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Acceptance


ThatFunkyBunch
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Acceptance

 

 

 

 

 

Flames licked at cold air is tucked away hollows beneath the surface. Far from the grief struck lands of Arcas. Out of sight, and out of mind live peaceful souls. A reminder of days for much simpler times. Wars waged across the land do little for the Mali’ker Daichia Jusmia. With no interested within either side of the fence. Days are spent within a heated forge, the hammer still ringing upon tall ears when laid to sleep upon soft pillows. 

 

What else can one do, but ensure that their own ilk and friends have chance to prosper. Though those that Daichia felt should be within these hollows were lacking. Forgotten faces, to far gone in desperate hazes or passed on to planes not of this world sent the dark skinned elf on sleepless days filled with ivory smoke of green bud. But with each passing day, forgetting forgiving, and acceptance come ever closer to passing. 

 

”Mourn not those that do harm to them selves. There is no pity for the self inflected.” 

 

A motto the ‘ker father had spoken to him at a young age, when Daichia’s hands were barely even rough from the handling of the wooden hilted axe. Chopping small logs for a remote village tucked away by the snows of southern Atlas. Growing quickly with basic need to survive. Hours spent laying in wait for trace of warm edible meat. To draw back a bow, and let loose that arrow. Not out of fear, anger. But the simple compulsive desire to survive. Even if it means the suffering of another creature. 

 

As the days turn to weeks, and weeks to months. Soon shall years pass. But shall live Daichia. The matters of golden crowns, ancient hatreds having no place in his heart. In matters of pale skins, and aggression. Be it passive, verbal, psychological, and physical.  These days, Daichia turned to matters of the mind. Needless murder, un-warranted wars. The cries of children of both sides, orphan by crusading land lords who claim to inspire those beneath them to lay lie and home upon the line. 

 

But with each night, thoughts of these matters drift farther away. And desire to gleam further are stunted, as looking to hollow rage filled eyes only brings forth their anger upon yourself. Daichia Jusmia was content, to live a peaceful life. Concerns fading with pleasant memories of close friends.  

 

 

Edited by FunkyBunch101
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