| Board : | |
| Author : | |
| Subject : | |
| Date : | |
|
He spoke of his daughter, it seems, when he said I would be a good friend. I've never had much curiousity for royalty. Respect, yes. I can give most that. A quiet whisper to my love and she explains who he refers to. Curiousity, peaked. I travel our local inns and libraries, it is easy to get more information there. She is cursed. Cursed by those I share blood with, though whom I have also been shunned by. My fire blood boils and I wince at the thought of the pain she surely has endured trapped elsewhere. Another name, another royal, another exiled. Though quite different, we are similar in that way. Also wanting to help her. In love? I return home and continue my current crafts of amber. Trials of culture. I try to concentrate on cutting them. "Visit him, call to him, write to him!" My mind rolls in circles around and around again. I grit my teeth and try to concentrate on not chipping too much off the next gem... "Call to him! Write to him! Do it!" The gem splits in half. Another tarnished. I slam down my tools in frustration and growl. FINE. A quiet whisper through winds only he can hear. It doesn't reach him. I try to pull back into focusing on my crafts but a different thought pecks in the back of my mind. My hand dips into my pocket and I feel the edges of my coins through the pouch. I draw it out, admiring the red velvet fabric for a few moments before I sigh heavily and pour the coins into my palm. In my intention, I think of her, I think of how she is in the present day. I let the coins roll over my knuckles until they clatter onto the desk in front of me. Yang. Yang. Yin. Wind. Yin. Yang. Yin. Water. Wind over Water. Huan. Dissipation. Warning of becoming unfocused in energy, as wind blows over water and it ripples. Maintain a clear, ready and open mind. I frown, my eyes focus towards a negative vision. Is she tired now? Her energy is draining? I rub my eyes to bring my vision back to the desk in front of me, trying to focus on brass coins amid a scatter of broken gems. Just a few moons have passed since I pledged to defend, and I cannot take the words from my mind. "You'd be a good friend." "Write to him, write to him!" The nagging narrative continues. I will lose my mind if these thoughts plague me much longer. I pull out parchment from the desk and one of my quills. I write briefly, before handing the scroll to the messenger destined for the capital. I'm not sure there's much time. ~R | |