[The penmanship for this entry indicates a subtle shakiness in the author's hand.]
It is said that in death, all of the questions we held in life will be answered. I wonder how soon it will be before I know the answers to my questions?
In this, a rare moment of clarity, I have written some letters that will be discovered when - if - the inevitable occurs. I would be foolish not to prepare for the logical outcome, although making final arrangements for oneself is an odd thing. I cannot help but feel detached from the entire situation even as I experience it.
I have no wish to die; I am young, and I have dreams and aspirations that I selfishly want the opportunity to pursue. I may still be afforded such chances, but every day that passes without a resolution to the mystery I possess is a day that takes me closer and closer to my demise.
Should I cry? I have shed tears for instances and people who never deserved them, but I cannot shed any for myself.
Should I be angry? I have yelled and raged over matters that, while important to me at the time, are nothing more than trivial to me now. I do not have enough energy left within me to waste it on anger.
And so I wait, curled beneath a blanket for warmth, for an absolution that may never come - but I have accepted it all the same.
The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
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TarnishedSoul
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TarnishedSoul
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Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
In the midst of the night, near-silent footfalls departed from the Avowed Quarters of Candlekeep and made their way towards the nearby inn. The common room was deserted; the lights had already been shuttered to provide the bare minimum amount of needed luminescence. The slight figure that had eased her way into the dormant building paused near a particular sofa, and she searched upon bony hands and wobbly knees for a time until a small, fiery red gemstone was recovered from where it had been carelessly flicked aside and rolled beneath the cushioned furniture.
The collector departed in the same hushed manner in which she had arrived, and her travels took her to the base of the library-fortress and the small encampment near its slope. Little stirred in the twilight aside from the nocturnal prowlers in the distance, and the diminutive figure paid them no heed. Instead, she sat herself near the fire, set the retrieved gemstone aside, and spent the next candle-mark rapidly writing in her usual leather-bound notebook.
At one point, a finely crafted lute of Elven design was produced, and its skilled owner softly plucked and twanged upon its strings as a melody was coaxed to life. Another candle-mark passed as the musician perfected her work, and she kept a watchful eye upon the horizon when the first indicators of the coming dawn glimmered in the distance.
Once the darkness of night had lifted, a shivering, feeble young woman wrapped in a crimson blanket collected the the lute and shakily rose to her feet. Bony fingertips poised themselves upon frets, and blue eyes patiently waited for the moment when the first rays of sunlight streamed through the sky. Then, and only then, did a clear feminine voice lift in song.
After the final chords were strummed, a measure of defiance showed upon a porcelain pale countenance even as it was caressed by the persistent warmth. The solitary musician turned aside from what comfort the fervent dawn would offer her, and the roseate stone was plucked from its place upon the ground.
The lute was gently set aside, and the minstrel eased her way to the edge of the sheer cliff that flanks the famed bastion of knowledge. With the demanding sun now behind her, reflective light caught every beautiful hue with which the jewel might tempt her, but its beckoning did not sway the one whose emaciated hand grasped it and brought it to lips turned pale and cold from a night spent outdoors. One final kiss - a farewell after a farewell - and the precious stone was hurled out into the churning waters that crash upon the volcanic crag of Candlekeep.
Afterwards, the scribe gathered the rest of her things and silently retreated back into the safety of her walls.
The collector departed in the same hushed manner in which she had arrived, and her travels took her to the base of the library-fortress and the small encampment near its slope. Little stirred in the twilight aside from the nocturnal prowlers in the distance, and the diminutive figure paid them no heed. Instead, she sat herself near the fire, set the retrieved gemstone aside, and spent the next candle-mark rapidly writing in her usual leather-bound notebook.
At one point, a finely crafted lute of Elven design was produced, and its skilled owner softly plucked and twanged upon its strings as a melody was coaxed to life. Another candle-mark passed as the musician perfected her work, and she kept a watchful eye upon the horizon when the first indicators of the coming dawn glimmered in the distance.
Once the darkness of night had lifted, a shivering, feeble young woman wrapped in a crimson blanket collected the the lute and shakily rose to her feet. Bony fingertips poised themselves upon frets, and blue eyes patiently waited for the moment when the first rays of sunlight streamed through the sky. Then, and only then, did a clear feminine voice lift in song.
