That touch of the gods... I can understand why so many have offered their bodies to you. To touch you is to touch what the gods touched, to draw close to that divinity and power. Even if not for your beauty, you are what every man and woman has craved since time began - a taste of omnipotence, the attention of something greater than themselves. I know this because I know man, and I know that it is a wretched, greedy species. Yes, I know this because I am the same.
...But more than the part of you that was touched by the gods, Dorian... I find divinity in the part of you that is still man. For I was long without the gods, and even while I doubted the claims that you were something beyond mortal, still I desired you. When I touch that part of you that is still unmistakably man - when I coax those deep, quiet sounds from the back of your throat, when I make you shiver as fingers trace your inner thighs - I am touching what the gods could not reach. I am touching you, and unlike the others who seek kinship with the gods by touching what they have touched, I become like the gods in that like them, I touch you. That is as close to divinity as I could ever hope to come.....
Within the sundered lands of Dion and Giran where he often resides, the scent of magic and raw power lifts into the air like some beautifully rich scent, and I, as usual, stand from afar and admire. He has done so much for me, and even though the adena, weapons, scrolls, and even the kisses he has shared will forever be my debt, I am lost in what could be, or more so, what might never......
Despite his apparent immortality, he is surprisingly delicate. In fact, were he not immortal, I wonder if he would have lived as long as he has. He tends to eat only the lightest of foods, and can tolerate only a few glasses of the most fragrant wine - given his terribly slender stature, that is not so surprising as it often is with dark elves. Less worrisome, his bones were not made for sleeping upon the ground as we so often do while on the run, but upon a soft mattress - swathed in smooth, clean sheets instead of our rough blankets grey with the dust of the road; with a thick down pillow to support his graceful neck instead of simply another rolled blanket, or as sometimes happens, nothing at all.
Even the mattresses we have at our 'home' in Heine are coarser than he would prefer, though he says nothing. I can tell, however, for usually he awakens with his neck and shoulders stiff, and it takes him a few minutes before he can stand without pain - though when he is needed, he can leap to his feet readily enough to defend against those who pursue us. When that is not the case, and we have the time, I sometimes start his day with a light massage over his neck and upper back; with hands such as his, he cannot rub away the stiffness himself. He never asks, but sometimes he does give me the courtesy of a murmured "thank you".
The only time he has a chance to sleep in the luxury he deserves is during our visits to the duke's manor, with all its richness. But there, his heart is more troubled than ever, for reasons he will not tell me, and sleep does not come easily. Despite his frailty, he does sleep better upon the ground with our brethren than he does in that place.
He made the comment once, teasingly (as always), that I am his favorite sleeping accommodations. I smiled slightly, and I pointed out that with my lean muscle, I cannot possibly be any softer than our mattresses. But he shook his head and laughed a bit, and told me it did not matter. And it is true, he does seem to sleep through the night easier when he is draped over the top of me...
Ah, yes. He passed me by today in passing, though; I noticed from the peripheral of his beautifully golden eyes he tossed me the slightest of glances. It made me nervous and created a fluttering thicket of butterflies in my stomach, much like the tightening and pulls of a swift drop towards the ground from an incredible height. God, he is so strong. Even the air that lingers in his gentle wake smells of something perfumed and light, swirls and blossoms of pleasant aromas wafting into my sense of smell and possessing it like some devil a virgins body. It was sunny today, and he was headed towards the Blacksmith in Giran, the cobbled roads barking as the Full Plate Armor clanked and plodded 'neathe his every step and behind him, the stagnant masses of merchants, warriors and wizards alike tented their shops in hopes to sell something, some, to buy. As he walked away I spoke, though it was nothing audible, only in my own mind: “Reach out your arms. You are strong, this I know Knight; a soldier, keen-eyed, sure of hand and blade, and what magic’s would best serve in combat. But you walk away, and I will not linger over anatomy; of camber'd wing and feather'd spans swept back. Remiges and retrices, light and strong, bones encircling my too- rapid heart -- Such terms will not avail gotten by rote. Take a breathe Knight, inhale and feel my power and love I have for thee, my existence, the metamorphosis of branded flesh and bone alchemical that dissolves and reforms, lighter than air. The downbeat of a Wyverns wing, the headlong plummet, the pull of the earth. The twine and twig that binds life and love quiver ridden, stop walking and look at me fully. Turn around and know that I am here......"
