RP:Writing to Reach You
Synopsis: The morning Lanara leaves, she leaves only a letter behind expressing her love for Tiberius. Only... little does she know Tiberius cannot fathom her leaving.
Some Loft in Cenril
The night before she left, the evening had been one of extravagance.
The night prior had been filled with glitz. Scotch and mint flavored liquor. A pale luxurious blonde woman laughing at the doll of a captivating, chocolate eyed witch. A luxurious silver fox of a man bonding with a voluminously blonde haired man. Food. Drinks. Persuasion. It was an easy deal to seal with a witch in a wine colored dress and a man who was easy on the eyes that dripped of honey.
It was an evening that one would not recognize the boyish, immature aspects of Tiberius Lowell. A man confident and a man knowing what he wants. A day full of memories—closeness. Closeness with the woman that had the lycan wrapped around her finger. Or at least almost.
The sun was just peeking through the cracks of the curtains in the lonely room in the apartment. Tiber was curled up beneath fluffed sheets and sleeping off the heaviness of liquor. Today was the day to show the new boss that he can, in fact, get a job done. One that entailed the loss of possible fingers. Of course, Tiberius would have never told Lanara this, for the fear of her not being one-hundred percent in on said-mission yesterday. The witch may have challenged his morals. Morals he had been working on, that is. There was a reason to get on the Rosett’s good side. One that he had been hiding completely from Lana. Either way, the deal was sealed and Tiber was a new right-hand man to another ritzy, clueless… “victim”? No. Tiber would never say that. “Crook” was more accurate.
Tiberius could not sense the emptiness that consumed the recently filled room. After all, the witch had slipped in to stay with him through the nights for the past three days. It was a new change. A change he wanted to keep. A label that he was willing to keep close to him, although strange. Tiberius Lowell being a boyfriend to a witch that drove him absolutely bonkers. Pink pillows, cliché Yule parties, story-telling. Who was Tiberius Lowell?
No one really knew, for that was a question only the Kelvarian elf was beginning to answer.
Four light pads began to trickle up his torso before a fluffy black tail began to whip the lycan’s nose back and forth. “Get. The. Hell. Off.” It was a groggy demand as the Catalian began to open his eyes to the sunlight cracking through the panes. Salem was there with cat-butt in Tiber’s face. “Oh gods, move!” The blonde groaned and a hand reached over to wrap around the empty bedsheets. A ghost.
Tiber did not think much about the emptiness. Lanara was probably off at the local market, or finding a new critter to bring home, or preparing for the next silly holiday that Lithrydel had. Whatever-the-case, the man pushes the cat off the bed before actually sitting up.
The room seemed different. Hollow. Only because there was the faint scent of perfume and… salt. Salt? The senses were thick coursing through his nostrils. Something was… wrong, and amber eyes glance towards the witch’s side of the bed. Tired eyes blink before he reaches and plucks the letter. The man instantly tears the letter to read the streaked scratch of writing.
Dearest Tiberius,
I’m sorry that I had to dash off like this, especially at the peak of our relationship where we are becoming closer and soaring to new heights… But, I have received a letter that requires me to return to my homeland of Kelvar, at once. My estranged daughter, Natianara, has fallen ill and as she’s the Lady of Kelvar, she needs someone to rule in her absence and ensure that she returns to a healthy state. I’m not sure if this is a temporary goodbye, or if this will be much longer than intended, as I have never met my daughter as she was stolen at birth! She was magically aged and is in her early twenties, a shapeshifter, and I’m both nervous and eager to see her in the flesh! I know you understand why I had to go, and I hope you won’t hold this against me, as I’m sure it’s going to make you angry. I promise to return to you one day, in some way, and I will –never- give my heart or lips to another… However, I understand if you fall for someone while I’m away, as much as that breaks my heart. I know it’s still early, but I can honestly say that I have fallen head over heels in love with you, Tiberius Lowell. Keep safe, be nice to Salem, and always remember the time we shared together…
Love,
Lanara
Eyes scan the words, and a once squint turns into one of stone. A heartbeat, one loud and strong begins to fill his ears as his face flushes. A long silence pierces through the bare room. The air had been sucked out of him. “Her kid,” the last bit of air escapes his mouth. Almost disbelief. Automatically, he stands to wander through the loft. First, the bathroom. Most toiletries were gone save for a few random potions. With the visual aspect of items that were gone, his breath becomes ragged before moving to Nadine’s room. Clothes. Clothes were gone. The Kelvarian elf was gone.
He opens the closet. Her belongings that were once hanging vanished. “What happened to the bloody aunt? This is a joke, right? Right? Not telling me straight to my face?” There was a bite to his tone before he began to slowly laugh nervously. There was an itch. An itch of rage. A tug of the heart. Sputters of laughter coated in disbelief became evident and the nervous laugh turns into a sneer as he crumples the parchment and throws it to the side. Salem remains standing near the doorframe staring at the lycan. The man sits on the bed with his head between his knees. Should he be understanding? After all, he lost his parents. His brother that he had never mentioned prior. Had no one except for an adopted sister in the orphanage—Nadine.
“She said she loved me in a letter. An actual letter. Who –does- that?” Hands finally find his face where he is pressing palms against his eyes. No tears. Just bewilderment. There, however, was no time to truly process or react, for business took priority. The emotional whirlwind would have to be bottled up.
Coming home from a day of mobbing had created a hollow hole in the man. One that he thought he could fill if only he just wrote back. Just write her back, Tiberius. So there the blonde sat with ink and quill. Cinnamon whisky and a swirl of head wondering if Lanara would truly return again. The man was drawing circles. Whenever he felt that he had the witch, she or he would slip away again from the other. Should he tell her how he felt? How did he feel? Was she really gone? What if she never came back? Would he care?
Lanara,
I wish I could say the—
He scratches it out. No, no. Not like that.
Lanara,
You couldn’t have given me an in-person goodbye? A cruddy way to tell me that you lo—
No. The note is crumpled and thrown.
Lanara,
I miss you. Return -home-. Please.
No too pleading, Tiber. Try again.
Lanara,
I miss you. I trust you, and I’m aware that you have a past that I cannot change for you as much as I wish I could. Take care of her. Even though the world still turns, you know where I’ll be. In Lithrydel waiting for… you.
I hope my letters find you, and you know I’ll be okay,
Tiberius
The final note is sealed and placed on the desk without any movement except a slump of laziness in his back and a glass of whisky to take off the sting. Nothing but a faint candle illuminating the room and the smell of tainted liquor. There he was folks. Beginning to be the leader of the landslide.