Harsh Reality: Losing Faith (Part 2)

What peace she had found, was not to last.

What memories she had experienced were to be buried in the sands of time, beneath private grief and unshed tears. What trust she had in the bonds that held two together, was to be scattered to the wind. Apparently, only death had the power to bring souls together for eternity and she seemed to excell at dealing that out.

'..how many lost now, Nymaya..?'

She could not weep for another lost to her though, for surely he was. She had made that oath to herself upon the eve that she had learned of Laegard's death. Cold determination and a deep profound bitterness would hold her to that.

She could feel the weight shift upon her soul as she watched Delabriel sleep, her features peaceful, beautiful...bearing his likeness. It was as if she looked upon a piece of her husband's soul, and all it did was taint the purity of her joy at this creation of love, with sorrow.

This child would grow without a father..

She slammed the door on that and shut it out, shut it all out, but it forced her from the side of her daughter and out into the cold night.

Breath misting in the air, she lifted her head back and looked to the starry night sky as if some answer could be found there. She was not surprised, of course, when nothing was forthcoming. The Goddess Taliena had given her an answer long ago. Why now did it hold no comfort to remember?

No, comfort was not to be had, only the deep welling of loss.

She had to smirk then and her dark eyed gaze turned upon the statue of Taliena, encircled within the loving arms of Austinian, the water of the fountain bubbling softly around them in the still night air.

"Where is your guidance now." She whispered hoarsely, the smirk fading from her lips, leaving only a barren look of bitterness in her gaze and then she left, leaving her daughter within the care of a sleeping Krysadis.

She had other matters she needed to consider and that was not getting done here.

Harsh Reality: Two Years, Two Days (Part 1)

The child slept peacefully, a tiny thing in her arms as she looked down upon the resting form, absently reflecting that she certainly hadn't felt tiny on the way out.

It stole a warm smile across her lips that was bourne of relief and love. Two days to bear this child; two years to see her formed and yet it had felt like an eternity. Ironic, really, that thought.

The streaming sunlight in the room became a gentle distraction from her musings and she turned her head from the life within her arms to look outside. The rounded window was regretably far from her but just being able to see that sunlight, watching it creep towards her with the ponderously slow movement of the sun within the sky, comforted her. This was nothing like to her first terrifying pregnancy and she was determined to treasure the moments.

A solitary bird fluttered by, pausing to perch upon the outer sill before it went on with its business. A butterfly soon after and then there was nothing to see but the harsh reflection of sun upon glass.

Oddly enough, Krysadis chose that moment to enter the room, her movements light and soundless. She was smiling gently, a very palpable joy in her gaze but she seemed unable to hide that spark of sorrow that Nymaya had noticed on more than a few occasions.

The sorrow of her own losses perhaps, of all the dreams and hopes she had once dared to believe in, lost within the ashes of time.

Nymaya dared to believe that this elf of such depth and age shared a small piece of something with her now but even as she watched Krysadis walk to the window, her movements fluid as she leaned over the desk to open it, she felt another piece of herself turn away from that idea and fall back into the shadows within. She could not afford such a thing. It was beyond her now.

Her dark brooding was apruptly dismissed as her daughter shifted in her sleep, the movement so gentle and light, her soft sleepy sound delicate to hear. It brought Nymaya's gaze down just as Krysadis was finishing with the window and that same warm smile spread over her lips and through her sore body.

Lifting her free arm which had been resting gently around her daughter, she carefully smoothed back the soft yellow blanket that had been wrapped around her and passed the pad of her thumb very lightly over the small sparkle of silver that was quickly becoming apparent over the right eye, earning a tiny frown in response.

A breath of a chuckle escaped her lips and Nymaya shook her head slightly and ran her hand gently over the the soft down of her daughters hair, already showing black strands amongst the nearly translucent silver.

"Like to your fathers." she whispered on a breath, her silver hair shifting over the pillows at her back and over her arm, "At least he will remain with us through you now as well."

