... She has a beautiful smile, Lord Shale. I hope you two reunite once more.
[ But since the bubble is still here, he touches it. The scene sets.
Dressed in the clothes your parents bought for you, you walk the streets of Ishgard, your home. Her walls tower over you, majestic and great. The knights, too, tower over you and you think of when the time comes where you'll too grow to reach their heights. The men and women who stand ever still, hands on their blades or shields, watching over the Pillars, intimidate you yet you feel swelling admiration all the same.
How could you not? You're only a child.
Because you are a child, your parents encourage to make friends with the other noble children. They would be playing in the Hoplon they told you, so you make some hesitant steps there... You feel fairly nervous, forgetting all of your etiquette lessons, but you muster all of your courage to approach them.
Fortunately for you, the other children are tired of pleasantries and decorum. You can talk to them and play like status doesn't matter. You soon forget what noble Houses they come from, lost in all the laughter and fun. It would have been a good day, one you plan to tell your parents, until you catch whispers of adults who pass by.
"Isn't that Thordan's alleged bastard?"
"I thought that was hearsay."
"And yet he wants to ascend the throne as Archbishop..."
"These men who claim to value 'piety' never truly practice the virtue. 'Tis all superficial."
"I see naught wrong here. The child was born ere his ascendance and passed off to the Borels."
They're not talking about you, are they?
The other children don't seem to understand, either, but it becomes palpable to you when one of their mothers come to snatch them by the wrist.
"Don't play with him, dear. You'll become dirty and it will bring shame to our House."
She looks at you when she ushers those harsh words. At that moment, you think you understand a little of what's going on. Your parents console you when you confront them on this, telling you no matter what you are still their son. You still think about the whispers you heard that day...
These rumors, they follow you for years, and they grow in number. From the same generation, then your own when your peers no longer have that childish naivety to cloud their eyes.
For all of your efforts, you will be labeled a bastard — belittled, overlooked, and unwanted son of the Holy See of Ishgard.
no subject
[ But since the bubble is still here, he touches it. The scene sets.
Dressed in the clothes your parents bought for you, you walk the streets of Ishgard, your home. Her walls tower over you, majestic and great. The knights, too, tower over you and you think of when the time comes where you'll too grow to reach their heights. The men and women who stand ever still, hands on their blades or shields, watching over the Pillars, intimidate you yet you feel swelling admiration all the same.
How could you not? You're only a child.
Because you are a child, your parents encourage to make friends with the other noble children. They would be playing in the Hoplon they told you, so you make some hesitant steps there... You feel fairly nervous, forgetting all of your etiquette lessons, but you muster all of your courage to approach them.
Fortunately for you, the other children are tired of pleasantries and decorum. You can talk to them and play like status doesn't matter. You soon forget what noble Houses they come from, lost in all the laughter and fun. It would have been a good day, one you plan to tell your parents, until you catch whispers of adults who pass by.
"Isn't that Thordan's alleged bastard?"
"I thought that was hearsay."
"And yet he wants to ascend the throne as Archbishop..."
"These men who claim to value 'piety' never truly practice the virtue. 'Tis all superficial."
"I see naught wrong here. The child was born ere his ascendance and passed off to the Borels."
They're not talking about you, are they?
The other children don't seem to understand, either, but it becomes palpable to you when one of their mothers come to snatch them by the wrist.
"Don't play with him, dear. You'll become dirty and it will bring shame to our House."
She looks at you when she ushers those harsh words. At that moment, you think you understand a little of what's going on. Your parents console you when you confront them on this, telling you no matter what you are still their son. You still think about the whispers you heard that day...
These rumors, they follow you for years, and they grow in number. From the same generation, then your own when your peers no longer have that childish naivety to cloud their eyes.
you will be labeled a bastard — belittled, overlooked, and unwanted son
of the Holy See of Ishgard.
Children always have to learn things too fast. ]