I can't help but think about my roots, my beginnings. Of late, they seem to press themselves into the forefront of my mind. When there are quiet moments, my mind floods more and more with memories of the past. I think it was sweet, chaotic awnrette that first spoke of home and of how we missed it. Then of course there is Sev, we have chatted about the great open fields and the night sky as if we would never experience such again. But I've felt this before, the restlessness, my mind telling me to move on. When I peer upon that ship in the harbor and think about my crewmates, I feel as if I'm among kindred spirits, perhaps family. The Wanderess our nomadic mother who would take us away when we have lingered too long.
They all know by now, what I was. A killer, still am, really. Only of a different sort. I've seen others arguing amongst each other, believing the reason they kill sets them apart. They tell these things to themselves because they refuse to believe what they see in the mirror. Lies to make oneself feel better, to make themselves able to live with themselves. As much as one becomes hardened over time, it wears on one just as much. I think about those days, not so much with guilt as I once did. I know it was the dagger. Truely. Though did I give in or even did I secretly wish to? Horrible, unsettling thoughts. I think it's time to return to the city of Eternity and confront past ghosts. Perhaps even give some of those I wronged a face, give them closure and myself if they so desire it. Or would such an quest be entirely selfish? Opening up old wounds that are slow to heal. If there is anything I've learned of late it is that vengeance serves no one. It is hollow, an inner pain. A pain of loss that compels another to harm another for pain's sake alone. Killing the offender will certainly not bring their wronged back. At best vengeance is a bandage over a gaping wound which still bleeds internally. Only time and tending to ones own health will the pain finally go away.
Jottings of Elaria Slethen
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Ricastle
- Posts: 259
- Joined: Tue Sep 03, 2013 10:34 pm
Jottings of Elaria Slethen
Felicienne Ta'Igris “Give not thyself up, then, to fire, lest it invert thee, deaden thee, as for the time it did me. There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness.”
Madryk Crownshield: 'alf-orc, ye faater be cryin loike an old woman rioght before I gutted im
Madryk Crownshield: 'alf-orc, ye faater be cryin loike an old woman rioght before I gutted im