Hidden: show
The lute was gently set aside, and the minstrel eased her way to the edge of the sheer cliff that flanks the famed bastion of knowledge. With the demanding sun now behind her, reflective light caught every beautiful hue with which the jewel might tempt her, but its beckoning did not sway the one whose emaciated hand grasped it and brought it to lips turned pale and cold from a night spent outdoors. One final kiss - a farewell after a farewell - and the precious stone was hurled out into the churning waters that crash upon the volcanic crag of Candlekeep.
Afterwards, the scribe gathered the rest of her things and silently retreated back into the safety of her walls.
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TarnishedSoul
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Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
Restricted, restrained, fettered.
"It is because they fear you."
Be good enough but never better.
"They will never understand you."
Sweet shadows, how I yearn for thee.
Coalesce, engulf, roil.
When work is done, I will be free.
Untethered from this mortal coil.
"It is because they fear you."
Be good enough but never better.
"They will never understand you."
Sweet shadows, how I yearn for thee.
Coalesce, engulf, roil.
When work is done, I will be free.
Untethered from this mortal coil.
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TarnishedSoul
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Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
Reference: Spirits and Demons - Tarina Mazir
Meanwhile, across the hallway...
Droplets of rain splashed against the window of the room where Alexandra Keenan slept. The blonde scholar was in the midst of a dream.
The smile that had been upon the scribe's face faltered; the visages of the jury before her expanded with shadows and darkness until Alexandra was surrounded by outrageous distortions. Eldarian, too, joined his peers; the group encircled her and sneered their insults towards her.
Unworthy!
Inferior!
You will never be one of us!
Idiot!
No one wants you here!
You are not good enough for us!
I will never love you.
Alexandra retreated from the onslaught of mocking, jeering voices; she tried to huddle down amidst the coalescing shadows that bore the faces of people she simultaneously admired and detested. They would not relent, though, and the scribe gasped for air as she drowned within the darkness of her innermost fears.
*
With a start and a deep inhale of air, the Seeker of Candlekeep bolted upright in her bed. Tiny beads of perspiration dotted her skin, and her heart frantically beat within her chest.
Outside the window of her room, more oblivious droplets of rain trickled into nothingness.
Meanwhile, across the hallway...
Droplets of rain splashed against the window of the room where Alexandra Keenan slept. The blonde scholar was in the midst of a dream.
Garbed in a creamy silken gown, the scribe danced and twirled with the renowned Dawnknight inside the Ducal Palace ballroom, and then the pair of them whirled to the rooftop of The Friendly Arm Inn to continue their dance beneath the starry sky. Affectionate words were uttered; cheeks stained crimson at the intimacy of it all as the pair disappeared from the roof and into one of the inn rooms.She'd join Seeker Keenan dancing beneath the stars with Sir Eldarian, and felt the warmth in their embrace as she snuck with them into places hidden. In spite of everything she had said, the Seeker still yearned for him.
Inside the room, the dream shifted to the interior of Pathfinder Hall. Alexandra entered the building on the arm of the knight, and seated at the banquet table were an array of notable people who were all close to Eldarian. Ameris and Telia Santraeger were there; Cecilia Lafayette and Berea Merriman were there; Alesea Abbot and Ember Parel were there. They all stared at Alexandra in judgment, and they all found her guilty.She hated watching Keenan's. Tarina would sometimes twist the Seeker's dreams, turn them dark and force her awake, just to spite her.
The smile that had been upon the scribe's face faltered; the visages of the jury before her expanded with shadows and darkness until Alexandra was surrounded by outrageous distortions. Eldarian, too, joined his peers; the group encircled her and sneered their insults towards her.
Unworthy!
Inferior!
You will never be one of us!
Idiot!
No one wants you here!
You are not good enough for us!
I will never love you.
Alexandra retreated from the onslaught of mocking, jeering voices; she tried to huddle down amidst the coalescing shadows that bore the faces of people she simultaneously admired and detested. They would not relent, though, and the scribe gasped for air as she drowned within the darkness of her innermost fears.
*
With a start and a deep inhale of air, the Seeker of Candlekeep bolted upright in her bed. Tiny beads of perspiration dotted her skin, and her heart frantically beat within her chest.
Outside the window of her room, more oblivious droplets of rain trickled into nothingness.
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TarnishedSoul
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Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
Reference: A Farewell from Alexander Marshall!
