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" What is this weird glass plaque here?" She asked the clerk.

"This, madam, is what I call a memory stone," the man answered with a smile.

Staring at him, with a troubled gaze, she quipped, waiting for an answer:

"And? What does it do?"

"Ah, yes!" The salesman piped up," You see, one may use this pane to imprint their thoughts, their past experiences unto it. The stronger the magic of the user, the clearer the vision appears." He said, circling his finger above the glass the woman was holding. Her ears perked up, visibly interested, wondering if magic can really accomplish those feats.

"Okay... This seems a bit uhh... unreal?" She stammered, trying to find the words in this unfamiliar tongue, "Are you certain this works?"

"By all accounts, yes!" He affirms, "My seller assured me it did work every time they tried."

"You mean this is reusable?" She asked.

"Eh... no. Once you use it, the memory stays inside until the end of all things. That or intense heat !" Claimed the merchant.

She pondered for a while, anxious and lost in thought. Could she really have one memory of hers, poured into this shard of glass? What if it was something she'd rather forget? None could say for sure until she tried it. After a while, the clerk slowly becoming annoyed by her taking so long, the woman finally pipes up.

" How much do you do this one for?" She asks quizzically, knowing damn well she couldn't afford anything in this shop anyway.

"Only 52 siels, though for a pretty girl like you, i could get it down to 20..." He enticed, tightening his suspenders as his grin oozed sleaziness.

  "Ah, I see..." She sighs, just as she was expecting. Twenty gold pieces is way to much, she thinked, I could only beg for a handful at best! His proposition is outrageous, no way is he getting something from my part! The feeling in her gut was getting ever so slightly stronger as time passed, all along the conversation. She knew she couldn't acquire anything here, yet she still entered to see if she could. All of the items in the world, just a few steps away from being hers. She knew this was wrong and yet, it wasn't as wrong as anything that happened in the last years.

She only had been in this town for a week, begging at the corner of a street, scraping the bottom of the trash piles just to see tomorrow. She probably didn't need this "memory stone" after all. Or, maybe she did need it. The curiosity gnawing in the back of her mind, could it bring back what she'd forgotten? The adventures in the prairies, the scurries on the cliffs, the knee deep walks in the streams. The smile of her mother and the voice of her father. Like an avalanche of ideas and prospects, it all crosses her thought: I need this thing, I just need to try, just once!

Quickly she eyeballed her surroundings. A vase on her left, a column on the right, the stupid face of the shop keep just below, an escape plan in waiting. She shouts:

  "What's this!" Pointing above the merchant's shoulder. The fool turns his head around, trying to glimpse at the fictive target and in a heartbeat, the vase is swung across the back of his head. A loud crash is heard as two or three customers leer across to them. She had already knocked the column over him, making a brilliant subterfuge out of the situation.

  "Oh Lord!" She cried as her accent revealed itself, "the column gave in and fell on his head! Someone help him!" People began to rush over to the man laying on the floor and soon a small crowd formed between her and the exit. Discretely stashing the pane of glass in a burlap sack, and with the help of her slender figure, she was out of the venue and into the populous market. Shortly after, she was also out of the city even, with her purse full and her mind eager. She didn't even care if the man was alright, the only thing she cared about was the price of her efforts.

As the sun fell and the shadows grew, she left the road and went into the thicket, finding a fair spot in a clearing. She made a quick camp, stacked the firewood and huddled in her enchanted blue scarf across the tender fire. Impatiently, she emptied her bag and found the glass pane she so ingeniously swiped from the town square. She grasped it with both hands and... She paused. Would it be worth the hassle? What if it just brings out what she doesn't want to live again? Could all of it overpower the few good that was still left in her life? She shuddered at the thought, the anxiety building up in her gut.

After a while, she swallowed up her fears and focused on the glass, staring it down with intent. Her fingers clawing down around the sides of the item, all of the energy spared this day was being used for this battle happening in her soul. trying to find all of the happy moments she has had long ago, the warmth of her father's embrace and the scent of her mother's fur, the cool air of the mountain, the sweet green of the woods and the sounds of the Mangallo herd. Though soon, it all towered with the acrid smell of smoke across the pasture, like on that fateful day and how it suffocating it was.

