He carried plum colored dahlias, some so dark they were nearly black. Maybe it was over-dramatic, but since her death he only dressed in black - black slacks, black button ups, black wool peacoats, black gloves - and he only brought the darkest colored dahlias he could find to her grave. It wasn’t out of any antiquated notions regarding a so-called proper period of mourning, no. It was simply that when she left the world she took all color with her. He had no use for color anymore.
It was a perfect day for mourning. The sky hung dark and heavy full with rain imminent. There was pressure in the air already.
The hands that placed the flowers on her grave did not feel like his own. They felt weaker without her. The ring that gleamed on his finger was more dull. Heavier.
He knelt down.
“Julianna,” he began as he always did. His voice was no more than a whisper. It didn’t even resonate in his chest. What was the point in speaking loudly to the dead. “It was not a good day, today. I fired a maid for throwing out your toothbrush. I chased a woman down in the market who had your hair. I thought - I wished..." He sighed. "Today I was informed that Elliot is petitioning the court for the throne. He is challenging me. The court, as you would probably guess, favors him. My legitimacy hangs by a thread.”
He picked up a bouquet of decayed flowers, removing the debris from the gravesite. As soon as he removed the dead flowers he regretted it. They had the appropriate tone for the site. He picked dried petals one by one and lined the curving top of her tombstone with them while he spoke. A mindless task to occupy those foreign hands of his.
“Forgive me.” He asked of the dead. “I have put into motion a nuclear option. I have contacted the CAF and arranged for their arrival to maintain my rule - through force, if necessary. Love, I am not afraid of the world’s opinion, or the court’s...”
When he was done lining up petals, his fingers dropped to trace the curving J of her name carved into marble. In his mind he remembered tracing the curve of her spine with the tips of his fingers over and over and over. He’d driven the softness of her body into his mind so thoroughly that tracing the first letter of her name etched in stone triggered the sensation of former touch. “This isn’t what you would have wanted for your country - but I’ve made assurances, love. For you. It isn’t perfect, but you must trust me. If I have any say in it, Elliot will not succeed in undoing your legacy. Let me handle it. You just rest.”
A Hart was in the ground. His beating heart was in the ground. Julianna’s death caused Owen to enter a sort of state of being akin to madness. The kind of madness that roiled beneath a tranquil surface. The kind of madness, though, that didn’t eclipse self-control. The kind of madness that might cause him to, say, kill a man - with a full awareness and comprehension of the act of murder, not in a blind rage - just for stepping on his toe. A calculated and self-aware and deliberate craziness.
“Somehow, I love you more everyday. How is it possible? I miss you very much. Our girls miss their mother.” His voice didn’t crack when he said it. There was no more room in him for that kind of grief. “Forgive me, Julianna, for what I am about to do.” He kissed his index and middle fingers and pressed them to her name.
Having said what he came to tell her that day, Owen stood wondering whether she would indeed forgive him. Whether she would or wouldn’t, he was the one that had to go on living in the world without her. He was the one who had to live with himself. Oil and water were no different to her now.
“I will see you tomorrow darling.” He said before turning with dead flowers in black leather gloved hands.
Owen stopped. He wasn’t alone. Someone was observing him speaking with his wife. He didn’t appreciate the lack of privacy. He frowned deeply behind dark sunglasses which were redundant in such gloomy weather.
It was a perfect day for mourning. The sky hung dark and heavy full with rain imminent. There was pressure in the air already.
The hands that placed the flowers on her grave did not feel like his own. They felt weaker without her. The ring that gleamed on his finger was more dull. Heavier.
He knelt down.
“Julianna,” he began as he always did. His voice was no more than a whisper. It didn’t even resonate in his chest. What was the point in speaking loudly to the dead. “It was not a good day, today. I fired a maid for throwing out your toothbrush. I chased a woman down in the market who had your hair. I thought - I wished..." He sighed. "Today I was informed that Elliot is petitioning the court for the throne. He is challenging me. The court, as you would probably guess, favors him. My legitimacy hangs by a thread.”
He picked up a bouquet of decayed flowers, removing the debris from the gravesite. As soon as he removed the dead flowers he regretted it. They had the appropriate tone for the site. He picked dried petals one by one and lined the curving top of her tombstone with them while he spoke. A mindless task to occupy those foreign hands of his.
“Forgive me.” He asked of the dead. “I have put into motion a nuclear option. I have contacted the CAF and arranged for their arrival to maintain my rule - through force, if necessary. Love, I am not afraid of the world’s opinion, or the court’s...”
When he was done lining up petals, his fingers dropped to trace the curving J of her name carved into marble. In his mind he remembered tracing the curve of her spine with the tips of his fingers over and over and over. He’d driven the softness of her body into his mind so thoroughly that tracing the first letter of her name etched in stone triggered the sensation of former touch. “This isn’t what you would have wanted for your country - but I’ve made assurances, love. For you. It isn’t perfect, but you must trust me. If I have any say in it, Elliot will not succeed in undoing your legacy. Let me handle it. You just rest.”
A Hart was in the ground. His beating heart was in the ground. Julianna’s death caused Owen to enter a sort of state of being akin to madness. The kind of madness that roiled beneath a tranquil surface. The kind of madness, though, that didn’t eclipse self-control. The kind of madness that might cause him to, say, kill a man - with a full awareness and comprehension of the act of murder, not in a blind rage - just for stepping on his toe. A calculated and self-aware and deliberate craziness.
“Somehow, I love you more everyday. How is it possible? I miss you very much. Our girls miss their mother.” His voice didn’t crack when he said it. There was no more room in him for that kind of grief. “Forgive me, Julianna, for what I am about to do.” He kissed his index and middle fingers and pressed them to her name.
Having said what he came to tell her that day, Owen stood wondering whether she would indeed forgive him. Whether she would or wouldn’t, he was the one that had to go on living in the world without her. He was the one who had to live with himself. Oil and water were no different to her now.
“I will see you tomorrow darling.” He said before turning with dead flowers in black leather gloved hands.
Owen stopped. He wasn’t alone. Someone was observing him speaking with his wife. He didn’t appreciate the lack of privacy. He frowned deeply behind dark sunglasses which were redundant in such gloomy weather.
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
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Violets are Dead [closed] - by saronym - 05-25-2017, 10:52 PM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by saronym - 05-25-2017, 11:12 PM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by SolitareLee - 05-25-2017, 11:40 PM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by saronym - 05-26-2017, 12:21 AM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by SolitareLee - 05-26-2017, 12:56 AM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by saronym - 06-01-2017, 06:39 PM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by SolitareLee - 06-08-2017, 05:47 PM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by saronym - 06-17-2017, 10:26 PM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by SolitareLee - 06-18-2017, 02:03 PM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by saronym - 06-24-2017, 03:17 PM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by SolitareLee - 06-24-2017, 04:15 PM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by saronym - 06-29-2017, 01:15 AM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by SolitareLee - 07-08-2017, 12:47 PM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by saronym - 07-22-2017, 02:30 PM
RE: Violets are Dead [closed] - by SolitareLee - 08-02-2017, 06:12 PM