[center [size13 [#33A1C9 “We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.” ― Anaïs Nin]]]
You don't have permission to post in this thread.
deserve more than good-enough
deserve to be happy
to be given
the same support
the same love
the same comfort
that I give freely to those I care
because love, although freely given, will drain you and leave you empty and alone if you receive nothing in return.
So why must I be a sacrifice?
If I must be alone to be happy, then so be it.
We all die alone anyway.
Stand on my own two feet. Relying only on myself.
I know there'll be tears.
Forlorn aches of the soul.
But I will also know there will be no disappointment in others, no frustrations due to someone else's lacking, no heartache nor heartbreak.
No one else will be able to fail to reach my expectations, because there will be no one to hinge them on but myself.
I will either find another
Or die alone.
The solo road doesn't sound too bad right now.
It is - almost disloyal, almost horrible to say but -
I look forward to becoming myself again.
To be solely thinking, acting, feeling for myself.
Nearly 28, and this is what I yearn for.
Not the coupling of souls, not the merging of minds, not the 'two become one' yarn.
But to feel the solitude of my mindspace
To make the sounds of one
To consider and contemplate only my future
To minimize, simplify, liberate, separate, un-copulate
I yearn for all of that
Whilst grieving for this
Listening to the slow dying of the relationship
The heavy hearts of us both
The pain in my once-lover's eyes
The bittersweet tears and smile as I tell him
"We're going to be okay."
And so, brave traveller that I am, I go forth in seek of happiness.
Is this the moment?
When you admit to yourself - you are unhappy?
The moment when you give acknowledgement to what you've shoved under the carpet forcefully.
What you've suppressed, brushed off, resigned to.
Is this the moment?
When you allow yourself to approach the edge of the cliff and look down into the abyss
Calculate the fall-
Maybe this is a terrible analogy.
But you turn around to find
you've already started falling
Just in a different state of mind
Just from a different precipice
And you watch yourself on the other cliff
Knowing the descend will have to happen
Knowing you'll come off that mountain
Describing a torn mind and heart
Has never been harder
This inner turmoil feels like a heartbreak and infatuation all rolled into one
I wonder if it shows
When I really, really don't want it to show
When I need a lot more time to prepare for the storm
To prepare myself to head into uncertainty-
Whether I throw my dice or hold-
I need time to think.
But yes, all of this to say:
I acknowledge that I am unhappy.
I acknowledge I'm at a crossroads.
My feet won't move for a while yet.
But my heart is in pieces over the pain I feel, the pain I will inflict.
But having acknowledged my- and our - unhappiness, I can't turn my back on the next steps.
I've already begun the unravelling.
Success in self-discipline is not wandering off to look for traces of the scent of you.
[i I'll never feel that way again.]
[i And I don't know if I should.]
Shedding my skin is hard. It's not a natural human thing to do.
But I'm tired of this victim mentality.
Tired of this dependency.
Tired of this whining, longing, searching.
Wanting to look forward.
To be happy and be surrounded by happiness.
To live in the moment and not wonder nor wander with beseeching eyes.
No more, Altan.
An overactive imagination with a lot of time on your hands.
That is the core requirement for writing.
A beaten down soul is too exhausted to listen to Muses, let alone find time to write. Same goez for the busy bee with an active social life.
Most writers are solitary creatures, is that true?
Her smooth flawless skin and soft, unmarked hands are an indication of the easy life she has known. The expensive, unremarkably delicate jewellery a hint of her family background and tastes of one used to riches. The true elegance of the old established families, as her mother would say, cannot be bought or taught.
True quality runs in their very blood. New money could be spotted a mile away. No sense of refinement or appreciation for the finer things, no sense of history in their life choices. They did not understand that it was telling enough - what they drank, ate, wore, did. Everything smelt like middle class.
Tonight, Pearl was keen to show them how to do it right.
[center [font "Cambria" [b [size17 [#8B2323 Reflection in a new decade]]]]]
I think more than anything, I miss having a mind to connect to.
A mind with beautiful, emotive words.
[s Send another.] Bookboys will make do.
[s I'm glad you two have found each other. I'm happy for you.]
To be honest I always knew she got close to me just to be closer to you.
[i Seductive lips pursed in desire, poison dripping from her tongue, all she does and has ever done was in pursuit to sate that hunger. A gaping hole in the space where her soul should be, but love, you won't fill it up like that.]
