It started as a normal, sunny day without anything out of the ordinary happening. Xarvia has been ignoring me lately, and I guess we're drifting away from eachother, and of course I didn't like that. During the past few weeks though, she apologized to me for the way she was acting. I spoke with a few of my friends today near the fountain in silvermoon and as always, Xarvia came by and knelt by the fountain. A few minutes passed and she joined the conversation with the friends.
For today's session, I believe that if I visit the spot I died it would help me move on. And to be honest, it wasn't a bad idea, even though it was so close to the scarlet monastary. I'm a much better magi than I was a year ago, and I'll have back up. I have a feeling that we won't run into trouble.
It doesn't take a genious to figure out what we spoke about on the way to the grave...if that's the right word to call it. I spoke about some more encounters with ignorant...rude people who hated me because of what I turned out to be. It just bothered me... "Everyone is a monster" was the response Zarmos gave me, and it was true.
I died near the road to the monastary, but I went left from the path and walked toward these 2 boulders. I began getting flash backs of that day but I tried my best to shrug them off. "This is the spot," I announced as I kneeled down, and planted a few trees on the spot with magic.
A week passed since I went to the Scarlet Monastary and I guess that my philosophy and perspective were altered ever since. I have to remember that laughing as I burn a scarlet crusader alive isn't a normal thing to do, and if I continue going toward a path of hatred, rage and fire, I would become evil at the end. It isn't hard to remember because the trauma from last week's event is forged into my head and it will stay like that.
During the past week, I had some mental trauma from the event, but it's healing. And no, I won't stop going to therapy even after what just happened.
((First part: http://rp-haven.com/blog/celisa/light_dark_part_1 ))
I've had around 10 sessions with Aurora to increase my tendency to the light. I didn't remember walking into her lab for tonight's session. Before we began, she gave me tea and told me that we won't start it until I finish it. Despite the pain that I will feel, I was really interested to see how far I will get today.
My stress and anxiety right now was no where near as bad as it was when I started getting these sessions-I was a lot more calm; But I still had to be shackled. Aurora put the highest holy power setting on her wand, which was on a scale of 1 to 10- and put it onto my forehead.
I am not too sure how this whole idea came up, it might of been when some elves were staring at me like I was a monster or a murderer because of the killings going on. The killings were supposedly from the shadowcult and the murders were mainly forsaken. Or I decided to go along with it because I just wanted to be holy again; my family -has- priests. Even though I am dead, my tendancy for the light is some what high. I also wanted to stop the lightslayers from harming any more people, and in order to be prepared, I will have to increase my tendancy.
We met up at a bar a few minutes before we left to the spire for my session. My anxiety at the bar was unbearable, I could barely stand up. Everyone at the bar was curious to know why I was so nervous. Drinking the 2 or 3 bottles of alcohol didn't help me.
"It's her first confession in the Church." She said, but it was a lie, and I had to go along with it.
She reached behind her head and tangled her fingers in her bound hair before reaching back and severing the long tail with a sharp knife. Black locks fell, scattered in the snow like her hopes for something more from the man she’d come to love.
She hung her head as she looked at what was once her beautifully grown hair, a few tears dripped into the snow melting it a little where it landed. “Keth was right, boys always leave…” she whispered to herself before taking a few steps, the crunching of the snow beneath her feet. her hands trembled as she hid the blade within the folds of her robes.
Neltharian’s words echoed in her mind as she looked down at the bound mass at her feet.
“Maybe when this war is over I can sit him down, let him know how I truly feel, perhaps even have a chance…” she’d spoken her mind mostly due to the whiskey they’d consumed doing his visit.
Humming lightly, hips twitching to the rhythm in her head, Zinaida let the towel fall to the tiled floor. She stepped into the steaming water and set her glass down on the side of the tub, careful not to let the clear liquid within spill over the edge. Cigarette holder perched jauntily at the corner of her lips she gradually slipped neck-deep into the soothing heat and mumbled aloud.
She rests in virginal bloom,
Atop bones of foreshadowed doom
(( Caution: vaguely mentions cutting, hence mature tag. This 55 worder is semi inspired by this song : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mqPl1bVfTDw - lyrics in Japanese, will place english lyrics in comments))
((some of the images may disturb people, enjoy, one of my longest attempts at writing x_x))
Tendrils of herby scented smoke rose into the night sky as Delphas nursed a lit wad of “borrowed” blood thistle in her hand. Raising the hand rolled cigarette to her lips, Delphas imagined one of her new bosses would be either pissed or pleased by the fact she had helped herself to the blood thistle supply provided for The Shadowfire Club.