Few words passed between the two; there was little else to say. He had to leave, and she had to let him.
"Let me come with you," she pleaded. He refused, because he had no way of knowing when they could return to Candlekeep, and he would not let her risk her future. He complimented her brilliant mind, and her loving heart, and told her that the people of the Sword Coast needed her amongst them.
"I will wait for you," she promised. He refused, because he had no way of knowing if he could ever return to her, and he would not let her risk her happiness. He complimented her beauty, and her fiery spirit, and told her that someone else would fill the void in her heart one day.
She watched his armored form depart from the gates of Candlekeep until he was nothing more than a speck in the distance. He had to leave, and she had let him.
Few words passed between the two; there was little else to say. He had to leave, and she had to let him.
"Let me come with you," she pleaded. He refused, because he had no way of knowing when they could return to Candlekeep, and he would not let her risk her future. He complimented her brilliant mind, and her loving heart, and told her that the people of the Sword Coast needed her amongst them.
"I will wait for you," she promised. He refused, because he had no way of knowing if he could ever return to her, and he would not let her risk her happiness. He complimented her beauty, and her fiery spirit, and told her that someone else would fill the void in her heart one day.
She watched his armored form depart from the gates of Candlekeep until he was nothing more than a speck in the distance. He had to leave, and she had let him.
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Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
[This page has been removed from the journal.]
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TarnishedSoul
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Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
[The writing upon this page is scrawled in an erratic manner and bears little resemblance to the other neat and orderly entries.]
I am drowning, and the others near me just watch as I struggle. They judge me; I can see it in their eyes. Why am I not strong enough to bear this burden? Is it my fate to die?
I thought I had passed the test when the book went dormant. I thought that I was safe. I grew complacent, and the tome found its moment to strike. It is all that I can do to wake each morning; my body and mind fails me with each passing day. It will not be long now.
I think that I welcome it. Is that wrong? I just want to know peace; I want to know that the thing I love the most - Candlekeep - is not endangered by the presence of this unknown entity. Oghma, grant me strength, I beseech You! Or should I keep silent and let happen what will happen?
I could return to Waterdeep. Oh, how I bet those who hate me would just love if it I left. They would love it more if I stayed and died.
My smile will not fade even as I slip beneath the waters. If he taught me naught else, he taught me that much.
I am drowning, and the others near me just watch as I struggle. They judge me; I can see it in their eyes. Why am I not strong enough to bear this burden? Is it my fate to die?
I thought I had passed the test when the book went dormant. I thought that I was safe. I grew complacent, and the tome found its moment to strike. It is all that I can do to wake each morning; my body and mind fails me with each passing day. It will not be long now.
I think that I welcome it. Is that wrong? I just want to know peace; I want to know that the thing I love the most - Candlekeep - is not endangered by the presence of this unknown entity. Oghma, grant me strength, I beseech You! Or should I keep silent and let happen what will happen?
I could return to Waterdeep. Oh, how I bet those who hate me would just love if it I left. They would love it more if I stayed and died.
My smile will not fade even as I slip beneath the waters. If he taught me naught else, he taught me that much.
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TarnishedSoul
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Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
Here is your goodbye.
Alexandra sat alone in her office with a crumpled note in her hands. The words upon the parchment were mangled and askew from the sheer strength used to disfigure their vessel. Vainly, she tried to smooth the creases in the delicate item, but within her mind swirled an old adage about the futility of trying to mend broken things, and Oghma knew that this... how could she even describe it, really? It was not a romance. It was not a courtship. It was not even a friendship at this point. It was just... broken.
She hated him; she loved him. She hated herself for loving him - for still loving him long after she knew that her affections were politely acknowledged and then politely disregarded. The misery had to stop, and she stopped it. She was politely cold, and she was politely calculated, and she was politely purposeful, because enough was finally enough.
Here is your goodbye.
She reached for her quill and scribbled a few words beneath the tarnished script that mocked her with its existence.
Let it end.
Grant me peace.
Goodbye at last -
a bittersweet release.
The Guide of Candlekeep stared at futility given form as the ink dried; memories and mistakes replayed themselves again and again within her mind.
Knock.
"Guide Keenan, you have a visitor," announced Demetrius. Duty called.
"One moment," the blonde quietly responded as she neatly folded yet another farewell letter and placed it within her beloved notebook.
