Our Story (GS Inspired) Part One
Laying on the bedside table is a large book covered in a
dark leather. Embossed on the cover is a
wolf and an owl, gazing at each other.
Elegant scrollwork frames the two, ancient runes mixed in with
vines. Inside are three hundred sheets
of vellum, cream hued and filled with elegant words written in black ink. Scented with vanilla, the author has taken
care with the book, ensuring the finished product is in pristine condition.
On the first page you read:
When I was younger, my grandmother always told me to make a wish on a shooting star. She believed that if you believed in it, wanted it, enough then it would come true. I trusted her more than anyone else, so I did. I wished for silly things at first: a new doll, the newest gown, for Lisandre to sprout warts overnight. None of them ever came true and yet, as I grew older, I continued closing my eyes and wishing on the falling stars.
When I fell ill, I continued wishing. This time, I wished to get better, to be cured, to live my life once more. In a way, this one came true. If it wasn’t for my grandmother, I wouldn’t be here to write this. I continued wishing after I was healthy, wishing for my father’s temper to subside, for a way to be a better daughter. Mother fell ill and I wished for her health to improve but it only worsened. Within a week, she was gone.
A year later and grandmother was gone as well. I was left with my father and brothers, all who I wished nothing more than to escape from. I wished for an escape, a way out, and it was granted. I’m not one to place faith or thanks in undeserving people, or things, but the stars gave me the greatest gift of all. They gave me you.
In return, I’m gifting this book to you. It’s a story, my favorite one, filled with love and laughter, despair and heartbreak. Most importantly, it holds hope and promise for the future. It's the story of us. It’s my hope that, with this book, you’ll see just how much you mean to me, Ly’oup.
Eternally yours,
Nyssia.
Flipping to the second page, vanilla lifting from the vellum, the story begins.
It's strange, really, how a day can start out completely normal and end up being the most important day of your life. Mine was in Lormesta 5116, a Tilamaires. I’d spent most of my day raising the dead, rescuing the fallen and meditating in the gardens of Ta’Vaalor. It was a day like most others, quiet the way I preferred it. The silence gives me time to sort through the visions my gift offers me. I had finished writing down my most recent vision, and returned to the Court when our eyes met for the first time. There was a tug on my soul and then everything was calm.
Molten gold swirled as you met my own starry-eyed gaze and I glanced away. My heart was pounding and, given what I know now, you must have heard it. The moment was unlike anything I’d ever felt and, later, when I tried to write about it, I found I didn’t have the words. I left the Court as quickly as I’d arrived, confused at the way my emotions danced inside. I must have looked a fool, a flustered, stammering mess as I fled. At the time, I tried to convince myself it was a horrible thing you’d managed to do, to make me feel these things. For the first time in my life, I failed, fantastically might I add, at something. No matter how hard I tried to stay away, the thought of you pulled me back to the Court time and time again.
It was a few days before I saw you again and I was thankful. It gave me the courage to speak to you without stammering and blushing like a child. Your voice was smooth as silk as you answered, a smirk tugging at your lips. You were perfect, even if your jacket sat slightly crooked and your attention drifted around the area. My laughter flowed easily, my smile appeared when you were around, and I knew that I was hopelessly, and irrevocably yours. You were stuck with me until you told me to leave. Days spent in Ta’Vaalor, nights in the Shining City sipping tea. I grew closer to you and, I’d thought, you were growing closer to me. Never did I think I’d wake up to find you pushing me away, telling me to leave.
But you did and I listened.
On the first page you read:
When I was younger, my grandmother always told me to make a wish on a shooting star. She believed that if you believed in it, wanted it, enough then it would come true. I trusted her more than anyone else, so I did. I wished for silly things at first: a new doll, the newest gown, for Lisandre to sprout warts overnight. None of them ever came true and yet, as I grew older, I continued closing my eyes and wishing on the falling stars.
When I fell ill, I continued wishing. This time, I wished to get better, to be cured, to live my life once more. In a way, this one came true. If it wasn’t for my grandmother, I wouldn’t be here to write this. I continued wishing after I was healthy, wishing for my father’s temper to subside, for a way to be a better daughter. Mother fell ill and I wished for her health to improve but it only worsened. Within a week, she was gone.
A year later and grandmother was gone as well. I was left with my father and brothers, all who I wished nothing more than to escape from. I wished for an escape, a way out, and it was granted. I’m not one to place faith or thanks in undeserving people, or things, but the stars gave me the greatest gift of all. They gave me you.
In return, I’m gifting this book to you. It’s a story, my favorite one, filled with love and laughter, despair and heartbreak. Most importantly, it holds hope and promise for the future. It's the story of us. It’s my hope that, with this book, you’ll see just how much you mean to me, Ly’oup.
Eternally yours,
Nyssia.
Flipping to the second page, vanilla lifting from the vellum, the story begins.
It's strange, really, how a day can start out completely normal and end up being the most important day of your life. Mine was in Lormesta 5116, a Tilamaires. I’d spent most of my day raising the dead, rescuing the fallen and meditating in the gardens of Ta’Vaalor. It was a day like most others, quiet the way I preferred it. The silence gives me time to sort through the visions my gift offers me. I had finished writing down my most recent vision, and returned to the Court when our eyes met for the first time. There was a tug on my soul and then everything was calm.
Molten gold swirled as you met my own starry-eyed gaze and I glanced away. My heart was pounding and, given what I know now, you must have heard it. The moment was unlike anything I’d ever felt and, later, when I tried to write about it, I found I didn’t have the words. I left the Court as quickly as I’d arrived, confused at the way my emotions danced inside. I must have looked a fool, a flustered, stammering mess as I fled. At the time, I tried to convince myself it was a horrible thing you’d managed to do, to make me feel these things. For the first time in my life, I failed, fantastically might I add, at something. No matter how hard I tried to stay away, the thought of you pulled me back to the Court time and time again.
It was a few days before I saw you again and I was thankful. It gave me the courage to speak to you without stammering and blushing like a child. Your voice was smooth as silk as you answered, a smirk tugging at your lips. You were perfect, even if your jacket sat slightly crooked and your attention drifted around the area. My laughter flowed easily, my smile appeared when you were around, and I knew that I was hopelessly, and irrevocably yours. You were stuck with me until you told me to leave. Days spent in Ta’Vaalor, nights in the Shining City sipping tea. I grew closer to you and, I’d thought, you were growing closer to me. Never did I think I’d wake up to find you pushing me away, telling me to leave.
But you did and I listened.
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