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Archive for December, 2011

December 10

I’ve been- absent.

My duties, abandonned.

My friends and allies, left behind.

I needed to find what had become of him, of Edd, of the only blood relation I had left. I don’t know why this was the time, but…

Three weeks came and passed. The world did not end. My heart did not stop. I travelled the wilds with Gaell and Newt, finding hints of him, before uncovering him in

Arathi, of all places, why did it have to be Arathi?

My wandering feet wanted to lead me astray, but the demands of blood were stronger than those of nostalgia, and I was afraid of what I’d find. I should have been afraid of what I found, but I can’t bring myself to fear the curse as I likely should. The Light protects me, doesn’t it? I am guided by faith, by fire- what will be, will be. I am not afraid of dying, like I used to be. And the worgen curse is not something so frightful as it was before my Bastion days.

Edd, on the other hand, has always hated them. Hated what he sees as their betrayal, their cowardice, hiding behind the Wall when the Alliance had need of their strength. He was trying to route a trade caravan, I found. The family property is gone. His fortune is gone with it, but this job- if he could have done this job, the monetary possibilities might have enabled…

But that didn’t happen. A band of ferals caught them unawares. He was the only one left, and the curse has changed him. He drinks and raves, didn’t want me to see him like that, didn’t want–

I don’t know what he didn’t want. I don’t know how to fix him.

I’ve tried to keep quiet. I know the Bastion folk would want to help, but I don’t think it would be for the best- with how he hates Gilneans, with how vicious and angry and drunk he’s been, I don’t feel it would be wise to bring him back to civillization just yet.

Still. I’ve been back a few times myself. The world has not ended, but fate rests on only a slender strand. I close my eyes and see the things he showed me, the possibilities- the destruction. I will not mourn. It has happened a dozen times. I don’t know how much longer we have until that strand breaks and we all tumble down, straight to Hell’s belly. Eddrick’s curse and the liquor will mean nothing- only fire and brimstone. Only death.

Still.

Somehow, there is time for prayer. The meditation that once led only to fidgeting and frustration, calms me now. I speak to the dead. I mourn them, as I always have.

The puppet’s strings were cut. The false Strahm is no more, but Heliorn was lost in their fruitless, failed attack on the Apophan.

Heliorn spoke for me when no one would hear me. I wish they’d listened this time. But I have only ever been no one, a fool, a liability. Not someone who is heard.

I wonder if they’re listening now?

Strahm’s body was left behind. His betrayal is known, I doubt if the Apophan will find use for it now. If he comes back again, I won’t doubt myself this time. I won’t hide from him. I will find him and end him- the facsimile sullying the memory of the man I loved. I like to think that his spirit rests alongside Tara and Soren. That is where I pray for him, now that I no longer fear his face, his voice, come back to haunt me, to bring doubt to my convictions.

I have learned from this. There is no shame in my tears.

I look forward to seeing Lea again. Her training in druidic ways is progressing, as is her pregnancy. In the silence and loneliness of hunting for my brother, I’ve missed the idle chatter over the Bastion’s comms. I’ve missed Faeir, too- I worry for her. She lost Atra, who was as much a part of her as my hand is of me- more so, perhaps. And Diane- I haven’t seen her since I returned, though Faeir said she was fine. Nythaniel, strangely, with his curious, quiet, reticent ways. I wanted to show him how Gaell and I have found an accord. I’ve missed tea with Mahlar. I’ve missed walking in Stormwind, and in Elwynn. I’ve missed all the simple things.

I’ve missed Myk as well, but Thoran most of all. Myk is strong enough that I don’t worry much when I leave him behind. And it’s not that he’s not a capable father, but Thoran needs me, and it hurts not to have been there. Will he still know my face?

It’s silly, to waste time here in this crypt, surrounded only be dusty bones and dustier memories. It’s been well over six months since Barclay died. It’s been a year since I made my vows to Strahm on the Quel’Talan’s deck. It’s been a year since he was taken from me, and since we brought him back, but wrong.

It’s been a year since Deathwing shattered the world and destroyed much of everything as we know it. Since Heliorn led the expedition through Kalimdor, since I was removed from the Sigil, since

Why do I consort with memories. I’ve given too many hours to them this night.

Now is the time for life. I’m still alive. I don’t know for how much longer.

Myk needs me. Thoran needs me.

Duty can wait. It has for this long.

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