Time Shattered [Journal]

The stories and lives of the Grim. ((Roleplaying Stories and In Character Interactions))
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Qabian
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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I'm not entirely sure why I went back. After the dead man left, I expected there to be nothing worth hearing, just a rambling goblin that apparently some Grim paid a handsome sum at one time or another despite his complete lack of good sense and a terrified illusion, jumping at her own shadow. And I did have to go watch that ridiculous play. It was interesting, but yes, ridiculous.

But hours later after checking the auction house, thinking I'd move to the top level and eavesdrop without anyone noticing, there was already drama unfolding. Apparently already over, but unfolding for me at least.

I didn't intend to appear as some sort of protector. I've been accused of that with some frequency in the past, but I dislike it and it has never been my role. I did want to make them think twice about attacking, but not because I planned to get between her and danger. If anything, I intended to play the amplifier. If there was about to be chaos, I intended to double it. That is all.

But the shadow rabbit wasn't wrong. The Grim do tend to protect their own. No, not protect, but come to their aid. Fanatics know they need other fanatics to ensure their ideals thrive. I only denied confirmation because I know when we fight amongst ourselves, whatever loyalty we have to each other may as well be ash on the wind.

I don't know why she seemed to think I would reveal the answers to questions she wasn't even going to ask. I don't know her. She's with Sanctuary. She's not even sin'dorei. I'd rather answer her by filling her skull with fire, but I try not to give the bartender unnecessary work. I've revealed more than is reasonable to Ninorra's child, yes, but for all that is wrong with him, and there is plenty, he is a blood elf. I had to be convinced of that, but I am now. Mostly. The illusion is no such thing. I am often inclined to admit more than I intend when someone asks me questions, but I don't simply ramble endlessly without some point to speak on.

The truth is no matter how often Syreena and I trade favors, I will always owe her more than she could ever owe me. I'm the one who left. Does that mean I'll always appear at her back? Hardly. For one thing, I can't usually see her. But I also won't avoid a fray that she's involved in.

I hate regrets. I hate that I have them. But I do. They're there. And that's what makes me stand beside her when someone else tries to steal property that she earned, or when someone else tries to placate anger that she earned, or whatever.

And she's been through enough. I haven't. Pick on someone you haven't tortured repeatedly yet, hm? The world's worst heroes. They make us look good, and we're too busy being correct to even pretend to be good.

The cow's little fire was cute, though. Red dragons, hah. All dragons are a menace to this world. Set them on fire and ride their bones. I was slightly surprised how allergic he seemed to the actual meanings of strength and courage, despite how much he babbled about them, but given how self-deprecating he was, I'm sure he's hopeless. Chooses bad company, at any rate.

I... honestly didn't think Syreena's party auction was supposed to amount to anything. I thought it was simply for the amusement at the time. Get her prize money, hand out her prizes, which I then walked away with, so why would I care beyond that. She acknowledged that, too, or at least she said she didn't care what happened afterward either. I know I only paid so that the people I paid for would get nothing out of it.

Apparently, the bartender thinks otherwise and believes I owe him? Coffee and books? At least give me a reason to say no outright. I was tempted to simply... play avoidance until he forgets about it, but Syreena thinks I should meet with him. Something dangerous going on? He shouldn't want my advice. He knows what kind of person I am. If he didn't before last night, he does now. I told him.

I also told him I wouldn't wear the dress.

Given all of that and what came up in the discussion with the Commander, maybe I should cash in on the warlock I paid for. At least get some words out of him, find out what he was thinking, if Syreena and I further consider taking over his project.

The rogue is... He'll do. He's determined, intellectually curious, holds his own in a fight, and seems right in the head. He's a little too forgiving in... at least one way, but he's been advised to keep that to himself, and been advised that he might be forced to move past it to move forward, so he's prepared. He seemed a bit quick to offer his brother's life. If you want it yourself, then it's not a sacrifice, is it? That was my problem. What can I sacrifice when they already have everything of mine?

But I had instructed him to think on it, so perhaps he's done that. He's already tortured himself, and he's ready to get it over with. We'll see.

Moving too fast, though. There may be other tasks waiting for him.

I was surprised he wanted to speak to Awatu. It fits the Trial we've decided to forego, and on his own initiative. Good for both of us.

