Welcome to the real world.

2008-05-29T22:20:16Z

I've lived for thirteen centuries.

I've watched whole empires and civilizations grow, expand, and then topple, lost to the sands of time and remembered by few. Or just us.

I've recorded deeds nothing less than heroic, and hellishly grotesque atrocities that would turn the stomach of the most stoic warriors, always from the outside and with very little emotion on my own part. Until the chain of events that brought me to Rhy'din, I've existed blissfully in a small world of my own making, walled in steel so that I wouldn't let what I do effect me.

Things have changed. Drastically.

I've had strong feelings before. You know, the kinds of feelings that run straight through your heart and straight down into your soul. The vast majority have been in regards to my calling, because despite everything I've learned in my life, it's all I know. It's sad to admit, but I've never had personal feelings for individuals.

Like I said: a drastic change.

So now, with people in my life that I feel much affection for, I have to watch one of them hurt. I have to watch her suffer. True, her pain is of her own making (in one way or another) and I may badly want to destroy the source regardless, but my heart goes out to her. I don't feel sorry for her. She made a choice and it didn't bear the fruit she expected. We all make our choices in life and have to bear the burden of responsibility and accountability. But I still have a strong desire to do what I'm able, to ease her pain.

It's a frightening feeling. Caring. It makes my stomach churn (sometimes in pleasant ways, but right now in such a horrible way). Hm. Perhaps I can make it all stop. Maybe I can just forget it all and ease my own pain.

I won't, I know. It's wormed it's way inside of me and I fear I can't even use logic and reason to burn it away.

Welcome to the real world, Trevalin.

Cut.

2008-05-24T07:20:31Z

I bound a new book tonight. In appearance, it will look precisely like the others I've written in over the years, easy to disguise among my collection of observations, gained knowledge, and theories. Vellum pages (for I favor them so) bound in soft leather. But where those hallowed tomes speak of times come and gone, the people I've seen and watched live, this one will be different.

This one concerns me.

I'm generally not someone who ever needs to be in the mood to write, or to really have a reason. Tonight is different. I've found that I have no real desire to write, no matter how interesting the information is. But I will write. I should write.

But where to start?

I've met some people. Very interesting people. In a place like this, Rhy'din, interesting seems a matter of course. You know what I mean: When everyone's special, no one really is? But some of these individuals (and in one case, a married couple) are different. Oddly (and I suppose only I could see the irony in this) many of them are wielder's of arcaniss. Magic. Each of them is their own dynamic personality, in some cases differing vastly from the others, yet they still form a rather close-knit comraderie in the wake of this realm's ever-shifting chaos.

Paige: She's a small woman; dark skinned and easily amused in quirky ways. But in lieu of recent tensions, I've seen a new side of her and made a discovery. She's a Knight. She admitted this to me privately after making the same assumption about me (and while I cannot nae-say her, I also can't make such a bold claim). A mother hen and big sister to many of the locals I've aquainted myself with, she possesses a fierce loyalty and a subtle penchant for violence that's becoming ... not so subtle. She's taking a platonic shining to me, but I fear her faith may be misplaced.

Rick: Paige's husband. Often humorous and unconcerned, he reminds me of an old soldier turned contented farmer. He's observant, quick of wit, but possessed of powerful arcaniss. I should be wary (and I am), but he hides much of his intelligence behind a wall of back-water commentary and a refeshing simplicity of mind. He's wily, no doubt. Of any of the people I'm likely to write of in my time here, I believe he's the one I'd prefer to never be at odds with.

Eliza: Another of the arcaniss wielding Powers of personal note. Attractive and wild, she exudes a personality that shows little regard for order and seems to live life to it's fullest. I appreciate her for that. Of the surface she appears shallow and less than reputable, but I've had the opportunity (and one horrifying event) to spend some time talking to her along recently and find her as full of depth as any person I've met. She enjoys life's pleasures in excess, but it hides much of her personal pain. She's loved and lost frequently, a chain of events that I can only surmise have scarred her to the depths of her soul. But despite reveling in her vices, she shows a genuine concern for those around her, a display that utterly shatters her "Everything is good" facade and leaves her vulnerable.

I could prattle on about so many others: Thorn, the diminuitive blond who's all sunshine smiles and physical affection. Malana, inquisitive and cautious, with her celestial gaze and gentle inqueries. Gruff men like David, John, and Donnie, who I've talked to so little, but seem amiable enough. I could describe them all in vivid detail (and have on other pages you'll never find in this thing), from what they look like to what they drank. Time will tell me if their presence in my life will bring them to life on these pages, in color instead of shades of grey.

But there is one more person worth mentioning.

Payton.

Many things come to mind when I bring her to the forefront of my mind. Vivid blue eyes, like an unforgettable sky. The vines braided into her hair or the small amount of mischief that exists in her smile, even when it's forced. But one word in particular comes to mind when I thing of her. Friend. I've never had the luxury of friendships. You know, those deep enduring bonds of trust and affection? The times I've called someone friend in the past were never more than social affectations to endear me to them. This young woman is the first (of a growing number) who I've put the title to and applied true meaning to it. It's good to be cared about. No, it's amazing. There is so much bounty to be had from such heart-felt alliances that it certainly has a way of putting a skip in your step.

But there are burdens too.

I'm concerned for her. Hah! How funny is that? Me, concerned. Well, I suppose it's not an entirely ridiculous thought. But I worry over her and that's a very rare feeling hammering hard against my chest. She's on a crash course for what I believe to be great danger. Disaster. And I worry. I've offered her open arms and an open ear, and I worry. Sure, it's ultimately none of my business and she's a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. But there's a part of me that's loathe to let her come to harm. I fear for what her decisions may cost her. She confided in me the other day, giving me a small picture of what she's feeling. She's being tempted towards something that could destroy her; the things that people in her life love about her. And unlike what I am led to believe a true friend should be, in lieu of recent events, I may have to do what I've been doing for centuries now.

Sit and watch.

She has expectations of me. Many of them do, I think. They see the well-mannered, chivalrous Trevalin who stood for Payton (and I did this willingly, giving rein to my heart when my head said to leave well enough alone), and was prepared to shed blood to defend her. What happens when she (and they) find that I'm not possessed of all of the nobility they give me credit for?

It's sad, in a way. I've grown so used to the passage of years that in this whirlwind of action I've found myself enmeshed in, that I don't know what to do with myself. I'm backing myself into a corner with this new behavior. I have to remember to be decisive, not matter what. It's like my old swordmaster used to say:

When committed to a course of action, cut.
Even when you falter, cut.
When you've exhausted all other options, cut.
If it's the last thing you do, cut.

As it turns out, I apprently was in the mood to write afterall.

I wonder if Payton's alright...

The shadows of the day will embrace the world in grey

Welcome to the real world.

Cut.