Gwynek (prime)/Leave: Difference between revisions
(Created page with "No single thing led to the moment. No single word, insult, unkindness, or contemptuous glance made him stand from his chair; the scrape of its feet upon the floor breaking the pall of silence. The steel in his father's gaze and the smirk on his lips conveying his exact thoughts about the sudden motion. His mother's scoff followed by a sigh and slow shake of her head, as if he had disappointed her in precisely the way she expected. They would later call it one of his tant...") |
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No single thing led to the moment. No single word, insult, unkindness, or contemptuous glance made him stand from his chair; the scrape of its feet upon the floor breaking the pall of silence. The steel in his father's gaze and the smirk on his lips conveying his exact thoughts about the sudden motion. His mother's scoff followed by a sigh and slow shake of her head, as if he had disappointed her in precisely the way she expected. They would later call it one of his tantrums, later use it as evidence that he was a failure of an elf and an adult, Gwynek mused. |
No single thing led to the moment. No single word, insult, unkindness, or contemptuous glance made him stand from his chair; the scrape of its feet upon the floor breaking the pall of silence. The steel in his father's gaze and the smirk on his lips conveying his exact thoughts about the sudden motion. His mother's scoff followed by a sigh and slow shake of her head, as if he had disappointed her in precisely the way she expected. They would later call it one of his tantrums, later use it as evidence that he was a failure of an elf and an adult, Gwynek mused. |
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He'd not give them a later. Because it was no single thing. No single event, word, glance, or gesture - rather it was the years of them combined, the cumulative weight of little insults, whispered scorn, loathing lided behind the eyes; of boundraies and borders and oughts and cannots and musts and nevers and ceaseless error. He'd ask if they loved him, or cared for him at all - and be told love had nothing to do with it, nor did care, nor did affection. Duty mattered, reputation mattered, honor mattered, discipline and dignity mattered - virtues Gwynek's parents wasted no effort in reminding him of their absence in his being. |
He'd not give them a later. Because it was no single thing. No single event, word, glance, or gesture - rather it was the years of them combined, the cumulative weight of little insults, whispered scorn, loathing lided behind the eyes; of boundraies and borders and oughts and cannots and musts and nevers and ceaseless error. He'd ask if they loved him, or cared for him at all - and be told love had nothing to do with it, nor did care, nor did affection. Duty mattered, reputation mattered, honor mattered, discipline and dignity mattered - virtues Gwynek's parents wasted no effort in reminding him of their absence in his being. |
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So it was in his 29th year, as he sat at his parents table for an evening meal just a few weeks prior to the Feast of the Immortals, did it all shudder and collapse when he told them he intended to study wizardry. Both father and mother laughed, and reminisced about Gwynek's failures as a pupil. To underscore their points - His father asked him impossible questions about Ta'Vaalor's military history, his mother quizzed him about Elven systems of divination. After a while he stopped trying to answer, though they kept asking - chuckling and chortling as Gwynek stared meekly at his plate and held back tears. |
So it was in his 29th year, as he sat at his parents table for an evening meal just a few weeks prior to the Feast of the Immortals, did it all shudder and collapse when he told them he intended to study wizardry. Both father and mother laughed, and reminisced about Gwynek's failures as a pupil. To underscore their points - His father asked him impossible questions about Ta'Vaalor's military history, his mother quizzed him about Elven systems of divination. After a while he stopped trying to answer, though they kept asking - chuckling and chortling as Gwynek stared meekly at his plate and held back tears. |
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In time the pair had ceased their humiliations. Silence filled the room. No single event led to the moment - Every moment had. Gwynek pushed back his chair, stood up, and walked from the dining room to the entry way. With no further word, he left his home. |
In time the pair had ceased their humiliations. Silence filled the room. No single event led to the moment - Every moment had. Gwynek pushed back his chair, stood up, and walked from the dining room to the entry way. With no further word, he left his home. |
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He would not be a wizard. Fine. He would be something else. Something only he could be. So he walked in the direction of the Fortress, amid the silence and the lonely cold. |
He would not be a wizard. Fine. He would be something else. Something only he could be. So he walked in the direction of the Fortress, amid the silence and the lonely cold. |
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Latest revision as of 14:01, 20 August 2026
No single thing led to the moment. No single word, insult, unkindness, or contemptuous glance made him stand from his chair; the scrape of its feet upon the floor breaking the pall of silence. The steel in his father's gaze and the smirk on his lips conveying his exact thoughts about the sudden motion. His mother's scoff followed by a sigh and slow shake of her head, as if he had disappointed her in precisely the way she expected. They would later call it one of his tantrums, later use it as evidence that he was a failure of an elf and an adult, Gwynek mused.
He'd not give them a later. Because it was no single thing. No single event, word, glance, or gesture - rather it was the years of them combined, the cumulative weight of little insults, whispered scorn, loathing lided behind the eyes; of boundraies and borders and oughts and cannots and musts and nevers and ceaseless error. He'd ask if they loved him, or cared for him at all - and be told love had nothing to do with it, nor did care, nor did affection. Duty mattered, reputation mattered, honor mattered, discipline and dignity mattered - virtues Gwynek's parents wasted no effort in reminding him of their absence in his being.
So it was in his 29th year, as he sat at his parents table for an evening meal just a few weeks prior to the Feast of the Immortals, did it all shudder and collapse when he told them he intended to study wizardry. Both father and mother laughed, and reminisced about Gwynek's failures as a pupil. To underscore their points - His father asked him impossible questions about Ta'Vaalor's military history, his mother quizzed him about Elven systems of divination. After a while he stopped trying to answer, though they kept asking - chuckling and chortling as Gwynek stared meekly at his plate and held back tears.
In time the pair had ceased their humiliations. Silence filled the room. No single event led to the moment - Every moment had. Gwynek pushed back his chair, stood up, and walked from the dining room to the entry way. With no further word, he left his home.
He would not be a wizard. Fine. He would be something else. Something only he could be. So he walked in the direction of the Fortress, amid the silence and the lonely cold.