Nadea
03-23-2006, 08:52 AM
Nadea crumpled the parchment she had been writing on. It was no use; she couldn’t put the thoughts in her head down on the paper. Not knowing what else to do, she decided to try again.
”Biztik, more parchment, right away!” She barked her orders to her imp, Biztik. He grumbled, then bounced across the room, shortly returning with a fresh stack of parchment. Nadea grinned at the imp, grabbing the parchment from his hands.
I came across a new feeling tonight. Feelings? I shouldn’t have feelings for anyone. Or anything. I am my own person, I am all I should care about. I am Forsaken. I do not care for anyone but me. I worship the Dark Lady and the Dark Lady alone. I do not have time for anything but this. I work for myself…
It was silly, really. There should be nothing there. She was nothing but a dead, soulless corpse, she shouldn’t be able to have feelings for anyone. Except maybe her own being. But she jumped at the thought of someone admiring her. Once a beautiful Baroness, many adored her. She had them eating out of her hands, respectively. All she had to do was snap her fingers, and she had anything in the world.
But one day…that all came crashing down. Her world was turned around by someone who didn’t want her to rule any longer. It was her destiny to find out who that person was. Of course, she had her suspicions that perhaps, someone *meant* to make her immortal…
The one who turned me…where are they? What are they? What kind of poison was in my goblet that night? Perhaps I was someone’s damn experiment? They made me this way to test theories of immortality?
But why can I suddenly feel…emotions? I am not supposed to have this feeling. Or at least, that is what others of my type have told me. Forsaken do not feel. They simply act to their advantage. Right?
Biztik bounced over with a goblet of wine.
“Here, Baroness, you look like you could use this,” he grinned widely and bowed. Looking at Nadea, he waited until his gesture was acknowledged, then bounced back to his own corner, conjuring up a fireball to keep him occupied.
Nadea looked down at what she wrote and sighed. Her wiritngs made no sense, not even to her. Her thoughts made no sense; with everything that had happened to her in the past month, shouldn’t she be able to just…shake it all off? When she almost lost an ally, wasn’t she just supposed to say it was for the better, instead of feeling upset and getting drunk? And when someone flirted with her, an Orc, no less, wasn’t she supposed to laugh and feel egotistical? Hell, even in her human days…nothing like either of those events would get to her. Something had to be wrong.
Why is it that when I was alive, I was invulnerable to these feelings? Now that I’m dead, I feel more? How does this even make sense? When will I be able to figure out how I am this way?
For now, however, I cannot let them know. Infection would be disappointed in me for being so weak and vulnerable. I’m acting the way the living should act, not the way a Forsaken should. What do I do?
Nadea stopped writing. There wasn’t much else she could write without breaking down. She was on the verge of tears. ‘tears?’ she thought to herself as a few streamed down her face. ‘what is WRONG with me!?’
She quickly wiped her face before Biztik could sense what was going on. Carefully sipping her wine, she gazed at the imp, happily playing with his fireball.
“Biztik, I'm headed to bed,” she said to the imp. He nodded and stood, watching his fireball fizzle out before preparing her bed. Nadea watched him carefully make the bed, the same way he did every night. Then he bowed to his master afterwards, as he always did, without feeling or thought. Nadea climbed into bed and turned off the light.
”Biztik, more parchment, right away!” She barked her orders to her imp, Biztik. He grumbled, then bounced across the room, shortly returning with a fresh stack of parchment. Nadea grinned at the imp, grabbing the parchment from his hands.
I came across a new feeling tonight. Feelings? I shouldn’t have feelings for anyone. Or anything. I am my own person, I am all I should care about. I am Forsaken. I do not care for anyone but me. I worship the Dark Lady and the Dark Lady alone. I do not have time for anything but this. I work for myself…
It was silly, really. There should be nothing there. She was nothing but a dead, soulless corpse, she shouldn’t be able to have feelings for anyone. Except maybe her own being. But she jumped at the thought of someone admiring her. Once a beautiful Baroness, many adored her. She had them eating out of her hands, respectively. All she had to do was snap her fingers, and she had anything in the world.
But one day…that all came crashing down. Her world was turned around by someone who didn’t want her to rule any longer. It was her destiny to find out who that person was. Of course, she had her suspicions that perhaps, someone *meant* to make her immortal…
The one who turned me…where are they? What are they? What kind of poison was in my goblet that night? Perhaps I was someone’s damn experiment? They made me this way to test theories of immortality?
But why can I suddenly feel…emotions? I am not supposed to have this feeling. Or at least, that is what others of my type have told me. Forsaken do not feel. They simply act to their advantage. Right?
Biztik bounced over with a goblet of wine.
“Here, Baroness, you look like you could use this,” he grinned widely and bowed. Looking at Nadea, he waited until his gesture was acknowledged, then bounced back to his own corner, conjuring up a fireball to keep him occupied.
Nadea looked down at what she wrote and sighed. Her wiritngs made no sense, not even to her. Her thoughts made no sense; with everything that had happened to her in the past month, shouldn’t she be able to just…shake it all off? When she almost lost an ally, wasn’t she just supposed to say it was for the better, instead of feeling upset and getting drunk? And when someone flirted with her, an Orc, no less, wasn’t she supposed to laugh and feel egotistical? Hell, even in her human days…nothing like either of those events would get to her. Something had to be wrong.
Why is it that when I was alive, I was invulnerable to these feelings? Now that I’m dead, I feel more? How does this even make sense? When will I be able to figure out how I am this way?
For now, however, I cannot let them know. Infection would be disappointed in me for being so weak and vulnerable. I’m acting the way the living should act, not the way a Forsaken should. What do I do?
Nadea stopped writing. There wasn’t much else she could write without breaking down. She was on the verge of tears. ‘tears?’ she thought to herself as a few streamed down her face. ‘what is WRONG with me!?’
She quickly wiped her face before Biztik could sense what was going on. Carefully sipping her wine, she gazed at the imp, happily playing with his fireball.
“Biztik, I'm headed to bed,” she said to the imp. He nodded and stood, watching his fireball fizzle out before preparing her bed. Nadea watched him carefully make the bed, the same way he did every night. Then he bowed to his master afterwards, as he always did, without feeling or thought. Nadea climbed into bed and turned off the light.