I overdrank downstairs from my room, at the Brill tavern. Trying to drown my sorrows away. I felt dead, inside and out, for the first time. I tried to do my old hobbies to take my mind off of this mess I'm in. So, I went around Tirisfal and herbed every plant I saw, and used them to make my magical scripts. I managed to find a place to sit. It was near a bridge and I was able to watch the zombies in their natural habitat, much like a wildlife specialist would to animals. I made some notes in my journal of what I saw...but it only took my mind off of my family situation for a little while.
The day had been pleasant at best for most in Silvermoon city; I watched as children and their parents moved through the streets going about their daily business.
I sat comfortably on the bend near the jewelers market waiting for Lilthessa to come by on her daily trip there, I was lucky enough to catch her without much of a wait.
“Hello Miss Sierra.” Her voice brought me out of my thoughts and I smiled up at the warlock.
“Lilthessa I was just thinking about you.” I looked up at her and my smile grew a little her kind features were always a welcomed sight.
“Are you well? Faring better than last night?” She asked and I could only shake my head slightly
“I have had much on my mind; many things are confusing for me these last few days…”
“Oh I would think that things would be more exciting with the Whitedawns, or should I say Dawnfires.” She smiled knowingly and I just grinned
((Writing this made me emotional. /sad.))
It looks like Forsaken don't need sleep. Just what I thought. I stayed up for at least a week without sleeping, and I haven't felt any of the side effects of fatigue or from lack of sleep. But sleep for me is still possible, or possibly mimicking it is. I have yet to find out if sleeping for...'us' is just a heigtened state of relaxing or if it is really sleep. It would be best to write this in my notes.I couldn't sleep because I constantly thought of my family, or the fragments of what I remember so far. I'm still waiting for their letter.
“Sunfury, Cults, assassination attempts …”
“Is this my life now?”
“Is this the kind of thing I will deal with on a daily basis?”
Sierra ran her fingers through her hair tucking a few strands behind one ear as she walked quietly through the city, her eyes alert for anyone and everyone. “Living with the constant worry of a blade at my back?” her own world had been tossed up so badly over the last month even two, she could hardly keep track anymore.
Lilliana had taken me in, things were great at first, training with Aelberyn weekly, Lilliana gave input and helped every chance she got, and then came the first trip to Light’s Hope, having ended badly due to my lack of will to –mana tap-, An problem I really wish could be sated without such use of crystals.
With everything drained from her – scowls, glares, aggression, and tears – Hakka stood before Dutaee helpless. She had the wide, frightened eyes of a prey animal when she said, “I won’t stop you, Du.”
It’s not that wouldn’t stop him, it’s that she couldn’t. Another event to add to her self-perceived list of failures. Just like the first time he had died, she had been helpless. And now for his second death, despite standing no more than four feet away from him, she was just as helpless. She could kill everything within Kalimdor but she could not strike down the mountains and cliffs that could be used for the same purpose. The only difference would be that Dutaee would never forgive her if she chose to take such drastic measures to preserve him.
The girl was a total mess, even more than usual. She had not been sleeping or taking care of herself at all. Akiri was sitting dumbfounded in the middle of her room with drawings of the ley lines all around her forming a map of Azeroth that spanned all six sides of the room. The lines of the map glowed a bright blue and she sat on the nexus where Midivh had built his home. She had been dreaming of these lines and runes ever since her battle with Malygos and his flight. Now that she had gotten most of it out of her head and drawn it out, she felt better.
Her whole world had changed over the past few years. She had learned to speak a little common and now Orcish. She had been reunited with her sister and promptly lost her once again. She had learned to harness the arcane and sank further into her addiction. She had lived in three major cities and was a misfit in each one of them. Now the whole world had physically changed.
"We did horrible things, too numerous to count as a couple together. I suppose that is what people do when they are in love, even as demented as the unholy blaze in our stilled hearts. For my heart had sipped bitter words and actions from my love, as one could ingest fresh wormwood and flinch. By the time we were on course to receive our next commendation, we both excelled in our billets...."
For more, click here!
Also, Youtube Bruno Mars' "Grenade" and Thomas Newman's "Somebody Else" for the theme music that's help me create this! As always, critique is welcomed! Thanks for reading folks!
It was almost dawn when I finally reached the townhouse. My fingers did not ache, for that was not the nature of my body; rather, it was my mind that was completely exhausted, for such a thing had not changed much in death. I could feel a tangled piece of hair, entwined with burrs and other sorts of wildlife that in the wilderness, I had not been able to get out of my hair and had long given up trying, scratching with some futility at the skin on my face since the feeling was only just a touch, and nothing more. What a sight I must have looked ... My hair long and feral looking, with such stuff in it that it would have seemed I was an unkempt animal, a coating of filth all over; my plate was surely beginning to tarnish and the leather that held things together worn almost to scraps. I looked like either a banshee, or some sort of demon out of a Fel-infested place.
