*The writing elegant and graceful, flowing across the pages*
It has been several months now since I've arrived, and it's time I reflect upon....everything. I have been fortunate, as ever. I imagine it's a blend of how I was bred and the smiling of the silver lady. Coin is in abundance, equipment, steadily acquired. Outfitting myself to survive. I have a friend, one, true friend here, though I have many acquaintances. Lucadia, an elven man I met early on, whom I suspect is a druid. Some of his...hunts, are shady at best, and the wounds he shows up with horribly explained, but I do not press. He has proven kind, so I shall respect his privacy. I've had so few friends in my life. I've had so few of...anything, really. It is the life of a wanderer, prey, predator. I wonder, if that is circumstantial... or whether regardless of what I was born, this is who I would be. Idle musings, with no relevance. Facts. Let's attend to the facts. To where it began. To the day my world shattered and re-formed, when all changed, and my own path truly began.
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His grin growing, eyes delirious as he pushes his blade deeper into her back, the tip breaking through her chest. Blood suddenly pours from the wound like a damn burst, the stain growing on his victims blouse as he twists the blade. His victim...my mother. Eyes widening in disbelief, thoughts racing like the lightning flashing outside, illuminating the scene in the back-alley in room. Somehow, I know. I know it'll be etched into my soul as long as I love. My grip tightens on my brothers head, guarding his gaze from the sight before us. No. Not mother. Not our mother. Images of the dieing woman flitting through my mind, a painful collage of memories as I just...stare. The woman's hand rises slowly, lips mouthing the word "run". I can't, I can't run! Somewhere, in the back of my mind, it's screaming move, but my legs remain curled beneath me, unable to begin lifting my body to it's feet. Tears sliding down my cheeks as I watch, I watch, the light fading from her eyes. I'm watching her die. No.
I blink, as she mouths her final words. "I love you, always." I blink, and she's gone. She's gone, just a body on a blade. A wet, sickening slurping pains my ears as the blade is withdrawn, leaving her to fall lifeless to the floor. My gaze slowly turns to face her murderer, lips curled into a half-smirk as he approaches. My grip tightens around my brothers head, shielding him from our impending death. I feel it, for the first time. Hopelessness. Complete, and utter hopelessness. I stare into his eyes, and despite the terror coursing through me, a certain resignation slides into place. I'm going to die.
The door slams open, and the man falls sideways. Bewilderment take over, as my eyes follow his falling form, and I see it. A dagger, embedded in his throat. My gaze snaps to the doorway, and my father stands, panting, wildly glancing around the room. Relief, at the sight of my brother and I. Fury, at the man dieing next to me. I watch, as it shifts. I watch. Then I see it, in his eyes too. Hopelessness. As the lightning flashes once more, I hear nothing but breathing, and rain. Rain, pounding outside as my heart breaks within, and I cave. I cave, eyes closing as tears stream from eyes that would never see the world the same.
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Mother. It has been....seven years. Seven years, since that night. The rain...always the rain..... I can't help but question if co-incidence stands against me as well, or if it's an intentional reminder. A reminder, that life, as anything, is fleeting. Or it's some sick joke, meant to torment me. I know not. That was the first night though, the first loss marked by the un-ending pounding of the rain, illuminating flashes of lightning as I am powerless. A running trend, in my life. Left to watch, as life slips between fingers too weak to hold ...anything. That was the first night, where I truly didnt care...If I lived or died. Perhaps that was more terrifying than anything.
That my feelings, could lead to such a treacherous carelessness. That any pain, could push me past that fine line in life. We are born survivors, us Silvershadow, for we have no choice. Surviving, is not enough. If one has no reason to survive, to live, to breathe, then why bother? It was some time after that, I realized the importance of others in my life. A lesson I managed to ignore for periods of time, as I wandered. Afraid. Afraid of the pains of loss. A folly of youth. I wasted years in my travels, keeping to myself, terrified of having anything, anyone, worth mourning. That's not the point though, of life, is it?
Everything ends, and everyone dies. Loss, is a part of life. What then, is the point of living? It is to find those people, worth mourning. To revel in every smile, and every laugh. To hold them close, and fight all the harder. Fight, that we might have another moment with them, even a single one. Everything ends, and everyone dies. Life, is about living for those worth mourning. Living for those worth living -for-. Living for those, worth dieing for. It took me along time to learn this. That night, was but the beginning. I've so much more to pen, before the night is done. It was only a few tendays later when..........