But he never did. All that was left to be seen as I rocked from the grand speech of silent tongue was my own green eyes catching the last fleeting glimpse of his golden armor as he turned on his heels and vanished into the dank blacksmiths shop. The sun was setting I remember and how it flared for a moment off his armor to me seemed like some foreshadowing. Though he was never around as much as I wanted him to be and though I fend for myself mostly in his constant absence, I always caught sight of him every fortnight it seemed, sometimes sooner.
But alas, it is beginning to become night fall. Most of the Catacombs brood with fiendish nightmares at this hour, and I must go and train before it becomes so dark that I have no light to guide me. It looks like it is going to be cloudy tonight and the moon and stars will most likely be veiled. I will be passing through the barracks of the orcs to train some before venturing into the Catacombs. I am new to the lands and I am sure many evils would consider me a tasty appetizer. I best prepare in case of an emergency. Potions, scrolls of escape, the works, though, I need to watch my adena. I am sure I will see him again in passing, only, I wonder if I will be able to produce sound and speak to him like I want to. Who knows if I will be able to or not and....... blast, my ink well is running low and I need a new quill also. Well, for now farewell, I will litter your pages with more of my thoughts, rest assured..
Journal Entry # 4, Pet Name.
I managed to crawl out of the catacombs which to my surprise was much more difficult than I had anticipated. I swam up through the wine dark water of the entry and staggered to a nearby willow tree where I sat down beneathe it with a lathargic thud. Now, I am writing. It is now dark and a few fireflies are fluttering their midas illumination around me. It is pretty. I didn't see him today, though, most of the time he does wander into the Catacombs looking for the Blacksmith of Mammon who seems to me to be very elusive, though he may not try. I tried findng him a few times myself only to become so frustrated that I abandoned my search. But, that is neither here nor there. I would get to my feet and teleport to the City of Giran where he normally resides, only, I forgot to buy some scrolls and the walk there is rather long -- too long for me to venture at these twilight hours and I am still exhausted from training against the fiends 'neathe the Earth still. * chuckles * I remember last time I saw him in Giran, still. He was wielding a dual sets of Katanas which he managed to Enchant to a staggering degree. The aura seemed to be ten times brighter that it had previous sightings by me. He always loved to make things bright and strong no matter what they were. I use to call him when we talked more my " Blade Alchemist " due to his uncanny abaility to Enchant things without failure. I suppose he has luck beyond that of normal people, fore, I know he does not have the adena to buy such grand weapons at as many as he has. * Shivers * A wind just rustled over the lands causing the tall grain to sway to and fro like an ocean of skinny men caught in a drunkards sway. I need to prepare a fire, and hunt some food then catch a little sleep. I will venture into town tomorrow and see if maybe I can find the man I so wish to be with. Until then.....
Journal Entry # 5, Stolen.
