[NSFW IC Journal - Ezidran] The Letter (Day 2)
((For Author's Note: For warnings and author's notes, please click here. Warning: Coarse language.
Day 1 - Fleeting Phantoms
Day 2 (Part 1) - His Cats; You Cannot Forget It.
Day 2 (Part 2) - The Letter))
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[NSFW IC Journal - Ezidran] Thought Process - "The Letter (Day 2)"
For the hours Zain was gone, Ezidran had been curled up in a fetal position, murmuring to himself. His eyes went blank, body shaking profusely, all he could hear was voices, not of anyone existing and distorted screams ringing in his head. His past haunted him at times, reminding him of his gruesome, numbered days in Naxxaramas where he laid helpless on a stone slab with blades flaying him open, exposing his vulnerable insides. The Cult of Damned scientists kept going with the torture until he died and forcefully raised as a death knight.
Those vivid memories came to life as hallucinations, gripped at him like crackling streaks of pain and anger. He had so acutely remembered them that he could not tell the illusion apart. He slashed out at the Argent Crusade soldiers, hissing, snarling and clawing at invisible blades. No words managed to get through his head until a short while, the illusions disappeared around him.
"W-Wha-- What was I doin'...?" The Death Knight finally stopped, gazing down at his hands to check.
A soft mewl came behind the bars attracted his attention. He got off the ground and sat up to peer around the cells to see what was there.
A pair of kittens emerged from the darkness, purred and mewled as they slinked around the cell bars. Their tails swirled up at the sight of Ezidran and playfully hopped to the Death Knight, mewling for his attention. After the all the hauntings he had to endure, this was a change. A genuine smile managed up on his lips as he gathered the kittens into his arms.
"D'aw, y'all so adorable," he purred deeply with the kittens, scratching behind their ears and patted them.
Their fur was so soft, gentle to touch. He could not help but cuddled them into his arms while the kittens mewled happily and pawed at his raven hair. "So cute!" He just simply adored felines.
"RAVENLOTH. I BROUGHT YOUR FUCKING THINGS." A loud voice boomed abruptly, interrupting his brief moment of happiness.
Startled by the voice, Ezidran stared down at his arms. The soft feeling of the kittens' fur was gone, the kittens were gone. He had been imagining things again.
"ARE YOU HALLUCINATING AGAIN? HELLOOO, WAKE THE FUCK UP. LOOK AT ME!! CAN YOU HEAR ME?? KEEP FOCUSED, I'M TALKING TO YOU, YOU FUCKING OLD FART." The voice continued to bellow, it was about time he should see who the voice belonged to.
"Aye, aye, I heard ya!" Ezidran groaned and crawled nearer to the cell bars. "Yer voice's loud enough ta wake me up from the dead."
"HAHAHA, FUNNY." The Blood Knight deadpanned, snorting at the response. "LOOK HERE. AS I PROMISED, I BROUGHT YOUR THINGS. YOUR STUPID CATS ARE ALL FINE, THOSE INSOLENT CHILDREN YOU EMPLOYED TO LOOK AFTER THEM ARE DOING A GOOD JOB. YOU CAN STOP WORRYING."
Ezidran smiled, the blank look on his face diminished and his eyes brightened up at Zain. "Really? Thank ya. Don't really know how ta thank ya fer this."
"TCH. NO BIG DEAL." Zain shrugged, opening the cell door to push the box of things towards Ezidran and closed the door quickly again, being careful not to get in contact with the infected Death Knight. "I'M GOING BACK TO THE BLOOD KNIGHTS. HAVE TO WORK. SO DON'T FUCKING GET YOURSELF INTO ANY DAMN TROUBLE."
Ezidran nodded, chuckling softly. "Aye, gotcha. Stay safe too."
Zain waved a dismissal hand, eying back at the older elf nonchalantly before turning to leave. "Yeah whatever, I'm going--"
"Wait."
"WHAT?!"
Ezidran lifted a single finger to gesture to the Blood Knight to give him a moment of his time. As Zain stopped in his departure and waited, the Death Knight rummaged through his things and fished the wrapped boxes he had gotten earlier back at the apartment. He beckoned the Blood Knight to come closer again and offered him the boxes. Puzzled, Zain offered him a questioningly look and accepted the boxes.
"S'fer ya an' Dynast, Zain," Ezidran said, gleefully as he passed the boxes to him. "Open it!"
"WHAT. WHAT-- OKAY."