Like gasping for air, her chest was convulsing under the intense concentration, trying to bring out the magic, like she once did before. But with that thought, everything fell back in her mind, like a deluge of lament and sorrow. Her fingers dropped the plaque as if it was burning, and it touched the ground with a resonating sound that echoed in her ears. Like a glass that was about to shatter, as cracks were made around the edges. Realizing what happened, she gasped and froze looking at the object, tears welling up in her eyes. Had she botched it? But even though she stared, nothing happened. No sound, no spark, no whizz, no crackle, Nothing. All of her hopes just vanished in an instant, she got ripped. Even though she spent no coin, she was still betrayed by that clerk and his ill gaze. All of that was for nothing, she thought, like everything always is.

She wiped her eyes from the painful realization and arranged her bag as a pillow. She faced away from the fire and laid down, wound up in her scarf, now as big as a blanket. That feeling of angst and misery, twisted up in her throat, grew bigger, like it did for every night for nearly two years. I would never fade away like she hoped for. She kept awake, soaking in her woe, for what felt like hours. And all of the sudden she heard a crack. Not a crack like a branch, or like an egg. But as if a sliver of ice was chipped off of a larger block. And then she heard another, and another, again and again. She ever so slowly, and anxiously leered above her shoulders as a bright blue light just erupted next to the fire. It was the plaque, glowing in all of its might, its blazing azure colour invading the undergrowth, making the fire look like a glow-worm in comparison. The gleaming soon quelled and she approached the object on all fours.

She picked it back up, and, collapsing into tears, was left in awe of the vision that materialized into the glass. For what felt like the first time in years, she could finally shave off a wound worth its weight in tears.

                                                                                                                                                                         ------------------------------

Second picture of my "family portraits" series of arts. This one devlves into the rather sombre backstory of Geirmund Rastener ( shortened to Geir ) which in itself is rather complex and elaborate ( at least right now ). So enjoy this melancholy filled picture of a beautiful mountain landscape !

Description

" What is this weird glass plaque here?" She asked the clerk.

"This, madam, is what I call a memory stone," the man answered with a smile.

Staring at him, with a troubled gaze, she quipped, waiting for an answer:

"And? What does it do?"

"Ah, yes!" The salesman piped up," You see, one may use this pane to imprint their thoughts, their past experiences unto it. The stronger the magic of the user, the clearer the vision appears." He said, circling his finger above the glass the woman was holding. Her ears perked up, visibly interested, wondering if magic can really accomplish those feats.

"Okay... This seems a bit uhh... unreal?" She stammered, trying to find the words in this unfamiliar tongue, "Are you certain this works?"

"By all accounts, yes!" He affirms, "My seller assured me it did work every time they tried."

"You mean this is reusable?" She asked.

"Eh... no. Once you use it, the memory stays inside until the end of all things. That or intense heat !" Claimed the merchant.

She pondered for a while, anxious and lost in thought. Could she really have one memory of hers, poured into this shard of glass? What if it was something she'd rather forget? None could say for sure until she tried it. After a while, the clerk slowly becoming annoyed by her taking so long, the woman finally pipes up.

" How much do you do this one for?" She asks quizzically, knowing damn well she couldn't afford anything in this shop anyway.

"Only 52 siels, though for a pretty girl like you, i could get it down to 20..." He enticed, tightening his suspenders as his grin oozed sleaziness.

  "Ah, I see..." She sighs, just as she was expecting. Twenty gold pieces is way to much, she thinked, I could only beg for a handful at best! His proposition is outrageous, no way is he getting something from my part! The feeling in her gut was getting ever so slightly stronger as time passed, all along the conversation. She knew she couldn't acquire anything here, yet she still entered to see if she could. All of the items in the world, just a few steps away from being hers. She knew this was wrong and yet, it wasn't as wrong as anything that happened in the last years.

