• Memory • On My Own

[Finn]

[img]http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk18 ... 37ewdu.jpg[/img]

Vhalar 72, Arc 709 - night

He couldn’t let it go. Ever since the first step inside the temple, he felt drawn towards it...towards him. The feelings it woke up. The memories it proded back to light that he wished would stay hidden in the darkness. The feeling of being ordinary, of being ignorable. The fact that praying delivered not the result he was hoping for. It delivered more unwanted confusion, frustration. In the night of Vhalar air, when the city was asleep, he was walking alone with his thoughts. The forest city calming and disturbing at the same time. It was alive. The wind in its branches whispering words to his mind that he knew were imagined but he could not fight them back. He could not deny them. He could not ignore them any longer. He was not meant to be on his own. Not now. But in the city of strangers with an old man asleep and a boy for a friend, Finn was just that - alone. Again. In a place where no one held any obligation towards him, where he was invisible...disregardable. He was stuck in nowhere where his thoughts and emotions were there to usurp him, drag him down to the darkness once more. The memories would throw in his face just what he has done, what he needed to face retribution for, what he was trying to escape from and trying to so wrongfully forget.
The crackling of fire. The screams. The faces pressed against the window glass. He grunted, Eyes shut tight, hands pressed against the sides of his head. AWAY! He wanted it gone, but it was there. Bright against his eyelids as the flames lit up the Yaralon's night sky. Darker than dark the guilt lodged deep inside him. Anger, fear, frustration. It was there. The monster was awake and it was screeching to be let out. He stumbled and almost fell. The city was trying to trip him up. A fault in the flawless design of the architecture that was sang to life. Gone. He needed it gone. He needed it disappeared so it wouldn’t haunt him no more. The children. He ran. He could almost feel their tiny hands brushing against his skin that was barren to the night air. He left the inn in hurry, no longer able to stay in the room with Telar. He needed fresh air and now he was suffocating. He ran faster. Feet thudding against the trodden path, the wood. Whatever was in his way he tried to get around it, avoid it...like his past. Choked screams pressed against his lips, trying to break free from the forced ignorance.
He ran as if his life depended on it. If there was someone out here now, they would see a man dashing through the streets, trying to escape whatever invisible demons were chasing him for there was nothing coming after him in the material world. He sprinted down the alleyways, down the main roads, anywhere but stopping was not an option. Not until he broke into the grand clearing before a structure he has been to earlier that day. The temple. The life of faith. The cradle of a belief that failed him. The betrayal of an Immortal that owed nothing to him just like the society. Betrayal of a man who believed he was worth saving when perhaps he was not. He ran towards it. Not to seek refuge within the walls that he never trusted, not to confront the dead stone either. He did not know why he ran there. Why his feet prompted him to follow that direction, but the pull was unmistakable. Baffled somewhere within the depths of his consciousness, Finn did not understand why he was opening himself for another dose of disappointment, to the same heartache, to the same loneliness that he has been committed to for the past several arcs. There was no one could save him, not even…
“Ymiden!” His hollering bounced off the walls with an echo of emotions that were a knotted mess. Everything hidden under the surface came bubbling up as Finn stared at the beauty made eternal. Hate. For who? Fear. Of reckoning? Desire. To be believed in and taken seriously? Despair. For being lost or losing? “Who are you?” He grumbled as his feet slowed to a heavy walk. His frame hunched over like a cowering animal that was gathering up courage for one last attack before a certain death. Even a cat that is cornered would lash out in one last strike of desperation to free itself.