Zain's gaze fixated on the boxes skeptically and opened both carefully. Inside one of the boxes revealed a beautiful silver pocket watch, a matching pair to Dynast's, only with a red gem instead of blue. It was meant for Zain as his name was engraved at the frame of it. The box revealed to be a pair of black, shiny leather boots, with a silver plated heel, embossed with the Greythorn emblem. It was most obviously a gift to Dynast.
"S'yer weddin' gift, I hope ya like it!" Ezidran exclaimed excitedly, as he happily watched Zain unwrap them.
Zain remained silent for a moment, poignantly gazing at the gifts in a deep thought. A hint of a smile ghosted on his lips briefly as he held the pocket watch in his palm. He lifted his eyes to glance back at Ezidran, only to return to his usual grumpy self, instead of offering an appreciative look.
"AHEM," The Blood Knight cleared his throat, keeping the gifts carefully back into the boxes. "THANK YOU. GOOD GIFTS. THANKS. YES."
"I'm glad ya think so," Ezidran smiled softly back, pleased to see the younger elf had shown at least some gratefulness in his gifts. "Hope Dynast likes the boots."
"I THINK HE WILL. UH, THANKS. GOT TO GO. WORK, BYE." For moment, Ezidran thought the Blood Knight had blushed as he awkwardly left the cell with the gifts.
Alone again, Ezidran returned to check on his things. He smiled at the memento boxes and robots that were brought to him at request, the items held fondest memories and he felt comforted in the presence of them. The Personal World Destroyer was a Christmas present from Dynast, the bombling robot too and the memento box possessed all the things he treasured and reminded him the happiest memories he spent with his former lovers. But, there was something he most desired comfort from and he needed it. He reached for one of the compartments and dug for a piece of letter.
That one letter he never failed to forget - He would read it in times of happiness, in times of darkness but had never forgotten it as he treasured it well. Carefully, lovingly, he unfolded the letter and read it to himself with a fond smile on his lips.
Dear Ezidran,
I promised myself that I would start and end this letter with 'I love you', to make up for all of those times that I wrote you and never did. Perhaps even for all of those times I never said it, when I should have.
So. I love you.
I wonder if when I was still here, still around, still 'alive', if I told you that enough.
Or if I said it enough, that I showed you enough. I always feel like I'm falling short with you, torn between love and propriety. I wonder how often someone must think that I do not truly love you, because I do not reciprocate the attention you show me in public with affection of my own. That is my failing alone, not yours.
I'm sorry that I was always so difficult, so dispassionate, so reticent with my love, the love that burned strong in my chest and kept me moving, kept me strong, and kept me uplifted. You always looked toward me, praising my strength and resolve, but seemingly never noticing that I had those limitless reserves because of you, for you, given birth from your compassion and unwavering support. No matter the whimsy, no matter the feud, you always stood by me and continued to say what a good man I was, how caring and loyal I could be. And gods above and below be damned, Ezidran, if sometimes I did not even deserve your praise, yet you would continue to happily grant it.
You silly old man. I still love you as always. I will always stand by you.
Then I met your other side. The one that always hungers. He seemed so monstrous to my eyes, with his teeth that tore at my flesh and his crushing grasp and his eyes, you and yet nothing like you, the jester I had come to know replaced by mania and doubt. A creature like I see reflected in the mirror each day clawing at my leg and howling.
I still remember what it - he - you said that night in the ruins of Havenshire, eyes glowing sickeningly bright in the shadows of that forgotten tomb, a place where only a few years ago, we existed only as mindless chattel. I wonder how many times we had brushed against one another then, a shared mind without the capacity for love. How many times my hands had passed over you during those dark times, a touch devoid of compassion or the lust I feel for you now; a touch of base necessity, instead of the sharp-bladed scalpel and the suture needle.
It was then I came to understand why you were so scared of him, of what you were then. But I came to wonder if he, this 'otherside', was scared as well, terrified of slipping back into the void unacknowledged even by himself.
That is why I held him close. Why I submitted to him not once, but twice. It is not because of the thrill of the challenge, Ezidran, but because he is still you and I love you even when you are at your worst. I hope that some day soon you might even come to accept him and realize in doing as much you have accepted what we have become.
The 'Otherside' was the part of me that I had always been afraid of. I am afraid to hurt you, Dynast. I am so afraid of myself, I promised to myself that I would never let harm come to your way. Even it is myself.