Oh how I'd love to be a femme fatale. Built just to turn heads and reel you in.
[b [center He isn't real.]] [center [i May you learn the hard way.]]
I was naive, and I still wear my heart on my sleeve. Ignorance is bliss.
And, I mean, you deserve each other.
A beautiful mind you were, but a fucked up one too. I don't miss the anxiety. The helplessness. The fear. The self-doubt.
And oh god, the fear turned real.
Thank god you abandoned me. xD
I wish you'd left me sooner. Maybe even not ghosted me.
But I don't regret having loved.
I just wish it had been with a wholesome version of you.
You occupied my mindspace rent-free for a long time after that. It took me years - I sunk into depression in a new environment, dealing with other things in life, and I immortalised you into an ideal for a bit- to get past it. I would've liked to be friends but maybe it's for the best that never panned out. I would've been disappointed all over again.
[center [font "Cambria" [b [size17 [#8B2323 Moving Forward into the Future]]]]]
But none of it matters now.
[i How can you tell?]
[i I've deleted the chatlogs. I definitely deleted your pictures way back, but now I've let go of what was most important and precious to me back then - your words.]
I've grown so strong, climbed so high, progressed so far in life. On my own at first, and now with a man who'll stand by me no matter what comes.
He'll not be a coward.
But even if he leaves, I'll still be strong enough to carry on for myself.
[center [i Because more than anything, I want to live.]]
I was once in love with the idea of being in love.
It's easier to fall out of love with a person, its harder to fall out of love with an ideal. Because it's not real, it can be perfect. Because it's not human, it's unlikely to be flawed.
Even now, after having broken away from my addiction to it - I often find myself wistfully sighing, rosy nostalgia shading my eyes, and I turn back as if to return to the ideal...
It's a dangerous, slippery slope. An addiction.
Chasing after a dream - at least now I know what the big dreamers felt.
I tell myself to be happy with what I have, for what I have is real, is here, is supporting me through life.
I wish for a sister to run to the goblins, obtain the cure, and feed it to me.
No longer do I wish to fall into this melancholic state, pining after the fairy by the hillside, wasting away and unappreciative of the present blessings in front of me.
Writing allows me to relieve some of the symptoms at the least.
[b [#3D59AB “It is time once more, my children. The leaves have turned gold and auburn, and some of us must venture out into the human world for a matter most vital to our survival.”]] The old witch cast her one good eye over the gathering of women, the silver lines in her red hair gleaming. The knowing smile she gave them creased the scar on her right cheek, lending a wickedness to her tone. [b [#3D59AB “‘This year, it’ll be Calliope and Niera’s turn to visit that dear little neighbouring town, Peddlemas. And we’ll hopefully be looking at two new babes to add to our coven by spring. They’ll head out tomorrow evening, so gather around then for blessings.”]] The gathering of women giggled, some sighing enviously - clearly remembering some good times mingling with the humans. “Bring us back some good food,” a black-haired witch shouted to the chosen pair. “And some good-looking enchanted men if you have any left to spare," said another.
With her little speech done, Mother Yari waved her hand towards the base of the dining tree, where steaming bowls of stew awaited. Niera curved a smile at her blood mother as they walked towards dinner. The young witch’s hands settled on her abdomen. [b “I suppose it has been fifty years since Valir came into this world,”] she reminisced, [b “My firstborn warlock boy.”]
[b [#3D59AB “Yes, I remember little Valir when he came out bawling with chestnut brown hair.”]] Mother Yari sighed. [b [#3D59AB “Such a pity it was not a daughter. Imagine if we had [i three] red-haired witches in our coven. Our magic would know no bounds, we could carry out feats spoken in legends - spinning gold, calling mythical beasts from the sea, binding the future to our will.”]] The old witch rubbed her scarred cheek thoughtfully. [b [#3D59AB “Tell me, how is Valir these days? Still exploring the human world?”]] Despite her oft-voiced disappointment that Valir had not turned out to be another witch, Mother Yari held a soft-spot for her grandson.
