The color of her eyes... ( Ra'rhuk's journal )
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The color of her eyes... ( Ra'rhuk's journal )
by minstrelofmyths Fri Jan 30, 2015 5:48 am
Once, she had hair the color of talandra's rose.... The plague had taken those left behind. What do we leave behind, that we do not carry with us? A priestess, a follower of Quetz'lun. A dancer, with feathers, and beads, and jewels that caught the light. A voice of a temptress and seductress by pyre light. How she fascinated me like no other. She was quick to my ways, a snake in tall grasses slithering on her way only too late for the bear to notice. She would not have me, she was a female of the altar out of my league, for I was still a young warring male looking for the riches to one day be worthy of gaining a female of her caliber. Her tongue was forked and her fangs sharp, but did not stop me from trying. Arrogant, bold, I had my trophies, my side line females that were given to me as rewards to learn the prowess in which to enrapture with in cunning skills. It was the unattainable what I was after, in every pursuit. Enjoying the dodges, and near misses, and she too would smile and counter, a flirtatious dance of wits, jests, and laughter. Just out of reach, just out of reach... I tried to win her with displays, words of my conquests, jealousy, and tease my way into her heart, and she saw through me every step of the way. With a wave of her hand she could send me away, but unless my duty called she held my company. I was no mammoth stopping on the steps of the altar, nor rhino that would barge. I was the patience and determination of the bear awaiting to see what her sly measures would take me. They did not take me far, they did not have that chance....
I remember the color of her hair this late hour, but my mind fails me to recall the vibrancy in shade of her gaze. I stare through this cold grey tones that my vision allows me at passing females, just to recall a moment of color and life. None of them do her justice, not one could have compared to her. My mind on her, for words spoken to me by another that seems to know too much for the living about my state then I normally would allow. I speak often to the living that I am dead, I only feel surface emotions, I cannot extend myself beyond that. It is the truth to some degree, and yet it is only what I elect to allow myself to feel. I am not a broken death knight, sniveling about what I had lost, I am not one that will carry on this existence in remorse. I cannot nor I will become those that I despise, filled with self pity and despair. What would that grant me? What would that grant others? Content I am, for what other choice do I have? I continue, for those that are living, I continue for those that choose to keep my company. I continue to revel in the blood of my enemies that I fall. I continued onward for the Ebon Blade, and now those of the Horde to fulfill my sole purpose.
Surprised and at the same time, I felt rage that I had not exposed this information and yet it was seen. I held back those desires to abolish this one that had not questioned out of curiosity, but had voiced his opinion as to what I recall, how I should continue, as to why I died was because I was without brother's at my side. Wrong in his assumptions as to why I had been ended, wrong. A simple surmise of my death by a voice of some stranger, stirred old dead things within. I had plenty of brothers that my father sent out one by one, two by two to the fields of spilled blood. We fought gallantly back the nerubian waves, then plagues, our own people, to those rose as I was to become... Brothers by blood and by what was spilled upon our homeland's soil. What would she think of me now? What would she think of me then? She always carried the scent of water poppies that lined the fields of Drak'sorta...
Cold were those late nights, and at times there was a break in the clouds and one could see the stars. The city was dormant, and there were times I would sneak off to see her. Sometimes to watch her pray, to bathe with the other females, sometimes in the market. Her hands were soft, the kind that never toiled with cold earth, one that tended to incense burning, and the preparations of offerings before the gods. Come the feast before the season of deep Har'koa, she and the others would dance in the light of the torches, the drums and songs would play out, magic thick in the air. And for a moment, she danced just for me, sang out just for me, and I knew I had won her heart as she had won mine, held in a single held fire lit glance. She would be mine...
How would the living be so apt to know of my death? How dare they presume moments they do not know of? I heard her voice... a mere whisper. " Ra'rhuk? " I had been but a child, I knew nothing of death and loss at this point. A game we had been playing with my cousins near the capital of Gun'drak. I had been hiding in a tree, and she could not find me after she had found all others. I had taken to a tree, and had perched there, she knew scent well. But I climbed not the great bark itself but a neighboring structure into the tree, so she was off her mark just enough in her discovery. I awaited the opportune moment and when she was just on target, I jumped down in the process startling her. Oh those first flung pangs of the heart I recall vividly. So close, I could take it all, in that catch of arms to her waist. I could taste her, just a kiss and none of those future moments would have ever happened. Closing in, I could not, I lost all resolve, and it was fleeting moment where gazes locked and turned away. Stepping back, laughing it off as nerves of steel had turned to into a puddle. I instead got shoved away, and threats to my life were made for scaring her so badly. We returned to where the other's were as if nothing happened, passing laughs and smiles.