I remember once, when we had just recently met, you spoke of the pervasive cold of undeath, of how your emotions seemed dulled by death. Do you remember how I asked you in turn if you loved me like you had loved others in life and you emphatically said yes? How I replied, then it must only be internal doubt, because love is the emotion they tried to break us of in the Scourge? Your other side proved that to me. The obsession in its eyes was twisted, but it still loved. Not gently, no. It loves violently. That is why it wishes to consume me, so that I may never leave.
That is what we are now, Ezidran. Undead. Vessels of dead flesh born anew, not merely shadows of what we were, stuck in between life and death. We are a perfected life form. The living point toward our weakness to the Light or our dependency on necromancy as critical flaws yet I can point out over a dozen bits of a living form that if cut would cause near-instant death. Then there is suffocation, strangulation, paralyzation. The effects of poison. The effects of old age. So many flaws, even a weak disease can cause death. Yes, we can still die. Yes, we must worry for the Mindless State.
But even if we are undead now, is what we have not enough? We love. That is enough for me.
Your words rang true. I thought Death has claimed and dulled my emotions. But I am still Ezidran, the man who could love even in death. To love you - That is enough for me too.
Everything happens for a reason, even the most horrible things. Yes, I wish I could have spared you the pain of your slow death, spared you those hazy memories of each bit of viscera removed in front of your eyes, but I do not regret that it happened in the first place! Else, you would not be here with me now. Everything happens for a reason.
You say I am your muse, I say you are my everything. Rarely do my thoughts drift away from you for long, even when we are far apart. I have absolutely no regrets and can see myself being with you forever, or for however long as our 'forever' might be. Well, no. I do have regrets. I regret that I feel like I do not love you as much as you need, or give you as much time as you deserve. But I do not regret you Ezidran, nor will I ever.
You are the light of my being. My passion.
And I love you.
- M. Dynast Greythorn
You are everything to me.
You are the light of my being too. My life has changed and inspired with passion for the past one year with you.
There is no forever for the two of us now. But I do not care.
Even now we are apart, loveless, I have absolutely no regrets. As long as you are still walking, plagued by the beasts and voices that haunt you, I will still love you and protect you.
"Dynast," he whispered to himself and held the letter dearly, close to his chest. The hallucinations and nightmares that haunted him gradually, silently dissipated, comforted by the gentle, loving words of the letter that he treasured so much.
Day 1 - Fleeting Phantoms
Day 2 (Part 1) - His Cats; You Cannot Forget It.
Day 2 (Part 2) - The Letter))
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[NSFW IC Journal - Ezidran] Thought Process - "The Letter (Day 2)"
For the hours Zain was gone, Ezidran had been curled up in a fetal position, murmuring to himself. His eyes went blank, body shaking profusely, all he could hear was voices, not of anyone existing and distorted screams ringing in his head. His past haunted him at times, reminding him of his gruesome, numbered days in Naxxaramas where he laid helpless on a stone slab with blades flaying him open, exposing his vulnerable insides. The Cult of Damned scientists kept going with the torture until he died and forcefully raised as a death knight.
Those vivid memories came to life as hallucinations, gripped at him like crackling streaks of pain and anger. He had so acutely remembered them that he could not tell the illusion apart. He slashed out at the Argent Crusade soldiers, hissing, snarling and clawing at invisible blades. No words managed to get through his head until a short while, the illusions disappeared around him.
"W-Wha-- What was I doin'...?" The Death Knight finally stopped, gazing down at his hands to check.
A soft mewl came behind the bars attracted his attention. He got off the ground and sat up to peer around the cells to see what was there.
A pair of kittens emerged from the darkness, purred and mewled as they slinked around the cell bars. Their tails swirled up at the sight of Ezidran and playfully hopped to the Death Knight, mewling for his attention. After the all the hauntings he had to endure, this was a change. A genuine smile managed up on his lips as he gathered the kittens into his arms.
"D'aw, y'all so adorable," he purred deeply with the kittens, scratching behind their ears and patted them.
Their fur was so soft, gentle to touch. He could not help but cuddled them into his arms while the kittens mewled happily and pawed at his raven hair. "So cute!" He just simply adored felines.
"RAVENLOTH. I BROUGHT YOUR FUCKING THINGS." A loud voice boomed abruptly, interrupting his brief moment of happiness.
Startled by the voice, Ezidran stared down at his arms. The soft feeling of the kittens' fur was gone, the kittens were gone. He had been imagining things again.
