Where have I gone?
I've fallen so far.
Each fortnight, a different spirit. A different man. I wear only one face, now, but my heart is for many. Doran, Jonathan, Patrick... Fridgar. And more - I spill in so many directions, like a broken glass. Outward, each and every way, flowing. Perhaps I am broken. Yes... I believe I am.
My allegiances change. My beliefs falter. I want, desperately, to belong... to do something. To be someone. But who am I? At this point -- who am I?
He laid in the darkness of the eve, his sides pressed into the ground, muscularly nude form revealed beneath the subtle hues of lights shone from far away. Town was not utterly distant, but... he was alone in the night. Predator, prey, transient; he could be anywhere, do anything... it didn't matter. The moon was not risen in the sky, though the sun had come to set. It was very, very dark, and the creatures that thrived off such blackness thrived in the now. He could hear the lynxes prowling, the bobcats roaring... even snakes slithering among the grass. He'd gotten so well at noticing everything around him, but... so late to react to it all.
Before long, he found himself gnashed upon by a violent insect, a flying buzzard biting at him in sudden motions before withdrawing and swinging by to strike. The mage swatted it away - it wouldn't go - so he grabbed it into his palm and crushed it, the beast biting at his fingers as much as it could. It didn't matter. His skin and flesh were strong... and though the pain was there, and it stung, it was minor. He would recover soon - his torturous form always made sure of that.
Alistair stood from the grass and stared out, watching as the moon seemed to rise in the distance. So - late. The beasts of the field already had their fun.
His lips parted, and he began to sing beneath his breath. A short tune, to be sure, lasting only a few trills... leading into a despondent hum. As he continued, he grew only more emotional, and the words came out once again.
"You, will be mine; I'll be yours... 'til the dying of our days. I... will be fine, even more, when you turn and go to war... just... come back... just come back... Fridgar. I'm not fine, Fridgar. I'm really not," he whispered, beginning to whimper, as the wind blew through the fields... trees swaying in the distance, and brazier's flames nearly extinguishing from the nearby town.
The mage lamented. No matter how hard he tried, and for however long, nothing could ever repair the hollow. Nothing. The damage was irreparable - and his heart would never come back untorn.