grimmposting No More Memories

[simpleglitchbro 295]

Spoiler

 

 

In a room nestled just behind the tavern in Ironguard, a man simmers in his own thoughts. Not but a few days ago he was notified about a celebration held in his honor. Ever since reading that announcement, his head had been swirling with thoughts, but none stuck out more than a single term. Sauerblut. That word burned into his memories like a brand on his very soul. ‘Sour Blood’ was the meaning of the term. An old memory from a home and a time long gone, reduced to cinders. He-no, his entire family- Sauerbluts they called them. They were all nothing, their existence amounting to serving those who were more deserving to be called ‘people’. It boiled his blood to think back to this-to how he was treated, but back then he knew nothing else. Even today, having accomplished more than he ever could have possibly dreamed, the term still gripped him, like a voice constantly whispering in his ear.

 

The Halfaway-Sturmstrike suite was empty, save for Grimm. His wife, Kira, had gone on a trip to visit family, and the children-Regalis, Phennah, and Nox- were all out somewhere else at the moment. He was left to his own devices, to stew in a simmering pot of his own memories. And so he simmers.

 

He recalls the first day he entered Alisgrad, nothing but a starving, inexperienced kid, wandering into a new life with no more hope left to hold. He took what little money he had-all stolen while on the run- and was able to put his first few taxes down on a house. And there he was content to remain, a quiet recluse until the day he passed on. But…then something miraculous happened. A hand reached out to him, and a warm smile greeted his cold demeanor. The Vildrs saved his life, introduced him to a world he never could have imagined himself to have been a part of. Finally, once again, he had a family, and he came to cherish them as such.

 

With a heavy sigh, Grimm rises to his feet, the wood gently creaking under him as he steps out of the room, clutching a leather bound journal in his hands. He goes to the nearest fire, keeping a safe distance from it as he looks the book over, scarred fingers running over the cover, feeling the imperfections baked into its being. With one swift motion, he tosses the book into the fire. “No more memories. I found something to keep living for, something in the now, rather than then.” His gaze remains fixed on the journal, the fire reflecting and glaring off of the gemstone replacing his eye. “Mom, Dad…if I’m disappointing you…”

 

He pauses for a moment, watching the embers overtake the pages, passages and memories burning away to cinders, just like his home, like his family.

 

“...I’m done thinking about that.”