Post by ruein on Jul 20, 2008 17:07:15 GMT -5
As i write this i am torn between two life's. One of my own, and one i wish to behold. As my fingers grasp the feathery quill that once has been held by those close to me. Life in Azeroth has taken a turn for the worst. I sit here, in my damp study in a place i wish i could forget, i am sad. I ask myself, and those around me, Why? Why has Dr. Mordo made us suffer so? Why do we board up our homes in Tirisfal Glades afraid of the scourge getting inside? A plague has come, not in sleep, not in a soft white dream, but in a hunger that we now know, is fatal. We have had nothing to eat but cold hard bread for three weeks. As i write this, i am afraid to say what is really on my mind. I have met someone, someone now who is very dear to me. She is called, 'Blind Mary,' Many look at her and see a monster, but i look past her blinding white curls, into a heart as big as Lorderon itself. She has helped me understand my destiny. I have choose not to venture into a hard Swift blade, but into my very mind, be-litteling the very question of who we came to be. I use my mind and my dreams as my power, i heal not with bandages, but with words and prayers, i am a priest. Blind Mary cannot stay, she claims she most return home to Duskwood. My fate does not end here in Tirisfal Glades. My dreams do not stop here. My heart goes further than tis. I will make it through this plague. I shall live to heal once more.
Forgive me, for i have not told you of my journey for two weeks. But i fear the plague has got the best of me. My skin has turned a sickening color, my hair which once held golden locks, now has turned to straw. My bones, ache. My mind, is leaving me. My heart longs to go on, but my body cannot. I fear i will not make it through the night. As i write my last few words before i go into a cold, vast, wonder, i tell you this. One cannot prevail if his mind and soul does....
I awoke from a faint clatter of bones and steel. The plague has ended after almost three hundred years. I have awoke in a new dawn of man kind, though i must admit, as i read the words i once wrote when i was young, i am not as joyful as i was before this sickness. I go outside and see bones lain on the Floor of the cold damp wetland that i once called home. My family has been swept away like the leaf's i once hugged so desperately, as if pure human emotion could make it sing. The tree's are dark and Dead, unlike the tree tree's of winter's veil i once sat beneath. My world, though only a small piece of Azeroth, is gone. Forever. My heart feels not of healing with prayer, but damaging, with sorrow. I wish not to help those who have plagued with curse upon us, i want to sign of sorrow and loss, to hurt them. I feel my heart holds no more days of sweet quiet Autumn, but of cold damp hate.
As i sit in my old study, starring at a worn picture that i once clang to of Blind Mary, i feel betrayed by my gods which i once sought to be their servant, i serve no one today. I serve my self and my soul that has leaped out and swam in a never ending puddle of emotions that long for a home. I am free of the Lich king. I am free of all pain.
Forgive me, for i have not told you of my journey for two weeks. But i fear the plague has got the best of me. My skin has turned a sickening color, my hair which once held golden locks, now has turned to straw. My bones, ache. My mind, is leaving me. My heart longs to go on, but my body cannot. I fear i will not make it through the night. As i write my last few words before i go into a cold, vast, wonder, i tell you this. One cannot prevail if his mind and soul does....
I awoke from a faint clatter of bones and steel. The plague has ended after almost three hundred years. I have awoke in a new dawn of man kind, though i must admit, as i read the words i once wrote when i was young, i am not as joyful as i was before this sickness. I go outside and see bones lain on the Floor of the cold damp wetland that i once called home. My family has been swept away like the leaf's i once hugged so desperately, as if pure human emotion could make it sing. The tree's are dark and Dead, unlike the tree tree's of winter's veil i once sat beneath. My world, though only a small piece of Azeroth, is gone. Forever. My heart feels not of healing with prayer, but damaging, with sorrow. I wish not to help those who have plagued with curse upon us, i want to sign of sorrow and loss, to hurt them. I feel my heart holds no more days of sweet quiet Autumn, but of cold damp hate.
As i sit in my old study, starring at a worn picture that i once clang to of Blind Mary, i feel betrayed by my gods which i once sought to be their servant, i serve no one today. I serve my self and my soul that has leaped out and swam in a never ending puddle of emotions that long for a home. I am free of the Lich king. I am free of all pain.