Today was rather uneventful, to say the least. I awoke early in the morning only to find that my sword had been stolen. I can't possibly begin to imagine what sort of thief would steal from me. I have never made any real enemies. I have always been kind to people, even strangers or people that have struck my cheek. It was...the sword...it was precious to me. He made it for me himself, my Blade Alchemist Enchanted it to a high degree. The beautiful, dark blue glow, the Elven inlaid designs, well, I suppose it doesn't matter now. I had put on my armor and hair piece and began to search the nearly tax free market of Giran and sitting on the bottom step from the gatekeeper...there he was. He was looking at me, sitting quietly, his eyes locked onto me. They looked hungry. I kept walking while I too stared back at him, and in doing so I had a misfortune. I stumbled over a dwarf named LittleDeedlit and kissed the rocky ground. I stood promptly and instantly looked 'hind me to make sure that my love didn't see only to find him covering his mouth in a fit of chuckles. Oi, usually I have to be up a few hours before I make an [censored] of myself. I quickly turned to the tiny girl and apologized as quickly as I could. I pushed back the blonde hair from my face and turned to look once more only to find him gone and his Strider, flared nostrils and haunched legs walking towards me with some golden object in its steely jaws. It simply reached my position, opened those jaws and dropped a golden circlet upon the ground. A few chimes rang out as it bounced to a stand still and the strider dissipated like some fleeting wind, clearly, it had been unsummoned. Kneeling down, I picked it up, pointer and thumb pinching it lightly, I couldn't help but smile fondly before walking back to my house making sure to steer clear of the dwarf previous. Once more I turned my head as my free hand gripped the door handle and a brief moment allowed me to see him once more, a smile... I could see and the tip of his head before he walked down an alley way and out of my sight once more. The hinges wailed, and I, entered my house having completely lost track of what I ventured out to buy. In the quiet of my home I sat down on the floor by the fire place , and the golden circlet seemed to glow bright as the morning sun ...seems * faint laughter * seems he thinks of me as often as I think of him, though I've no ornate little trinkets to offer him. Nothing valuable of gold or silver, sword or staff, but, the only thing I can offer that would in my own eyes seem fitting is devotion even when he is nowhere to be seen. Some say to love it to reach out and grasp the unknown...I reached out and found my Knight....
Journal Entry # 6, Sunset and Glitter.
I have just finished scowering the towns that I thought I would find a new sword in. Dion has become more of a ghost town than ever. I remember when I was younger in my abilities. Dion was the ideal place to be for fiends that needed to be slaughtered. Giran however is the main market. Some prices though are a little absurd, I must admit. I haven't seen him today at all. I suppose my eyes were to struck and dazzled by all the enchanted weapons. Ever since he gave me my first, I have always like weapons that glow. I have my eyes on a Katana. I would ever so much like the dual Katanas, only, they are so very exspensive. The Raid swords just seem... too long. The sun has began to set finally, the end of a day that I thought would never come, and I still look for a sword. In the back of my mind I am always looking for him somewhere. He always pops up when I least expect it like some phantom. What a magical man he is, though, enough side tracking. Maybe in my search for swords I will see him again. After all, everything is eventual.
Journal Entry # 7, The Finale & Beginning Anew.
I can feel it in the air. I can sense it in the water. I can taste it in the earth. I am changing. This evening I had left the Orcs Barracks after many tedious hours of slaughter, my fists bloodied and skin sullied, my blood began to boil. I staggered to a vacant spot where no fiends seemed to spawn and sat nearest the enormous rock as best I could. It felt like my skin was going to melt away and yet, amidst the agony there was a surge of energy -- I was becoming stronger. I left behind my old strength and wisdom and attained a new level of it. God, how I wish he was here to see this. I began to blossom, I began to bloom, my petals were unfolding one by one and eventually, I would with diligent training, become what I saught to be. A Blade Singer. I closed my eyes as my body adjusted to the new found state of being, and faint crackles of fuscia electricity seemed to become vaccumed into existence, pulled inward towards my solar plexus before seeping through my armor like a ghost and delving into my skin. For some reason, my strength was re-newed and I got myself to my feet, adjusted and re-tightened my fists, and looked to the spot in whince I left. Surely, I had attained my 27th degree of power, and I now had a new goal, my 28th. Looking up into the sky, the moon was red, a tragic foreshadowing that blood would be spilled tonight, Orcs were going to die and give me the strength and experience I needed to reach a new level of power. By now I can only imagine what degree my Love is, but I am not far behind. I hear the Orc Warlord cry out that an intruder has come, and alas, the shaman, fighter ,elders and others are now charging from a good 120 paces away. I must make haste. Until then.
Magisterium.
Journal Entry # 8, Rest.
