had, and even seemed to genuinely want to spend time with him. He did his best to put up a guise, at least around Sama'el, but he was drowning, and his honest, blue eyes could not hide that. There was an emptiness there, and a hurt that manifested itself whenever he gazed too long. He took a long, deep breath, and tucked the gem away in his bag. He couldn't look at it, let alone wear it. He had plans to open up a shop of sorts, to offer his services, however meager they were, to whomever might have need of them. He didn't intend to charge much, but at least he would then be pulling his weight. Perhaps if he was more useful... His thin body hunched over, and he rocked slightly, bringing up his arms to cover his head. It was too much. Why had he ruined everything? If he'd just kept his foolish mouth shut, hidden what he felt, then he'd not have been made such a fool, nor would he have Sama'el uncomfortable. But he had been so excited by the concept of being accepted that he'd thought... Oh, what did it matter what he had thought? He had been wrong. His arms dropped to his sides, hands against the ground, palms turned up. Perhaps it would be best if he left. The thought came again, as it had been often lately. Maybe if he moved off by himself, coming only when invited...His features twisted painfully, and he had to bite down on his lip to stifle a whimper. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life by himself. But he had nothing to offer as far as being a husband went, and he wasn't sure that he could bring himself to even fake that far. He lacked, too, any prospective suitors of his own. What did he have to attract either party? He didn't think of himself as attractive. He was poor as dirt, having cut himself away from his Pavilion. He was only barely competent as a healer. He couldn't give birth to children. The list went on and on. He pulled his hands together, and drew them up to press over his broken heart. It shouldn't have hurt this much. It was a silly, first love. One that wasn't even reciprocated. He felt foolish for being so quick to feel it, and even more foolish for admitting it. He supposed it was a cruel lesson learned. One he didn't intend to repeat.

[Lariat]

Denen Brokensong

Experience:

Lores:
Broken hearted
At a loss for words
Depression is a slippery slope

Thoughts: If you have any questions about what I handed out just send me a pm.