Spiders!

Most people who know me, know also that I have this...'thing' about spiders. I really can handle the visible ones, its just the few that sneak up on me that make me scream like a, well...a girl!

But yes, spiders. I have discovered a new sort of thing to fear about these eight-legged horrors and I get to thank my little girl for this one. Being only a year of age, she really doesn't have any irrational fear of these diminutive arachnids and finds them absolutely fascinating! Good for her, doubly bad for me.

So this tale begins with mommy sitting at her computer, quite ignorantly typing away at her latest story, oblivious to what might possibly have her baby's attention so enthralled right(!) beside her. I'm obviously not worried either because my little girl is right beside me, which means I can grab at her quickly if I think she's getting into something she shouldn't, but at this particular place and time, I know there's nothing nearby for her to mess up. So I'm typing, typing and eventually, I glance over just in time to see her pull a leg off of a rather anguished daddy long-leg and - stick it in her mouth!!!!

I think a horrified expression crossed my face, which actually stopped my baby girl and made her stare at me as if I were insane. I then jumped up from the computer chair, danced around for a moment trying to decide if I could work up the nerve to pull the unfortunate little arachnid from my child's hands or just run away gagging. Anyway, after releasing a small squeal, I garnered the attention of my husband in the back of the house and he made his suspicious way out into the kitchen to come to my rescue.

I should like to say that my baby girl derived a great deal of amusement from this whole ordeal though she certainly did look at me strangely. Unfortunately, the little spider-fiend now has me worrying about the next arachnid she might get her hands on. I guess I'm just glad that it was a considerably harmless spider.

Much to my relief, by the end of this debacle, the unfortunate spider died of natural(?) causes and had to be flushed.

Shadows and Premonitions

*In the span of a night, the twisted ghost of a time long past resurfaces to haunt an aging Shadowknight. Unable to reclaim the aged Shadowknight's services, it turns its attention to one of his sons and a long loyal comrade by name of Reklah Kayen. The short tale below is Reklah's elven wife, Nymaya Kayen, waking even as he confronts a ghostly messenger bearing a dark portent in the very hallways of their sprawling estate.*

Darkness still reigned when she opened her eyes, aware that something had awoken her. Slivers of moonlight pierced through the heavy drapery that concealed the tall windows in the bedroom, but it was more than enough for her to see clearly by. There was an oppressive weight to the air that tasted slightly metallic and bore the heavy industrial scent of Verminasia. It sat heavily upon her as she lifted her gaze to note that the other side of the bed had been vacated.

Feeling edgy, she slowly slipped from the bed while pulling one of the dusky silken sheets to wrap around her body and padded silently to the window. Moonlight was abundant as she parted the drapes to gaze outside though it was yellowed by the heavy air and a hazy murk was drifting aimlessly along the ground, obscuring the green grass and making monsters of the trees.

It might have been the silence itself, but a prickly sensation rippled down her spine and she turned away from the window to move back across the room, noting that the door stood slightly ajar. She could think of a few reasons that might have spurred Reklah to wake in the night, but she was curious and more than a little cautious, so she returned to her effects and took up her blade. It gave a subtle hiss as she pulled it from its sheath, gleaming a soft blue in the darkness. Thusly armed, she held the dusky silk firmly to her chest and made her quiet way out into the hall.

The granite floor was cold beneath her bare feet but with each taciturn step she took, she felt her slight unease increase. There were too many rooms in this place, she thought quietly to herself as she passed the numerous closed doors, but before long she found herself closing on the junction of the stairwell and it was in the shadows of the hallway that she stopped to see what had been causing her unease.

Reklah stood there, staring at the pretense of a cloaked man who had obviously been trespassing. What fool would trespass on their property? A frown touched her brow and her hand tightened slowly upon the wrapped hilt of the blade that she held down at her side, concealing its soft shimmer within the folds of silk that trailed down her sides and out behind her. She had the urge to go out to him, but something more made her pause. It was in that moment that she felt, rather than saw, the gaze of the trespasser settle upon her. Reklah turned as well to spy her in the shadows of the hallway and in the resulting moment the cloaked figure dispersed into the shadows with a lingering hiss.

