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30 Hours

Your challenge (should you choose to accept it) is to crank out 100 words or 1 graphic inspired by the word:


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Dec. 31st, 2020 09:02 pm (UTC)
The echo of praises, of battles on behalf of the people, Teren and Elyri alike, were sucked from the afternoon air by the heavy grinding and thud of the crypt stone being worked into place by General Declan, Daema Gabersdon, Chancellor Dahl and Chamberlain McCábhá, the four men given the melancholy honor of laying Queen Diona to rest. It had been an honor offered to Kavan, but one he had declined in favor of standing as part of the gathering of family, friends, advisors, soldiers and household staff to offer their mourning farewells.
He was alone now, wishing for the harp in his hands that he had not brought into the cold with him, feeling the cold kisses of the snow that had begun to fall as the funerary procession had come from the Great Hall to this place in the gardens where most other Lachlans had been laid to rest. The fresh marble marker was just warm enough still that the snow melted upon contact with the etched face, but soon, as the day waned and the stone grew colder, the flakes would fill the crevices of the name scored into its surface.
Diona Lachlan.
Kavan, feeling the press of an invisible hand over his as he traced the elegant blocky letters with his fingers, closed his eyes. It had been so long, too long, and though the saint was not with him in body, gave him no words of comfort or wisdom, the crutch of his presence in Kavan’s time of need was enough.
Perhaps Kóráhm did not yet feel his company was again welcome, but he had come to prove that Kavan was not alone in his grief.
Whatever difficulties stood between them, Kóráhm was there for him now as he had ever been.
It was enough to allow Kavan the freedom to hang his head and weep for loved ones lost without any man or woman there as his witness.
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Little comm. that could
One Million Words


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