Meghon, Ciles - a closed thread
Jan 7, 2012 19:52:26 GMT -5
Post by cinder on Jan 7, 2012 19:52:26 GMT -5
MILES.
His head is miles away from the uncomfortable cot him and Theron (pardon for the grammatical error, but Miles always comes first, even before dearest sister Theron) share in the orphanage. Miles doesn't dream often, for he's never been too curious about lives that are not his own, but when he does, they are always extravagant and strange.
For example, his dream of the present involved living on a manor in a distant country with no name nor reason. He couldn't possibly guess his own age or any other details of who he was, Miles simply knew in his heart that this life was real and he was "him." And so his head was untroubled, and the young-dream-boy had a chance to look at his surroundings with an appreciative eye for the exquisite decor, and soft soundtrack of ladies chatting, birds chirping, and wind sifting through the thin, silk curtains.
His beautiful wife sat by an open window. She laughed, but the words drifting to Miles from across the long and open dining hall told him they must've been discussing either politics or knitting, him and her lady in waiting - or so he inferred that the angular faced second woman must be a lady in waiting, basing his observation off of minimal knowledge from Theron's cheap story books. However, come to think about it, Miles couldn't exactly place his finger on who Theron was. Maybe a dream of another world, or to be more precise, a part of some dreadful nightmare world where Miles had no wealth, power, or peace.
While Miles smiled and considered himself lucky that that other life was a dream and not a reality, he lost track of time, and soon enough the sun was setting. He turned a clean, polite face towards his lady's knitting, and found her seat to be vacated. Exchanged for the two conversationalist were a kitten sitting on one chair, and a finished scarf on the other. A milli-second frown touched Miles lips for having forgotten the two beauties. But soon an echo of euphony reached his straining ears. I do believe they've gone into the parlor, however I see no sense in their having vacated the hall! Its perfectly mild, even if the windows remain open to the twilight's airs..
So he followed the sounds of his lady, and when he reached a hallway with no doors on either side - only windows - Miles simply strolled down, letting his vision and instincts guide him to the first stairwell he encountered. He walked down, trusting that in his own manor, he knew where his own wife would reside in the evening hours, and assuming for no real reason, that he should find her soon enough.
So he did! But as she turned her angelic face to him, and with a beauteous smile touching her lit-up face, Miles couldn't help but place her in the same nightmare of no wealth, no power, and no contentment. But she? His wife, the one that he observed with the same sense of knowing he was he and could be no other? Her with the brown, curling hair and starry eyes, how could she be anything but real to him? She must be the only thing he felt sure of, out of all the silks, kittens, ladies in waiting, and knitting that his eyes had ever saw.
"Miles! I'd had a mind to send Shantria up to find you, silly man." she teased.
And Miles stared at her. "May I come in, dear?"
To this, she only smiled at him with her wicked, charming eyes. "Why my darling, that's entirely your choice."
Her remark sent shivers up his spine, and Miles contemplated stepping over to her. He turned behind him, down the hall of riches he'd emerged from, and the staircase to higher things, the one he'd left to find her tinkling laughter. His heart-ached to be shifted away from her presence, and Miles whispered to himself, Well, I must.
He stepped through the doorway of the parlor, his eyes on the fire Shantria was tending, and his mind observing every rich detail of their manor home. He smiled happily, and swooped down on her, kissing her cheek.
Oh, Miles! her mind seemed to say. Miles?
Theron, my only Theron, Miles like-wise murmured before leaning away from her, disengaging strands of hair from his face, and smiling with all the peace a man needs. His eyes fluttered, and opened fully to the poverty surround them.
He is fifteen years old, unmarried, and lying on a cot alongside Theron. He is a member of the poorest of District One, and a petty-thief. And Theron is..
his sister.
ooc I promise Ill be more concise for the rest of the post, I didn't mean to actually describe the dream, but then I was like ehh c;