Another male, having seen five more living years then I had, has never felt the embrace of female, never felt these moments. Tomorrow is uncertain for those that breathe. I lacked confidence in one regard, it was when it came to that one priestess. Every other female I laid with was not her, was not the one out of my reach, yet so close within my grasp I could taste the moment. I know what it was like to have a female look at oneself in such a manner, that it could make the heart catch, the soul yearn. I knew that intimacy well. To have a life squandered, never to know the depths what that connection, even just the physical attraction and needs sated it seems a shame to me even now. Confidence is needed before he can obtain such reaches in life. It is the same as with a weapon one has never held, or seen before, put in the hands one will fumble, will drop the item repeatedly, until a measure of balance is gained. Stances will be learned, weight will be disrupted awkwardly at first until it is known what each swing, parry, thrust and strike feels like. Then it becomes a tool wielded with gained confidence, and the only hesitation perceived will come with one's end. I know of a female that fits into mold of what conditioning it takes a inept pupil to become apt in the skill of such matters of the heart. I have arranged a meeting...
These are the reasons my mind has taken these treks, encounters with living individuals that stir something to make me wish to recall more then the color of her hair, in the vivid nature I once saw in. The altars are empty, no song, no dance, no locked gazes... I had ran there first after the discovery of what the priests had done, after I had gone to my uncle's home. I had gone not to my loa but the keeper of the underworld's domain, to find it empty. To find the ruins. It was cold then, like a shroud that would not be lifted. I believe it is then the color began to fade from the world. I never kissed her, I never spoke the truth in my heart, I never had the opportunity to go beyond my own set limitations. All traces, all traces were gone, silence of a song that had yet not been sang. I would die a thousand deaths for what I have gone through in my continuance without her voice, to just hear it once more. The stranger said I hold no capacity for love, as if he knew what I am able to feel now. He knows not the fealty I held, he knows not what I've endured, he knows not how I once saw or how I see the world now... He knows not what I allow myself, or what I am incapable of. He challenged me verbally in those soft spoken assumptions. He knows not why I spend time in the company of the living, my reasoning, my logical choices are my own... due to the fact to an outside influence. I am no longer a mindless instrument of pure death, I elect, I choose my station. I may not have the physical drives or the capacity to extend myself in the manner in which he wishes to believe, but I do remember, I do recall, I can relive those moments of fleeting feeling.... Even if I cannot recall the color of her eyes.
There is hope for those that live, that breathe, not to miss chances, to seize the day the moment, and to not let these opportunities slip them by. Greater designs they have a chance of achieving, and perhaps it is not my purpose alone to remind them. But I do... I can call the remorseless winter to surround me, to feel nothing of memory recall and recollect. I chose not to in the case of this youth to allow that lingering mortal coil to guide me. Perhaps there will be other instances where it is necessary, but for now I await the outcome.
I remember the color of her hair this late hour, but my mind fails me to recall the vibrancy in shade of her gaze. I stare through this cold grey tones that my vision allows me at passing females, just to recall a moment of color and life. None of them do her justice, not one could have compared to her. My mind on her, for words spoken to me by another that seems to know too much for the living about my state then I normally would allow. I speak often to the living that I am dead, I only feel surface emotions, I cannot extend myself beyond that. It is the truth to some degree, and yet it is only what I elect to allow myself to feel. I am not a broken death knight, sniveling about what I had lost, I am not one that will carry on this existence in remorse. I cannot nor I will become those that I despise, filled with self pity and despair. What would that grant me? What would that grant others? Content I am, for what other choice do I have? I continue, for those that are living, I continue for those that choose to keep my company. I continue to revel in the blood of my enemies that I fall. I continued onward for the Ebon Blade, and now those of the Horde to fulfill my sole purpose.
Surprised and at the same time, I felt rage that I had not exposed this information and yet it was seen. I held back those desires to abolish this one that had not questioned out of curiosity, but had voiced his opinion as to what I recall, how I should continue, as to why I died was because I was without brother's at my side. Wrong in his assumptions as to why I had been ended, wrong. A simple surmise of my death by a voice of some stranger, stirred old dead things within. I had plenty of brothers that my father sent out one by one, two by two to the fields of spilled blood. We fought gallantly back the nerubian waves, then plagues, our own people, to those rose as I was to become... Brothers by blood and by what was spilled upon our homeland's soil. What would she think of me now? What would she think of me then? She always carried the scent of water poppies that lined the fields of Drak'sorta...
Cold were those late nights, and at times there was a break in the clouds and one could see the stars. The city was dormant, and there were times I would sneak off to see her. Sometimes to watch her pray, to bathe with the other females, sometimes in the market. Her hands were soft, the kind that never toiled with cold earth, one that tended to incense burning, and the preparations of offerings before the gods. Come the feast before the season of deep Har'koa, she and the others would dance in the light of the torches, the drums and songs would play out, magic thick in the air. And for a moment, she danced just for me, sang out just for me, and I knew I had won her heart as she had won mine, held in a single held fire lit glance. She would be mine...