I suppose if you view the enemy as a disease to be cured, then peace at the other side seems perfectly reasonable. Syreena, however, doesn't see that any more than I do. She and I were both Alliance once. We know better. We know this doesn't have an end. We know the Mandate is just one word, not three.
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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I'm more concerned than I expressed. There is so much risk to raising an enemy that is otherwise comfortably harmless as a corpse. And this one has retained far more of its memory and self than the one I did. Mine was nothing, an empty headed marionette, a body, mindless but mobile, a joke to be had at her expense, not a lesson for her to learn.

This one has a taste for something, knows who it was. He might not think they'll listen to him, but they don't need to see what he's become to be manipulated by him. Perhaps he's not smart enough to do that. Perhaps he won't feel the desire. Perhaps Malkaris' work will be sufficient. Too much perhaps. These matters should have a certainty to them or be left alone.

But who am I to tell her what to do?

I can understand that she wouldn't see death as an impediment to revenge, especially if she didn't get to deal it herself. After all, she wasn't allowed to rest. Why should he be?

Then there's the whole idea that burying mostly whole corpses in this world, in that ground especially, is asking for a sequel. If you want it to be dead and stay dead, ashes on the wind or at least a thousand pieces that can't be sewn back together, especially the insides of the skull.

But not this one, no. It's not like anyone in their right mind is bothered by desecration. Better to put it through a meat grinder than risk the necromancers getting their hands on it, hm?

Especially when the corpse once held a dreadlord? If he speaks the truth, whoever buried him was stupid beyond stupid, or planning for this, neither of which are particularly heartening regarding this turning out well in the end.

When I die, I'm coming back to torture whoever's responsible for failing to burn the body. With luck, I'll have the chance to be sure of it myself before it's too late.

Curious to see if she'll enjoy my puzzle or hate it. I'm rather more afraid of the former than the latter. Always better to be underestimated.
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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The bartender may be correct. If I am playing their game, I may be helping them, at least in the short term. I don't believe I am, yet. But if I am to get what I want, I will have to eventually. I must reconsider this. I am always reconsidering this.

It made sense in days gone by. It does not make sense any longer.

But if it works? If it plays out well? If it plays out in our favor? Even if I help them in the short term, if it ultimately erases them, or even just sows chaos and discord within them? It could be worth years upon years of toil and agony. I will move slowly. I will keep this to the edges. I will not ingratiate myself with their core, only with the periphery. A step here, a greeting there, a gift here, a compliment there, but all the while being who I have always been, insulting them profusely, never letting them think I've truly changed, only that I have a side they did not know, without ever betraying myself and my truths. I can do that. Can't I?

Maybe I can't. I still don't know that this is worth the risk. If I were sensible, I would put it all aside while I still can. Unfortunately, it seems I want the possible outcome of it all more than an appeal to good sense would say is reasonable.

Not so bad, hm? Oh, how wrong you are. If you can be offended by someone as ludicrous as Nathandiel, I am far, far worse, because I don't use lies to cause offense. I use the truth, and it stings much harder.

That in itself is a lie. I do the same as the lunatic. I use lies to provoke, to cause and abuse reactions. I'm simply less vile and more arrogant in the play.

To detest all men to the point of violence and not love women in their stead is a curious place for a woman to be? I can understand it, but in my experience, such people have been rare indeed.

She only thinks I'm not as bad because I offered to help her kill him if the situation should arise. And because she didn't hear what I would have said of her father after knowing the rest of the story.

I never expected to end up discussing the Barov witch ever again. I hadn't even noticed the parallels--

How could I have noticed the parallels? She never informed me of them. In retrospect, those seem like important details, but also in retrospect, I actively avoided asking her connections to the victim she sent me after. I knew something was off, but I expected family or friendship, not... this.

Did we kill the Barov? We must have killed the Barov. The Bronze stole this from me. We did. We did, yes? We did. How else could we have retrieved the shard? But I didn't? I wasn't there. Acherontia did it for me.

I remember Karazhan. I remember the spellwork to keep her silenced and hearing only silence. I remember the intensity and the difficulty of maintaining it week after week.

Wait, I was there. We did it together? I told her I would come alone and then did not. Was that how it went? There was someone else there? No, that was something else. Why can't I remember? I know why I can't remember. I hate fishing for these vague fractured memories that promise nothing. I regained some of what Ninorra did, but this is still lost. Yet... Didn't they happen at the same time? In the same...
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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It certainly felt illicit, though it was nothing more than conversation. Perhaps she was right, I could only speak those things among large numbers. Where else would there be no questioning of both proximity and silence? Everyone was engaged in proximity and silence. There I can speak things I would never speak if anyone might overhear or even simply question. We certainly couldn't have that conversation in Dalaran or Silvermoon, and somewhere private is not viable, nor should it be. What is left but a large crowd with a focus on a stage?