Here is your goodbye.
Here is your goodbye.
Here is your goodbye.
"Enter," she calmly called towards her office door. Duty called.
Here is your goodbye.
Alexandra sat alone in her office with a crumpled note in her hands. The words upon the parchment were mangled and askew from the sheer strength used to disfigure their vessel. Vainly, she tried to smooth the creases in the delicate item, but within her mind swirled an old adage about the futility of trying to mend broken things, and Oghma knew that this... how could she even describe it, really? It was not a romance. It was not a courtship. It was not even a friendship at this point. It was just... broken.
She hated him; she loved him. She hated herself for loving him - for still loving him long after she knew that her affections were politely acknowledged and then politely disregarded. The misery had to stop, and she stopped it. She was politely cold, and she was politely calculated, and she was politely purposeful, because enough was finally enough.
Here is your goodbye.
She reached for her quill and scribbled a few words beneath the tarnished script that mocked her with its existence.
Let it end.
Grant me peace.
Goodbye at last -
a bittersweet release.
The Guide of Candlekeep stared at futility given form as the ink dried; memories and mistakes replayed themselves again and again within her mind.
Knock.
"Guide Keenan, you have a visitor," announced Demetrius. Duty called.
"One moment," the blonde quietly responded as she neatly folded yet another farewell letter and placed it within her beloved notebook.
Here is your goodbye.
Here is your goodbye.
Here is your goodbye.
"Enter," she calmly called towards her office door. Duty called.
Here is your goodbye.
Hidden: show
Last edited by TarnishedSoul on Thu Nov 17, 2016 11:18 am, edited 1 time in total.
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TarnishedSoul
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Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
The well-worn notebook has been pruned of several old entries.
The newest one consists of a solitary word written with flowing, elegant script that has not graced the pages for some time.
The newest one consists of a solitary word written with flowing, elegant script that has not graced the pages for some time.
Hidden: show
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TarnishedSoul
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Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
I cannot remember the exact moment when the seed took root.
Was it when I tried to return to Candlekeep and Damien Pascal threatened to kill me?
Was it when I tried to return to Candlekeep and Annah Saraewo refused to believe me?
Was it when Isabella Villame threateningly flexed her hand towards me and blamed me for the deaths of her friends?
Was it when I sat in front of Luke Darius and listened to his apathetic responses?
Was it days later when I realized that not one person had bothered to contact me via Sending to ask how I fared? If I needed anything? If I was still alive?
Ah, apathy. Your presence snuffs out hope and leaves only bitter soil where seeds of resentment thrive.
The weight of this burden is too much for me to bear any longer, and I am acutely aware that no help will come for me. No one cares whether I live or die; no one cares about my plight. If no one else cares, then why should I?
I just need to make sure that the containment cell can hold the tome forevermore, and then I can ensure that no one else is harmed by it - myself included.
Xelarian will not understand, but he is a half-elf with a long life ahead of him. He deserves a better chance at happiness.
He deserves better than me.
Was it when I tried to return to Candlekeep and Damien Pascal threatened to kill me?
Was it when I tried to return to Candlekeep and Annah Saraewo refused to believe me?
Was it when Isabella Villame threateningly flexed her hand towards me and blamed me for the deaths of her friends?
Was it when I sat in front of Luke Darius and listened to his apathetic responses?
Was it days later when I realized that not one person had bothered to contact me via Sending to ask how I fared? If I needed anything? If I was still alive?
Ah, apathy. Your presence snuffs out hope and leaves only bitter soil where seeds of resentment thrive.
The weight of this burden is too much for me to bear any longer, and I am acutely aware that no help will come for me. No one cares whether I live or die; no one cares about my plight. If no one else cares, then why should I?
I just need to make sure that the containment cell can hold the tome forevermore, and then I can ensure that no one else is harmed by it - myself included.
Xelarian will not understand, but he is a half-elf with a long life ahead of him. He deserves a better chance at happiness.
He deserves better than me.
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TarnishedSoul
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Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
I stood upon the edge of the crags, and I gauged the long drop down into the waters. The fall would surely kill me; the pain would be unimaginable for a few fleeting moments, and then I would heave a final, shuddering breath and be still forevermore.
No one would notice. No one would care. Mine would be another face that disappeared from this tumultuous region, and life would continue. Life always continues.
