The beginning or end of a journey?
Posted: Tue Dec 08, 2020 8:34 pm
It was no secret now that she was leaving soon. She had already made the arrangements to make sure the infirmaries would be maintained at least for a time in her absence. She did have many regrets that she was leaving something in which she truly felt she was making a difference. For a time now, An'aroluth had taken some great comfort in that healing wounds and sickness without profit was making some difference in people's lives. Indeed, many had given her thanks for that work, and some of the donations that had come in were a reminder to her that for all the bad there was out there, good hearts also held strength as well.
Yet An'aroluth no longer had any reservations about whether she was making the right move or not. Her eyes looked first to Turaniir, and then to Julakiir, respectively the armor and blade made specifically for her. The eyes that reflected back to her had something she hadn't seen in them for awhile: Determination.
Although they'd accompanied her more than once in dance or simple walks through dangerous areas, the armor and blade had only been used once in retribution against darker forces. That war against the Crimson Dawn was the only time that had seen An'aroluth take up a blade to fight, and even then, it was only against the one they'd called 'Seer.' She had been content to tend to the wounds of others for the rest of the trip. This trip was perhaps the only time since then that she was doing something in part for herself, and in a very real way, ready to fight for it. Yet just like against the Seer, it was not just for herself.
Her eyes gazed to the moon for a moment in reflection of her recently completed Evensong, and then down to the blade she held a bit aloft. That thought and the Evensong a reminder that her 'problem' had taken a heavy toll. Without any guardianship, help, or protection otherwise, she once more faced the fact that anyone she'd dared to gain attachment to would ultimately suffer ill fates, and probably ultimately death. A curse some in the past had simply called the mind games of a truly evil one, or a worry of the dramatic. Yet a decade later, she was the only one left, and those people were either dead or gone. Her daughter was the latest victim of it in this war, and whether dead or gone, there was no mistaking that she was lost forever to An'aroluth.
That though stung quite a bit. It was several months since that war, and more since the loss of her daughter. While she had made peace with it, it was ultimately a wound that could only scar, but it would never fully heal. The wetness in the eyes that reflected back at her in the blade betrayed this emotion, despite the determination in them. She noticed that and closed them while taking in a deep breath to hold for a time. After, she slowly let out that breath through her mouth while opening her eyes in a matching pace. That determined look was still there, if a bit more calm once more.
This journey was going to be made, one way or another. Events in the City of Doors had made her again recently rethink the involvement of others, not out of any sense of martyrdom like she had been making up as an excuse before. There was a very real problem of assassination with those whom had offered her help, and combining that with the threats that haunted An'aroluth herself, the circles of protection that accompanied them in the city might not necessarily help them. Genuinely, An'aroluth felt it may have been prudent to deal with those issues first. Adorabella was, after all, trying to make genuine, good change in the city, and comparatively An'aroluth found that mission far worth more every time. Yet, she found that her own could not be delayed for much longer. The longer she waited, the more her attachments turned into very real threats.
Her head bowed and she held the blade aloft once more, beginning the post-Evensong prayers she had been doing every night now, only now planning to spend every moment she could doing so. Her words altered between Elven and Drow, to the two goddesses Eilistraee and Hanali which she sought. Her pleas were simple:
Please guide us, and please keep the company I bring safe.
Yet An'aroluth no longer had any reservations about whether she was making the right move or not. Her eyes looked first to Turaniir, and then to Julakiir, respectively the armor and blade made specifically for her. The eyes that reflected back to her had something she hadn't seen in them for awhile: Determination.
Although they'd accompanied her more than once in dance or simple walks through dangerous areas, the armor and blade had only been used once in retribution against darker forces. That war against the Crimson Dawn was the only time that had seen An'aroluth take up a blade to fight, and even then, it was only against the one they'd called 'Seer.' She had been content to tend to the wounds of others for the rest of the trip. This trip was perhaps the only time since then that she was doing something in part for herself, and in a very real way, ready to fight for it. Yet just like against the Seer, it was not just for herself.
Her eyes gazed to the moon for a moment in reflection of her recently completed Evensong, and then down to the blade she held a bit aloft. That thought and the Evensong a reminder that her 'problem' had taken a heavy toll. Without any guardianship, help, or protection otherwise, she once more faced the fact that anyone she'd dared to gain attachment to would ultimately suffer ill fates, and probably ultimately death. A curse some in the past had simply called the mind games of a truly evil one, or a worry of the dramatic. Yet a decade later, she was the only one left, and those people were either dead or gone. Her daughter was the latest victim of it in this war, and whether dead or gone, there was no mistaking that she was lost forever to An'aroluth.
That though stung quite a bit. It was several months since that war, and more since the loss of her daughter. While she had made peace with it, it was ultimately a wound that could only scar, but it would never fully heal. The wetness in the eyes that reflected back at her in the blade betrayed this emotion, despite the determination in them. She noticed that and closed them while taking in a deep breath to hold for a time. After, she slowly let out that breath through her mouth while opening her eyes in a matching pace. That determined look was still there, if a bit more calm once more.
This journey was going to be made, one way or another. Events in the City of Doors had made her again recently rethink the involvement of others, not out of any sense of martyrdom like she had been making up as an excuse before. There was a very real problem of assassination with those whom had offered her help, and combining that with the threats that haunted An'aroluth herself, the circles of protection that accompanied them in the city might not necessarily help them. Genuinely, An'aroluth felt it may have been prudent to deal with those issues first. Adorabella was, after all, trying to make genuine, good change in the city, and comparatively An'aroluth found that mission far worth more every time. Yet, she found that her own could not be delayed for much longer. The longer she waited, the more her attachments turned into very real threats.
Her head bowed and she held the blade aloft once more, beginning the post-Evensong prayers she had been doing every night now, only now planning to spend every moment she could doing so. Her words altered between Elven and Drow, to the two goddesses Eilistraee and Hanali which she sought. Her pleas were simple:
Please guide us, and please keep the company I bring safe.