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Apr. 24th, 2005 07:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sai_delgadoThe night before, Bernard had given her unlooked-for news, which had delighted her then and continues to do so. She'd spent the morning first tending to Kiseki and Melina, then looking over the progress on the stables with a new eye for detail-- although she'd been pleased to find that such didn't change what she saw in the building, say true.
When she came back inside, Susan had gone to the Bar and hesitantly asked for a key to an unoccupied place in the staff wing. Bernard had said true, of course, and one appeared immediately -- so with a quiet word of thanks, Susan had gone upstairs to pack up her things, what few she has, then carried everything to the new space. A second trip, to relocate an irritated Joanie, and then she'd turned in the key to room 46.
Now, having put everything in order, Susan Delgado sits at the desk in front of the window, looking absently out toward the lake.
Oh, Da' -- would thee be proud of me, could thee see me now? There's so much I'd tell thee about, if I could. I died, aye, and I'm sorry for that, but not for what I stood for, nor for those I stood by in the end. Poor Aunt Cord -- she were mad, I think, by the time it were all done, and Rhea and the damned pink glass influencing all.
Thee'd have liked Cuthbert, I think, and Roland, and Alain, and the rest as well, those I met here, where is not the clearing.
And oh, where I am now -- it's not the clearing, aye, and it's strange, 'Da, so strange -- but not ill, say true. I've friends here-- and Cuthbert-- and sai Bernard's another thee'd have liked, mayhap. I'm to manage the stables, to care for the horses and keep the records. For as long as I can, however long that may be, unless the wind come again to blow me away as it did before.
I love thee, 'Da, and I'll see thee in the clearing again someday -- but mayhap not just yet.
She sits quietly, thinking, for some time. Eventually, as the light fades from the sky with the day's passing--
(time is a face on the water)
--Susan stands up, stretching, and then leaves her quarters for the bar.
When she came back inside, Susan had gone to the Bar and hesitantly asked for a key to an unoccupied place in the staff wing. Bernard had said true, of course, and one appeared immediately -- so with a quiet word of thanks, Susan had gone upstairs to pack up her things, what few she has, then carried everything to the new space. A second trip, to relocate an irritated Joanie, and then she'd turned in the key to room 46.
Now, having put everything in order, Susan Delgado sits at the desk in front of the window, looking absently out toward the lake.
Oh, Da' -- would thee be proud of me, could thee see me now? There's so much I'd tell thee about, if I could. I died, aye, and I'm sorry for that, but not for what I stood for, nor for those I stood by in the end. Poor Aunt Cord -- she were mad, I think, by the time it were all done, and Rhea and the damned pink glass influencing all.
Thee'd have liked Cuthbert, I think, and Roland, and Alain, and the rest as well, those I met here, where is not the clearing.
And oh, where I am now -- it's not the clearing, aye, and it's strange, 'Da, so strange -- but not ill, say true. I've friends here-- and Cuthbert-- and sai Bernard's another thee'd have liked, mayhap. I'm to manage the stables, to care for the horses and keep the records. For as long as I can, however long that may be, unless the wind come again to blow me away as it did before.
I love thee, 'Da, and I'll see thee in the clearing again someday -- but mayhap not just yet.
She sits quietly, thinking, for some time. Eventually, as the light fades from the sky with the day's passing--
(time is a face on the water)
--Susan stands up, stretching, and then leaves her quarters for the bar.