This time it was Niera’s turn to sigh, her gold-flecked eyes glinting with a hint of weariness. She tucked a stray lock of red hair behind a pointed ear, thinking back to her son's last full-moon scrying conversation with her. [b “Yes, he’s just done sailing the seas with pirates and sea monsters. Now he’s off to search for some ‘majestic dragon’ up on the Old Mountains on the East Continent. Magic weakens as our distance grows, so he’s not been very good at keeping me up to date with his adventures.”] Her wild boy, now a fully-grown warlock, was hard to get ahold of. Barely a teen at the age of 50, Valir made full use of his natural ability to blend in with humans. His chestnut brown hair, human-coloured skin, rounded ears and charming smile made it easy to pass as one of them. Only his gold-flecked eyes - similar to his mother’s - hinted at something other than human.
Dawn rose, a witness to the village waving the two witches off. Calliope and Niera had dug out two sets of humanwear from their storage hut, and were now clad in similar brown dresses, large black cloaks and sturdy boots.
As they made their way out of the swamp and onto the main path that led to Peddlemas, Calliope commented on Niera's fiery hair. [b [#008080 "That will draw some attention to us,"]] she said, waving one pale arm at Niera's long hair. Calliope had no such trouble, her own hair being the colour of a raven's wings, and eyes a startling green not so dissimilar to humans. Niera shrugged, [b "It's more hassle to dye or enchant it a dull colour. I'll keep it under my cloak. Or better yet, have the humans believe that it was a dye job gone wrong."] She pulled the cloak over her head, and they continued on their journey. They would reach the town by nightfall.
"Why have you forsaken us?" cried the priestess, her eyes pained, red veil across her face fluttering. Her arms raised in anguish, as she knelt before the gods in her sacred dreamscape.
Many shook their heads, bemused. One with many eyes turned its thousand gazes upon her and said in a quiet manner, [i "Because, child, we do not feel your-,"] It gave a slight pause, considering words carefully, [i "- mortal suffering."]
[i "Most of us do not remember what pain feels like. What it is to hunger. To fall ill. To die."] Omni-Eyes blinked. [i "Some of the gods present were here well before humans, and do not know suffering, though they created it. And many attaining sainthood have forgotten what made them into saints in the first place."] It shrugged one shoulder. [i "It is not our duty to suffer with you mortal beings. It is our place to judge and watch over your realm. We are a capricious kind. Some of us...feel more compassion towards your kind. Some of us are indifferent. Many change their minds on a whim."]
[i "It would not be wise to depend on our favours, yet it would be unwise to displease us."]
[i "And remember, we have no interest in your politics or war. Death comes to you all. This famine is just another cull scheduled for your unfortunate timing on earth."] Omni-Eyes' many eyes closed, a small sympathetic sigh crossing blue lips.
The priestess' vision turns black, and she wakes up on the clay earth in a cold sweat. She covered choked sobs behind the blood-coloured veil. There were no prayers to be answered. No blessing to be announced. The accursed famine would go on, and her people would continue to suffer.
[b [center Where does a witch come from?]]
Uses organic matter + innate magic.
Can have a wand/magic tool. To focus magic, rather than harnessing magic from an external source.
May use books to record ways of carrying out magic deeds - more like a recipe book. May work for some, not for all. For spell-casting.
Can have a familiar.
[i Source of magic?]
[i Reason for longer length of lifespan?]
Some say that witches are spawn of the devil and his many human worshippers.
Others say they are the creation of demon-human relationships.
Whatever their non-human blood origin, all stories agree on one thing - that it did not come from any divine or inherently good being. Those who live amongst human as hedge witches, shunned by human society, are merely watered down blood descendants of those with purer strength.
Those hunted by witch hunters in far remoter, desolate places - where only those unafraid of death or foolish enough to think they can come out alive go - they are the ones to fear. In truth, witches do not seek to co-exist alongside humans, or interfere with the commonfolk much. They might seek out towns once in a few years for an ingredient only found amongst human-trade , but rarely do they see the need to mingle amongst their distant cousins.
Human society was unnatural to them, and only served to hinder or risk a witch's life. As such, witches preferred to live in more dangerous and unwelcome places - in deep mountains, dark forests and drowning swamps.
Of course, even amongst witches - there are many various kinds, each with their own recognisable traits. Some with a taste for human child, others with a shapeshifting itch, but most a bond with nature.
[i What does a witch do in their lifetime?]
Make money? Seek power? Seek immortality?
What do you do with power?
What [i can] witches do with their powers?
