Leaderboard


Popular Content

Showing content with the highest reputation since 07/03/2020 in all areas

  1. 1 point
    The room is dark, only the faint glow of some herbs growing in the windowsill and the moon’s light illuminating the room. A fine, ornate desk of copper and wood takes up most of it, the room small with most of its space crowded in by bookshelves, paintings, and other mementos throughout the years. So obviously her space, and hers alone, noted by all of the small knick knacks and hand me down items on display. A mish mash of little treasured things speckled between medals and trophies of note. The door clicks closed behind her and lamps immediately hum to life, casting the stone walls and marble floor into a cocoon of warmth, the light reflecting off of her skin and giving it a healthy glow that’s been missing from it for the last few weeks. As she shuffles to the plush velvet chair of red she passes by her reflection in an old mirror, the edges frayed and black with age, but she quickly moves on past, not wanting to dwell on her gaunt cheeks or dimmed eyes. The last few years had not been kind to her. Multiple wars, a new love and heartbreak all in one, loss of friends, family, and one of her own. A strained marriage that at times feels so magical, light and loving and all things wonderful. And others feels dark and suffocating, like tendrils wrapping around her throat until her vision swims with dark. She pushes the memory back, instead letting her eyes rest on the dreaming glory so perfectly encased in resin, looking as fresh as the day it was plucked. It’s a bittersweet thing, the memory of a lost love aching too, but in a different way, almost a comfort because a piece of the woman never truly left. Her essence humming inside Amalyn’s heart until the end of time. The chair makes a terrible noise as she pulls it out, the marble protesting in a shock to the serenity of the room, an inevitable thing in this world. Peace never lasts long. She takes out the black, leather bound book, looking old but not worn, as if it’d seen little use. Truly it hadn’t, oftentimes she’d throw herself into something new, a project, or her work, instead of taking the time to reflect back on her life. You cannot dwell on the present or past when you are always looking forward to the future. But that meant running away, and oftentimes, you simply have nowhere else to go. The priestess pulls out her black feather quill, her favorite and a staple to her desktop’s decor, and opens the book, the spine cracking with disuse. She thinks for a moment, but decides to just let her thoughts flow out as they come, as she lays its tip to the page. ~~~~~ I sometimes look at my life and wonder how I got to where I am today. A husband, a child, a small army of people at my beck and call, willing to give their lives for me just because someone pays them to. I’ve had people under my command as well, I practically ran a small town and provided not only physical healing services for them but mental ones too. And now I carry a banner I previously held before, because their ideals and philosophy are most aligned to what we are trying to do, and yet I feel like a stranger to them. I’ve been on a mission, yes, but I had no time prior to get to know any of them, not even the leader whom I’ve sworn my loyalty to, was I able to get a word in with. I’ve sat for hours in the infirmary, I’ve healed the hurt and sick, and yet I feel like a transient, a passerby who is merely a useful ghost in a time of need. Outside of my family, I do not feel like I have people relying on me, looking up to me for answers to their life’s problems, and it frightens me that that is what I hinge my life’s worth on. It’s not enough that I am a faithful wife, or a loving mother, but that I only feel fulfilled anymore when I can solve others problems and bring peace to this world. I wonder what will happen when I can no longer fight. When my children have long left our home and my body deems it’s time to give up, what will I do then? Will I be able to deal with those feelings of inadequacy, or will I have lived a fulfilled enough life by then to be sated in this underlying need? I do want to get to know the people of Sanctuary, I really do. I miss the feeling of having a community, a family, but when I look around I cannot help but feel I am not needed. An outcast, of sorts. I’ve devoted my life to the light, to healing wounds and easing troubles minds, but as war winds down, what do those of us who know nothing but it do? Ha, I speak as if I’m some war-weary veteran with grey hair and countless scars to match, but if I think about it, war is really all I know. I completed my studies at the academy and immediately fell into working alongside my husband, a man I met before I was even finished becoming a full-fledged paladin. It wasn’t until some years later, while I was pregnant with our daughter, did I turn to priesthood and forever changed my life again. But truly, war is all I have known, and it’s something I’d never wish on anyone else in this world. I’ve tried to protect our daughter from it, but she’s at that age where she’s becoming much more aware of her surroundings, of the world and all of it’s horrors, and I cannot stop it. I would never lie to her, I never have, but sometimes I yearn for the days when she was still a sweet little bundle I could so easily hold against my breast. When calming her and making her happy was as easy as humming a soft tune and holding her close. I long for the days when my husband came home every night. But that- that is for another time, I think. I worry, though, for befriending the people of Sanctuary. Will I be able to open myself up again? Can I allow myself to be vulnerable and allow myself to be loved? Am I even deserving of such love after everything I’ve allowed to happen? I suppose I should speak to my husband on it. He so easily endears himself to others and is beloved by so many, it was no shock I had been so taken by him all those years ago. And it is no surprise I still devote my life to him after all we’ve been through, concerns for my daughter aside. It has been quite some time since I last wrote in this journal, its spine still sturdy and intact, perhaps I should change that. ~~~~~ Amalyn puts the book away, sets the quill back into its resting place, and leans back in her chair as she lets her eyes close. She feels weary and old, spread too thin and yet fearing it’s never enough. Always feeling like she could do more. Help more. Give more people aid and bring more people peace. Right others wrongs and still be a loving wife and mother all along the way. A soft knock sounds at the door and from the other side she hears, “Mama?” It’s late, Saturna should be in bed by now. “Come in my love.” The tension and tiredness she’d been holding onto seeps out of her a bit, just enough to allow a smile to touch her lips as her daughter peeks her head into the room. She opens her arms and motions of the girl to come join her at the desk, concern for the look on her face. “I had a bad dream.” The girl whines as she wraps her arms around her waist and buries her face into Amalyn’s bosom, the priestess wrapping her own arms around the girl tight as she sits in her lap. “I’m sorry sweetheart, want me to make it better?” She kisses the top of the girl’s head as her hands rub up and down her back, the girl nodding yes as she cuddles in close. It’s all she needs before she starts humming a soft tune, one she came up with when Saturna was still a babe, as she lets some of her magic do it’s work. Within minutes the girl is asleep, her face relaxed, no trace of the nightmare that had plagued her before remaining on her soft and porcelain features. The room grows quiet again, a piece of peace settling across the pair in the hush of night as Amalyn is left once more with her contemplation of life. Amalyn - Twisting Nether - Horde