A Bluejays Resolve

[someome 2053]

 

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He'd sit there on the small incline of Silk, beneath the elder tree above, toying with an old memento in his hands. It was weathered and old, made for a much shorter dwarf, as he once was. Something given to him years ago when he lived among the orcs, a plain walking staff. When his guide was completely stripped, before she began her descent into her end with new Circles and insane ramblings, when he offered to be his teacher but kindness beckoned him to keep following.

 

A lingering regret.

 

He'd heft himself up. To his left he'd see his daughter and fiance playing with Ianril, giving them a soft smile as he moved along. He'd lightly drag his fingers against the small Elder Tree, the only good thing Sister Briar managed to leave behind. He'd hear Cheza and the others laughing near the other rooms, as he lumbered up the stairs of the nook that led into the Under-grove, keeping the worn walking staff in hand, as he breached the day light. Aila and Haila perched on the walls together, and the chatter of a few in the Tavern.

Life teemed the small Grove, as he walked out of it.

His boots leaving defined prints as he progressed forward, traveling steadily, all the while humming an odd tune to himself, eventually coming up to an hilltop. He'd glance at the trees lining it, before shaking his head, digging his feet into the ground once more, making his way up, clawing with his hands at spots to pull himself forward, until he stood at the top, staring at the clear view of the landscape around him finally.

"I can never say sorry. But I can move forward."

He'd mutter, carefully embedding the aged staff into the soil. Embedding it halfway, his eyes blare out into a vibrant silver. He'd push soil around the base of the staff, as small green iridescent, wisps start to flicker off of his form, running his hand up the staff.

"You cared for me, and I tried my best and failed. I won't let this happen again."

The wisps start spilling off, a faerie mist swirling around the planted staff, engulfing it in its emerald storm, churning around it, maintaining the fierce swathe of healing, weaving it into the wood as he'd utter his small words to the staff, the closest he could ever get to him again.

"I helped your children come into be. And helped take you away from them."

He'd clench his hands shut, stepping back as a gust of wind took the mountains peak, scattering the mists, revealing the staff to have rooted into a small yew tree, barely beyond a sapling now, none of its carvings remaining as it burgeoned into a young, true tree again.

"But I will do my best to never disappoint you again. Or anyone else. You believed in me. So many did."

He'd not look in the direction of Silk, but another far off peak, dusting his hands off on his trousers. Tightening his robes up, he'd start to make his way down the mountainside, pausing for a tender moment to look back at the life he brought back.

"You said I had potential. I'll make sure to use it properly now.. I love you, Toren. I'll see you one day.."

And with that the Bluejay departed, heading off to Walk further elsewhere, find someone to help, someone to guide, people to teach. Anything. He had a ways to go, but he would repent and repay his dues. He would be something great again. Without Circles. Without the convoluted mess that had become the rest. He'd make things right. He'd find a way.

Cause Toren thought he could. He always did.


((It's delayed but. Here you go. Farewell Toren, and I love you @Sky))

[Guest]

Kairn bitterly stares into the abyss, his sight long gone in all but the mystical sense. "Irony," he comments to himself. "I start a war over the death of family, but I do nothing when a man I thought of as a son is killed. Truly, I have grown complacent... I hope he is somewhere better. I hope Belestram is right." 

[ImCookiie 1950]

"Failure. Failure. Apologies can only travel so far." A grieving child muttered bitterly, thin digits running within locks of auburn hair. A solemn visage lay unto a singular flower, then each petal momentarily— its growth symbolic to the mali'ame. "You will watch me grow. Maln will not. Do you believe that fair, llir?" 

 

 

[Zacho 2177]

A man wrapped in long robes of silver, in these times he had lost all emotions. "Death is something that chases all, but we all have the will to keep on running forever. When another takes a life, the one running is simply tripped and death takes them away. It is not always that another does it, some let death catch them. There will be those who trip others, but no one stops running. "The sage nods a single time and moves off, his silver eyes darting from place to place.

[ThumperJack 927]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.