Ficlet

[dolevalan]

Title: Echo
Fandom: Original
Rating: G
A/N: In response to this post by rougen.



She was forgetting the sound of his voice.

It was happening gradually, like tides carrying away grains of sand. At first, it had all been sharper-than-real, and she could just close her eyes and a part of him would be right there, whispering in her ear. A low word that she only half knew the meaning of, or some small reassurance against whatever worries or fears or insecurities had marked the latest crisis. The strong tenor that just dipped into baritone, like silver tipped in ebony. The way he could play his voice like an instrument, could speak like he was singing.

At night, sometimes, she would close her eyes and pretend that she could still feel him there, sitting so perfectly still. But each night, it was harder to hear him, as if the volume kept being turned down by an insistent, pitiless hand.

Some nights, she could only remember the sound when associated with certain words. Words that she had heard so often she could whisper them to herself in her sleep. Words like her name. “My lady.” “Forgiven.”

There had been a lot of that last one, after all.

So she waited, in the dark. Holding her breath for the night when the last grain would be gone, and she would not be able to recall the exact inflection, the precise shade of sound that had been the only thing her ears thirsted after. To lose him again, bit by bit.

But lying there, awake in the deafening silence of her dark and empty room, she knew one thing with hard certainty. That even when time had stolen his voice completely away… she would still cling to the way his voice had made her feel.

Comments

[rougen.livejournal.com]

What more may we do but hope?

And when hope dies out... what more is there to have?

*honored to have envoked such a lovely response*