Quiet reflection [Open]

[Shideh]

Through the long years of life that followed after, bring with them their dreams and disillusions, their joys and sorrows, their fulfillments and frustrations, Edward was never to forget this summer when he fell quite simply and naturally in love with his country, in accordance with the dictates of his nature. To him there seemed nothing strange or unholy in the love that he felt for his country. To him it seemed like an inevitable thing, as much a part of himself as his breathing; and yet it appeared transcendent of self, and he looked up and onward toward his love - for the eyes of the young are drawn to the stars, and the spirit of youth is seldom earth-bound.

He loved deeply, far more deeply than many a one who could fearlessly proclaim themselves a lover. Since this is a hard and sad truth for the telling; those whom nature has sacrificed to her ends- her mysterious ends that often lie hidden- are sometimes endowed with a vast will to loving, with an endless capacity for suffering also, which much go hand in hand with their love.

But at first Edward's eyes were drawn to the stars, and saw only gleam upon gleam of glory. His physical passion fulfilled by his wife, his emotional passion fulfilled by his country. These passions had aroused a strange response in his spirit, so that side by side with every hot impulse that led him at times beyond his own understanding, there would come an impulse not of the body; a fine, selfless thing of great beauty and courage- he would gladly have given his body over to torment, have laid down his life if need be, for the sake of this country he loved. And so blinded was he by those gleams of glory which the stars fling into the eyes of young lovers, that he saw perfection where none existed; saw a patient endurance that was purely fictitious, and conceived of a loyalty far beyond the limits of his nature.

[Trenton O’Conner]

"Tonight is the night for thieving” a darkly clothed figure whistled in a tune that highly resembled that of ’One is the loneliest Number’, to himself as stealthy, and almost in a inhuman manner glided through out the outer perimeter of the glorious palace that held all royal English personals and goods of expense and beauty the rogue would surely love to take into possession and surely stir up the guards for a but of mischievous enjoyment.

His posture was slacked and at ease, for slinking about like a feral cat was second nature to the lean and well poised male who held all forms arrogance in his palm and juggled it around like a carnival performer. His idle thoughts ran fluidly over the possible merchants he could persuade into selling the items of great value, even with the possible out come for arrest for selling the stolen items of the Guard of the Royals found out. All processes of thieving the items followed suit of the important manner mental discussion, as he scanned the great building’s detail’s, admiring the artistic designs and work on the walls. Silently padding from room to room, unnoticed by many of the passing servants, attendants or what ever these noble bred folk called them by.
The leather on his feet made little to no sound as he slyly slid into a room that at first glance held many goods of high price, he could easily sell and be rich enough to live by a lake in the back hills of the country, undisturbed by the busy city life he had grown accustomed to.

A figure in the room caught his attention as he stopped and slid ito the shadows near a wall, turning a hawk’s eye to study with a blazing gaze of caution and mixed emotions. The other being was dressed in such lavish material and designs, clearly stating he was one of high position. Unexpected… he thought glumly and slowly began to make his way back toward the door, trying to seem invisible, so as if not to alarm the other of his presence.