He left. One day, he was professing that I was his best friend and that he was happy and in love with me. The next day, I awoke to an empty bed and the knowledge that he was gone. What is it about me that prompts men to lie to me and make me promises that they do not intend to keep? Why am I so unworthy of love that it finds a way to leave me after no more than a month or so?
Like a fool, I went to the Song of the Morning, because I wanted and needed some hope. I needed some warmth and reassurance that it was fine for me to be mortal and have mortal flaws and mortal failings. He entered a candle-mark or so after I arrived, and he was as cold and indifferent towards me as usual. I will not return there again. Let him hate me for doing exactly what he wanted and returning all the things that he had ever given me. I still await the return of all the letters and things that I lovingly crafted for him, but I shall not hold my breath.
For most of my life, I have sought love from people who were unwilling to give it to me. He was one of them. My mother, too, taught me at a young age that I was an unwanted thing who could be sent to the opposite corner of world so that the 'shame' of my heritage was forgotten by Waterdhavian society. Perhaps the answer is for me to stop trying and just accept the reality of my life: if I love, then who I love will eventually grow tired of me and leave.
And quite frankly, I just do not have any more pieces of my heart left to give anyone. I was always content with my solitude; I can find peace within it again.
No one would notice. No one would care. Mine would be another face that disappeared from this tumultuous region, and life would continue. Life always continues.
He left. One day, he was professing that I was his best friend and that he was happy and in love with me. The next day, I awoke to an empty bed and the knowledge that he was gone. What is it about me that prompts men to lie to me and make me promises that they do not intend to keep? Why am I so unworthy of love that it finds a way to leave me after no more than a month or so?
Like a fool, I went to the Song of the Morning, because I wanted and needed some hope. I needed some warmth and reassurance that it was fine for me to be mortal and have mortal flaws and mortal failings. He entered a candle-mark or so after I arrived, and he was as cold and indifferent towards me as usual. I will not return there again. Let him hate me for doing exactly what he wanted and returning all the things that he had ever given me. I still await the return of all the letters and things that I lovingly crafted for him, but I shall not hold my breath.
For most of my life, I have sought love from people who were unwilling to give it to me. He was one of them. My mother, too, taught me at a young age that I was an unwanted thing who could be sent to the opposite corner of world so that the 'shame' of my heritage was forgotten by Waterdhavian society. Perhaps the answer is for me to stop trying and just accept the reality of my life: if I love, then who I love will eventually grow tired of me and leave.
And quite frankly, I just do not have any more pieces of my heart left to give anyone. I was always content with my solitude; I can find peace within it again.
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TarnishedSoul
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Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
You want me to write for you, so I am writing for you. Does this please you? Has anything that I have ever done pleased you? How would I know? You remain an enigma to me.
Gods, what a pair we make. I never expected that this moment in time is where we would find ourselves. Of course, I never expected you to speak with me at all, much less be standing in my bedroom and gazing out of my window. What are you thinking about right now? Are you thinking about me? Are you thinking about how you want to be anywhere else but here? Are you thinking about how much we have argued and second-guessing yourself as to whether or not we can be happy - not only together, but with our own selves?
You are right about so many things, but I hate admitting that you are right. You already hold so much power over me, and I am afraid to give you complete control lest you shatter me beyond repair. As resilient as I can be at times, I am still young and inexperienced. I have spent a lifetime trying to prove that I have worth, and the best that I have managed is a carefully controlled exterior that you always manage to shatter. I hate feeling so powerless against you, and that is why I fight. I have to fight - do you not understand?
You look tired right now. I am tired, too. I am drained, and all I want to do is curl beneath these blankets and let my puffy eyes rest. And I want you beside me again, holding me close, because despite the pain that my body felt at that time, my soul felt peace. For one night, as innocent and innocuous as it may have been to you, I had exactly what I wanted, because I had you.
I love you. I hate you. No, that is not true. I hate what we have become to each other. I hate what we have become to ourselves. I do not want to fight with you anymore (unless we fight for fun, because we sure do know how to rile the other!) I want to be happy. I want to make you happy. I want you to make me happy. I want us to be happy, together.
I am a foolish woman; you are a foolish man. We are mortal, and we have flaws. Are we both so lost that we cannot find our way back towards what we want? Despite everything, I still keep hope.
And I hope that you keep hope, too.
