Finding Home

[lotus_blossom]

The sounds of battle wage all around. Screams and shouts mix amongst the clang of swords. Animalistic grunts and growls break through the din every now and then, drowning out the other sounds. Despite all the noise there is only darkness. Another scream sounds, louder and closer this time, as light suddenly blossoms when the overturned cart is tossed aside. A sword swings and another scream joins the closer one.

Startled awake by a shake, I blink my eyes open and realize the screaming had been my own. Wrinkled but strong hands release my shoulder before a heavily socked foot nudges a bottle toward me. Without a word, the old veteran turns and stalks back across the room. A groan of cloth and wood announce his retreat to the bed hidden in the darkness that consumes the room. Grabbing the bottle, I fumble at the cork, to manage a few swigs of the unhealthy drink. Slowly the heat takes hold and a numbing calmness trickles through my senses. As I settle back onto my cot on the floor, a gentle glow lifts the room as he has lit a candle. It is not long before I hear the soft snores from across the room, encouraging me to return to my own slumber.

How many nights we have gone through this routine, I have lost count. Yet, without fail, he has woken me from the same nightmare with the same drink. Then lured me to sleep again with the comfort of candle light, warmth of the drink, and soft rhythm of snoring.

[lotus_blossom]

It wasn't always this way. Except the nightmares; those have always been there as long as I can remember. It has been close to thirteen years now since the war that caused my nightmares. A war that saw Cormyr decimated; my hometown destroyed. I do not remember the war, except in those dreams, but I am told that I was found wandering, alone, the High Road near Tyrluk by Sir Trenton. I was taken to one of the orphanages in Suzail, overflowing with other casualties and refugees of the results of the battles. There were not enough beds, so I was given a spot along a wall marked with green "X". Green meant I was not sickly or missing limbs like some of the other kids. I learned, quickly, to stay away from most of the others. Ridiculed, shunned, sometimes attacked because of my duel colored eyes. It was safer and quieter on my own.

This is how Sir Trenton found me a few years later, after recovery efforts had borne fruit and the country had begun rebuilding. He was part of a group from the Citadel that visited the orphanage to bring Alms. Each Knight was paired with a soldier and given a group of children to mentor. Instead of joining my group, I sat in my corner, refusing to come out. Every ten-day they would visit. And every ten-day I would press myself into that corner refusing to participate. The wound on my throat had done lasting damage, making it so I could not speak above a very painful whisper. This had only led to more teasing from the other kids, cruelty beyond what any one person should ever experience.

Sir Trenton must have recognized this, or something in me. I still remember the first time he approached, cautious despite his bulk. Here was a man used to commanding soldiers, not taking 'no' for an answer. A man whose shoulders were wider than any I had seen, a hand near as big as my head. Yet he approached slowly, one quiet step at a time and lowered his bulk to sit beside me. Not touching, but close enough I could feel the heat radiating off his body. He sat between me and the others, two plates of food in hand. One plate he set on the floor and nudged toward me. The other he turned his attention to and slowly consumed. Those first visits, despite the gnawing growl of hunger, I ignored the food. Those days eventually led to me trusting him enough to eat the offered food, and how I ended up at the Citadel.

Since no family had come forward to claim me, Sir Trenton did. He took me back to his room and slowly began my training. We both knew I would never be a Knight like him, or a trained warrior like those he had commanded, but he taught me to defend myself and to read and write. He spoke often of far away places, promising that someday I would see them.

[lotus_blossom]

This one never thought she'd see those far away places so soon. Sir Trenton took sick and called this one to his bedside. Gifting her with the last of his savings and a full chest of clothing - most in pink, he told this one to go see the world. To learn. To watch. To listen. And to return some day. He told this one nae to hide, to nae run, to nae stay in her habits. This one can not help it. Without his guidance, she has reverted. She has hidden. She is lost.

That, has not been easy. Much has happened since that day. This one has barely had time to sleep, let alone find thought enough to sit and write here again. But! She has been drawing. This one does nae remember drawing them - but they are in the book. That means she did them, right?

This one has ended up in a place called Guldorand. It is not like Suzail - at all. It is both, better and worse. This one has made, what she would call friends. Some family. Maybe it will be enough.

[lotus_blossom]

This one has found the city of Guldorand to be both strange and familiar. The streets are busier than Tyrluk ever was, yet quieter than the alleys of Suzail. It’s a strange balance, a place where shadows shift, but do not always conceal. This one has walked them long enough now to call a few by name, and that is... different. The shadows here are kinder, or maybe it is the company this one keeps.

Friends. That word still feels foreign on the tongue, but the heart seems to know it better.

There is the ranger, steady as stone. He speaks little, but this one hears much in the silence between his words. His presence is calm, like the forest before the storm. This one thinks of him often when the day becomes too loud. Then there is the guard from Cordor. He has shown this one places she likely never would have seen. Has inspired in her a desire to learn more of these places and to help him. He brings a comfort in his presence, something silent and commanding.

And then, there is him. The one who weaves magic from blood like it is nothing more than a whisper. His steps are nae always sure. This one finds the silence between his words heavier than most, yet it is a weight this one does nae mind bearing. There is a pull there, something this one can nae quite name. Perhaps it is the shadows in him that call to the shadows in this one.

And then, there are others. Those who laugh with this one, share stories of places that only exist in memory or dream. There is warmth in their company, a lightness this one has nae felt in many years.

There are also those that make this one wary. That make her watch the shadows, step carefully at times, and look over her shoulder. There is one that has started whispering of vague threats to remove this one. Jealous of what this one has found. Of who this one has found.

The shadows are still here, too. They cling to this one’s steps, whisper at night when all else is quiet. This one has learned to live with them, to speak to them as old friends. They remind this one of what was lost, but also of what still is. Perhaps that is why Guldorand feels so much like home now - it is a place where both the light and the shadows are welcomed.

This one wonders if the city knows its secrets as well as its people do. There is much here that feels... untold. But in time, all things reveal themselves, do they not?

For now, this one is content. Content with the small moments of closeness, the warmth of company, the quiet of shared silence. Guldorand has become a place of safety, and in that safety, this one has found something close to peace.

[c0dfish]

Love this, I can't wait to hear more of her story! Hopefully we'll run into one another in game