“I have survived so much. So long. And you stand there judging. How dare you…” A growl of spite that was frighteningly genuine. The picture of being failed by many rooted so deep inside the man that it might as well have been one of Finn’s hidden traits. “You stand there, dead in stone, have others pray to you and you ignore them. You're a farce!” The hiss turned him into someone he hated, a recollection that took on a shape and form of his body and inhabited him with a cruelty that was not his own. He could not advance any longer. With still so many paces separating him from Ymiden, he could not keep looking at the statue that he directed his anger towards.
“I fight. So bloody hard! All the bloody time! And you….you just stand there and do nothing. I asked for forgiveness and what do I get?! NOTHING! No relief, no...feeling. Just emptiness. Is this how you treat believers?” An accusatory finger was lifted in the direction of the statue. A madman might have just had a tantrum in the hall of the great temple. Or a man who has been challenged and pushed to his limit and the chains of self-control were finally breaking, shattering and falling apart under the pressure that the man exposed himself to willingly. The finger shivered just like the conviction that he was confronting the right enemy. Wasn’t it always easier to blame others instead of oneself? Wasn’t it always simpler to point at someone else? His hand jerked backwards, fingers unfurling from the tight gesture as he stared at his palm in disbelief. It was not blasphemy he was suddenly afraid of.
The palm. Rough. Calloused. Marked by his past. He could still feel the desperate beating of his heart as he squeezed, ridding the vile creature of its life. He was sick. In so many ways. Hands coming down to his stomach it felt almost as if his guts were to turn inside out and he fell to his knees. The life...as it drained from his eyes in shock of seeing that he would not die in battle, but by the hand of his very own slave who grinned, giggled even as he murdered his master. The monstrosity. The joy. He choked, feeling heartburn, feeling his stomach wanting to regurgitate whatever was or was not inside it.
“I need help…” He whispered, shameful burning tears filling his eyes with a suddenness that shocked him into momentary silence before they fell heavily towards the ground. “I need....to forgive myself.” He sobbed. “But I don’t deserve it. I’m rotten. I’m beyond saving.” Falling over, his forehead hit the cold floor of the temple. He became a ruin of a man. A man devoid of hope. A man so broken he no longer believed that he could be put back together properly. Pieces of him were shattered thousand times and scattered across time and space. A man who no longer believed that there was a better him to be written in his skin. A man who doubted that a travelling priest taking him under his wing would save him from the darkness lurking beneath. A man who was willing to give himself to lethargy and life of apathy if that brought any solace to his aching soul. This matter was no longer that of his heart. His heart has already been broken in Rharne. His soul...that’s where it all began; where it would all ended.
His soul was stolen from him, twisted and returned. Now it did not know how to fix itself, how to become normal, complete, pure again. His sobs danced around like dying snowflakes on a warm day. They shone and sparkled in the air for a moment before evaporating forever in the fleeting images of dreams that he once might have had. Now forgotten.
“Ymiden, please. I just... I. Can’t. Do. This.” His words burned in his throat. His arms around his body tightened. It was the only reliable embrace he has ever known. “Not on my own. I can’t fight on my own. I can’t do it. Not any longer.” He begged once more just like he did when before lashings, before his master’s men made him watch, before he was made do things. He begged for mercy as he was collapsed there and then - on his knees, bowing so low the earth could swallow him in one lazy bite, tears so true he felt like he could never stop them from flowing. “Immortals, please, save me. There has got to be another way than this!” Lifting his head, through the mist of his tears he saw the blurry shape of the higher beings as they were looking down on him. Let them judge now. A whisper he would swear was real. Yet, he would let them look down on this broken mortal who was now surrendering himself to their magnificent will, lost in his ways. The cage was opening and the bare human being was emerging - beaten by arcs of self-doubt, hiding from the truth, burying it so fiercely it became a fight for his life. He was a naked in the eyes of anyone - a man with no confidence in who he was, who he was meant to me. He so desperately wanted to live but felt like he was dying and there was nothing to stop the approaching end.
“Please, bring me out. I need saving.”

