[RP] Thorn's Little Castle

[balerion]

You are most welcome. I hope that we can come to know each other better with the passing of time. You will always be welcome in my cave whatever the future does hold. Is there anything that you need to know about Bravia, or have you explored it before?

[Thorn]

Thorn smiled slightly and nodded.

I'm unsure what my plans are while in Bravia. All I know is I want to catch up on training and studying. I neglected my studies, she shrugged nonchalently. If I need to know more I'll ask.

[balerion]

Always feel free to drop in. It was good seeing you again. I think now I must take my leave and return home. There are some cows to be barbecued.

[Thorn]

Take care Balerion, she said, and the image of cows in a field being barbequed caused her to giggle. She hoped that was not what he meant, but looking at the dragon Thorn was less than sure.

Be kind to those cows, she laughed.

[balerion]

Balerion smiles thinking of the cows in a field he has to barbecue as soon as he gets back to Bravia. They have led quite happy lives. Now they will help me continue to live mine. With a wink Balerion flies off into the night towards Bravia Towne.

[Thorn]

A few days later Thorn re-entered the Manor after going to speak with the stable boy, handy man, finally finding out his name and glad to know it was Joe. Now she felt less embarrassed with not knowing, similarly with the maid, Mary, and the cook Mrs Brown. She had rebuked herself at how lax she had been with this, but now Thorn was more settled.

Looking round Thorn walked into the hall and thought the first impression was promising when one entered, but she knew this area was more visible. Turning she walked to a door, and opening it went through, entering a corridor, like the one she had a couple days before when she had discovered a tower room. This corridor ran opposite the other, the courtyard this time to the right. Walking along, Thorn glanced out of a window as she got to it, seeing Joe heading towards the outer door with some tools. Thorn looked at the end of the corridor, seeing what she knew was a doorway, all boarded up. Yet before then she reached a door, and opening it found a room that looked like it was a dumping ground. There were wooden boxes, units with drawers, and what looked like a table, chairs piled on top, and Thorn backed out again, closing the door again thinking it needed tidying, maybe clearing out and the space made use of. She needed to find out what was needed here.

Walking on she heard someone behind her getting closer, and stopping at the next door on the left Thorn opened it and looked in. This one was almost empty, but smelt musty. Closing this door she looked round as Joe walked past her and she followed him.

I want this doorway unblocked, Thorn told him quietly as they came to a halt. Do you know what is on the other side of this door? She asked, and seeing Joe shake his head she stepped back to watch and wait. Joe got straight to it, getting a long iron rod to use for leverage, and a hammer.

With a few slips, an odd curse under his breath Joe began to make headway with the first plank, and when it finally squeaked away from the doorway, the old rusty nails finally releasing their grip of the other layer beneath this. Thorn watched quietly as Joe dropped the wood to one side, her eyes following his movements, and she thought briefly of her father, how as a carpenter he would have had this job done quickly. As the work progressed, Thorn watched as it turned out the three layers of wood blocking the doorway was removed, and when the last piece was pulled screeching off by Joe Thorn stepped forward.

Thank you Joe, she said as he began gathering up the wood. Would you when you have this lot moved out, remove the wood from the windows outside this end room for me?

Seeing Joe nod as he walked away carrying a good few planks of wood, Thorn turned to look at the door that now she could see. It seemed more solid, heavier type of door than others in the house, and Thorn wondered why that would be. Reaching her hand out she turned the handle, feeling it turn, the door not locked.

[Thorn]

Turning the door handle Thorn pushed the door open and stepped forward, eyes alert. She entered a darkened area silently, seeing chinks of light entering from gaps in the wood that covered the windows. Not able to see fully Thorn still entered, hearing her breath as she breathed, the silence loud around her, a coolness in the air, a mustiness. Moving away carefully from the doorway Thorn became very aware of her senses, but not feeling threatened in any way. She sensed a calm, a peacefulness.

You should have waited, Thorn rebuked herself silently, thinking she needed Joe to get to work on the wood on the outside, unsure how many areas seemed boarded, knowing only this particular room was rounded, or at the least multi sided. Hearing a cracking Thorn turned to where the sound came from and at the sound of ripping light began to stream in. Joe... she muttered, seeing dust rising, the sun coming through bright, and turning round to see what was visible Thorn saw pillars, and got the impression of the ceiling being tall. Stone walls, and wooden beams... Hearing a further sound of splitting wood Thorn moved to one of the pillars, looking round her and finding the area quite bare to one end, a bowl or statue... and unsure she looked at the point she was stood and saw plain wooden seats, some benches. As another window was revealed the sun shone down on the structure at the far end, illuminating that whole area in a golden light.



