Of times long gone ~3~

3



Smoothing out the rich blue fabric of her skirt, Silvara looked over herself one last time in the mirror. Hair straightened, face clean save for the small amount of smokey charcoal lining around the eyes and now her lips were glossed slightly. The taste of with lavender and rose flavored balm hung there. Studying the outfit that she wore most often, the General took pride for a moment but not in a vain manner. She was healthy, fit and her form was ideal for both courtly life and time on the road. Her hips came to round curves. Corset was pulled for support but was still comfortable and created a tiny waist but not perversely so. Chest was ample, full and soft with moderate cleavage coming from deep V-cut of the dark blue shirt which matched the skirt. Long legs peeked out from the waist high slit in the ankle length wrap skirt. Very short black shorts that covered her assets was also a boon due to the cut of that particular piece. Lastly the black knee high boots rose up with a medium heel.

Opening the door and stepping out, the heels made the softest clicking noises on the stony hallway floor as she made her way towards a destination rarely visited. The sound echoed back to those slender elven ears. It felt hollow and yet full of awareness.

Finally after many turns and long moment she stopped at one painting that was tucked away in a back hall that few ventured to and seemed more than forgotten by most. Silvara looked up. Staring up at the artwork there, her blue eyes turned a deep stormy ocean color. A hand absently reached up to rest on her chest, fingertips curing and uncurling at the expanse of her collarbone. Daid'lyn, Feyrin and herself were standing in the Courtyard of Nodes. The castle was set behind them on a rather inviting sunlit day. She studied the picture of the three of them from so long ago.

King Daid'lyn. Shorter than her by half a head, his hair so very long and so very straight was pulled back into a pony tail. The ends of that sleek hair reaching the backs of his knees and looked soft yet still somehow sharp. Half his jet face covered by the equally black shroud which allowed haunting night colored eyes to glare over the rim. Tight fitting garb of an assassin pulled taught over his thicker and larger muscles but he was still lean enough to be tricky to get your hands on. That man stood proudly despite all the scars marred his face and body. To the General and Lady of the Blue Rose, he was a man to follow to the letter and to respect above all others. To Silvara as a woman, Daid'lyn was handsome, strong and bore more than any man should have ever had to. Part of why she loved him so.

Then there was The Archmage. Feyrin. The most enchanting man she had ever met. He had a visage that was just beautiful, stunning even. A gorgeous body without mark or blemish. Skin of perfect ebony, platinum hair that danced down his shoulders and to the middle of his back. An open robe showing off his trim physique with a rather sensual V cut that came down to his waist. The rest of those sexy legs were covered by the elegantly embroidered robes but also under that were the soft, black leather pants she remembered so well. Knee high boots only complimented the look when the robes came off. The last enchanting piece were those purple hues, rich and bright like the skies before a violet twilight. Deep behind the playful grin was a savage cruelty that he eventually outgrew in their time together. An aching past still lurking underneath, which he transcended to become something so much more.

And the woman in that picture over all this time was unchanged. Unmarred. Time found no purchase here despite her desire for it to be so sometimes.

She found that her hand had left her chest and ended now stroking the portrait. Goddess' Graces, she missed them. With a sigh, her delicate hand dropped and she turned to make her way towards the hidden staircase.

Ducking behind a tapestry there was an embedded hand print in the wall about her size but she didn't slide her hand into place. Instead she set her just fingertips in a strategic manner, then lifted her hand tracing a symbol on the palm in the wall and finally replaced her fingertips again. A bright flash of violet light filled the hand print.

Smiling at how after all these years Feyrin's arcane magic still functioned so well here. A soft scraping noise was heard and she stepped right through the wall. Through the phantom image of the stone that was just there. Turning around as she stepped to the other side, Silvara watched the stone doorway slide back into place as if it had never moved.

The musty air filled her lungs the same way old memories filled her mind. Heavily. Continuing down the hallway she came to a large, slow spiraling stone staircase. And thus she began the long track up the hidden inner part of the central tower.

Every now and then there would be a landing. A pedestal with an old vase or a small table. Once upon a time it held fresh flowers, cards, or just a decoration. Not anymore. Now this old place was kept still. Slightly barren. No longer dusty or dirty...but still quiet. Up and up she went until the door she desired was there.

Reaching over she pushed on the handle. The door flashed another soft violet before the latch clicked and the hinges open quietly. Silvara stepped into the room and looked around at the library of books, old artifacts, scrolls and the like filling much of the room. A well preserved painting hung of three children sitting under one of the garden's trees. Strange how that tree still stood in the garden today. The eldest with a streak of silver in her hair sat playing the Siofran harp. Next, a boy leaned against the base of the tree, sharpening his sword but you could tell that he was intently listening to the song. The last boy sat on the large and low branch of the tree reading studiously.

The right side of her lip upturned in memory. That was the day she had returned from her first travels away from the Siofra'Tri territory. She had given Dian his new sword and Merikous his book of draconic lore. Salari was given paints from the Siofra'Du territory and thus she painted her siblings under the tree while Silvara played for them. Each of their siblings had received gifts but these were the three that happened to be in garden while Salari painted and these were the three that inspired her the most.

Another long glance over the sitting room before she made her way up the smaller staircase pivoted at the landing and leapt the last three steps as she always had. Pushing open the next door she stepped into the lavish bedroom.

To her left was an open window which looked down the center shaft of the tower. Light spilled down from the top and descended into what seemed to be a bottomless pit of shadows. The central node which was a balance of light and dark, equal as was all in nature, lay suspended in that shaft. Then looking on from there was the dressers, an ornate looking glass, a small shelf. Stepping firmly into the room her hand feather touched the pitcher of water sitting in the bowl. It shimmered a brief instant as it was replenished and purified from its time sitting.

Hints of sparkling stones were embedded in the furniture decorated the rest of the room. Wall hangings were placed to make the room seem open but with lavish decor. Walking up the three stairs separating the main bedroom from where the large balcony was, Silvara smiled at the breeze that flowed into the room to greet her. Sheer curtains flowed in the minor breeze while the heavy ones were tied back. A bit of the arcane magic that sensed the weather and would change the curtains to suit. Lastly she came to the bed, sat down and looked over the elven man who laid there, silent and asleep.