Gods, what a pair we make. I never expected that this moment in time is where we would find ourselves. Of course, I never expected you to speak with me at all, much less be standing in my bedroom and gazing out of my window. What are you thinking about right now? Are you thinking about me? Are you thinking about how you want to be anywhere else but here? Are you thinking about how much we have argued and second-guessing yourself as to whether or not we can be happy - not only together, but with our own selves?
You are right about so many things, but I hate admitting that you are right. You already hold so much power over me, and I am afraid to give you complete control lest you shatter me beyond repair. As resilient as I can be at times, I am still young and inexperienced. I have spent a lifetime trying to prove that I have worth, and the best that I have managed is a carefully controlled exterior that you always manage to shatter. I hate feeling so powerless against you, and that is why I fight. I have to fight - do you not understand?
You look tired right now. I am tired, too. I am drained, and all I want to do is curl beneath these blankets and let my puffy eyes rest. And I want you beside me again, holding me close, because despite the pain that my body felt at that time, my soul felt peace. For one night, as innocent and innocuous as it may have been to you, I had exactly what I wanted, because I had you.
I love you. I hate you. No, that is not true. I hate what we have become to each other. I hate what we have become to ourselves. I do not want to fight with you anymore (unless we fight for fun, because we sure do know how to rile the other!) I want to be happy. I want to make you happy. I want you to make me happy. I want us to be happy, together.
I am a foolish woman; you are a foolish man. We are mortal, and we have flaws. Are we both so lost that we cannot find our way back towards what we want? Despite everything, I still keep hope.
And I hope that you keep hope, too.
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TarnishedSoul
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Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
Two crumpled items are haphazardly shoved in the creases of this section of the journal. The writing upon the pages is erratic; blurs and blobs of ink smear in places.
I am tired of waking in the morning, looking in the mirror, and seeing a tear-streaked face stare back at me. I am tired of pressing damp, cool cloths to puffy eyelids. I am tired of making excuses to the people who care about me.
This is not love!
You do things just to spite me; you do not care how I might react. You have no concern for my feelings, or my wants, or my needs. You chide me for every perceived slight; you demonize me for my insecurities. You fault me for being me.
You dare write me that I will search for you in every other person I attempt to take as a lover, and that I will never find you. Why would I want someone who is fickle about what he wants? Why would I want someone whose moods are so mercurial? I hope that I do not find you when I am tangled in the arms of someone else, because love is supposed to have some semblance of happiness within it - and being with you causes me more misery than it brings me happiness.
Do you even know how to love? In me, youhave had someone who will would be loyal, and true, and do everything within her power to please you. It meant nothing to you. I meant nothing to you, because no man who is worth the name would treat a woman he claims to -
I suppose that is the issue, in the end. You have never claimed to care about me. You have never claimed to love me. I am the one who uttered all those words. I am the one who reassured you that you were the only man for me. You never reciprocated, and I deserve better. You know that I deserve better - you told me a long time ago, and I stopped my pursuit of you then. You could not leave me be, though; you could not let me try to be happy. No, you will not be sated until you have dragged me down into the endless pit of misery where you reside. You will not be content until you have darkened the light and the joy in my eyes - eyes that have gazed upon you with adoration and affection. You will not be satisfied until you have beaten me down like a helpless animal; you will not be fulfilled until you have conditioned me to think as you want me to think and move as you want me to move.
No.
I am not your servant. I am not your slave. I said that I would be your mate - your equal, because contrary to the cruel barbs that you hurl at me, I am a lady of status. There was a time when I was no one of consequence, and I was content to remain that way. When I met you, I was coaxed out of the darkness and into the light, and there I have remained. Candlekeep thrives under my leadership, but you do not acknowledge my accomplishments. You do not recognize, nor do you respect, my achievements. You still treat me as if I am some disposable creature whose only purpose in life is to please you. I was meant for more than just decorating your arm, and it is high time you realize that fact!
I told you not to leave; you left just to spite me, and you did so after chastising me not to do the same. You responded to my Sendings - because I am always the one who initiates contact - with a flippant, uncaring snarl and told me that 'perhaps' you will see me again in a few days. Perhaps? Perhaps?! I will 'perhaps' be busy when you call upon me. I will make you wait on me as I always wait on you - except we both know that you will not wait. If I do not stop what I am doing the moment you decide to grace me with your presence, then you will accuse me of not loving you or some other foolishness. I am done - I AM DONE! - dancing to the beat that you have established.