Thorn realised this room was a private chapel. She had her own chapel. She was amazed, but then remembered this type of manor often did. She smiled, walking to what she was beginning to realise was a stone font, and reaching it found it dry, dirt and dust gathered in the bottom. The sun showed the dust that was in this room, and Thorn realised it would mainly need sweeping, the windows cleaning, the seating wiped. Her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the font Thorn looked behind her as a tall window was revealed, and looking up realised the roof was domed, and that it was layered, different heights.

The room was large, yet not excessively so, the windows well placed to allow light in at all times of the day, and sconces around the walls in places for burning torches, while candles could be placed in the few candle holders she saw at the end near the font. She shivered, feeling the cool air, and turning to look round one last time left the newly discovered private chapel. There were many other areas to explore yet in her manor, but time enough for that. She would set the maid to work that very afternoon Thorn decided.

[Thorn]

Thorn sat in the sitting room, her feet up on a soft foot stool, cushions behind her back, reading a book. That was what any entering would have thought but her eyes were unseeing, her mind somewhere else. Quiet, her breathing soundless Thorn saw her mother, then her sister entering the scene. She watched her sister with her precociousness, her over confidence with her new skills. Then another scene came to her mind and here she saw her sister older by a couple of years, pouring over a book, and she frowned remembering the book of spells and potions.

Looking round, Thorn dropped the book onto a side table, and swung her legs up onto the couch, wincing in pain and catching her breath as she felt the area of her ribs that had been hit and were bruised. She was bruised all over, and was resting due to having little choice. She chuckled to herself as she remembered the duel, mentally kicking herself for losing so completely. Next time she told herself. She lifted her arm and looked at the bruising she had there, touching it with her other hand, the purple swelling sensitive to the touch. This was nothing compared to her legs and ribs, glad that at least he had made sure she got home safely, feeling bad that he had not held back. Thorn smiled thinking she would make sure next time the injuries would be less, and she would have a better chance. She chuckled at that last thought.

Shutting her eyes Thorn allowed her mind to go back again, to her sister and to herself when she was just discovering the truth. Thorn remembered how for weeks she had pretended nothing had changed, but the feelings and noise... it had driven her to distraction that in the end she had broken down, her mother and sister joining together to explain her gift. It was then that she was taught how to control her ability, how to shut people out, but at the same time she was taught to listen, to never ignore a plea for help. A sob escaped Thorn as she remembered.

[Thorn]

Thorn shut her eyes and let her mind go back to a time she remembered, visualising a room. Long curtains blowing slightly in a breeze, the window open wide, sunlight shining through, lighting up the room. Looking round Thorn saw the bed, the bedding and cushions all tidy, the pink tones warming. The room was a fair size and as the scene formed before her, a figure appeared, a girl laid on the bed, looking at a book, not reading, her eyes distant, a gentle frown across her face.

Subconscious Thorn held her breath, watching the girl, remembering this particular day. The girl moved, the book dropping from her hands as she moved, a look on her face that Thorn recognised, and unconsciously she clenched her fists, remembering the upset she had felt, fighting within herself to deal with something she did not understand. Earlier that day she had visited the market, sent by her mother, and while there she had begun to feel strange, and looking at a stranger, an old lady, she had known her worry, and deeper still had sensed the woman was ill. Turning she looked at a man, a market stall holder, and she had felt his anger, glancing round at those near trying to work out at who. Shaking her head the girl had struggled to maintain her outward calm, inside screaming at them to all shut up. The noise was growing, and as she became aware of others the feelings got stronger, more uncontrollable, and she could not shut them out, stop the noise.

Grabbing the shopping to herself she had darted through the people, people she had seen over the years in passing, almost running away from the market, the relief as the sounds and feelings decreased the nearer she got to the forest, and by the time she entered the shelter of the trees her head was full of the feelings, memory of the feelings and pain or happiness that she had picked up. When she had got home, Thorn remembered barging into the kitchen, dumping her wares, ignoring her mother’s shocked face at her entrance, and had run to her room.

