[PK] Keep Your Dreams Simple

[Draiden 319]

Keep Your Dreams Simple

 

"I've survived so much worse. I can't die here. Not like this."

 

    Jager noticed about a year or so ago that he was slowly dying - At first it was just fatigue. Then it was his poor appetite. He had been able to cover that up well enough - denying his deteriorating health and masking those symptoms with quartz powder… Then he started coughing up blood. Everyone noticed almost right away. After that, quartz wouldn’t give him energy anymore. He’d lost his appetite altogether. He could hardly breathe at night, leading to countless hours of sleep lost. At first, he tried to play it off, and that everything was fine… but he wasn’t fooling anyone. Everyone knew right away that Jager was a dead man walking. After much resistance, he’d finally given in to hospitality - staying in his clanhall vice the outdoors of his Barrel Court. He let his family make for him odd poultices and herbal teas to calm his chords. They soothed the hurt, but it didn’t stop anything. His time was rapidly running out.

 

    After his body laid on that bed, he found it harder and harder to leave it - eventually resigning to stay in his room all days. Day by day in that room, his conditioned worsened quicker than he’d seen when he was still up and about. He knew that would happen. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Not anymore. Not ever… But that was just his thoughts getting the better of him when he was alone. Those dark thoughts that perhaps he had made irreversible mistakes in this life, and there was no hope of redemption. Thoughts that his illness was punishment from the Father for leaving his flamebrand in a doomed world to come to this new one. Those thoughts eventually subsided, though. He felt he’d done better.

 

    To think of all the times an errant slip of a blade, a quarter inch of difference in placement, a slightly different angle of view, could have brought his life to what most would call a fitting end to die in combat just… didn’t happen. Why didn’t it happen? He always figured he couldn’t die there. Every time he felt as though he had to stay alive for something. Someone needed him to live, and he was gonna ******* do it. And he did, for as many times as his life was tested up until that point. But he was out of people to fight. He was out of reason to persist. They’d fought off the Inferi, they’d landed in the new world. Every one was safe and sound, his children were grown, and his body decided it’d had enough.And now here he laid in his bed, staring at his feet covered with heavy furs and blankets. His body would be withered and emaciated, and he could only guess what his face looked like, haggard and worn with shallow cheeks and dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His breathing was coming in with great effort, and oft followed by horrid hacking coughs that put flecks of blood onto his blankets and sheets. He’d think he wasn’t a great man of his time - great men didn’t die in their beds from illness

 

    He had a few final thoughts before his last breath escaped his lips. He did his best, maybe more than his best. He made sure that whenever folk needed him, he was there. By some, it was a damn sight better than his own father did for him - or for anyone for that matter. He made sure that those who needed guidance were guided. He fought the evils that came to his doorstep - Beowulf, voidal magi, cultists, harpies, Inferi and all the other horrid things he couldn’t put a name to. Maybe he was kept alive all these years because he still had a job to do. Maybe he was dying now because he finally finished his job.

 

Jager had done his duty. He’d done it better than most. He spread his flame - not only would he be survived by his three children and two grandchildren, but all of the Keepers, Initiates, Hearth Brothers and Sisters that he had mentored, the young orphaned children of Norland he’d acted as surrogate father to, and all the others whose lives he’d touched. He’d certainly suffered not those unworthy - even to his detriment. Even to his death. He thought about this, gingerly touching the scarring on his neck where a dagger and fire has made their mark. Time and time again he had cheated death fighting what he thought was the good fight - and his survival only implied that it was the good fight, and that he was righteous in the Father’s cause. He killed as many agents of the darkness as any of his colleagues and compatriots could boast, and he did it without loss of limb or loss of life. He was still alive, and he was whole. He supposed one could either say one of two things about that - That he just got lucky several times, or that he was one of the best monster hunters that’d ever lived.

 

“... ****.”

 

The following missives would be found within the Barrel Throne, stuffed amid empty bottles of liquor and other random things. They seem to be goodbye letters addressed to several people in no particular order.