[Nymph]

The quiet of the evening did not miss large foyer to Moseke's temple. There were a few lingering Cïkäkkẹn, quelling the fires of prayer candles in the various alcoves as they began to close the temple down for sleep. Although it remained open the entire trial, only one member of the faction remained awake to observe those that wandered in for late night meditation or prayer. Once the fires were blown out, the two younger members bowed politely before disappearing to the hidden corridors that belonged to their guild. The last remaining man was an older man. His skin bore his years in cascading wrinkles while his eyes were clouded. Although he was believed to be blind by most, he saw clearer than many. His companion sat idly next to him, beyond the prying eyes of all others. The wolf was ancient, a Category one familiar. Although he shimmered like many other familiars, the older gentleman could argue that his pelt was that of snow. The long furs on the spirit creature's face paralleled that of his mortal counterpart.

"You are up late old man," the firm but warm voice came from no where. The Sev'ryn simply smiled, staring ahead of him in the dim light with little reaction. From the shadows came a scantily clad man. The Immortal stood just behind the man and his familiar, his thick arms crossed across his chest as the three of them looked towards the center of the room towards the statues.

"Ymiden. You do an old man an honor."

"Do not flatter yourself Ju'gu. You know I relish the nights that I might share a conversation with my kin." His voice was graveling, despite the underlying smoothness to it. The elderly man before him simply chuckled and shrugged, offering nothing. The conversations were a few words in greeting and then long hours spent observing the evening. As the night turned into dawn on these days, the Immortal and his marked would share a solemn moment in the rays of light.

Ymiden!

"So much for a peaceful night, sire. I shall excuse myself and leave the temple to you this eve. Forgive an old man. I am not as spry as I used to be."

"Take it easy Ju'gu. I shall see what this man desires."

While the old man retired to the hidden corridors, as his students had done a few bits prior, Ymiden prowled the shadowed walls of the circular chamber. The strange that had joined them seemed to be enraged, stricken with some strong emotion. The way that he rambled at his personal effigy was enough to consider his mental state deranged. Did he not understand that the statue was only a representation? It was not alive and had no intention of ever becoming so. Before Ymiden could even consider intervening - although this display did not deserve such an intervention - the man seemed to change. His analysis of his own hand and the heavy falling onto his knees were evidence that his internal battle was far more significant that Ymiden could have imagined.

A man that was willing to bare his soul in its raw form by caving beneath grief and the harsh reality of the past was worth sparing the time before. Slowly, Ymiden slipped up behind Finn, soaking in the words carefully. It took a strong man to admit that he couldn't do it on his own. It took a stronger man to show weakness, to cry and present himself in a vulnerable fashion. He had done it before and not just on one occasion. The light sound of his sandals hitting the smooth, wooden surface was the only sound that hinted at his entrance. He moved around the groveling man to stand between him and the statues. When he had interrupted his connection with the inanimate object, Ymiden lowered himself into a crouch so that he might be on Finn's level.

"So, you consider me a farce? For a man begging me to be saved, I wonder what I might be able to do to change your mind that I am here for those that need me. You just need to be willing to open your mind and your heart to the idea of forgiveness and then," Ymiden pursed his lips into a thin line. Was that priest ready to carry the heavy weight that a path towards forgiveness dumped upon a traveler?

"Only then would you be able to see what you desire."

[Finn]

No one in the temple mattered to the man on the floor. He had no capacity to notice them, nor did he care in this state where his core was breaking every trill, his mind exploded over and over again as his consciousness was finally collecting the debt it was owed. Whoever was to bear witness was to never make it to the memory he would have of that night unless they reached out, just like the voice that suddenly pushed through the rush of the cataclysm that has taken over his entire being. Yet, it took a moment for Finn to process what he was hearing.
As the stranger kept on talking, Finn hesitantly looked up. His face was a contortion of pain that surfaced and he was no long capable of hiding it. He was ready to disappear off the face of Idalos and would bet the few possessions he had that no one would look twice and question his vanishing act. The picture that made it through the tears stunned him, however.. He froze in the half risen position, staring at a man who was rightfully familiar beyond doubt and it was only a momentary denial that prevented him from seeing the real person crouched before him. An almost audible snap resonated inside his head. Whatever has just broken within Finn gave way to whatever was to follow in these upcoming moments. He was suddenly thrown outside of the mundane world into a dream that felt all too real. He shivered like a man thrown into Viden’s cold breeze as he was in the presence of the one man who he doubted more than himself for just a fraction of a moment. If he was seeing the man that he just accused of being a mockery of the very thing he stood for; if this was Ymiden…
First came a quiet whimper as the broken man dragged himself to sit on his heels, back curved humbly in the face of an Immortal. Then came guilt so deep and raw, he could no longer look at the face of the man that he so rudely asked for help. His eyes dropped to his lap, looking at the hands that have done the works on the field, with wood. Hands that have also taken a life.
”I tried…” He answered hoarsely, hands curling into loose fists. His shoulder hunched over a little further in a subconscious attempt to make himself smaller than he was. “I want to forgive myself, but...how do I know that I deserve it?” Few trembling trills passed, his head shaking slowly. Then in a motion of offering his mere self to the Immortal, his hands opened up again towards Ymiden. His blue hues following the blue lines of his veins as they extended over his forearms to the thin lines hiding somewhere inside those rough palms, all the way up to the Immortal, where they hesitantly laid. Afraid like a small animal in the open, he knew that he could no longer stay quiet, however.
“These hands have damned me.” With a heavy swallow and fear shaking his body once more, he spoke of the king of spectrals that has been haunting him for the many past arcs, a secret that he could no longer carry on his own. “They’ve killed.”
”I have killed. So how do I deserve forgiveness for that?”