I am exhausted. In my last journal entry it wasn't just one wave of fiends, it was three. I nearly lost my life and I assure you I didn't walk away unscathed. Though, something interesting happened and if I can guess correctly, my love was near, though I didn't see him. After the second wave was done, the third came from a camp lower down the hill and I was weathered from the previous. They all lifted their weapons and began to cast their spells when they suddenly all just froze. I am not sure really what happened, though, I had heard of people that have a higher caliber of power than I able to use paralysis spells, techniques and other charms of various sorts. It was in the distance quite a way, but I know I saw a flash of gold that seemed familiar, though, from that distance I can not really be sure of whom it was. They saved my life though. I heard them say "run", and so I did. I hadn't the potions left or supplies to even attempt to finish off that wave of fiends. I would have tried though nonetheless even if they hadn't come along. I headed off into the distance and my curiosity got the better of me so I turned my head only to witness a saw blade of flame hurled from the distance at the fiends rendering them to something worse than death. I quickly turned my head back around, who knew, maybe that person would have killed me too had I stayed against their wishes. I wasn't strong enough yet to face anyone with such skills. I staggered over to the usual rock that I sat against and delved my handy greedily into the pouch that held my scrolls...one left. I used it and whisked myself back into Giran and promptly fell onto my rear. And wouldn't you know it, I saw him teleport into the city mere seconds after I arrived. I got a little light headed, probably because I was so very thirsty. Dehydration is unpleasant. There he stood though in my hazy sight, though his armor was different. It was a blue mass of....something.
I know it was heavy armor, but I am not sure what the name of it was. Blue Toad? Dog? Some sort of animal coninsided with it. I think I entered a utopia for a moment because he looked directly at me and smiled then said “****ed Orcs " before walking off with a wink and a wave. Impossible....it couldn't have been him could it? I mean..I thought he was a melee class. Could he cast wizardry, too? Nonetheless, hearing his voice filled me completely. As I leaned against the statue of hero’s, I closed my eyes and the hustle and bustle of the Giran market faded as I fell into a nap. I don't know how much time elapsed before I woke up, but I am guessing it had to have been a considerable amount because the moon was staring me in the face when I had woken up. That is about as much as I can recall because after that I walked into my house and sat in the chair that I am sitting in now, muscles aching, and I began to write the days events. My body is weary and I need some rest. I dreamed of him while I slept, so I will say goodbye now and return to the paradise in which I just left. Sayonara.
Magisterium
Journal entry # 9, Breatheless.
I awoke today earlier than I originally do. I don't know why, I just couldn't sleep. The morning sun had started to rise in the east and I ventured forth from my house and began to get an early start on the day. I figured since I was up I could start on the roads and cut through the forests and woods before other people ventured. I had always preferred to fight alone with the exception of my love fighting by my side the few times that he had. I strayed from the road. As I walked, something felt off. The trees seemed to lament, the air smelled dead and lay still. Not even the slightest of breezes were present and the usual locusts lay quiet. I knew something was off, though I would have never guessed what I came to see the cause. Just before the Orcs Barracks where the Catacombs are, four pillars hold up the roof. I noticed from the far right pillar nearest the base of the mountain that there was a glimmer of gold. At first it didn't register with me in the slightest. I thought perhaps it was some stolen weapon that had been discarded, or maybe some valuable artifact or piece of armor that had been knocked loose. As I walked, I began to creep along as though trying to elude being heard, and then, it moved. I was given quite the fright and I gasped before slapping my right hand over my mouth to stifle the noise. It was a foot -- yes, a foot. My pace began to quicken out of fear that someone may have been badly hurt and my gut began to knot up. I called out to the person only to get no response. As I hopped to a still, I craned my head around to look. My eyes immediately teared up and my heart shattered into shards of innumerable count. It was my love. Broken, bruised, armor pounded into flimsy pieces, he lay still upon the ground while his back propped himself up. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. My eyes felt like they were going to pop themselves from my skull and run off into the distance and I simply just couldn’t breathe. My heart sped, a sweat broke out upon my brow, and every muscle in me gave way and I fell to my knees.