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Reader,

If you’re reading this, either I died or you killed me. All I ask is that my stuff goes to Tavish including stewardship of my alley, and that these letters get delivered to the appropriate people. Thanks.

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Tavish,

You’re a good kid. Don’t be a bastard. Love you.

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Sylvia

No ******* magic. I mean it. Love you.

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Lilliana

Don’t be weird. Love you.

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Alisa

Hopefully you can find someone as devout as me who’s just as much if not more of an ******* to fill my spot. Otherwise cookie faith is gonna crumble. Remember all the proverbs I hammered into your head and you’ll do fine. Love you.

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Olaf,

I know you can walk, *******. If you show up in the afterlife in that goddamned wheelchair I’m breaking it over your ******* head.

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Halvar

The one time you blatantly didn’t listen to me, I was wrong. Good on you. Remember my rules, and everything will be fine.

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Indoren Cousins

For the love of all things sacred please don’t stab everyone to death in their sleep one night… Because I had a nightmare about that at least a dozen times in my life. You’re both cuties.

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Ancelie

Tell Solomon I’m the better dad. Just once. Just to **** with him. Please. 🙂

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Fiil’Yar

You’re a stubborn ***** who is confused and misguided, but your heart is in the right place. Just keep your promise.

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Druids (Solomon, Elenora, Ithuriel, Chika, etc.)

Thanks for making the last few years of my life a little more enjoyable. Don’t be weird.

-J

P.S. Don’t touch my ******* tree.

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Dramyr,

I’ve only known you for like two days. Just know your Pop-pop owes me money and by the Father I’m coming to collect. Keep being you, little bro.

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Eugeo,

It seems like only yesterday I was almost burning your ******* face off in Darrowmere for hiding mages from me, and now look at you - a lord. I feel you learned from what I did, and I genuinely hope there’s no hard feelings.

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Aisling,

You’ve got a lot on your shoulders. You actually need to stop ******* around and either nut up or shut up or you’re going to ******* lose everything.

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

Dear Umbra,

You have a fiance. Learn to be happy without me and Chadmyr. Please.

-J

 

 

Spoiler

 

To Everyone who didn’t get a Letter,

I either didn’t know you well enough or I felt like you didn’t need any more words of advice from me. You all know what’s required of you. Do your duties, stick to your principles, and the Father will see you though

-J

 

 

[AstriaS 3683]

The High Keeper read over the note she got in silence, struggling to find the words to express her feelings on the matter.

Sylvia Camian would not be seen outside for at least a month following the news of her father's passing. However, those passing by the Camian household would likely be greeted by the sounds of mournful weeping and shattering glass.

 

Velsyni Indoren pondered over the letter she'd received. "I don't stab people... I- Wait does this mean one of the only Norlanders that actually bought jewelry is gone? Dammit, that's half my business gone!"

[Orlanth 3525]

Just now, AstriaS said:

Velsyni Indoren pondered over the letter she'd received. "I don't stab people... I- Wait does this mean one of the only Norlanders that actually bought jewelry is gone? Dammit, that's half my business gone!"

Diomé Indoren turns to his cousin, reading the letter over her shoulder. "That's probably addressed more towards me..."

[sarahbarah 5008]

Ancelie sat at her desk, gazing down at the missive with teary eyes. She clutches the note to her chest, lowering her head as she wept- grieving one of the few people that she had viewed as a parental figure in her life. With a few shaky breaths, she composed herself, mustering the words, "All-Father guide ye, Jager."

[Askuzai 492]

Dramyr frowns beneath his mask when he got a letter. One of the only few interactions within that two day window was him throwing a snowball at the man. "aw man, this sucks. He had such a great Krugsmas story too." And all he could do the rest of that day was sit and think, and daydream of the times that could have been or had been before. 