[Nymph]

Ymiden listened quietly as the crouched before the mortal, allowing the dam to break and emotions to flood forth. Raw, unbridled pain and suffering was a soul twisting knife in the back. A person could feel all that they had come during this process. For most men, these emotions came in small waves forcing some into a depression. Uncontrolled waves of guilt could even send some to the other side for committing the terrible act of suicide. Was it any better to act cowardly and take ones own life as some sort of replacement for all the wrong that they had done. No. Only repentance could save the soul. Famula could keep those that were damned in the middle plane between life and death.

Ymiden stared at Finn's hands. For having murdered someone, they were physically clean. So, these were old sins he spoke of. They must have weighed heavily on his spirit for some time now. He blamed them initially, which made Ymiden frown; however, his realization that there had been a man with a heart, mind, and soul behind those damned hands made his facial features soften. This mortal was not an idiot. He had been in denial for so long, but he was coming to realize just how heavily his sins were dragging him down.

"That, my disciple, is all in the past now. Whatever reason caused you to use your hands to take the lives of others, I do not need to know. That is for you to carry," Ymiden pulled his hands forward in the same fashion that Finn had done, showing the mortal his own palms. They were pale, not quite as veiny, and large. He flipped them back and forth slowly, showing that they appeared to be clean. "Mortals put me on a plane above you, but I am no different. I have killed, directly and indirectly, for reasons I will not share because they no longer matter. What is done is done. I cannot change the past. What I can do, is change my future by accepting my past and allowing it to shape the man I have become. Now I use these hands to build, to create, and to hold those I love dear close to me."

Ymiden pushed himself up, turning away from Finn. He allowed his effigy to come back into view. He walked around it, running a thick finger against the representation of the little Tunawa. "I gave life to her. She was my pride and joy. I hold Moseke closest to me, for she does not judge me for my sins. If these two strong women can forgive a lowly rat like myself, I figured I was capable of doing the same. Think of those around you that have faith in you and your capabilities. Have they considered forgiveness? Do they care of your transgressions? If they have forgiven you, then a man." Ymiden paused, shaking his head. "-no, a priest such as yourself can do the same."

Ymiden was not a man of epiphanies and rarely spoke in such a formal way. This seemed to be fleeting as he reigned in this spiel. He pulled his hand away from the statue, moving around it until he stood between it and Finn once more. He folded his hands behind his back and placed his feet squarely beneath his shoulders. "Now get up. Sniveling and crying is no way to present yourself in this temple."

[Finn]

