Never What You Want

Sun Feb 23, 2020 9:25 am

54th of Frost, Year 119

- - -

"Sometimes I find it difficult to get over."

"What?"

"The ire."

"Of?"

"Being what I am. Not just because I'm a Silver Elf, or because I'm from Sil-Elaine, or that I'm Famished... or a mage. But just... something about me. It's like... the world has never gotten along with me, nor the people in it. Always pushback; always shame. I'm so tired of it. I'm sick."

He paused. And took a breath. "How can someone fix something like that?" he asked. "Without changing themselves. I've never been the charismatic, charming Siltori like people might expect... instead, I'm the rude one. The one no one likes. Even my peers -- even though they have most of the characteristics I do. I've always been different, and I wonder why."

"You know why, Taelian. It wasn't your fault, either; that's just how it was. We can only do what we can to change it."

"Yeah, but I can't spend all my days blaming the Black Sigil. Or being Famished. I've learned of late that I can feel real emotion -- but within those emotions, I have poor control. One moment I can't feel anything, and then I feel a lot. And a lot of that emotion is fear, and spite. I'm vengeful. Look at what I've done... I've pushed Riven away from--"

"Stop. You're judging yourself far too harshly."

"Maybe."

"You are."

"Okay, but then... what--"

"Taelian, you're leaving the city soon. Don't you think you should use this chance to say goodbye?"

"I already did."

"And... how did it go?"

The Ebon Knight began to shake, shuddering with the onset of sorrow. Tears began to well in his eyes. "Painfully," he said. "He was heartbroken. Maybe he didn't say it -- but I could see it. We're still together... I said we would always be. He is my Arlaed, even if we haven't finalized that bond. We have... another one, and it's also strong; and then another one on top of that. A bond of real love, understanding. We belong together, Lethiril. I don't want to leave." He began to cry. It was only a matter of time.

"Why are you saying all of these things, Taelian? I get the tears, and the things about Riven, but... everything else. The flagellation. What's the purpose?"

"Because, Leth, I..." he shook his head. "I'm going back to that world. Never being happy. Never being understood. Here, perhaps I did not belong here, but I belonged with him. And I'm leaving him and this place because I'm too afraid to say no -- to Aldrin. I don't want to be a deserter. I'll never be able to return to Sil-Elaine if I leave the Remedy; I'll have no place to go."

"I thought you were with them because you believed in their ideals, Taelian," the Dratori replied. "Not just because you wanted a place to call home."

Taelian frowned. "I don't know, Leth. I never had a choice. I was raised to be their soldier -- their Ebon Knight. The Dranoch are terrible... I know that to be true. But so is this. Being Famished. It is a repression far worse than the one I lived in beneath them. And now I feel it's paralyzed me enough to where I can't even say no; I can't bring myself to leave."

"You can," the Ithur replied. "You can find a new home. You can be selfish, like those Siltori you derogate and judge. Because they chose themselves over shared suffering, and that's okay. They made their own choice, and choices -- but you never got to make yours. So make it now, Taelian. Choose to stay. Or to go. I'm with you no matter what... and I think Riven will be, too."

Mon May 18, 2020 2:56 pm

Hours passed. Decisions were never easy, and he knew that. In his life, and perhaps in the lives of most people, there were never any straightforward answers. There was always risk and reward, loss and gain. Until now though, Taelian had only ever chosen what was instructed of him; if there was ever any faculty to make a choice on his own, he had always gone with what the voices around him decreed. Sometimes he felt as if he spoke and only Aldrin's words came out. And beyond their early interactions, he barely even knew the man -- the Jailor had done little for him save leave his soul wounded and compel him to a service utterly lifelong.

Yet, he had decided to go along with him again.

"I'll go with you to Atinaw," he told his peer. As he said it, his eyes closed shut, and for a moment he really did hear Aldrin's words echoing in his head.

What is right is almost never what we want.

