Aurelia's Golden Memories

1st Of November, a peaceful and cloudy autumn day.

Having just had a moment of spiritual reflection in the forest near the Shrine Of Valeska, Aurelia returns to her home, sits in front of the fire, and opens her precious journal. She has not written in it for some time; she notices her thoughts and feelings tend to be recorded on the same pages saved for her personal accomplishments. Does this perhaps say something about her, that she is unable to separate her sense of self and her feelings from her need to do great things, to make a contribution to the world? With quill and ink beside her, she begins to write, not of anything she's been able to accomplish, but of her feelings.

Tis something so strange and odd about sitting to write in this journal again. I had stopped recording my thoughts for a while, save for what I was doing with my days. I'm not so sure why. It may have something to do with knowing that whatever I write, my beloved Gales cannot read. These pages have always been to contain my heart, but now he is the one who has my heart, and I do not wish that heart to be divided. The books that have always been my friends and my comfort and my escape from a world that never quite understands, these have been replaced. I am loved, not just admired, and that is my escape now.

I have been trying, little by little, to become loved and admired or even have a sense of friendship with those here on Valesk. Tis a relief to live as my true self, yet people stare at my wings when they speak with me, both Elven and Human alike. A strange thing, to be ordinary, to have no one request anything of you or bow to you or have expectations that you should behave in a certain way. I imagined it would be freeing, but at times, it is desperately lonely. It is the story of my life that there should always be change; I know I shall live ten lives before my physical being departs this world, and perhaps none of them shall truly be ordinary. Except, though, for finding my beloved Gales, it is difficult to find a sense of belonging in this life. I feel caught in this unknown space of being part of everything and nothing all at once.

The Tari of this Isle, Emmaline, perhaps understands more than most. She has taken me in as a cousin in the traditional Elven fashion, and seems to regard me with respect though she owes me none. I was very surprised and honoured when she invited me into her group of Elven friends and confidantes, and said she was proud of me. Perhaps she knows it is not as easy to adapt, even with love in your heart every day, as many imagine. Perhaps she knows never speaking of your feelings is a great burden when you feel more than most. I very much like the Tari, as she has a sense of peace, and of humility. It is as if she is surprised she is deemed important, sometimes.

I have also met a human woman, Lady Elizabeth Mont-D'Or, who reminds me of those I had to leave behind in order to stay in Valesk. I know Gales does not much care for her; she is obviously wealthy, titled, outlandish in her dress and manner, and I can sense a darkness of spirit in her. Yet, I do not believe her to be evil, and one's moral code is a personal thing---where her money and influence come from should matter not to me. I know Gales does not wish to consider her a friend, but I do. Even if she is not of the purest motives and actions, is it not better to be friends with one with such influence than not? Kings and Queens and Emperors and Empresses are all over this world, and most are neither blessed nor evil, but just making the choices that need to be made for survival. Tis a difficult thing, to want power and lofty ideals. I have noticed those with such virtuous ideals often fall into power, and those who seek power are made to sacrifice those ideals. Neither is better than the other. I wonder that a human does not see this more clearly.

I do not believe the woman in the magic shop, a winged elf I take to be an Avariel but cannot be sure, has much faith in me. I have gone to her a few times in kindness and humility to ask if I might be of use to her, and if she might help me become more learned and understand my magical gifts in return. Yet, she always manages to never quite reply in straightforward fashion. And when I asked of her to know more of this group of friends she knows with magical powers, she became very closed in demeanour and brushed it aside lightly. I believe she does not find me intelligent or capable enough to be of use to her, or finds me to be weak. She is indeed very wrong. Not all are born knowing their place in the world, especially not when it keeps changing. I am stronger than most imagine, especially when they know little of me. There is a reason I keep guarded, though friendly. It seems few ever really see your heart or spirit correctly.

There is a human man, a hunter, I've met on the Isle by the name of Daval. I know little of him, except for a few days, everywhere I was, I would find him nearby. He always treats me respectfully, even with a bit of wonder. I have made it clear I am not a holy being, no priestess, nor even royalty anymore--yet he accords me great regard. The other night, I was in the tavern and distracted by a Fey'ri (they seem to be everywhere now, and the suspicious part of me wonders if this presence is why my visions do not come to me as they once did. ), and did not notice Elka and the shapeshifters wander into the tavern. Before I even learned of their presence, he had put himself and his shield in front of me, defending me as my own husband would---and did, once he learned I was in trouble. Gales was able to escape unharmed, and Elka froze my powers so I had little choice but to retreat, but poor Daval and Gerald the baker stayed and fought and fought when every mage and warrior around was no longer able. They both ended up in the infirmary, grievously wounded, but I am assured they will be alright. I hope to find Daval again, so I may properly thank him. Tis not often a stranger puts his life at risk to guard yours, and if it is in my power to help him in any way, I am in his debt.

The blight has ended; food is growing, there is hunting and gathering, and little by little, the merchant ships come back to us. Everyone celebrates for the worst is over, yet I don't believe that. The little voice inside me says no, and is suspicious of all, and will not be caught unawares by whatever the future holds. I do not know what it holds for me, nor for any of us, and long as my visions do not come to me as I used to, I shall continue to think something is foreboding. Either that, or I have indeed lost my special talents, and the woman in the magic shop who seems to think me not up to par--- is right.

Gales believes I worry too much. He cares not what I choose for myself and my life, nor if I am the most ordinary person in the world. He simply wants to love me and build a life with me. Should that perhaps be enough?

Tis, I am afraid, my own vanity that gets in the way sometimes.