Halejk La’Dhroo ab Jujnis, 2997
I feel myself slipping away. Or at least the good I use to see in everything is slipping through my fingers. It’s getting tiresome pretending to be alright. It’s beginning to feel more and more like everyone is expecting me to fight, to harm, to kill... at least, that is what Rora chastised me about.
A hermit Troll, whom Kimaris knew to be hospitable, gave us each a tea that took us on a spirit journey. I was hesitant at first, Kimaris promising to help me through while Bordel refused. I only accepted when the Troll mentioned to the Cleric that the tea helped answer questions we might have, “For surely you have many.”
The hot, herbal, liquid made it’s way over my tongue and down my throat, Kimaris taking a moment to surprise me. “Boo!” he shouted unexpectedly. I think I sputtered, but that moment of surprise was all but forgotten as my vision became clouded.
I heard my father’s voice first- or at least, I thought he was my father. I’m not sure. Theedain was shouting at Laeni, hurt with betrayal that she had taken Lord Remus Trophe as a lover. I looked on at the amber eyes that were mixed with remorse and pride. I saw myself too. My mother had to have been late twenties at this time, but it was no doubt I was her daughter. My own stubbornness was definitely inherited from her.
Still, my chest clenched as I realized the man I loved wasn’t my own blood. Another fault against my mother and her ‘righteous’ ways.
It took me a few moments to unclutter my mind and think clearly. It didn’t make sense why I was seeing the scene replay before me. I had no questions or doubts about my parents. And so I wonder if there’s any truth to it or if it was just a nightmare to confuse me until Rora came to pull me away.
The warrioress, the first manifestation of my cycle of Primordials, stood before me once more in the glorious robes and headdress.
“Hello again,” Rora greeted. She was warmer than I remembered her being in the vision. I wiped at my eyes and looked at her, wanting to hate her, yet wanting nothing more than to be held.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“To help you understand your potential.”
“Don’t,” was what I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue as I knew what was to come. Rora reminded me of the previous days, about how I failed to be of any use because I withheld my Lyro Blade from the fight. “Sometimes you have to fight back to protect those you love,” she said.
“You don’t think I know that!?” I seethed. I was losing control and bitterly I wanted to remain stoic. The warrioress looked at me appraisingly. Her green eyes were outlined in red and after a long pause informed me that I had been conditioned for sixteen years of my life in the ways of Heironious.
“And that has made me weak...” I stated.
“No. It has given you a keen sense of what good and kindness is. All you need to do now is learn to balance that purity with your duty to protect.”
I shook my head, her words were poison to my soul. My lips trembled as I answered, “Rora. I can’t.”
With optimism that pushed me beyond my own patience, the warrioress stated that someday I would. “Do you not understand!?” I snapped, “To harm another person, let alone take a life, is my BANE! Rationally, as a Primordial, I know I could. But as those situations arose, this body, this mortal and inferior BODY, filled with such dread! I don’t know if there’s enough time in this life to prepare me to fight with the sword. Maybe I’m not cut out for this and I ought to die!”
The woman before me shook her head. Then with softness I was not expecting said, “No. I promise, you are probably the most perfect this cycle has seen. Just be patient.” And with that, Rora tossed my Lyro Blade at me. Instinctively I reached out and caught it. It felt natural, like the way I hold my pen or lyre. This weapon was something I’ve always known.
The warrioress then took my hand. I felt her fill my body and could see her life. There was great comfort and joy as my Primordial self communed with the familiar memories and understanding. For a moment there was hope. I didn’t want to leave, but soon my body called my spirit back.
As I came to, the insecurities, rife in my body, took hold as I found myself among mortals again. The anger that erupted, as my flesh recognized that it was losing the fight to my spirit, was most bitter. Those feelings that Rora imparted upon me were forgotten as I fed off the energy that loathed the idea of elevating to my potential.
I threw my cup across the room, it shattering into hundreds of pieces. Quickly I left the table and stormed out of the hut, not caring what offence or embarrassment I created.