Were there flaws in those words? Yes. He could see them as blatantly as he had the moment they were spoken, in that speech upon the ramparts, overlooking the crowd. Aldrin was leading a revolution, yet his ideas were as revolutionary as a Dranoch's fang upon the neck of an innocent soul. They had been regurgitated by warmongers and ideologues over and again throughout time. Taelian was not a particularly learned man, but he knew enough to know that the leaders almost never made the sacrifices. He supposed that the Ald'norai were a rare exception -- the nobility were the first to go. But that hadn't been by choice.

More hours passed. Another Cleric entered his room, but not the one he'd purchased in Kalzasi all those seasons ago. This was the room he stayed in within their small compound, really just a decently sized abode, burgeoning enough to feed and bed six souls. Four of them were to leave Kalzasi behind -- a token force of two would remain. Because the threat here had been eliminated, and if it returned in the form of a Botchling wandering ravenously through the streets, two would be enough.

"Aren't you excited to go, Taelian? They said we'll be going to Grimholdt. I, for one, am glad to leave this place; it is not nearly so expansive as one would think, and Grimholdt is known for the shallow waters of its coast. It will be delightful, I think."

It was Elduweyn, constantly battling for the role of his most and least favorite Ebon Knight stationed in these barracks. She was eighty years old -- not particularly haggard for a Silver Elf -- but she had the demeanor of a true ancient. Like one of those three century old ones whose parents saw the Sundering first-hand, and told their children about life in Sil-Elaine before it all came to an end. She was classy, raised to be proper and speak all manner of languages, and pay deference to the crown. And she was simple, and sought joy in simple things.

Yet within her was obviously a slayer of blood-suckers. And that part, he liked.

Mon May 18, 2020 3:11 pm

"Not particularly," he said. "I'd rather stay here."

"Why?" she asked. Taelian couldn't answer; if he did, then the Ashwraith in charge would quickly intervene, not content to allow one of his subordinates to romance one of the locals. And Taelian knew he couldn't make a case to stay -- their decisions were always final, determined by 'logistics'. He was one of the most combat-savvy of all the Ebon Knights stationed beyond Turoth, so they needed him to combat the Grimholdt cell. He knew everything they would say, and the suspicion that would follow his dissent.

"I like it here, that's all," he replied. The Pyromancer nodded his head once, before curtly looking away, lowering his chin. Elduweyn cocked a brow.

"You told me you hated it here not... what, eight weeks ago? You've changed a bit, have you? Always smiling with your head in the clouds. Don't think it isn't obvious as to why."

His gut twisted. Taelian sighed in exasperation, though he attempted to maintain the presence of being... cool-headed. This was not the time to fall into a trap; his comrades may have been good people, but any one of them would report above if he admitted to their accusations.

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about, Eld. Now -- why don't you gather the rest of your things? All those fancy glass vases you bought from the markets; the spices, the scents, the gowns. Remember your frivolous affairs before you insinuate my own distraction. Will that work for you?" he asked the woman, venomously. Her response was both immediate, and apparent; one of hurt. Her harmless query as to his ongoing romance was met with cold disdain. But it was a side of Taelian not totally unfamiliar. He had always been filled with latent aggression, and bile.

"You, too, Taelian. And say goodbye to your Lady for me."

The Siltori scoffed, before a smirk rose to his lips. It wasn't a lass. And he'd already said goodbye. But within the decisions he'd made in the last few hours, he had made one more among them: if he and Riven did reunite, and he was asked to leave his side once more, he wouldn't do it again. The Remedy wasn't everything to him. He barely liked the people within it, and he had never had any choice but to join. He chose to be with Riven, and he loved him more than all of the childish ideals of his old world. Within the Covenant, he would learn Transposition, well enough to travel near or far. Wherever he sought. And he would become stronger -- and better.

That was the reason he allowed himself to go. The Remedy... he would stay with them for as long as he could. But he was not a grunt anymore, nor the child branded by Aldrin's curious will. He had value, and he knew that it was time for him to demand that it be seen.

Fri Jun 05, 2020 4:44 pm

Taelian Ela'Rannoch

[indent=30]Experience: 5 points

[indent=30]Misc: 5 Black Remedy progression points

[indent=30]Knowledge: None

[indent=30]Injuries/Overstepping: None

[indent=30]Comments:

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