Exhaustion. (IC, Traejan)
I'm tired.
I'm so tired now, and I suppose I can't hold it together anymore. I let my guard down.. too much. They laugh and they jeer and it feels like it did before. Pandaria was, unexpectedly, the greatest thing to happen to me in a long while. I could appreciate their art, their culture, their willingness to drink in excess. It was lavish and yet delightful simple and wonderful and everything I knew I shouldn't indulge in.
That was never meant for us.
And the tome.. became fun. I fancied myself among friends. It was amusing. But reality has a way of catching up. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to the work. Just gone on alone and let it be and fade off into obscurity. No one would miss me. Only Vittani.. but she would eventually move on. She's always gone on.
I'm tired of trying to adhere to an ideal I only create for myself. I think that is why I agreed to work for a warlock. I simply.. don't care. Do I even argue to win anymore? Or simply because I remember that it is my nature to do so. I'm going through the motions. Again.
I made the mistake of leaving the pages open too long after I said my goodbye. I knew it wouldn't just end. It never does.
'The wrong people keep dying in the wars'.
For the longest I never thought that of myself. Never felt robbed of my life. This unlife was always the greatest gift. My truest calling and purpose. But it makes more sense now. I'm not meant to evade death, yet somehow I always do. Perhaps the hand I've been dealt is to suffer. I used to think death itself was the suffering; an unending terror. The endless dark I recall before awakening to this unlife. But this.. this is true suffering. A continued life without purpose. Without drive. Without anyone or anything. I wanted to protect Tarin, but is there really anything I can do for her? We no longer have that anymore. My family is not mine to gather about me and protect. They've grown, they've found their own way. War and time and pain has changed them in ways that have sent them adrift and out of reach.
So I'm here again, floating in the dark sea that stretches on in all directions. Nothing to cling to, nothing to rest on for even a moment. Always the threat of being overcome, either by the tide or my own strength coming out. Those safe shores I once had a chance to seek rest on have long eroded away.
Appropriate, that it should appear to me as water.
Perhaps the warlock will kill me. Surely for incompetence. Failing some simple task through the carelessness the drink brings. But that would classify as some sort of mercy killing, wouldn't it? So perhaps not. What is it they do..? Gather souls to consume for their rituals? Feed them to their vile demons? I suppose that might be a far more suitable end in his eyes. Or is a dead man's soul worthless even to them?
And Aegnas would enjoy every second of it, I've no doubt.
Don't think I'd mind it now, however it comes.
I'm so tired now, and I suppose I can't hold it together anymore. I let my guard down.. too much. They laugh and they jeer and it feels like it did before. Pandaria was, unexpectedly, the greatest thing to happen to me in a long while. I could appreciate their art, their culture, their willingness to drink in excess. It was lavish and yet delightful simple and wonderful and everything I knew I shouldn't indulge in.
That was never meant for us.
And the tome.. became fun. I fancied myself among friends. It was amusing. But reality has a way of catching up. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to the work. Just gone on alone and let it be and fade off into obscurity. No one would miss me. Only Vittani.. but she would eventually move on. She's always gone on.
I'm tired of trying to adhere to an ideal I only create for myself. I think that is why I agreed to work for a warlock. I simply.. don't care. Do I even argue to win anymore? Or simply because I remember that it is my nature to do so. I'm going through the motions. Again.
I made the mistake of leaving the pages open too long after I said my goodbye. I knew it wouldn't just end. It never does.
'The wrong people keep dying in the wars'.
For the longest I never thought that of myself. Never felt robbed of my life. This unlife was always the greatest gift. My truest calling and purpose. But it makes more sense now. I'm not meant to evade death, yet somehow I always do. Perhaps the hand I've been dealt is to suffer. I used to think death itself was the suffering; an unending terror. The endless dark I recall before awakening to this unlife. But this.. this is true suffering. A continued life without purpose. Without drive. Without anyone or anything. I wanted to protect Tarin, but is there really anything I can do for her? We no longer have that anymore. My family is not mine to gather about me and protect. They've grown, they've found their own way. War and time and pain has changed them in ways that have sent them adrift and out of reach.
So I'm here again, floating in the dark sea that stretches on in all directions. Nothing to cling to, nothing to rest on for even a moment. Always the threat of being overcome, either by the tide or my own strength coming out. Those safe shores I once had a chance to seek rest on have long eroded away.
Appropriate, that it should appear to me as water.
Perhaps the warlock will kill me. Surely for incompetence. Failing some simple task through the carelessness the drink brings. But that would classify as some sort of mercy killing, wouldn't it? So perhaps not. What is it they do..? Gather souls to consume for their rituals? Feed them to their vile demons? I suppose that might be a far more suitable end in his eyes. Or is a dead man's soul worthless even to them?
And Aegnas would enjoy every second of it, I've no doubt.
Don't think I'd mind it now, however it comes.