Unnerved but not surprised, she remained where she was for a beat or two and then stepped out into the faint moonlight that the large overhead window provided, allowing her blade to slip free of the concealing silk, her gaze settled firmly upon Reklah as she muttered in a soft tone.

"Never a dull moment in our lives"

Absence

Absence. It has great meaning to me; granted, I was inspired to use it as I haven't been posting or viewing lately, but where the word stands with me can be separated into different aspects.

I'd like to say that I've had a lot on my plate lately, but that's not entirely true if you discount that I am a mom all the time. I've just been focused on other things and 'feeling' weighed down. I get that feeling a lot unfortunately, which brings me to another aspect of 'absense'.

There are a great many things absent from my life but some, more than others, get to me on a regular basis. Five years ago, when I made the big trip from Canada to Nebraska, it was like suddenly being free. I recall taking in deep breaths of this fresh country air and knowing immediately that it was for me. I was more than happy to be separated from my family and all of their emotional baggage and the people I stayed with were also more than happy to let me do my own thing. Having a child though has put things into perspective.

I miss my mother and my father. I regret that they cannot be near to watch their first grandchild grow - but almost more than that, I miss the support. They might be only a phone call or an email away but there is a lacking there that I feel at least twice a day. My mom raised six children and my father knows how to fix or handle just about any problem that could possible crop up and right now, I know that I could benefit immensely from their experience. Its times like these that have me fervrently wishing that all my friends didn't live so far away, that I knew how to talk to them about myself without feeling awkward, and so on.

Absence though. Yes. The absence of knowledge concerning how to fix a backed-up pipe, thus resulting in numerous calls to a plumber who has taken nearly a month to semi-fix said problem. The absence of knowledge concerning how to fix a broken A/C unit that not only cools the area but squeels fiercely when turned on (think of nails scratching over chalkboard).

I'm reminded of a moment this morning, after a brief (and rare) outing with the little one, that we nearly ran over a black cat running across the street and turning to my husband I asked; "Do you think we'll have bad luck now?"

To which he responded (semi-jokingly); "Are you kidding? We already have that. You know the saying 'if it weren't for bad luck, you'd have no luck at all'?"

I jokingly replied that its possible the cat negated our natural bad luck but was quietly hoping that it had.

There are a few more 'absences' in my life, but I think I've outlined the ones frustrating me the most lately.

Extinguished Flame

This story is along the same lines as the one below; Barren Memories. The haunting loss of beloved Linot.

A sharp flicker of the candle's flame drew her gaze from the couch she found herself lounging upon and then slowly toward the balcony door that stood cracked open, though it was mostly concealed by lacy white drapery, so thin that even the faintest breeze stirred the fabric.

Moonlight filtered in through the drapery and with it, she felt again the stirring of the breeze. The candle flickered gently a second time and quite suddenly, went out. Alert now, she nonetheless remained where she was, though covertly slipped her hand down the other side of the couch's arm to wrap her fingers around the hilt of a sheathed blade. She always kept it with her and was always glad that she had.

Nothing moved in the moonlit darkness as her gaze swept the room slowly. That is, nothing but the white drapery, which again drew her sight. She became aware of a gentle, smokey scent as she stared at the balcony door, and knew it as the extinguished flame of the candle. Moments passed and nothing more happened, though it was apparent that the wind was picking up.

She couldn't relax though and feeling a nervous energy inundate her, she slowly stood up with blade in hand and moved toward the candle. The eerie sound of wind whistling softly outside the balcony came to her ears as she took a brief moment to re-light the candle...only to have it wisp out on her again suddenly.

An uncomfortable tingle touched the back of her neck then and, gripping the hilt of her blade harder, she released a slow breath and turned around. What greeted her sight in the balcony doorway, shrouded by the white drapery that rose and fell in a continuous dance, stole her breath and tightened her chest with a horrible sensation.