You will come back to me, because no one else challenges you the way that I do - the way I have always done. You will throw your fit, and you will sulk and pout, but you know that you want my "theater of expressions" - especially when they are directed at you. I make you feel alive; I make you feel renewed. I give you hope, and you are a liar if you claim otherwise.
We will have made amends by the time you read these words. And we will likely argue again after you have read them. It is what we do. But by the Gods, you arrogant bastard, there is no one for me except you - so start treating me as if there is no one for you except me.
I am your mate.
I am tired of waking in the morning, looking in the mirror, and seeing a tear-streaked face stare back at me. I am tired of pressing damp, cool cloths to puffy eyelids. I am tired of making excuses to the people who care about me.
This is not love!
You do things just to spite me; you do not care how I might react. You have no concern for my feelings, or my wants, or my needs. You chide me for every perceived slight; you demonize me for my insecurities. You fault me for being me.
You dare write me that I will search for you in every other person I attempt to take as a lover, and that I will never find you. Why would I want someone who is fickle about what he wants? Why would I want someone whose moods are so mercurial? I hope that I do not find you when I am tangled in the arms of someone else, because love is supposed to have some semblance of happiness within it - and being with you causes me more misery than it brings me happiness.
Do you even know how to love? In me, you
I suppose that is the issue, in the end. You have never claimed to care about me. You have never claimed to love me. I am the one who uttered all those words. I am the one who reassured you that you were the only man for me. You never reciprocated, and I deserve better. You know that I deserve better - you told me a long time ago, and I stopped my pursuit of you then. You could not leave me be, though; you could not let me try to be happy. No, you will not be sated until you have dragged me down into the endless pit of misery where you reside. You will not be content until you have darkened the light and the joy in my eyes - eyes that have gazed upon you with adoration and affection. You will not be satisfied until you have beaten me down like a helpless animal; you will not be fulfilled until you have conditioned me to think as you want me to think and move as you want me to move.
No.
I am not your servant. I am not your slave. I said that I would be your mate - your equal, because contrary to the cruel barbs that you hurl at me, I am a lady of status. There was a time when I was no one of consequence, and I was content to remain that way. When I met you, I was coaxed out of the darkness and into the light, and there I have remained. Candlekeep thrives under my leadership, but you do not acknowledge my accomplishments. You do not recognize, nor do you respect, my achievements. You still treat me as if I am some disposable creature whose only purpose in life is to please you. I was meant for more than just decorating your arm, and it is high time you realize that fact!
I told you not to leave; you left just to spite me, and you did so after chastising me not to do the same. You responded to my Sendings - because I am always the one who initiates contact - with a flippant, uncaring snarl and told me that 'perhaps' you will see me again in a few days. Perhaps? Perhaps?! I will 'perhaps' be busy when you call upon me. I will make you wait on me as I always wait on you - except we both know that you will not wait. If I do not stop what I am doing the moment you decide to grace me with your presence, then you will accuse me of not loving you or some other foolishness. I am done - I AM DONE! - dancing to the beat that you have established.
You will come back to me, because no one else challenges you the way that I do - the way I have always done. You will throw your fit, and you will sulk and pout, but you know that you want my "theater of expressions" - especially when they are directed at you. I make you feel alive; I make you feel renewed. I give you hope, and you are a liar if you claim otherwise.
We will have made amends by the time you read these words. And we will likely argue again after you have read them. It is what we do. But by the Gods, you arrogant bastard, there is no one for me except you - so start treating me as if there is no one for you except me.
I am your mate.
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TarnishedSoul
- Retired Staff
- Posts: 1869
- Joined: Fri Nov 27, 2015 11:06 pm
- Location: Candlekeep
Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
"Don't go," you whispered in the darkness, and I knew in that moment that you loved me, too.
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TarnishedSoul
- Retired Staff
- Posts: 1869
- Joined: Fri Nov 27, 2015 11:06 pm
- Location: Candlekeep
Re: The Pursuit of Knowledge - Alexandra Keenan
You told me once that it is darkest right before the dawn, and we have finally emerged from that inky blackness together. We are stubborn, and willful, and proud, and defiant; we are passionate, and ferocious, and loyal, and fiery. Our love is no simple, gentle thing; it was forged in a battle of wills and tempered with realization and respect. Our love surpasses all the loves that have ever been recorded on the shelves of my library; compared to us, everything else is pale, and shallow, and meaningless.