 

Chadmyr looks to Jager on the mans entrance into the Allfather's hall way up there where the Fathers faithful end up after death. "Welcome Brother!" he said with a happy grin, but it was a grin that had faded quite quickly on being informed of the bet. "****!"

[Suicidium 1295]

Within the fields of flaxen wheat stretching across the Elysium Valley, a particular figure shed a tear its pier. In his hand, held a missive that he released into the water, his own person finding it to be a bombshell revelation in itself. He expected the man to have many more years to live, and for them to have properly spoke as friends, for him to have known, that Eugeo never held contempt for his person, that the lessons of that fateful day were emblazoned into his mind. Years into his rule as Lord of Elysium,  and there was no mages in hiding for him to be concerned of, with the town continuing in its festive grind preparing for the height of revelry in winter. 

His thoughts drifted heavily, swirling around Jager as he would muse, going to pop open one of his last bottles of Camian Fire Mead and drank himself alone on the edge of the pier, staring onto the misty shores and the distant lights of Varhelm as he would echo into the lake, to nobody in particular. 

" You were a good ******* man " 

[SophiaTsu 185]

Alli Ambrose Freysson shook her head as one of her sons made her aware of the tragedy. "Aye, I heard af him. Uh man who did his job." She nodded firmly to herself, slowly rising from her chair at the table. Once her bones had creaked to a stand, she hesitated. "I wonde' ef Olaf knows. An' I wonde' how Jage' knew how agile he is."

[Waibiao 372]

Waibiao lights an incense to honor the fallen man.

[Valannor 6345]

Somewhere, within the far reaches of the north,  would sigh softly. An ethereal crow, perched atop her pauldron, would idly pick at the worn and tattered robes she donned. When news of the Luminary's death reached her, a low growl would rumble from her throat, pale white flames licking at the edges of her vision, as images of fiery figures danced about the periphery of her gaze.

 

"Let us hope that you may find some measure of happiness in the Father's halls, Luminary Faretto. You deserved better than what you received." She'd mutter, glimpses of her past with the aged man flashing through her mind. The soft glow of her flamebrand, pallid and moonlit, would illuminate the frosted, snowed-in cave she had found herself in, though it would do little to comfort her rattled mental state. 

 

And so, another flame fades. 

[HazelWazel 447]

Elenora Zytiaear sits within her house at the Druidic Grove, her glowing eyes casted over the writing carefully- examining them as if there was something hidden within the wording, another meaning she had perhaps not noticed right away. She would be silent for a few moments, before she rests into the blanket they never truly returned to Solomon. She laughs then to herself, folding the parchment carefully trice. Pressing a small kiss to it's back, her eyes flutter close and her body relaxes against the soft fur.

"Your path was set.. as is mine. I only wish I could have told you what your actions had done. Perhaps in another life.. Yes. Perhaps."

The druidess shakes her head with a sad smile, knowing that where ever Jager is, he is finally at peace.

[Fie 2519]

Thea scoffed from the afterlife upon hearing that the man she resented oh-so much had passed away. A simple word escaped the woman regarding that matter. It was; "Good."

[rukio 8910]

Edyth Capulei would double take upon seeing the vaguely familiar form of the boy she had known while growing up. With a soft smile she dips her head to him. Memories beneath the Ash Tree, reading together, of their differing views and values within the Faith. Then memories of the last time she had seen him, that fateful day within the Haense masquerade where he had declared his love. She says nothing, however, as old cordiality had shifted to stiffened formality. Here, however, in the afterlife, unbound by the laws of the mortal plane, she brings forth a copy of her favorite book, Colored Kingdoms, simply slipping it into the hands of the now elderly man.

 

Perhaps this gesture was one of good will, remembrance of the books they would share in youth. Perhaps it was an attempt to make amends for her own choices in life, by way of explanation via story. Either way, the forever young Ruric then turned her attention once more to her husband, Aedan and her father, Edvard. 

Edited December 23, 2020 by rukio
Edit: Decided two paragraphs