A disciple...for a single, three syllable word, it echoed in the cavities of Finn's mind with potency. The empty spaces full of dust, like a wind the word swept aside the old, stuffed air in one broad motion. He was called a trusted follower of belief he was struggling with, yet it did not feel as a misunderstanding or mockery. The Immortal appeared to believe that Finn was capable of absolution. He broke at last. Within him, a snap of chains released the rotting, toxic beliefs. They spilt over into Ymiden's freshly offered mercy where they cleansed. His sins were far from gone. He was far from coming to terms with them, but the cage of his mind was busted open and it issued forth a gasp.
He stared at the Immortal's hands that appeared normal but with just as horrific stories behind their actions. He heard it all loud and clear. What Ymiden has achieved, Finn could achieve too, no? To accept his past to shape who he would become; to have forgiveness from those who mattered to him the most; it would be his the biggest feat of his short life yet, but one he now was no longer so greatly doubtful about. Bravery and courage would need to become his companions to come forth to those he loved, share with them the darkness of his soul and pray for their pardon. He needed to take action, rather than endlessly remain in this self-imposed, painful limbo.
A priest... A man with a purpose in life, a faith to follow and trust of those around him to be genuine in his cause. Could he? Weren't those of faith pure? Whatever reason caused you to use your hands to take the lives of others, I do not need to know. The words recalled in his mind in the moments of silence. It did not matter then to the Immortal what his sins were. If his past held no meaning to Ymiden, if the man that Finn looked up to has committed similar crimes but chose to direct his energy in different ways afterwards; then what else stood in Finn's way to being who he was meant to be? Himself. He stood in his own way and he saw it as clear as he could the Besryn behind the wall. He was his own biggest enemy.
Within the freshly swept halls of his mind, warmth began to settle in. By no means and stretch of circumstances, Ymiden just officially charged Finn to be his priest. Yet, it was the simple addressing of the wreck of a human being as a disciple and a priest, that the idea was being appropriated. It was taking root within him, giving him a clarity that he has been lacking since forever. He could face his past, let it reside in one of those parts of his mind as something done and gone. The rest would house the new Finn. The rest would be used for something grander than self-pity and fear.
He stood up as instructed, feeling no shame in how he crashed and burned in the temple for if he had not, he might have done something far worse. From the floor that he took to just moments ago, he looked at the tutelar deity he now knew would be his to follow. There stood a disciple and a priest, but mainly a man whose guilt was still searing hot inside his chest. He stood there before Ymiden with less grace but growing reassurance for the longer he looked at the Immortal, the longer Finn was convinced that this was not the end. A path was shown to him. Whilst it would be the more challenging one, it would also be the one that Finn had to follow. Now he knew, that he was not alone after all to go on that journey.
"Thank you, Ymiden." He said lucidly. "Thanks for your guidance. I...I'll do my best to honour it." Still with remnants of doubt, he made that promise none the less before his eyes dropped like a repenting child.
"I'm sorry to have called you a farce as well..."

[Nymph]

Ymiden stood before Finn with a slight smirk on his face. It appeared to him that his speech had somehow affected the human. At the least, it gave the man something to chew on. Forgiveness was a difficult thing to grasp, and it came from deep within. This man still had a long way to go, if his sins were as great to cause this much heartache. As depressing as it was, Ymiden could relate. The Immortal stepped forward, closing the distance between the two of them. The action may have been seen as threatening to most, but Ymiden hope that the bond that the two had tentatively made would prevent Finn from startling. He dropped his heavy hands on the mortal's shoulder, his smirk widening into a smile. "I am sure that you will honor my statements Finn. No one is more capable than someone who is willing to ask for and accept help."

His apology for the term 'farce' made Ymiden laugh. It was deep and melodious. In a normal temple, it may have reverberated off the walls. Instead, the thick wood seemed to absorb it. The sapling that grew in the middle of the temple waved briefly. Had it been a soft breeze, or was it reacting to Ymiden's good mood? He clapped Finn's left shoulder, chuckling. "I would not be the Immortal of forgiveness if I let that sour my mood. Let us pretend it never happened. Besides, Moseke has called me things far worse than 'farce'." Ymiden hoped to bring a chuckle out of Finn with that statement. Whether it was a lie or not, he would never tell.

If allowed, Ymiden would rotate Finn to face the door. Dawn was just about to break. If the man turned, he would be briefly blinded by the first ray of light. Dawn's first light was powerful and beautiful all at the same time. Ymiden took pride in knowing that daybreak was one of his domains. It marked a new day with new opportunities. Finn would be able to see life in a different light now, or so the Immortal hoped. "Go now. Find your redemption. I am sure we will meet again soon."

If Finn turned to look back for Ymiden, he would only find the empty temple. The Immortal was already gone.

[Nymph]

REWARDS

Finn

• Knowledge:
  • Ymiden: Immortal of Dawn, Summer, Rebirth, and Forgiveness
  • Ymiden: Start by Forgiving Yourself
  • Ymiden: Has His Own Dark Secrets
  • Ymiden: Hands Aren't So Clean
  • Title: Disciple of Ymiden
  • Endurance: Running Through the Forest
  Loot: None
  Injuries: None
  Fame: +5 (Meeting an Immortal)
  Devotion: +10 (Meeting Ymiden, Praying to Ymiden, Conversing with Ymiden)
  
  Story: 5/5
  Collaboration: 5/5
  Structure: 5/5

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Comments: It was a sincere pleasure writing this thread with you. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Ymiden is a cool Immortal and I hope to see your bond with him grow. Let me know if you would like to do any more moderated threads in the future.

If you feel I've missed anything or if you have questions about your review, please don't hesitate to send me a quick PM. Thank you!