My arms stretched out, both hands upon each cheek of his face and a steady flow of crystal water sparkled down my cheeks before falling one droplet at a time to the ground where it spattered and quickly dried due to the heat of the day though it was only morning. What had happened to him? Who did this? I examined his chest and saw that it rose and fell, but the extent of his wounds I was not sure of. Could it have been fiends? No, it wasn’t fiends. The manner in which the armor was shattered suggested otherwise and the ground where he lay was free of any signs of struggle. Perhaps his wrong doer made sure to erase any sign of fight, but what good would that have done if he had left my love here? A million thoughts were racing through my head and I leaned into placing a small kiss to his forehead. I couldn’t believe the condition in which he was in. The bruises and cuts on his cheeks, the blood that lay dried from his lips, all of it awakened anger in me such as I have never felt before. Who did this? Who!? I was not but a petite girl, and I knew I would have great difficulty carrying the man back to Giran with his armor on. And to take it from him and bring him back through town in not but his undergarments would be shameful. But I was not going to leave him there. I took away my hands and retrieved a Scroll of Escape to my Clan Hall and activated it placing my armor, weapons, potions, and other such things inside. I knew when it teleported there it would be safe and not stolen. I could carry him easier than I could with all that added weight. It winked from sight and I hoisted the beautifully broken man up, my right arm hooking around his waist, the other throwing his left arm around my neck and I began the walk to Giran.
I reached the town and walked through, the usual whispers and speak, the obvious manner of stares, none of it bothered me , though, it was noted. I got him back to my house and I stripped him of his armor laying him gently on my bed. He looked a mess. I can’t even now as I write think of what sort of perso-…………nevermind. Looking over at him and writing this makes me angry and sad at the same time. He looks so peaceful as he sleeps. It seems to me that he hasn’t rested easy in quite some time. It is a pity this had to be the way I got to see him. I don’t know how long he will be out, but I dressed his wounds and have been watching over him for nearly two days. I myself need some sleep. But, I will say this. I don’t know who or what person, creature, or demon that could have done this, but when I find it I will make it pay. I’ll kill it and suck the marrow from it bones………..
Life is such a precious gift, and is acknowledged as one, but in the endless disorder that constitutes our existence, no mortal creature has an accurate perception on just how valuable this endowment is. Forever awaits a worthy finale to this beginning. Is there a motive for the mechanical massacre of all things? Is there a reason behind all that exists? Is the yearning for living truthfully so magnificent that these two so freely galloped into the throngs of love? -- the thrill surpassing the sheer necessity to live. I have not seen him for days and yet, he has been slippping from my mind more and more since he healed. After the horrible finding, as stated before, I brought him home and dressed him accordingly. He slept for days until one morning, I awoke only to find the bandages on the bed and he was no where to be found. I searched for him for days. No one had seen him, and the only person that saw him leave Giran was a dwarf called Aertillian that belonged to a clan named Invalescere. Good people from rumors and whispers. Though, I suppose he found it best to leave it all behind and abandon me in lo of what I did for him. I can not begin to fathom how he is hurting, though, I can not linger over someone that does not share my feelings, one sided loves never have worked out. ( Faint chuckle ) I went out walking on a dark and stormy night. Lightning flashed in the sky in silvery webs that sprayed across the heavens, it was obvious something wicked in nature was brewing. The air was thick and hot, balmy and dank, and I looked behind me having heard steps pittering after my own on the dirt roads. It was a man accented in black glasses as best I could tell given the terrible lighting of the night. Only, I could see him in random bursts as I tried to gaze over my shoulder as inconspicuously as possible. He was slim in the flashes of lightning, close cropped hair that windows peaked, pale skin and a gentle face. And suddenly as a crack of thunder broke the silence, I heard him say to me " A lady such as yourself should not be wandering the roads so near the Execution Grounds at these wee hours, M'Lady. Brutish fiends sully the lands here, and you could fall victim ." Typical, he thought I was a fragile little thing incapable of fending for myself ; if I wanted to I could have removed the hairpin that lay in my hair and pierced the wing of a mosquito against a tree. All I could do was be as courteous as possible and respond " My good sir, I assure you I am fi----------" But he has vanished as quickly as he had come. I hadn't the slightest clue where he went. For a moment is bothered me only to be dismissed to the back of my mind. One man had gone, and another had come......and now I sit in my home once more having recollected the events and my eyes draw heavy with sleep. Until tomorrow....though, I wonder who that mysterious man was.....