Post by Lady Gruoch on Feb 22, 2011 17:30:59 GMT -5
Gruoch had never truly thought of what would happen after she died. For so much of her life, it had never occurred to her that it was something she needed to worry about. Then she had lost everything in one fell swoop, and all she could think about was the peaceful oblivion of death. She had not expected Macbeth's return, but even that could not pull her away from the sweet rest that called to her.
At least, that had been what she thought it was. But there was no light at the end of a tunnel, beckoning her on to the other side. Instead, she remained, a ghostly presence that was bound to her husband in some way. She was never certain if Macbeth could see her, but that did not trouble her too greatly. Part of her was simply relieved that, even in death, she was with her husband.
But it was a pale imitation of the life she had once led, as the wife of Macbeth. Often she would find herself drifting to the afterlife, wandering through fields that were not present in the mortal realm. At those times, she was never sure how many years passed for her husband, but it always seemed like a mere moment before she would return to find Macbeth. It was something that, over the centuries, she had grown used to. She was dead, and that made certain things a little easier to accept.
It did not make watching her husband's suffering easier, however. If anything, being unable to comfort her beloved only made the pain in her soul worsen. She ached for him, even though death was supposed to put an end to all suffering. Throughout the centuries, as Macbeth suffered, so did Gruoch. She never was without that pain in her heart, and over the years Gruoch had grown used to it.
Still, she longed to at least be able to speak to her husband. In the nine hundred years that she had been dead, Gruoch had never attempted to speak to Macbeth. She wasn't even positive that she could do so. But it was worth a try...to at least help him to know that she was still there.
Drifting into the mortal realm, Gruoch found herself in the place that she most often appeared these days; her husband's mansion. Arching an eyebrow as she looked around her, Gruoch finally spotted Macbeth and made her way towards him. Oh, please...let him hear her, she prayed.
"My love?"
At least, that had been what she thought it was. But there was no light at the end of a tunnel, beckoning her on to the other side. Instead, she remained, a ghostly presence that was bound to her husband in some way. She was never certain if Macbeth could see her, but that did not trouble her too greatly. Part of her was simply relieved that, even in death, she was with her husband.
But it was a pale imitation of the life she had once led, as the wife of Macbeth. Often she would find herself drifting to the afterlife, wandering through fields that were not present in the mortal realm. At those times, she was never sure how many years passed for her husband, but it always seemed like a mere moment before she would return to find Macbeth. It was something that, over the centuries, she had grown used to. She was dead, and that made certain things a little easier to accept.
It did not make watching her husband's suffering easier, however. If anything, being unable to comfort her beloved only made the pain in her soul worsen. She ached for him, even though death was supposed to put an end to all suffering. Throughout the centuries, as Macbeth suffered, so did Gruoch. She never was without that pain in her heart, and over the years Gruoch had grown used to it.
Still, she longed to at least be able to speak to her husband. In the nine hundred years that she had been dead, Gruoch had never attempted to speak to Macbeth. She wasn't even positive that she could do so. But it was worth a try...to at least help him to know that she was still there.
Drifting into the mortal realm, Gruoch found herself in the place that she most often appeared these days; her husband's mansion. Arching an eyebrow as she looked around her, Gruoch finally spotted Macbeth and made her way towards him. Oh, please...let him hear her, she prayed.
"My love?"
