IC - Llyr's Notes, Journals, etc.

Place to store IC-notes, journals, one-sided/NPC letters, etc. for reference.

This section is for players to post about things unrelated to the Standing Trials roleplay. You may talk about anything from world issues, to your personal life, to funny things you found on the internet. You are free to use this forum to express yourself as a player and not as your actual character. You can also post in other players journals so long as they give you permission to. Please remember not to post anything relating to pornography or anything with extensive use of profanity.
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Llyr Llywelyn
Approved Character
Posts: 1137
Joined: Sat Feb 02, 2019 12:24 am
Race: Biqaj
Profession: Fairy Angel Ether Monster
Renown: +500
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Wealth Tier: Tier 4

29 Ymiden 719

Sun Jul 14, 2019 10:39 am

29 Ymiden 719
I can't dream. I can't dream. I can't dream. I can't touch Emea. I can't find my way back. Is it only me? Is Mister Kiwi there? Miss Humming? Is it only me? I can't dream. I want to. I close my eyes, I fall asleep, and nothing. Not even darkness. Nearly thirty trials now. Will I ever dream again? Will I never feel the caress of Emea again? Gods, I fear I may go mad if such is the case... or perhaps, madder than I may already be. The others can't dream either. Or so they say. They could lie to soothe me. They could dream and forget. K hasn't, though, and I do not believe he would lie about such things, considering the only reason he'd even be able to truly dream is because of me. Then again, perhaps he would. I don't know. I must dream, though. I must. And ether, oh my dear ether, where have you gone? I cannot feel you any longer in my dying sparks. My unborn children are surely husked by now, no longer nourished, unable to access that body, unable to continue what had only just started to blossom from that seed. It is likely for the better, given my lonely state, and yet I feel such anguish when I take the moment to think of it. It fills me with rage and I nearly snapped my totem in half earlier, for frustration of it all. What use is such a totem if I cannot transform? If I cannot have the ether? Does the entire world and all the fates seek to prove how much of a daft fool I am? My legs mock me in their shine. What have I done for power? What have I done? Now what have I gotten? I can't dream. My father, dead. I can't dream. My unborn, dead. I can't dream. My sparks, dead. What if it remains like this forever and on? What if nothing can be done? When Lisirra comes, as she surely will like they all warn, what then? I can't dream. I can't fight. I can't do anything but run... and the children, though. I can care for the children. I can help them run. I can help K. I can help. Help those who need it, not only those who might further my endeavors. I can't dream, but I can help.
Z
word count: 438
User avatar
Llyr Llywelyn
Approved Character
Posts: 1137
Joined: Sat Feb 02, 2019 12:24 am
Race: Biqaj
Profession: Fairy Angel Ether Monster
Renown: +500
Character Sheet
Character Wiki
Plot Notes
Personal Journal
Templates
Letters
Point Bank Thread
Wealth Tier: Tier 4

35 Ymiden 719

Sun Jul 14, 2019 11:26 am

35 Ymiden 719
Dreams have returned... for K, for H... Yet not for me. I don't know why. I watch them sleep, as I write this, through the dim of the time before dawn, and I wonder what they may be dreaming about. I have come to terms, however, that perhaps I am not meant to return to Emea. Perhaps I am meant to remain firmly rooted within Idalos. Sometimes, when I get drowsy in the head, I think I might dream and have flashes, visions of a sort, about things I don't understand. But these are not dreams. They are something else, something I don't understand and cannot control, not yet. I wish I had access to a library, but a traveling library seems unlikely. K assures me there are books in the city though. I miss being able to look upon the bindings and collect that which might provide me with greater understanding of baffling things. I haven't told him that I cannot dream also. I haven't said otherwise, but I haven't told him directly about it. I fear he might think me a poor teacher if I was to admit that dreams have not returned for me, as if it is due to a deficiency on my part and it very well could be. I worry for the others, also, whatever became of them but my worry can only extend so far these trials. H has started to hoard most of my concerns, her skin is paler than usual, and she burns up in the sun so easily that I've taken to putting a hood over her to create more shadows. She shivers in her sleep and makes unusual noises. The other children do not. We are getting closer to our destination, though. Once there, we will------

----there'd been a sound in the nearby brush. I went to inspect. It was a stray fox on the last legs of death. It looked ill, with blood for tears and froth for spit, so I shooed it with a branch so that it wouldn't come near the camp. Driven by some impulse, it tried to attack the branch. It couldn't bite through the wood though and I, in concern that its screeches might wake the children, silenced it... Animals truly are awful things. I rather dislike beasts, domestic or wild, though I don't seek to explicitly harm them. I simply don't approve of how they interact with civilization while they refuse a proper mind to do so with. I am reminded of the changelings, at least those monsters of the creep tried to mimic proper minds. That is a respectable thing for a beast to attempt. But most of all, animals serve as a practical means for food and production. Even the horses, they serve the same function as a wagon or cart, and perhaps one day, such beasts will be replaced by magic and ether, things that don't require their own food and make a mess all over the place, or require rest, or... perhaps I am ungrateful about it. I suppose I never minded rats much. I thought it a shame how my da killed them like he did. But that is because rats mind their own business. Rats know what they are. They don't go looking with big ol' eyes to make you feel pity for them. They get their food, they make a nest, they move on, they scurry like they should. Dogs don't do that much, some do, but not the types I saw in the city where they look at you as if they expect you to bow down and greet their muzzled shit-stained faces with the type of affection you don't even provide your own friends. Or cats, don't get me started on cats! Birds are alright, if they're wild, but only because like rats, they take off when you get too close unless they're in greater numbers, then you're stupid for getting near them anyway. Cats tend to pick around... gods, that pack of felines we had that arc when I left an open barrel of fish out in the alley. Never made that mistake again and still their little mewling offspring would come around, as if told by their ancestors of the barrel of fish they'd found that one fair trial and our house was marked forever on the records of the cats. One of them scratched me once when I tried to be rid of them, right on the nose. Still, I didn't care for harming them otherwise. I only wished for them to leave us alone. If people went about, scurrying in the alley and bothering me whenever I left the house to gather some water, I'd probably feel as much disdain for them... maybe. At least men can carry conversations and have interesting looks to their faces. With the right words spoken, a man can learn to go the other way, to never return, to understand that he isn't welcomed anymore. Beasts don't get this without a great deal of conviction on the greater species' part. And they all look like beasts to me. They can't laugh or smile or cry. That's how you know they don't have a mind or soul like men do.
H is awake, dry throat.
Z
word count: 928
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