==== December 17, 2013
==== A'lory
==== When it all goes awry.

Who A'lory
What When it all goes awry.
When After the leadership flight.
Where Igen Weyr


La Serenissima
The flaking, honeycombed edges of once monumental limestone rocks have been sent over sideways by the toll of four hundred Turns' ill effects and put to use for writing spaces and seating. Bone white with salty scaling, smaller chips off the old block lie in a carefully scattered arrangement, lining a path along the subtly labyrinthine grooves of the stone floor, guiding one's feet between the minimal, shabby-chic trappings of a man's life tucked into convenient crevices; hidden deep in the smallest end of that dark place is a decadent scarlet and iron staircase twists upward into the inexplicable mountain chill that creeps in from some unknown source to touch the spine with madness. Looming larger still, a monolith of halite and limestone dominates the larger space, worn smooth for a dragon's sleeping space.

An endless stream of hidework, binding him ever tighter to endless, unpleasant duty, is piled on the table, rendering an already frustrated man tired and angry - angrier than ere it all began. Diplomacy, nicety, stroking fragile egos — enough. With a sweep of his arm, A'lory sends them flying, taking petty satisfaction in the chaos of his creation.

He is so bloody tired of this.

Of being seen and not seen, heard and not The things that were wanted of him, he accomplished, all the while enduring a growing feeling of emptiness, of despair, of exhaustion.

He takes a look of his shoulder, void of the knot that he'd grown used to.

Yes, it's gone — and no surprise. He was not that man, not the one that had been expected of him for so long. It should be a relief, and yet, it was not. No way to do what needed to be done without it. Perhaps, however, it was for the best: a man whose strengths did not play into the perceived notions of what should be could find other, better opportunities elsewhere, with more freedom to be.

He settles back, contemplating the enormity of the thing: he is free, again.

And then the thought strikes him:

What am I going to tell Sara?

Somehow he doubts she will care. Perhaps she would be happy that he had more time.

And perhaps, just perhaps, those other plans might come to fruition, now that he had the freedom to explore them without the restraints of rank.

Slowly, he pushes himself up from his chair, and wanders off to find himself a nice, warm bath.

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