"Linot?" She whispered hoarsely, unable to wrap her mind around the moment.

As if in answer, the ghostly figure lifted a hand and pointed at her. An inhuman sound followed, one of such sorrow that she felt her heart constrict painfully and then, as suddenly as the candle's flame had gone out, so too did the ghostly being disperse - leaving behind only the echo of its loss.

~

Nymaya's eyes snapped open and she sucked in a sharp breath even as she sat bolt upright upon the couch. It was still night though there was no moonlight and the balcony door was closed. She was, nonetheless, grasping the hilt of her blade and a light smokey scent turned her gaze to see that the candle's flame had gone out.

Tales from the Past

I realize that there may be readers who don't know the full scope of the character I'll be writing about here but hopefully, and in time, I'll find a way to better describe who she is and what she and her lost loved ones mean as I forge onward with tales from her past. This is just one short story from the perspective of the exiled elf, Nymaya.

Barren Memories

There was a barren aspect to everything as her footsteps moved with
silent care along the faint etchings of a pathway that had once
been lined with small white flowers and stones. The wind sang a
mournful tune through the long grass, the weeds that had long ago
overtaken the beautiful gardens and the simple wooden swing that hung
by threads now, creaking softly in the wind's cradling grasp.

It was eerie, and so very painful.

...what is mortal will, when set against the divine...

Dry leaves lifted and spun in gentle circles as she stopped at a
junction of paths that had so long been overrun with flora. One path
lead toward the decrepit swing and the heavy limbs of the old Vallenwood.
The other path lead toward the now overgrown fountain, which was but a
shadow of the coral white it had been. The roses she had planted to honor
it centuries ago, now choked what was left. Fitting, she thought bitterly,
and found her gaze turning away to look at the simple bench that sat off
to the side.

...like a grain of sand in the desert
trying to change the desert around it...

The words - her words - whispered back to her from a different time, a
different person. She closed her eyes, truly feeling the pangs of loss
grip her heart for the first time.

...the path is there, for the sand is what makes it
it exists not for the sand to trod on, but instead be trod upon...

Desert references. She shook her head at the irony in the statements as
she and Linot had bandied words here, in the presence of Alinashya.

"So long ago." She whispered, echos of past frustrations and enduring pain
within.

She leaned down to gently brush her fingers over the weathered bench,
wanting with all her soul to simply break it, as if doing so might erase
the memory and the pain it brought on.

Linot was dead. Why was Linot dead?

Ahead of the Game

Ok, so I've gotten a bit ahead of myself.

Writing is my field - always has been and I daresay, always will be. Its a torment and an expressive blessing (emphasis on 'expressive')! I can never seem to get enough out and yet, I feel woefully lost among the continuous budding thoughts in my rather overactive imagination.

I'm very slowly coming out of a 'writer's block' that I've suffered for quite some time though I can still say that I'm lacking a necessary vision for wide-scale stories, except where they concern specific [MUD] characters that I've been focused on for years. Odd development, that.

However! this is my first blog - ever. Many thanks to Owl and Karinthadillo for inspiring me to create one and I hope to regale readers with the wide berth of my imagination...when the spark hits!

Nymaya's Poem

This poem was inspired for and by a character I've been playing for a long time now. Enjoy!

Black Widow

In the dawn I awake, to a new day.
What have I done? What do I say?

Am I to despair, in the ever lasting dark
What is left for me, but an empty heart

In pain I writhe, my soul condemned.
Is nothing in this world, made to mend?

My past is a vortex of sorrow and loss;
my life has been, naught but a cross.

To bear upon my shoulders, is this weight;
alone am I, to bear this fate.

Look to me now, no more with faith,
for bitterness is all that's left to taste.

Death shall find you, in my grasp.
So leave me be, to wear my mask.

In the dusk now, I will await,
the coming of my, inevitable fate.