Thorn shook her head, screwing her eyes up to shut out the image, remembering how she had sat for hours thinking, trying to understand what had just happened. Hearing sounds from below she remembered wondering about going to her mother, but did not know what to say, how to explain.

Opening her eyes Thorn glanced round the sitting room. It had been a long while since she had welcomed this ability, and had shut out that part of her life until recently. Thorn remembered how she had learnt, with her sister’s help, how to control then, how to close her mind when she needed to. Yet it had taken time, and many tears.

[Thorn]

Thorn went to bed that night with her mind still on the memories she had stirred earlier, but settled to sleep eventually, an uneasiness she could not explain. As sleep overtook her, Thorn's body giving in to exhaustion. Tossing and turning Thorn's mind flitted from one scene to another, from her home in Fenia City, her library there, to a scene she did not understand, a figure she could not make out, but one she would not remember once she woke. Her mind went to her journey from Fenia to Bravia, brief but clear, ending with her new home where she felt a peace she had not for a long time.

Thorn's glimpses into her recent past changed again, shifting focus to a time she chose to ignore, to forget. As the scene unfolded Thorn moaned restlessly in her sleep, subconsciously trying to stop the memory forming...

Thorn was laid on her front in a clearing in the forest writing her thoguhts into the journal she kept, the sun shining onto her back. It had been several months since she had acknowledged her gift and she had learnt to manage the feelings and thoguhts, no longer hiding away in her room as she had initially once the flood gates had been opened. For what seemed an age Thorn had picked up everything, feelings and a sense of more, and Thorn's head had felt like it would explode.

Closing her journal and pushing herself up, a relaxed Thorn looked around, the peace there welcoming and she smiled. Standing slowly Thorn toyed with which path to take to return home, the short route or long. Slipping her journal into her skirt pocket and began walking, choosing the slow path, in no hurry to get home. The trees whispered in the gentle breeze, the leaves rustling, the sounds of birds singing between branches.

Lost in her thoughts the path took Thorn past a cottage and she would not have stopped but for the voice. Gasping Thorn's feet froze and she looked round, confused and scared. Turning her gaze to the cottage Thorn concentrated, feeling sick to her stomach. Silence, then there she heard the faint voice. Stealthily Thorn walked toward the cottage and at the wall laid the flat of her hand against it and shut her eyes where she waited, listened.

No! Thorn gasped, withdrawing her hand as if burnt and turning she ran. Her feet did not stop till she reached her home, tripping with carelessness as she ran in panic, branches scratching her face, catching her hair as she ran through the forest. Reaching home Thorn rushed in, the door slamming behind her, and she ran for the stairs and her room, where shutting the door she threw herself onto her bed.

Thorn, what's wrong? a gentle voice broke through to her, her mother sitting on the edge of her bed, stroking her hair.

Thorn could not speak, scared to, not believing the thoughts she had picked up, heard. Pale and looking like a startled rabbit Thorn just shook her head. Finally her mother left her, realising Thorn would speak when ready. The rest of that day Thorn stayed by herself in her room, refusing food, saying nothing. Finally sleep reached out to Thorn and she slept, a disturbed sleep, her mind going round and round as again and again she heard that voice, seeing clearly what was happening.

Screaming Thorn woke from her sleep, calling out for help, hearing sounds as her parents woke, and hurried to her room where Thorn in panic told of the cottage, of the young woman there, what she intended. Thorn saw the exchange of looks between her parents and watched as her father turned, leaving to investigate. Thorn saw clearly what he would find and later when he returned a silent look at her mother had told Thorn what she already knew. Thorn had seen the look of anger in his eyes, his voice calm and low.

You could have stopped this, was all he said to her, shaking her head, turning to his wife. She and the child are dead...

No!

Sobbing Thorn woke from her dream, the images clear before her in the darkness of her room, the night at its darkest. Crying Thorn pulled the covers to her mouth to stifle the sound of her crying, remembering that night as if she was stood there, how her mother had left to go after her husband. Thorn recalled how she had got up and dressed, packed a few items into a bag and slipped out of the only home she had ever known at that point, swearing she would never forgive herself, and determined after that night to never use her gift, to bury it deep within herself.