How would the living be so apt to know of my death? How dare they presume moments they do not know of? I heard her voice... a mere whisper. " Ra'rhuk? " I had been but a child, I knew nothing of death and loss at this point. A game we had been playing with my cousins near the capital of Gun'drak. I had been hiding in a tree, and she could not find me after she had found all others. I had taken to a tree, and had perched there, she knew scent well. But I climbed not the great bark itself but a neighboring structure into the tree, so she was off her mark just enough in her discovery. I awaited the opportune moment and when she was just on target, I jumped down in the process startling her. Oh those first flung pangs of the heart I recall vividly. So close, I could take it all, in that catch of arms to her waist. I could taste her, just a kiss and none of those future moments would have ever happened. Closing in, I could not, I lost all resolve, and it was fleeting moment where gazes locked and turned away. Stepping back, laughing it off as nerves of steel had turned to into a puddle. I instead got shoved away, and threats to my life were made for scaring her so badly. We returned to where the other's were as if nothing happened, passing laughs and smiles.
Another male, having seen five more living years then I had, has never felt the embrace of female, never felt these moments. Tomorrow is uncertain for those that breathe. I lacked confidence in one regard, it was when it came to that one priestess. Every other female I laid with was not her, was not the one out of my reach, yet so close within my grasp I could taste the moment. I know what it was like to have a female look at oneself in such a manner, that it could make the heart catch, the soul yearn. I knew that intimacy well. To have a life squandered, never to know the depths what that connection, even just the physical attraction and needs sated it seems a shame to me even now. Confidence is needed before he can obtain such reaches in life. It is the same as with a weapon one has never held, or seen before, put in the hands one will fumble, will drop the item repeatedly, until a measure of balance is gained. Stances will be learned, weight will be disrupted awkwardly at first until it is known what each swing, parry, thrust and strike feels like. Then it becomes a tool wielded with gained confidence, and the only hesitation perceived will come with one's end. I know of a female that fits into mold of what conditioning it takes a inept pupil to become apt in the skill of such matters of the heart. I have arranged a meeting...
These are the reasons my mind has taken these treks, encounters with living individuals that stir something to make me wish to recall more then the color of her hair, in the vivid nature I once saw in. The altars are empty, no song, no dance, no locked gazes... I had ran there first after the discovery of what the priests had done, after I had gone to my uncle's home. I had gone not to my loa but the keeper of the underworld's domain, to find it empty. To find the ruins. It was cold then, like a shroud that would not be lifted. I believe it is then the color began to fade from the world. I never kissed her, I never spoke the truth in my heart, I never had the opportunity to go beyond my own set limitations. All traces, all traces were gone, silence of a song that had yet not been sang. I would die a thousand deaths for what I have gone through in my continuance without her voice, to just hear it once more. The stranger said I hold no capacity for love, as if he knew what I am able to feel now. He knows not the fealty I held, he knows not what I've endured, he knows not how I once saw or how I see the world now... He knows not what I allow myself, or what I am incapable of. He challenged me verbally in those soft spoken assumptions. He knows not why I spend time in the company of the living, my reasoning, my logical choices are my own... due to the fact to an outside influence. I am no longer a mindless instrument of pure death, I elect, I choose my station. I may not have the physical drives or the capacity to extend myself in the manner in which he wishes to believe, but I do remember, I do recall, I can relive those moments of fleeting feeling.... Even if I cannot recall the color of her eyes.
There is hope for those that live, that breathe, not to miss chances, to seize the day the moment, and to not let these opportunities slip them by. Greater designs they have a chance of achieving, and perhaps it is not my purpose alone to remind them. But I do... I can call the remorseless winter to surround me, to feel nothing of memory recall and recollect. I chose not to in the case of this youth to allow that lingering mortal coil to guide me. Perhaps there will be other instances where it is necessary, but for now I await the outcome.
minstrelofmyths- Posts : 44
Join date : 2015-01-23
Tegan RP- Posts : 49
Join date : 2015-01-11
Re: The color of her eyes... ( Ra'rhuk's journal )
by Brixtul Fri Jan 30, 2015 2:34 pm
((T_T ROOOOOOCK))
Brixtul- Posts : 27
Join date : 2015-01-12
Re: The color of her eyes... ( Ra'rhuk's journal )
by minstrelofmyths Sat Jan 31, 2015 1:30 pm
(( No tears! He'll be fiiiine, or as fine as he can be. - hugs- ))
minstrelofmyths- Posts : 44
Join date : 2015-01-23
Re: The color of her eyes... ( Ra'rhuk's journal )
by minstrelofmyths Sat Jan 31, 2015 1:33 pm
(( I tend to listen to Audiomachine's Phenomena soundtrack when writing on Ra, it seems to really bring out the character. But I listened to that song mentioned and I can see it fitting to this. ))
minstrelofmyths- Posts : 44
Join date : 2015-01-23
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