That is not to say that others have not known love; we saw firsthand the love between a nobleman and the lady for whom he stopped at nothing until she was in his arms again. That is a good love; that is a fine love. But it is dwarfed by what we share, because ours is a love for the ages.
You have asked me why I love you like I do, and I have no real answer. I just do, and that is how I know that it is genuine and real. For someone who prides herself on having a logical, factual explanation for every aspect of her life, you defy my senses. Yes, you are handsome, but I meant what I said a short time ago when I said that your face could be scarred upon the morrow and I would remain with you. You mean more to me than just your looks. Yes, you are strong, and noble, and famed, but none of those things matter to me, either. I love your arrogance; I love the way you challenge me. I love how you do not give a damn about my title when I use it as a weapon. You have mastered me, and I am your willing slave - a fact that I will never admit to anyone except you, because you would see straight through my claim otherwise. I love that brilliant, cunning mind of yours; I love how you make me think in ways that are new and unexplored. You test me, and I strive to be the best for you. I have a need to impress you, and nothing is a better reward than when you smile at me with approval.
Ah, love! What a pair do we make - a golden knight, and his little scribe, clinging to each other despite all the obstacles - namely ourselves - that we have faced. We cannot be without the other, but it took us a while to come to that realization. Oil and water, unstoppable force and immovable object, and yet here we are, hand in hand, ready to face the world and whatever it throws at us next. Never have I felt such joy; never have I felt such trepidation. It is an intoxicating, nerve-wracking, mind-altering sensation - and I cannot get enough of it or the one who provides it - you.
You are the light of my life; you are my everything. In you I place my trust, and my hopes, and my dreams for that rosy future you promised me so long ago, after 'no one of consequence' pressed a hastily written poem in your hand as creative tribute to your patron. Did you know then, I wonder? I knew - and yet, if Alaundo himself had told me that I would know the taste of your lips and the caress of your fingertips, I still would not have believed him.
You are a swirling, dizzying, enticing challenge of a man, and I am so very glad that you are mine. Whatever comes next, I will be at your side.
I promise.
That is not to say that others have not known love; we saw firsthand the love between a nobleman and the lady for whom he stopped at nothing until she was in his arms again. That is a good love; that is a fine love. But it is dwarfed by what we share, because ours is a love for the ages.
You have asked me why I love you like I do, and I have no real answer. I just do, and that is how I know that it is genuine and real. For someone who prides herself on having a logical, factual explanation for every aspect of her life, you defy my senses. Yes, you are handsome, but I meant what I said a short time ago when I said that your face could be scarred upon the morrow and I would remain with you. You mean more to me than just your looks. Yes, you are strong, and noble, and famed, but none of those things matter to me, either. I love your arrogance; I love the way you challenge me. I love how you do not give a damn about my title when I use it as a weapon. You have mastered me, and I am your willing slave - a fact that I will never admit to anyone except you, because you would see straight through my claim otherwise. I love that brilliant, cunning mind of yours; I love how you make me think in ways that are new and unexplored. You test me, and I strive to be the best for you. I have a need to impress you, and nothing is a better reward than when you smile at me with approval.
Ah, love! What a pair do we make - a golden knight, and his little scribe, clinging to each other despite all the obstacles - namely ourselves - that we have faced. We cannot be without the other, but it took us a while to come to that realization. Oil and water, unstoppable force and immovable object, and yet here we are, hand in hand, ready to face the world and whatever it throws at us next. Never have I felt such joy; never have I felt such trepidation. It is an intoxicating, nerve-wracking, mind-altering sensation - and I cannot get enough of it or the one who provides it - you.
You are the light of my life; you are my everything. In you I place my trust, and my hopes, and my dreams for that rosy future you promised me so long ago, after 'no one of consequence' pressed a hastily written poem in your hand as creative tribute to your patron. Did you know then, I wonder? I knew - and yet, if Alaundo himself had told me that I would know the taste of your lips and the caress of your fingertips, I still would not have believed him.
You are a swirling, dizzying, enticing challenge of a man, and I am so very glad that you are mine. Whatever comes next, I will be at your side.
I promise.