WoW Character Stuff
Ok, I usually don't share my writing...because I can't take criticism on it, like I can on my art. But I showed this to jim, and he said it was good. So here goes:
I do not know, truly, what I am. Or how I came to be this way. The name "forsaken" is attached to me, and as I sit here, in a shadowy corner of the Chapel at Lights Hope, I feel this name, and all it implies.
I know I was not always what I now am. When I sit too quietly I slip into the dreams of the dead. Hazy memories of life. Random things, when I close my eyes. The warmth of a fireplace, and the soft tinkle of dishes. A old, wooden table, rough and stained with years of meals, the laugh and bright smile of a little girl. I do not know who this child is. Was she my sister? my daughter? Or a memory of my old self?
And always, if I sit to long comes the memory of strong arms around me. Holding me so tight that it takes a way my breath, and the feeling of another heart beating against mine. I was loved once. And loved so much in return that it nearly hurts remembering it.
Love.
That though always stops me. Memories and feelings disappear like fog, before I can grab them. I am painfully aware of my surroundings again. The cold of my limbs, that no heat will warm. Not even if I stood in a fire, until I was wholly consumed. The cold of the stone bench, and the floor beneath seep up though my muscles and bones, making me feel like a part of the cold and overly bright chapel.
Slowly I rise, and stretching, I readjust my armor and and the two long swords that hang at each hip. They glow with unnatural fire. Fire, that like me, cannot warm anything, only kill.
Now, the electric thrill that rises in my chest, as I plunge a blade though my enemies back, and the warm rush of thick hot blood spilling over my hand replace the warmth of a lovers embrace, the salute of an ally a lovers farewell kiss.
Ha ha. Could I be more Emo? :)
I do not know, truly, what I am. Or how I came to be this way. The name "forsaken" is attached to me, and as I sit here, in a shadowy corner of the Chapel at Lights Hope, I feel this name, and all it implies.
I know I was not always what I now am. When I sit too quietly I slip into the dreams of the dead. Hazy memories of life. Random things, when I close my eyes. The warmth of a fireplace, and the soft tinkle of dishes. A old, wooden table, rough and stained with years of meals, the laugh and bright smile of a little girl. I do not know who this child is. Was she my sister? my daughter? Or a memory of my old self?
And always, if I sit to long comes the memory of strong arms around me. Holding me so tight that it takes a way my breath, and the feeling of another heart beating against mine. I was loved once. And loved so much in return that it nearly hurts remembering it.
Love.
That though always stops me. Memories and feelings disappear like fog, before I can grab them. I am painfully aware of my surroundings again. The cold of my limbs, that no heat will warm. Not even if I stood in a fire, until I was wholly consumed. The cold of the stone bench, and the floor beneath seep up though my muscles and bones, making me feel like a part of the cold and overly bright chapel.
Slowly I rise, and stretching, I readjust my armor and and the two long swords that hang at each hip. They glow with unnatural fire. Fire, that like me, cannot warm anything, only kill.
Now, the electric thrill that rises in my chest, as I plunge a blade though my enemies back, and the warm rush of thick hot blood spilling over my hand replace the warmth of a lovers embrace, the salute of an ally a lovers farewell kiss.
Ha ha. Could I be more Emo? :)