09-06-2016, 02:29 PM
<center><link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel|Rock+Salt" rel="stylesheet"><div style="width: 500px; background: url('http://i.imgur.com/IbmoCRr.png'); padding-top: 10px; background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #212223; border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000000;"><center><div style="width: 450px; margin-top: 550px; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 10px; padding: 10px; background-color: #ffffff; background-color: #212223; font-family: Times; letter-spacing: 0px; color: #cfcdcb; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 140%; text-align: justify; border-left: 0px solid #b58d5b; border-right: 0px solid #b58d5b; border-radius: 0px 0px; border-shadow: #000000; 0px 10px "><div style="font-family: 'Cinzel', serif; color: #b58d5b; font-size: 10.5pt; text-align: center; padding-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 8px; line-height: 15pt; letter-spacing: 1.7px; ">fuck all your dreams; they're not all they seem.</div><center><div style="width: 450px; border-bottom: 1px solid #b58d5b; margin-bottom: 10px;"></div></center>It is not long until they are joined by the others, and then he notices out of the corner of his eye, into the distance – a familiar figure, although the colours unknown. As it gets nearer he notices the children gambolling around her feet and his heart shifts for a brief moment – until he realises that it is Maribel, his Maribel, and these must be his children – the pretty one all in indigo, and the pretty one all in black and yellow. Pretty, like their mother, he thinks, as Maribel careens into him and is the wind strong up here, or is he just happy to see her…? Either way, there are tears in his eyes as he snuggles his nose into her and whispers her name over and over again. She is different, he notices, but there will be time to talk later.
They wait for what feels like an age, and then there is the voice, coming from the earth and the wind around them
<i>”Beg,”</i> he repeats quietly, musingly, tilting his head, a half-smile on his lips. Understandable, really, her fury must be great if she tore herself to pieces just to teach them all a lesson. It would’ve hurt her far more than it hurt them all, as much as they would all like to think so. To see her children whom she had nursed at her own breast squabble as if there was anything to prove, anything to win from just plain bloodshed.
And Romek? He was guilty of it himself. As much as he would like to pretend that he was innocent, he is guilty. They all are (though perhaps not the newborns, who have barely had time to do much of anything). He wanted, above all else, to put it right. He wanted to atone for every error he had made, for every error they had made. It was only what was fair, after all.
<i>”I am here to beg you for your forgiveness even if it be a little of it, not all. I am here with those that follow to admit to our wrongdoings, our selfishness, our greed. I am here, as are the rest to say that we are truly sorry for our past. We have been unworthy and we know it. This change in Beqanna has shown us that. And so we come here today not only to ask for even the smallest form of forgiveness but the opportunity to prove ourselves worthy to be a part of your beautiful land. We seek a place where we can create a home, not just for our family and friends but for those who also seek redemption and the chance to prove themselves. We seek to build a home built on selflessness, hard work, golden hearts and patient minds. We call to those who are not greedy, to those who simply wish to do right and we plan to prove it to you to the best of our ability. We are not much, just a simple group of family and friends and most of us do not have the past experience to rule a home, like myself. But we plan to teach and learn from one another and the rest that follow how to do things correctly. We want to be the group that helps bring light and kindness back to Beqanna. Yet we cannot do that without your help.”</i>
He stops talking. Too much talking, he decides, and not enough doing. He hopes that what they have accomplished already counts in any way towards their cause, hopes that the lands recognise this, hope that they realise that they are trying their very best to right their wrongs. He looks at his wife, their children, his friends and their family.
<i>”Please.”</i>
<center><div style="width: 450px; border-bottom: 1px solid #b58d5b; margin-top: 10px;"></div></center>
</div><center><div style="font-family: 'Rock Salt', cursive; font-size: 40px; color: #b58d5b; line-height:20pt; padding-top: 2px; padding-bottom: 30px; align:center; text-shadow: 1px 1px 10px #9a6b3d;">Romek</div></center></div></center>
They wait for what feels like an age, and then there is the voice, coming from the earth and the wind around them
<i>”Beg,”</i> he repeats quietly, musingly, tilting his head, a half-smile on his lips. Understandable, really, her fury must be great if she tore herself to pieces just to teach them all a lesson. It would’ve hurt her far more than it hurt them all, as much as they would all like to think so. To see her children whom she had nursed at her own breast squabble as if there was anything to prove, anything to win from just plain bloodshed.
And Romek? He was guilty of it himself. As much as he would like to pretend that he was innocent, he is guilty. They all are (though perhaps not the newborns, who have barely had time to do much of anything). He wanted, above all else, to put it right. He wanted to atone for every error he had made, for every error they had made. It was only what was fair, after all.
<i>”I am here to beg you for your forgiveness even if it be a little of it, not all. I am here with those that follow to admit to our wrongdoings, our selfishness, our greed. I am here, as are the rest to say that we are truly sorry for our past. We have been unworthy and we know it. This change in Beqanna has shown us that. And so we come here today not only to ask for even the smallest form of forgiveness but the opportunity to prove ourselves worthy to be a part of your beautiful land. We seek a place where we can create a home, not just for our family and friends but for those who also seek redemption and the chance to prove themselves. We seek to build a home built on selflessness, hard work, golden hearts and patient minds. We call to those who are not greedy, to those who simply wish to do right and we plan to prove it to you to the best of our ability. We are not much, just a simple group of family and friends and most of us do not have the past experience to rule a home, like myself. But we plan to teach and learn from one another and the rest that follow how to do things correctly. We want to be the group that helps bring light and kindness back to Beqanna. Yet we cannot do that without your help.”</i>
He stops talking. Too much talking, he decides, and not enough doing. He hopes that what they have accomplished already counts in any way towards their cause, hopes that the lands recognise this, hope that they realise that they are trying their very best to right their wrongs. He looks at his wife, their children, his friends and their family.
<i>”Please.”</i>
<center><div style="width: 450px; border-bottom: 1px solid #b58d5b; margin-top: 10px;"></div></center>
</div><center><div style="font-family: 'Rock Salt', cursive; font-size: 40px; color: #b58d5b; line-height:20pt; padding-top: 2px; padding-bottom: 30px; align:center; text-shadow: 1px 1px 10px #9a6b3d;">Romek</div></center></div></center>