Persuade the weather. Curse lands and cause misfortune to befall upon humans. Summon a demon to do its bidding. Potions. Body puppet to bind/curse/command. Necromancy. Innate power...telepathy/telekinesis/spark/bend/etc. Not all innate power in 1 witch.
[font "Century Gothic" She wandered the forest, bare feet trailing through brown leaves on the earth floor. Wet crackling noises accompanied shallow icy breaths, an action made out of habit more than for survival. This is due to the fact that Hikari was now a spirit, no longer human, but not long dead. Or had she been dead a while? Her movements ceased, and those blue-tinged eyes sharpened for a moment, in an effort to remember.]
[font "Century Gothic" A female voice echoed in her mind, one that felt...familiar. Then it spoke more strongly, and Hikari felt like it was calling her from deep within the forest. She shuffled towards it, frost spreading on the barks of trees around her as she went. What was this...feeling?]
[font "Century Gothic" [b [#473C8B "W...warm."]] Her voice croaked. First attempt to speak. She had forgotten about speech, her world had been silent for so long. The word brought an image of a ball of light, glowing from the center of a large tree. She could not see the end of its branches, as they spread out in all directions, looming over her. The ice maiden moved closer, pulling the sleeves of her kimono closer. She had done this in an effort to get warm - an action that would have made her feel warmer when she was alive. The dark material crackled, bits of ice falling off. Now, the act gave her no comfort. Mother, the giant tree that had made itself known to the poor spirit, seemed to give off waves of warmth and love.]
[font "Century Gothic" Hikari then noticed there were creatures around her, mostly spirits. She blinked in surprise. She had been so focused on getting closer to the source of the voice that she had not noticed the gathering of all sorts of beings, beings she was certain she had never seen when she was alive. The creatures looked at her with curiosity, some with pity. A circle formed around her. A creature with a wolf's head shook his head, [b "Lost soul."]]
[font "Century Gothic" Another one asked her, [b "Where do you stand? Do you stand with Mother?"]]
[font "Century Gothic" Hikari blinked. [i [b "Please, my children,"]] Mother's voice had echoed.]
[font "Century Gothic" [b [#473C8B "I...Yes,"]] she breathed, sending frost into the eyebrows of the wolf-head.]
[i A paltry attempt to get back into writing.]
[b [u Japanese Names]]
Mizuki - Beautiful Moon.
Momoe - A hundred blessings.
Moriko - Forest child.
Natsuko - summer child.
Ran - Lily.
Rei - Bell, Nothing, Spirit.
Ren - Water lily.
Rin - Cold, dignified.
Shiori- Poem, Weave.
Suzu - Bell.
Takara - Treasure.
Tamiko - Child of the people.
Teruko - Shining child.
Tsukiko - Moon child.
#473C8B [#473C8B Slateblue 4.]
#191970 [#191970 Midnight blue.]
#3D59AB [#3D59AB Cobalt. I don't quite know how to pronounce this.]
#A2B5CD [#A2B5CD Alright, supposed to be studying.]
[#104E8B Damn, I skipped lunch today.]
[#00C78C I think I'm going to die. And I think I should be drunk. And I think it will be a]
[#808069 Waste of a broken child.]
[#EE9A00 [b Why can't I be a warm, loving color?]]
[#00688B [b Just breathing here.]] [#00688B
[#68838B [b Distressed. I think that was the word.]] [#68838B
[#008080 [b Whose brains hurt more?]] [#008080
[#CD3700 [b Danger in the dark.]] [#CD3700
[#8B2323 [b Makes me think of burning bricks.]] [#8B2323
[#545454 [b Too endless.]] [#545454
[i [b There were witches in this land. Of the most potent magic. They held the world's evolution in their hands - or so they would have liked to think. If one could ignore the dragons and sorcerors, maybe. But these women kept themselves away in swamps. Coming out occasionally only to mate with some unsuspecting male, to continue the line of existence.]]
[center [b So catch one, to fulfill your dreams.]] [center [b Catch one, to heal a hurt,]] [center [b bring back a memory,]] [center [b revive an opportunity lost in time.]]
[b [i But you know these witches would never willingly be bound. You know these witches were never yours to control. The secret to catching a witch? Well, you're about to find out.]]
All posts are either in parody or to be taken as literature. This is a roleplay site. Sexual content is forbidden.