[*Puts pistol barrel to head* I am SO sorry for this long delay! If you feel the need to punish me, by I don't know, beatin' the crap outta me, go ahead :D. Lest I pull the trigger on myself in self punishment :(]
Ralen slept like he hadn't in years, soothingly and deeply. It seemed that the liquor did for him what peace and silence could not and stilled his ever rushing mind. His consciousness slipped into through a gently flowing whirlpool, slowly sinking towards the center, and, upon doing so, flowed through the soaring currents of slumber, falling deeper and deeper into the chasm of dreams.
In the background, beautiful violin music played along with several other stringed and wind instruments in the pearly white room where gleaming, silver light poured down on the dancing couple on the alabaster, marble floor. They were the only pair to grace the dance floor and it seemed that the music played just for them only. They twirled to the rise and fall of the violin, in tune with one another as lovers ofttimes were, and swirled together as one.
Ralen held her to him wholeheartedly, with the confidence that she was truly his and his alone. In his arms was his bride with her veil pulled down over her face; her features were imperceptible to him but for some reason he knew that she was smiling at him beneath the thin covering. Both were garbed in fine clothing that made them equally dashing; Ralen in a dark purple, velvet frock, black silk waistcoat, linen shirt, cotton breeches, and varnished black leather boots while his bride was clad in a dress of pure immaculate satin, sashed and embroidered in all the right places.
His soft, white-blonde head slanted down slightly to whisper into her ear, "I love you, Satu. With all my heart."
"I love you, too, Ralen. We'll be so happy," his bride replied.
However, there was something in her voice that made him frown. Eyes wide with confusion, Ralen pulled back, stopping their dance. "Satu?" Suddenly he pulled back the veil and gasped in horror at what he saw.
The alabaster face of Madeline Marchalt.
"No!" he cried out. "NOOO!!!"
Ralen shot up from his sleep; dream turned to a nightmare. He found his heart knocking against his ribcage, nigh about to burst out, and his body plastered to his clothing in a deathly sweat. "No," he mimicked in a soft whisper. In a short burst of rage he tore the confining shirt from his body and swaggered toward the washbasin, cleansing his face with the much welcomed sanctuary of cold water. "No... What am I going to do?" he sobbed silently and buried his face in his hands.
~Later that morning~
Ralen stood in the center of the Merchant District, relieved only slightly to be amongst the familiar cacophony that came of shopping citizens. Arca was pleasant during these times, but such pleasantness could only be partially enjoyed to one who was suffering in troubles of the heart. Not that Ralen was confused about who his heart belonged to, but it disheartened him to suspect that Satu no longer loved him. He had awakened that morning feeling almost hollow, that something was missing.
Nonetheless he persisted in his search. Ralen had left the Lycurgus manor that morning without the slightest idea about what he was going to do except for one driving feeling. He had cleaned himself up, equipped the basic gentleman's attire: frock coat, shirt, waistcoat, breeches, and boots, and headed out with nothing but that instinct. He followed it to a building. Well, a hotel to be exact, but remained unsure as to why he was there. Something told him it was where he would find Satu and another remained unconvinced.
He listened to the latter and stopped his searching steps outside the Aredalian Suites and waited. For what? his mind asked him. Ralen knew he could not answer that question.