The servant, whom had waited up for me, looked scared half to death.
Ormmon watched the warlock, worry marring his normally stern countenance. She hadn’t moved since they’d arrived at the cottage in Brill; she just sat in her rocking chair, the gentle thump of the rockers hitting the floor the only sound to break the deafening silence. Even Volmat, after taking one look at their mistress, had judiciously held his tongue, though he wrung his hands nervously.
Bend me over the gateway to Stormwind and screw me sidways, I'm fucked. Ya'd figure that, with all my ingenious plans, they'd niver back fire. Ha. Yeah, 'bout that. Turns out, I'm no' ingenious! Nor, do I know how to hide bo-A large black scribble covers the next few sentences- And those fuckin' Volanthius minnions found him before I could do anything! I'm getting rusty, I swear...
((^-^; My first blog post, so don't judge! Well Judge but, don't toss the boot!))
Almost two weeks, can you believe it?! I've lived two weeks away from Stormwind! It's...amazing and frightful at the same time. I have met so many interesting Elves and Tauren...and the rest of the gods-forasken Horde. Just to think, it was no more then two weeks ago that I was counting my kills of these monsters I now call friends. In my years away from my homeland I would never expect myself to be where I am now, by far. What would she think of me, after all she's done for me?
((The formatting, somewhere along the line, got...well, bent all out of shape. Centered the alignment of some paragraphs, for example >-> *Shakes fist at Firefox* Hopefully, it doesn't make it too much of a chore to read.))
Anywhere that houses people, for a while, starts to take on a life of it's own. In a way, the wood and walls themselves mold themselves to their occupant. The owner and the roof that sits above his head soon seem to share a personality, a peculiar sort of connection between bricks, boards, and blood--with never a word passed betwixt the two. It hardly hurts when one is a mage, as well. When the boarder is within, the home truly comes to life; an individual in it's own right.
And when the people are scarce, the house abandoned? Like a seashell on a beach, the form remains, but the presence and warmth of it's life has vanished.
Normally, at least.
Journal entry (plus special stuff!):
He didn't show up.
Asilia rocked back and forth, feeling rather alone for the first time. Her mind ran over so many thoughts, wondering why this had happened. All she had tried to do since being freed was obey and be nice. Someone had done something horrible, and she was the first to be blamed. Asilia shook her head her white hair glinting abit against the dull glow of the magical barrier locking her inside the cell.
Jasria awoke slowly her eyes flitting about to see the trees and moonwell of the park district. A druid stood nearby observing her. She imediatly curled up in a ball to hide, Jas knew what she had been doing last night, but it didn't matter. "How are you this morning miss?" The druid asked, it was obvious he was observing her response and was not merely being nice. "D-does it matter?" "Only you can decide that," The druid replied, "One can preach all day about how it matters, how life goes on. But they cannot force you to see it." "Then it d-doesn't matter." Jas replied softly staring at the ground, she felt the urge to launch into a tirade with this druid about how everything had ended. But for some reason his presence and the fact Jas knew he was just as old as her made her hold back.
Jasria awoke slowly her eyes flitting about to see the trees and moonwell of the park district. A druid stood nearby observing her. She imediatly curled up in a ball to hide, Jas knew what she had been doing last night, but it didn't matter.
"How are you this morning miss?" The druid asked, it was obvious he was observing her response and was not merely being nice.
"D-does it matter?"
"Only you can decide that," The druid replied, "One can preach all day about how it matters, how life goes on. But they cannot force you to see it."
"Then it d-doesn't matter." Jas replied softly staring at the ground, she felt the urge to launch into a tirade with this druid about how everything had ended. But for some reason his presence and the fact Jas knew he was just as old as her made her hold back.
She crouched down hidden within the whipping snowbank, her leg still throbbed slightly but she was well enough. Peering over Janiil watched him, the scourge king as he walked, so calm and controlled. It had dawned on her earlier just how great his power was when she witnessed him raising a massive Frost Wyrm with little effort.
It didn't change what she had to do however, if she struck hard and fast enough she might be able to catch the self proclaimed king offguard. Whispering lowly as she watched the Lich King continue his walk back towards the Citadel, no undead minions anywhere in sight Frostmourne sheathed.
"He doesn't need guards."
Janiil tried to fight back her tears as she walked away from Taneel. Shaking her head lightly whenever she glanced back at him. Even after she crested the hill Janiil kept walking despite her footfalls seeming to grow heavier. She didn't want to do this, but she couldn't live being bonded to this blade either having it corrupting her will. Or being weakened to the point of near death from tossing it away.