"ARE YOU HALLUCINATING AGAIN? HELLOOO, WAKE THE FUCK UP. LOOK AT ME!! CAN YOU HEAR ME?? KEEP FOCUSED, I'M TALKING TO YOU, YOU FUCKING OLD FART." The voice continued to bellow, it was about time he should see who the voice belonged to.
"Aye, aye, I heard ya!" Ezidran groaned and crawled nearer to the cell bars. "Yer voice's loud enough ta wake me up from the dead."
"HAHAHA, FUNNY." The Blood Knight deadpanned, snorting at the response. "LOOK HERE. AS I PROMISED, I BROUGHT YOUR THINGS. YOUR STUPID CATS ARE ALL FINE, THOSE INSOLENT CHILDREN YOU EMPLOYED TO LOOK AFTER THEM ARE DOING A GOOD JOB. YOU CAN STOP WORRYING."
Ezidran smiled, the blank look on his face diminished and his eyes brightened up at Zain. "Really? Thank ya. Don't really know how ta thank ya fer this."
"TCH. NO BIG DEAL." Zain shrugged, opening the cell door to push the box of things towards Ezidran and closed the door quickly again, being careful not to get in contact with the infected Death Knight. "I'M GOING BACK TO THE BLOOD KNIGHTS. HAVE TO WORK. SO DON'T FUCKING GET YOURSELF INTO ANY DAMN TROUBLE."
Ezidran nodded, chuckling softly. "Aye, gotcha. Stay safe too."
Zain waved a dismissal hand, eying back at the older elf nonchalantly before turning to leave. "Yeah whatever, I'm going--"
"Wait."
"WHAT?!"
Ezidran lifted a single finger to gesture to the Blood Knight to give him a moment of his time. As Zain stopped in his departure and waited, the Death Knight rummaged through his things and fished the wrapped boxes he had gotten earlier back at the apartment. He beckoned the Blood Knight to come closer again and offered him the boxes. Puzzled, Zain offered him a questioningly look and accepted the boxes.
"S'fer ya an' Dynast, Zain," Ezidran said, gleefully as he passed the boxes to him. "Open it!"
"WHAT. WHAT-- OKAY."
Zain's gaze fixated on the boxes skeptically and opened both carefully. Inside one of the boxes revealed a beautiful silver pocket watch, a matching pair to Dynast's, only with a red gem instead of blue. It was meant for Zain as his name was engraved at the frame of it. The box revealed to be a pair of black, shiny leather boots, with a silver plated heel, embossed with the Greythorn emblem. It was most obviously a gift to Dynast.
"S'yer weddin' gift, I hope ya like it!" Ezidran exclaimed excitedly, as he happily watched Zain unwrap them.
Zain remained silent for a moment, poignantly gazing at the gifts in a deep thought. A hint of a smile ghosted on his lips briefly as he held the pocket watch in his palm. He lifted his eyes to glance back at Ezidran, only to return to his usual grumpy self, instead of offering an appreciative look.
"AHEM," The Blood Knight cleared his throat, keeping the gifts carefully back into the boxes. "THANK YOU. GOOD GIFTS. THANKS. YES."
"I'm glad ya think so," Ezidran smiled softly back, pleased to see the younger elf had shown at least some gratefulness in his gifts. "Hope Dynast likes the boots."
"I THINK HE WILL. UH, THANKS. GOT TO GO. WORK, BYE." For moment, Ezidran thought the Blood Knight had blushed as he awkwardly left the cell with the gifts.
Alone again, Ezidran returned to check on his things. He smiled at the memento boxes and robots that were brought to him at request, the items held fondest memories and he felt comforted in the presence of them. The Personal World Destroyer was a Christmas present from Dynast, the bombling robot too and the memento box possessed all the things he treasured and reminded him the happiest memories he spent with his former lovers. But, there was something he most desired comfort from and he needed it. He reached for one of the compartments and dug for a piece of letter.
That one letter he never failed to forget - He would read it in times of happiness, in times of darkness but had never forgotten it as he treasured it well. Carefully, lovingly, he unfolded the letter and read it to himself with a fond smile on his lips.
Dear Ezidran,
I promised myself that I would start and end this letter with 'I love you', to make up for all of those times that I wrote you and never did. Perhaps even for all of those times I never said it, when I should have.
So. I love you.
I wonder if when I was still here, still around, still 'alive', if I told you that enough.
