Because a Pissed-Off Drow Told Me To
Jul 21, 2015 9:18:10 GMT -8
Lιттle Ƭree (Cedar Ashland) and Cailean like this
Post by Aranel Ondolina on Jul 21, 2015 9:18:10 GMT -8
Entry 1 -
The Damn Drow shoved this in my hand and ordered me to write in it because I owed her.
I did nearly get her killed.
... I guess that's fair.
Not that I'm fond of freezing in the middle of a fight, either. If I get myself killed she won't be bringing me back - or not as anything pleasant, at least. I don't know how writing in this bloody thing will 'fix' me but at the least it will placate her and one does not piss off a drow further than one must.
I am out of practice, but she is still eyeing me like she might change her mind and repay me for the wounds she sustained on my behalf. Very well.
Aranel Ondolina
I do not care to count my age or the years, thank you.
Nor do I care for the titles, broken and useless, that once belonged to me. Only out of practicality to I keep the name, though even then I have others to use at convenience, naturally.
[here some rambling lines are marked out, the watchful drow apparently having allowed her to stop.]
Entry 3 - At Sea
At sea the moon is unbearably large. Watchful. Overfull. Had I known, I would have scheduled our voyage to leave a few weeks later, to catch [the word 'Her' is scratched out] it waning.
Not that it is of any consequence to me.
It is simply annoying when one is trying to sleep. Or meditate.
Entry, a week later
If I were of a suspicious mind, I would say the moon has not waned this past week. Not a sliver.
The hours have never moved slower than they do under that pale gaze.
Damn her.
Entry, Five weeks after setting sail..
She has begun to shrink... but by such small strides I do not believe it should be considered progress.
Does she want to torture me? Does she think that somehow this meaningless display of power will win me to her side, when she lifted not a hair on her luminous head to save me at my weakest?
Perhaps it is only in my imagining. The sailors remark on nothing odd. Perhaps it is true - but only for her former child, now wayward.
Perhaps it is she who sends the dreams as well.
If it is - damn her twice over. I need no reminding of all she stripped from me. I had joy and love. It was her own - [here, apparently, the writer got too emotional for several words are blotted out. The entry begins again on another page.]
Perhaps she is trying to woo me back - or perhaps it is nothing. Either way it is vain, folly. As substantial as her own rays. Flashy, but holding no weight. She will regret taunting me so.
Week 6 -
Damn that captain for his slowness. If it wouldn't give her immense satisfaction - and raise all kinds of suspicion on this island - I'd let Iymae repay him. I suspect he has kept us an extra week at sea, as does she. I would be more angry if the moon's gaze wasn't quite so intense here. The last week it has faded to tolerable levels. Tomorrow we land and will be free of this miserable piece of kindling at last.
The Damn Drow shoved this in my hand and ordered me to write in it because I owed her.
I did nearly get her killed.
... I guess that's fair.
Not that I'm fond of freezing in the middle of a fight, either. If I get myself killed she won't be bringing me back - or not as anything pleasant, at least. I don't know how writing in this bloody thing will 'fix' me but at the least it will placate her and one does not piss off a drow further than one must.
I am out of practice, but she is still eyeing me like she might change her mind and repay me for the wounds she sustained on my behalf. Very well.
Aranel Ondolina
I do not care to count my age or the years, thank you.
Nor do I care for the titles, broken and useless, that once belonged to me. Only out of practicality to I keep the name, though even then I have others to use at convenience, naturally.
[here some rambling lines are marked out, the watchful drow apparently having allowed her to stop.]
Entry 3 - At Sea
At sea the moon is unbearably large. Watchful. Overfull. Had I known, I would have scheduled our voyage to leave a few weeks later, to catch [the word 'Her' is scratched out] it waning.
Not that it is of any consequence to me.
It is simply annoying when one is trying to sleep. Or meditate.
Entry, a week later
If I were of a suspicious mind, I would say the moon has not waned this past week. Not a sliver.
The hours have never moved slower than they do under that pale gaze.
Damn her.
Entry, Five weeks after setting sail..
She has begun to shrink... but by such small strides I do not believe it should be considered progress.
Does she want to torture me? Does she think that somehow this meaningless display of power will win me to her side, when she lifted not a hair on her luminous head to save me at my weakest?
Perhaps it is only in my imagining. The sailors remark on nothing odd. Perhaps it is true - but only for her former child, now wayward.
Perhaps it is she who sends the dreams as well.
If it is - damn her twice over. I need no reminding of all she stripped from me. I had joy and love. It was her own - [here, apparently, the writer got too emotional for several words are blotted out. The entry begins again on another page.]
Perhaps she is trying to woo me back - or perhaps it is nothing. Either way it is vain, folly. As substantial as her own rays. Flashy, but holding no weight. She will regret taunting me so.
Week 6 -
Damn that captain for his slowness. If it wouldn't give her immense satisfaction - and raise all kinds of suspicion on this island - I'd let Iymae repay him. I suspect he has kept us an extra week at sea, as does she. I would be more angry if the moon's gaze wasn't quite so intense here. The last week it has faded to tolerable levels. Tomorrow we land and will be free of this miserable piece of kindling at last.