Difference between revisions of "Logs:Disappear"

Snow fell in great clouds of white, obscuring the green landscape, and covering everything in banks of crisp white. Here and there, between the meandering meadows surrounding Winter Ridge Hold, herds of sheep roamed, a cacophony of bleats and sharp barks from the shepherding canines. The Hold itself was up the incline overlooking most of its lands, set into the rock face of the hill. It was small compared to any of the major Holds, short and square in shape, without any of the grandeur one would expect from a long-standing Hold. Inside wasn't much better - the lack of windows made it oppressively dark at all times, even with help of torch and glow light. Rough-hewn furniture decked the many rooms, but what made up for its lack of elegance were the luxurious fabrics and textiles to be found lingering about. Velvet curtains in jewel-tones, hand embroidered table clothes with tiny stones sewn into their tableaus at intervals, and plush cushions set into all of the seating.

Holdfolk made themselves scarce in the main halls, hurrying about their tasks. Fires warmed the hearths, scorching the stone blacker and providing luxurious heat throughout all of the rooms. Valenros was crouched in front of one, reclining on his booted feet. His hands dangled loosely between his knees, his eyes smoldering in the orange light cast from the flames.

"Roz, come 'elp me wit' the--mrph," a voice called out to him, muffled at the last.

"Coming!" Not even a brace of minutes lasted between the request and the reply. Valenros was on his feet before the other man - in a bloody apron and rolled up shirt sleeves - disappeared behind a large doorway.

He slid into the kitchen, not three steps behind the cook, his lanky arms full of baskets and boxes piled high on top of each other.

"What's on the menu today, Mel?"

"Taters and meat, same a' always," the cook grunted as he threw his own load onto the huge countertop and wiped his sweaty hands on his apron.

"I do admire your ingenuity."

"And you'd do best mindin' yer words before yer given jus the bones, boy," Mel said, casting a disparaging eye on the younger man.

Valenros laughed then, setting his bundles on the same counter. He grabbed up an apple one his arms were free and took a bite out of it. "Don't let Sterne hear you, he might take it to heart. Nothing but bones ever again," he spoke around the fruit in his mouth.

Mel snorted in response, starting to peel some knobby tubers. "E's the one what should be eatin' bones.. mind me, t'wouldn't surprise me if 'e already did."

"Watch it now, Mel," Roz said with a toothy grin. "Do you know where my dear brother is anyway?"

"Wouldn't know. Prolly botherin' the 'Arper again."

"Right. Later."

Valenros tossed his half-eaten apple on the counter, receiving a squawk and some expletives screamed after him as he ducked out of the room. His grin was still pinned to his face, all gleaming teeth and split back lips, when he entered the spare craft room. It wasn't often they actually had visiting crafters outside of their regular posted ones, and for some reason unknown to him, his eldest brother had taken an instant liking to the sandy-haired man. They often disappeared for hours out of the day, doing Faranth knew what. Well, Valenros had an idea. Sterne was probably trying to convince the poor man to write some ballad about his winsomeness and other shining traits - traits which didn't really exist, unless you counted threatening small children and drunken stupors things worthy of harper tales.

The scene that greeted the young holder wasn't one he expected - granted, they weren't expecting him either. His brother and the harper were locked into an amorous embrace, one dark head bent down the other fair-haired head. They broke away with haste as the younger man entered the room, his smile wavering and his footsteps coming to a sudden halt. Shock and fear warred their way across his face. Realizing the enormity of the situation - Sterne was heir to Winter Ridge after all - the harper gathered himself and exited without a word. Valsterne regarded his brother across the space of the craft room, his dark eyes filled with rage and a touch of desperation.

"I.. I didn't.." Valenros started, taking a step back, cowing underneath his brother's anger. His retreat wasn't quick enough, the older man had him by the collar and slammed him up against the wall within a breath. "Never," he hissed into Roz's ear, "ever," as one fist, still holding his brother's collar, pressed uncomfortably into the boy's cheek, "tell anyone." There was an unspoken threat in his voice, in the white hot rage in his face.

"I wouldn't! ..I won't!.. Sterne," Roz started to say, but his brother lifted him up and slammed him back against the wall.

"I would have no problem helping you disappear. Do you understand?"

Valenroz nodded his head with an awkward jerk. His brother let him go, and he slid down the wall, his eyes as wide as saucers as he looked up. There was a cruel twist to Stern's mouth, and Roz knew his brother meant what he said. There was always numerous ways to lose your footing on the hill, dangerous waters to fall into and get lost in the current. He swallowed loudly.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, bastard."

Valsterne walked away, leaving his brother crumpled at the bottom of the wall, watching his retreating form. Roz swore his heart was going to beat its way out of his chest it was hammering so. He clasped a hand over his breast and closed his eyes, swallowing painfully. No, he could never tell anyone..

"Valenros!" His father's maid had appeared out of nowhere, her hands settling on her plump hips. "Get your arse up off the floor and come upstairs. Yer father wants ye." She turned in a flurry of skirts and left, leaving Valenros to blink and pick himself up off the floor. There was nothing left to it; he set his expression into something neutral, brushed off his clothes, and made his way up to his father's rooms.