Outside I paced, took deep breathes of the awful swamp air, and leaned against the hut. Zaren came storming out a few minutes later in a great bout of distress. I almost didn’t recognize it to be him for his hands were claw like and his auburn hair was longer. In my anger I asked if he had a foul dream too, though my language was far from lady like in that instance. He agreed, wiping his face.
With his emotions high, mine dissipated. My heart took over, ending my pity party. Probably the only good quality I have left: caring. I gently asked about the changes I saw and Zaren explained it was part of being a Shifter. I questioned if ‘Aragoth’ was just a disguise then. He mentioned it was a past manifestation. The Wizard continued to sob in spite of my pestering. I walked up to him and held a hand out stating, “I like this version of you better.”
We stood holding hands for some time, Zaren stating I was a good friend. He made mention of my dream, apologizing that it was bad. I shrugged and brushed it off stating, “I should have expected such. I long for the day in which I’m at peace with myself again.”
That was certainly the most endearing moment today. It pricks at my heart despite the gloom that rests upon my shoulders.
After that stop at the Hermits, we had only one other hiccup- well two, but this one took a large chunk of our time away. We encountered two Hill Giants who made a big fuss over their nets being broken and how we weren’t allowed passage due to being hungry. Bordel ended up fixing their nets and was given an added payment of appreciation. The Cleric was handed a choker with seven spheres upon it. Zaren examined it closely and determined that it would provide us with the ability to teleport in the future. We leave a sphere at a destination, then no matter where we are, as long as we hold on to whoever is wearing the choker, we can teleport to the place.
Though the bit with the Hill Giants took roughly two hours off our travel time, we managed to get out of the swamp. And that’s saying something because as we came within a half mile to the edge, a growl danced across the landscape. Not wanting to fight, I picked up my skirt and began to jog. Daevri liked the idea and encouraged the others to follow suit.
The sound continued and I looked about to behold a large, black, bird like creature lunging toward me! It had three feet and claw like fingers that stretched out from under it’s wings. I positioned my hands and muttered the words to a fear spell, sending it toward the fowl.
It did nothing to the creature and soon I stumbled as I found the beast upon me. The bird’s hand seized my neck and held me high shouting, “POLLY WANTS A CRACKER!!!” I dangled for a few moments, trying to catch my breath. Not wanting to loosen my grip on the hand that bound my neck, I feverishly searched my mind as to what I should do. It wanted a cracker. Carefully, with one hand, I motioned in the air and barely uttered, “Sriver,” to create an illusion of a cracker.
The bird aggressively ate the imaginary food and thanked me. It then set me down roughly and with a loud squawk ran off again. I coughed and sputtered and clutched my bleeding hand as I took in deep breathes.
“Are you alright?” Bordel asked. “No!” I thought, but managed to say I was fine. I looked at them all, standing about, looking at me with stupid expressions. No one had reacted... The minute or two I was being strangled... no one helped. And I have to wonder if it’s because I’ve refused to fight. Perhaps they loathe my pacifist ways.
I want to cry under this pressure. Maybe I should have died yesterday... I am of no use. I sincerely doubt there’s any hope for me. I just feel so alone and a burden.
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~Based (90%) on the song, Castle, by Halsey~
Done with all these people talking. Sick of all this noise.
Tired of all these mem’ries flashing. Fed with being poised.
Oh, of all these minutes passing, sick of feeling used.
Doubt these walls will ever break down, ‘less risk being bruised.
Now my neck is open wide begging for a fist around it.
Already choking on my pride, so there’s no use crying about it.
I’m headed straight for the mountain.
They want to see these hands bleed.
And there’s a woman placing in my hand
My weapon saying, “Sometimes you need to be mean.”
I’m heading straight for the mountain.
They’re slowly locking me up
And there’s a woman weighing on my mind
Now saying I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut.
Straight for the mountain.
✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻
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