(no subject)
Title: [untitled]
Author: Kahlan Aisling
Claim: RomNor
Character(s): Romania, Norway
Table/Prompt: Random/19 -- Dark
Word Count: 305
Rating: G
Summary: Solitude is helpful when in denial.
Traian has always been able to find solace in graveyards.
He likes to tell people he doesn't know why, because that's a reasonable answer that they expect. Anyone would say that they don't know why. However, with him that's not quite true -- he finds the dark, clear air refreshingly old and same, the atmosphere quiet yet noisy with the whispering of thousands of ancient souls hovering around and keeping him company. He can't hear them, but he can hear them, much in the same way paintings speak to someone.
It's best when you go there at night. He only ever goes there at night because of that.
Yes, he knows he could get caught and that would lead to ten lawsuits from everybody else. But he doesn't care. This is one of the few places where things get soft enough to think.
He perches on the edge of a long sarcophagus-looking gravestone and stares at the deeply worn ridges of letters carved into the rock, illegible now but barely readable in the daylight. He knows it's one of the markers belonging to the Beilschmidt family, which is why he doesn't much care about sitting on them. The Beilschmidts are friends, practically family, to both him and Lukas. Old Fritz won't mind.
Speaking of Lukas, he's probably back talking to Gilbert now.
Traian leans on his hand and taps his chin, childishly swinging his legs back and forth, as he tries to think of what might have gone wrong. He's not actually that sure -- if he had to place it at a certain point in time, he'd pin it on the anniversary last week. Eight months, only eight months.
He remembered it, that's not the problem. He even got Lukas a gift, a bright, glittering ruby that was tiny but still cost him a large chunk of his savings. Something about that gift had made Lukas off, had made him stop coming around as often and when he did visit Traian in his workshop, he made the atmosphere tense and unbearable.
Traian licks his lips, tasting the earthy air. Things would be so much easier if Lukas would only talk to him.
"I wonder," he says absently to the grave, "if he'd talk to one of you? And you would tell me what he said, right?"
He thinks he hears the grave whisper a yes, but a breeze comes through at that exact moment and takes the answer with it.
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