She only had been in this town for a week, begging at the corner of a street, scraping the bottom of the trash piles just to see tomorrow. She probably didn't need this "memory stone" after all. Or, maybe she did need it. The curiosity gnawing in the back of her mind, could it bring back what she'd forgotten? The adventures in the prairies, the scurries on the cliffs, the knee deep walks in the streams. The smile of her mother and the voice of her father. Like an avalanche of ideas and prospects, it all crosses her thought: I need this thing, I just need to try, just once!

Quickly she eyeballed her surroundings. A vase on her left, a column on the right, the stupid face of the shop keep just below, an escape plan in waiting. She shouts:

  "What's this!" Pointing above the merchant's shoulder. The fool turns his head around, trying to glimpse at the fictive target and in a heartbeat, the vase is swung across the back of his head. A loud crash is heard as two or three customers leer across to them. She had already knocked the column over him, making a brilliant subterfuge out of the situation.

  "Oh Lord!" She cried as her accent revealed itself, "the column gave in and fell on his head! Someone help him!" People began to rush over to the man laying on the floor and soon a small crowd formed between her and the exit. Discretely stashing the pane of glass in a burlap sack, and with the help of her slender figure, she was out of the venue and into the populous market. Shortly after, she was also out of the city even, with her purse full and her mind eager. She didn't even care if the man was alright, the only thing she cared about was the price of her efforts.

As the sun fell and the shadows grew, she left the road and went into the thicket, finding a fair spot in a clearing. She made a quick camp, stacked the firewood and huddled in her enchanted blue scarf across the tender fire. Impatiently, she emptied her bag and found the glass pane she so ingeniously swiped from the town square. She grasped it with both hands and... She paused. Would it be worth the hassle? What if it just brings out what she doesn't want to live again? Could all of it overpower the few good that was still left in her life? She shuddered at the thought, the anxiety building up in her gut.

After a while, she swallowed up her fears and focused on the glass, staring it down with intent. Her fingers clawing down around the sides of the item, all of the energy spared this day was being used for this battle happening in her soul. trying to find all of the happy moments she has had long ago, the warmth of her father's embrace and the scent of her mother's fur, the cool air of the mountain, the sweet green of the woods and the sounds of the Mangallo herd. Though soon, it all towered with the acrid smell of smoke across the pasture, like on that fateful day and how it suffocating it was.

Like gasping for air, her chest was convulsing under the intense concentration, trying to bring out the magic, like she once did before. But with that thought, everything fell back in her mind, like a deluge of lament and sorrow. Her fingers dropped the plaque as if it was burning, and it touched the ground with a resonating sound that echoed in her ears. Like a glass that was about to shatter, as cracks were made around the edges. Realizing what happened, she gasped and froze looking at the object, tears welling up in her eyes. Had she botched it? But even though she stared, nothing happened. No sound, no spark, no whizz, no crackle, Nothing. All of her hopes just vanished in an instant, she got ripped. Even though she spent no coin, she was still betrayed by that clerk and his ill gaze. All of that was for nothing, she thought, like everything always is.

She wiped her eyes from the painful realization and arranged her bag as a pillow. She faced away from the fire and laid down, wound up in her scarf, now as big as a blanket. That feeling of angst and misery, twisted up in her throat, grew bigger, like it did for every night for nearly two years. I would never fade away like she hoped for. She kept awake, soaking in her woe, for what felt like hours. And all of the sudden she heard a crack. Not a crack like a branch, or like an egg. But as if a sliver of ice was chipped off of a larger block. And then she heard another, and another, again and again. She ever so slowly, and anxiously leered above her shoulders as a bright blue light just erupted next to the fire. It was the plaque, glowing in all of its might, its blazing azure colour invading the undergrowth, making the fire look like a glow-worm in comparison. The gleaming soon quelled and she approached the object on all fours.

She picked it back up, and, collapsing into tears, was left in awe of the vision that materialized into the glass. For what felt like the first time in years, she could finally shave off a wound worth its weight in tears.

                                                                                                                                                                         ------------------------------

Second picture of my "family portraits" series of arts. This one devlves into the rather sombre backstory of Geirmund Rastener ( shortened to Geir ) which in itself is rather complex and elaborate ( at least right now ). So enjoy this melancholy filled picture of a beautiful mountain landscape !