1867-12-31: Ringing It In
Ringing It In
Summary: On patrol in Lonnaire, Clarke t'Cauthone moves from one year to the next and reflects.
Date: 12-31-1867
Related: None

The Blue Chevalier rode wearily on his horse. It had been three nights with just minimal amounts of sleep, going through the countryside in the pockets of settlements around the city. His horse seemed to have taken to the winter better than he had, and the Chevalier was wearing thicker leathers and rugged fabrics as opposed to his normal armor for some protection against the chill.

Clarke's teeth chattered then, moving along the task of patrolling the roads of the badly hit villages that were about the city. His mind had long since become accustomed to seeing bodies. Piled, or just left in rough hewn houses having passed along with no one to tend. He had gotten better at keeping those sorts of thoughts out of his mind.

Where the devil was he going now? Clarke stood at a crossroads, pausing then and holding up his horse then as he tried to recall where he had gone. He had gone down this road before, he was sure there wasn't a crossroads.. "Damnation, how long have I been riding?" Murmuring.

Going up to try and glance at the crossroads, taking a moment to slide off the saddle of his horse, noticing the fog deepening just a bit. Taking a rough sigh, "Weather shouldn't be this way." His hand waving, trying to make out where had been a fork in the road now and feeling surrounded by darkness so thick it might have been gruel in the mess hall.

"Damnation. I'm.." Trying to recognize something. Anything. His hand on the reins of his horse, moving forwards a bit. Hand balling up to a fist.

Clarke t'Cauthone let out a groan, "Fine way to be. Lost. Imagine what Uncle Remy would say." Shaking his head. "Lost. He'd never hear the end of it. What's a way to go.." Then, off in the distance, seeing something.

Glowing. Bright. "Hark! Can you tell me where I am?" Someone else wandering these roads. With a lantern or a torch, or so his tired mind told him. They wouldn't be a bandit out with a lamp at night, would they? The lantern would go to start moving along in another direction. "Wait! Damnation, please just tell me.."

Going to jog along after it, tugging his horse after him. "Just tell me.." Seeing the bright light moving faster, unnaturally so, just like it would back in the swamps. "Damnation.."

  • * *

He would wake up several hours later, curled over beneath a collection of fallen wood against the cold, his horse tethered beside him. Slowly scrabbling to his feet, Clarke t'Cauthone breathed and heaved.

Then, remembering something from the long lost Masque he had gone to such a short time seemingly in the breadth of things before, he went to laugh. Madly. Echoing through the forest. Laughing uproariously.

"Happy New Season. Thank you for seeing me through."

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