Christopher Mallory
08-14-2011, 01:40 AM
Sleep did not come easy for Christopher, and when it had came, it had not bothered to stick around for more than a couple of hours. Such unfortunate luck, but at least he’d had the opportunity to answer a few letters. Now he just sat in his parlor, his shirt untucked, his boots set to the side as he nursed a glass of wine. He would be tired in the morning, to be sure. Though, it was already morning. The men would be setting out for Tiga, embarking on the longest part of the march. They would all be tired… All reason told him he ought to be at least attempting to sleep.
But he was plagued by guilt. Immense guilt. Not sorrow, though there was some. Sadness at the passing of his wife, Rosalie. But the pain he felt… it was not like before. He was not ripped in half… Rosalie had not been Odelia…
But he was plagued by guilt. Immense guilt. Not sorrow, though there was some. Sadness at the passing of his wife, Rosalie. But the pain he felt… it was not like before. He was not ripped in half… Rosalie had not been Odelia…