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Archive for January, 2011

I watch.

Always, I watch, like some hunger inside of me, and it cannot be satiated by mortal food or drink. There is an empty space in the places between my ribs, between the heartbeats that serenade me to my own mortal demise. My mind is dizzy with loneliness, my heart as hollow as the husk of a withered nut, easily crushed in the palm of my hand.

I see the trees fall, one by one, like the meticulous plucking of individual hairs; one or two or three, it may well be the same. But instead, like a sick animal, they persist. One by one, the twist and jerk, leaving the skin of the earth exposed. Winter shrivels it, the rain and wind peel away layers with no roots to keep them intact. My heartbeat slows and I feel sick in the very bottom of my belly, where the hunger grows.

My teeth ache and my mouth is dry. I cannot be distracted, though.

Ashenvale is fallen, and I didn’t keep her safe.

Oh, I’ve heard, yes. As surely as I breathe, I feel it, I can hear the keening of the wind through spectral branches that will never sway again and I want to rush back home, to the forests where I grew alongside the trees into the skin that is mine, the marrow of my bones filled with leaves and dirt and life

Here there is only death and dead things. Here, there is cold that sinks between the fur, the hair, the skin and leather and feather and bone… days run with nights, and I search for signs of them. The dead thing and my sister. He mocked me, when I walked between them. His stink and his decay, the thought of his unliving hands gliding down her arm, pulseless lifeless blue fingers twining between her own and I will find him and kill him again for taking her from me.

What if he has done to her what was done to him in the first place…?

No, Tzufit. I would know.

She’s still alive, I can feel her life like rain in a muddy river… she will return to me, and I will see that his unfeeling skin is flayed from his rot-eaten corpse. His bier will be of thorns and he will fall to the silence and stillness that he never should have left.

We will return to the forests where we belong and raise the pennants of our people and-

I will belong again.

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OOC Note: Trying to get a grip of this character. I’m not sure I want her to be as… muzzy and dim as she’s coming across here. I’m going for autistic, but still sharp. Unfortunately, the somewhat clipped character idea has gotten in my head and I’m having a hard time with this. Maybe when I, oh, ACTUALLY LOG ON AND PLAY HER, it’ll get better.

I have heard people say that it is well to commit your thoughts to a page. Of late I have many thoughts, and few people with whom to speak.

Sha’avel and I have not returned to the war front in Ashenvale yet.  I still have not found anyone who can construct a phylactery or a tracking device, though perhaps my new friend can help with that. He loaned me a book. It was a good book, but there were many parts that were not realistic. It was not like books my tutors bid me read, nor the ones which I was obliged to study; it was different and written strangely. He told me it was to read for fun. I’m not sure I understand what the purpose of that is, but I suppose it was nice.

The rabbit which was I gifted is very soft, and it makes my insides feel warm, though it does not like being cleaned or held too tightly. That is okay. I do not think I would like to have someone large hold me under water, either. And I do not like to be touched by strangers. Though it does not mind like I do; only dislikes when I hold too hard. I do not eat grass like it does. I think it is happy. I am not sure of me.

I have spent some time in libraries, reading as my masters bid me. I have not told them what I know of Sha’avel. He is my friend. It would be wrong to kill him.

I think I will check the bushes now to make sure there are no lurkers there. My new friend told me that sometimes people lurk in bushes, to spy and to kill each other. I will be wary.

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