Archive Posted January 30, 2003 Report Posted January 30, 2003 Yui Temae Visitor Posts: 2 (7/5/01 1:01:20 pm) Reply In the Pregnant Hours of the Night -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My beloved Aegon, In the pregnant hours of the night, when dawn lurks just over the horizon yet too far to be sensed, the silence always lays thick over the grounds of the castle. I suppose that, in my mind, it is like a fog, an invisible mist that deadens the senses in consideration of those who are asleep. As usual, of course, I am not one of them, and the silences serves only to chill me. My restless mind refuses to quiet, refuses to let go of the thoughts and memories that are its sustenance, leaving me sitting here in this window casement, writing a letter to you. Most likely, it is a letter you will never even see, but still it keeps my questing consciousness occupied at a time when I suspect that idleness would drive me mad. Sometimes, I wonder that I have not already reached that point, so loud are the imps that tumble through my brain. Some would call them muses, spirits of inspiration, but when my body is weary and still they will not be still, I cannot give them the honour of such a title. Imps, instead. Pesky little creatures full of voice and mischief and impossible to silence. Were they not figments of my own mind, these innocent beasts that haunt my nights would be enough to awaken the Darksoul. ... strange. All it takes is the thought of her existence to feel that slightest stir of her influence. Ebon Frost was always a powerful presence, and in those first days, when we fought constantly for dominance over our shared being, she came very, very close to being more powerful than I. I remember those days, still, with the clarity reserved for events that change your life and essence. Justifiably so, for I am far different from the scared, young assassin who first entered the Tavern of Old. My mind’s eye draws the image of those moments so vividly that I fear words cannot do justice to the truth. I can still feel the amused curiosity I felt when Lord Snoop brought his vial of evil essence to prove that it had been removed from his soul. I laughed at his childish exuberance and the way he showed it off as if it were a new toy. The fond warmth of the moment was only increased when Lord Shivan smiled and joked with the salamander-morphed Snoop, engaging in the banter that they used to show their familial love for each other. I remember what joy I took from that thinly-veiled affection between them and the slight tinge of jealousy that accompanied it. The fascination rings clear in my memory when I held Snoop’s vial of darkness, accompanied soon after by the burning pain of the accidental slice from his too-large Mythril blade. I remember watching the waters of the lake tinge just slightly red with my blood as I washed the thin wound clean, distracted by my thoughts from the realization that I still held the vial in my hand, that the liquid mirror below me was darkening. To this day, I know not how that vial came open, whether by accident or malicious design. All I know is that the essence of darkness from Lord Snoop’s soul found its way into my body from that insignificant wound. And from that moment, I was never again the same… My memories become unclear at this point, a part of the delirium of impregnation. It is not until I lay on the floor, cradled in my dear friend Shivan’s arms, that I was once again aware of myself. I am told that Lord Snoop used his magic to draw the poisonous mass of darkness from my body, though the cost to him was that it once again took its natural place in his. I suppose, given his sacrifice, that it is especially tragic that he was too late to prevent the Darksoul birth that had taken place within me, the creation of an evil consciousness that is as much a part of my being as the light that those who know me have seen. Ebon Frost. Now you know how she came about, my love, this dark, angry self that you have seen in me on the rare occasion. The struggle that ensued for control, and the people whom she tried to hurt in the process, is a story best left for another night, another time when my demons will not rest. For now, though, the gift of words seeks to abandon me, and I find I do not wish to express myself in that way any longer. Instead, I am drawn to another means. Let us both hope that my inspiration is accompanied by passable skill… … the sun has just risen, my love, and I can hear the soft sounds of the castle staff awakening. My muse has finally left me with peace, and I find that my eyes are weighted with what can only be pure, dense gold. I must sleep, now. I look so forward to when you will return from your diplomatic mission to the Circle, for I miss your presence in my day and the soft sound of your sleeping breath in my night. If you wish to know with what I filled those candlemarks between the expectant darkness of the night and the joyous birth of the morning, I have included the poor exercise in this letter. I hope that it will draw for you the moment that my words could not. All of my infinite love, @-/--- Yui
Archive Posted January 30, 2003 Author Report Posted January 30, 2003 Yui Temae Visitor Posts: 3 (7/5/01 1:01:56 pm) Reply Re: In the Pregnant Hours of the Night -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ((The first of two stories which comprise my petition to be granted the title of Quill Bearer. In addition, this will be my entry into Wyvern's contest, including the rather poor, old sketch I have linked. I hope it pleases the members. ))
Recommended Posts