A Change of Seasons - Requited

[squakhawk 8974]

 

 

 

The elf sat within her starlit room, a place which sat where it did not belong as books came to be her only company. Decades - nearly a century- since any had last visited her, so the same had she visited another.

 

"I always wanted to be Maheral. Even Sohaer would do."

 

She spoke, rolling over upon the worn red-velvet cushions that began to tear at their corners. She could've repaired them easily, but she had long lost the drive or will to do so.

 

"For power, dear Ane?"

 

Another voice asked.

 

"I always believed in purity; in our place in the sun. I hated that I was judged from my birth that I would only ever be cattle. Someone to be married off to and that would be my use. That because I was not raised as highly as my cousins I could never achieve true purity; true greatness."

 

She spoke, bitter. Her eyes furrowed as she murmured, muffled into a pillow which she hugged dearly. Her legs kicked within the air as if she was still young- the chamber all but silent to her speakings.

 

"What of Laurir? Okarir'tayna? Okarir'nor? Sulii'ceru? Your family ruled two regimes under your control, perhaps that is something? They've done nothing but withered without your presence in that city."

 

The voice spoke again, gentle; the voice of one she once knew so well, yet so little of.

 

"Do they still speak of Anethra Uradir now?"

 

She hissed.

 

"Do they speak of Anethra's accomplishments, her contribution to it's greatness; her tales and stories so far and wide-experienced. Venturing into other worlds. Discovering new types of magic, inventing spells, reviving an academy, reviving a family, reviving a dying regime; Do any remember her? Have any sought to?"

 

The chamber remained quiet between the lone elf and her thoughts, the scent of old books and dried flowers perfuming the air like a sickly scent as magic ran hotter than blood within this sliver between worlds.

 

"I do not want to quit. I always quit. But what remains the point? It was all for nothing; I give the reins to my idiot cousin and he butchers my family and name in weeks before fleeing into total obscurity. All my kin elsewise had gotten the endings they wanted. Love, fortune, family. What remains for me? How is it mine begins before them, and still has yet to end?"

 

No voice returned it's thoughts as the elf buried her face into the pillow. All she'd like to do is sleep, always sleep. Never was she tired of long days or tough work, but merely tired. Sleep was an escape- sleep was easy. She could dream and be distracted when her eyes remained shut. Maybe she'd stitch them so someday. But for now, she cried. The futility of it all had gotten to her again.

 

"All my life I have tried and tried again to make something of myself and it always seems to crash down. I can never stop and feel pity for myself- what is pity but being selfish? What is it but weakness to be disregarded, an image forever stained, a pride never to be achieved again? This.. masquerade, that never ends. Is that what it is all meant to be? Is that the sum of my accomplishments, that which I made of my life? To languish in a greatness which is never truly achievable?"

 

Anethra continued to lament, any and all logic of her mind long quieted as she spoke emotionally. In this place where she could not be seen, heard, even known of- she still felt embarrassed of this judgement. A standard to which she held herself, a standard which she held others to for so long. Is this purity?

 

The elf continued to weep quietly as years of her life were undone, made little and nothing but triviality but by a rampant and inconsolable mind. A mind that raced yet went nowhere. There was no good ending, no conclusion, nothing but questions she could never even hope to have the answers to. An escape which she could not find but so desperately desired. Maybe she would try again sometime- maybe not. It seemed easy to never try, and to not disappoint herself if she may fail. To lay and languish further in a living rot so addictive, yet so undesirable. A cycle of torment, a cycle which seemingly would never end.

 

Maybe one day that would change. But maybe too it wouldn't.

 

[Johann 1544]

In some distant and sequestered crevice of the cosmos hid Muriel Uradir. He did not weep, he was long past that, but he wallowed- for centuries now.

 

A pang of bittersweet nostalgia sparked amidst his recollections as a stray memory reminded him of home - not Haelun'or, but the Uradir estate. He thought of Celiasil, Talar'siol, Ithia, Luxiana, Filarion, even Silvyr, and eventually his thoughts and regrets settled on Anethra.

 

"I only realise now, lari'onn.. the weight of your thankless burdens. You only believed in what was right for us, for Ceru'onn ... yet I took it for granted."

 

His voice trailed off as his hand stretched forth, clutching a distant star that reminded him most of home. His movements were shaky, strangely enough; he would've thought he'd be numb to tragedy by now, yet it ruined him every time, all the same.

 

"..Llun, lari'onn. I have no excuses for my actions long past.. but one day I will make amends, I promise."

 

"... Perhaps I should visit. I will visit. I will find you ..."

 

"... I only hope I am not too late."

[kindEmperor 1253]

Spoiler

This ain't Azdromoth who the f*ck is this guy? - A certain adherent spat out aloud 

@squakhawk

[Widu 342]

In the midst of another round of changes in Haelun'or, Idendril wandered among a host of monuments scattered throughout the city, quietly repeating to herself, "the cycle shall repeat, again and again." Among the statues, one stood veiled in dust and seemingly unattended, bearing the engraved name of Anethra Uradir. As the winds from the mainland whipped the red Haelunorian banners, another symbol of fading significance, above the high elven capital, the elfess mused: "The wheel remains intact, but does it still carry the meaning its creators intended? But who could give it a new purpose? An Uradir, perhaps, - For better or worse?"

[warlord of filth 7816]

 

[Morigung-oog 2732]

An  ancient traverser of the outer planes remembered, even if others did not.