Or if I said it enough, that I showed you enough. I always feel like I'm falling short with you, torn between love and propriety. I wonder how often someone must think that I do not truly love you, because I do not reciprocate the attention you show me in public with affection of my own. That is my failing alone, not yours.
I'm sorry that I was always so difficult, so dispassionate, so reticent with my love, the love that burned strong in my chest and kept me moving, kept me strong, and kept me uplifted. You always looked toward me, praising my strength and resolve, but seemingly never noticing that I had those limitless reserves because of you, for you, given birth from your compassion and unwavering support. No matter the whimsy, no matter the feud, you always stood by me and continued to say what a good man I was, how caring and loyal I could be. And gods above and below be damned, Ezidran, if sometimes I did not even deserve your praise, yet you would continue to happily grant it.
You silly old man. I still love you as always. I will always stand by you.
Then I met your other side. The one that always hungers. He seemed so monstrous to my eyes, with his teeth that tore at my flesh and his crushing grasp and his eyes, you and yet nothing like you, the jester I had come to know replaced by mania and doubt. A creature like I see reflected in the mirror each day clawing at my leg and howling.
I still remember what it - he - you said that night in the ruins of Havenshire, eyes glowing sickeningly bright in the shadows of that forgotten tomb, a place where only a few years ago, we existed only as mindless chattel. I wonder how many times we had brushed against one another then, a shared mind without the capacity for love. How many times my hands had passed over you during those dark times, a touch devoid of compassion or the lust I feel for you now; a touch of base necessity, instead of the sharp-bladed scalpel and the suture needle.
It was then I came to understand why you were so scared of him, of what you were then. But I came to wonder if he, this 'otherside', was scared as well, terrified of slipping back into the void unacknowledged even by himself.
That is why I held him close. Why I submitted to him not once, but twice. It is not because of the thrill of the challenge, Ezidran, but because he is still you and I love you even when you are at your worst. I hope that some day soon you might even come to accept him and realize in doing as much you have accepted what we have become.
The 'Otherside' was the part of me that I had always been afraid of. I am afraid to hurt you, Dynast. I am so afraid of myself, I promised to myself that I would never let harm come to your way. Even it is myself.
I remember once, when we had just recently met, you spoke of the pervasive cold of undeath, of how your emotions seemed dulled by death. Do you remember how I asked you in turn if you loved me like you had loved others in life and you emphatically said yes? How I replied, then it must only be internal doubt, because love is the emotion they tried to break us of in the Scourge? Your other side proved that to me. The obsession in its eyes was twisted, but it still loved. Not gently, no. It loves violently. That is why it wishes to consume me, so that I may never leave.
That is what we are now, Ezidran. Undead. Vessels of dead flesh born anew, not merely shadows of what we were, stuck in between life and death. We are a perfected life form. The living point toward our weakness to the Light or our dependency on necromancy as critical flaws yet I can point out over a dozen bits of a living form that if cut would cause near-instant death. Then there is suffocation, strangulation, paralyzation. The effects of poison. The effects of old age. So many flaws, even a weak disease can cause death. Yes, we can still die. Yes, we must worry for the Mindless State.
But even if we are undead now, is what we have not enough? We love. That is enough for me.
Your words rang true. I thought Death has claimed and dulled my emotions. But I am still Ezidran, the man who could love even in death. To love you - That is enough for me too.
Everything happens for a reason, even the most horrible things. Yes, I wish I could have spared you the pain of your slow death, spared you those hazy memories of each bit of viscera removed in front of your eyes, but I do not regret that it happened in the first place! Else, you would not be here with me now. Everything happens for a reason.
You say I am your muse, I say you are my everything. Rarely do my thoughts drift away from you for long, even when we are far apart. I have absolutely no regrets and can see myself being with you forever, or for however long as our 'forever' might be. Well, no. I do have regrets. I regret that I feel like I do not love you as much as you need, or give you as much time as you deserve. But I do not regret you Ezidran, nor will I ever.
You are the light of my being. My passion.
And I love you.
- M. Dynast Greythorn
You are everything to me.
You are the light of my being too. My life has changed and inspired with passion for the past one year with you.
There is no forever for the two of us now. But I do not care.
Even now we are apart, loveless, I have absolutely no regrets. As long as you are still walking, plagued by the beasts and voices that haunt you, I will still love you and protect you.
"Dynast," he whispered to himself and held the letter dearly, close to his chest. The hallucinations and nightmares that haunted him gradually, silently dissipated, comforted by the gentle, loving words of the letter that he treasured so much.