Why even bother? That's a more difficult question, but given the rare opportunity, apparently I couldn't pass it up.

She practically had her fingers interlaced with those of Grim the entire night, to the abandonment of even her monstrous partner for a performance never performed. Given who she is relative to her so-called friends, her predilections and obsessions, given our numbers in comparison, and given that she approached us not the other way around, it rather seemed she was the one playing traitor, which is amusing in itself.

What do we do if not proselytize to each other, continually trying to convince the other that they are in the wrong?

Perhaps I should not have left Vyalis to her clutches. His fight with his brother took much out of him, I think. But I trusted him to either hold his own or show himself unworthy, either of which were valuable, and it seems he did the former.

He shouldn't have offered me a ring and a quiet explanation, though. Something else and a quiet explanation, or a ring and a clearly audible explanation, either would have saved us both looking foolish. He was tired.

Maybe the main reason I am Grim is all of them fall outside the usual stories. None of them put family above violence. Whereas everyone she works with is extremely usual, so usual that they inspire yawns so expansive they suffocate.

Khorvis... Ah well, none of it could have been avoided. I am concerned it will make him quiet, though. Khorvis is at his best when he is both loud and sharp.

I am curious how it would have played out. I believe I would have had the advantage, but there were too many reasons to leave it be. The first being not giving filth the opportunity to spread. The second being the importance of continued access. The rest being no desire whatsoever to interact in any way that would not guarantee permanence. I don't take joy in the pain, the humiliation, the pieces in between. I take my joy in the finality. There was none of that to be had.

I'm not sure why everyone I speak to is automatically deemed a romantic interest. Apparently, if I speak to anyone a second time, the non-existent interest has already developed into a full blown non-existent relationship. I have vague memories of the same happening in the time before, and it being just as distasteful. It's because of the usual stories. When all your concerns are pathetic, all your assumptions are as well.

In line with that, there are apparently only two explanations for my mutilation. The first is I lost to her in combat, which I did not, but I would prefer if I have to choose. The second is some sort of act of romantic submission. The truth is neither, but who would care to hear the explanation? The truth is a combination of pride and necessity. The truth is the culmination of months of agonizing over what I can sacrifice to prove myself after the sheer extent of my failure, only to be offered the clearest, most obvious answer in the last moments.

My wholeness, that I regained at great cost to myself, was really the only thing of value to myself that I could have given, short of my very life. Why would I have said no to an ear when what I should have given was my throat? I did not give it to her, but to the Grim, and she stands as their representative better than any. She even knows the Mandate as I know it.

But no one outside the Grim sees that. All they see is the stitched up dead girl who collects pieces of elves as trophies and snacks, so I'm just another trophy and a snack.

Fine. Let them see their worthless lie. Let them speak it and spread it, even. It'll leave them underestimating both of us until the day the tides finally turn.
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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[[ Yes, until the tides finally turn! The tides of darkness! ]]
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Qabian
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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That... gave me hope, hope I thought was dead or at least dying. And yet. For so many reasons, hope.

None of which involve Malkaris. There I have only regret.
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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It's the recognition that there are more of us than I've seen evidence of in the past few months. Often, it seems like it's Syreena and I against the world.

Not last night, though. Last night, we were the world, all of us, Syreena and her pet, and Vyalis, and the Grimtotem shadow, and the quiet wolf, and the knight with her broken mechanical voice accidentally screaming about horrible stereotypes.

Even Malkaris, I suppose. He's worse in that skin. At least when he was more clearly falling apart, no one took him quite as seriously. Now, well, he keeps everyone entertained with his clown show, but I'm not sure we should have let him out of the guild hall. I don't think I ever want to see him and Nathandiel in the same room.

But even those who weren't us weren't the usual, weren't the kind who push me to despair of any future for the Horde. There were the Luna I've worked with before, the sensible yet angry from across the spectrum, the smug and the smart. Even the one with the reputation for collecting boyfriends, who apparently has both the lizard man from last week and Our Lord Gustblade checked off her list, seemed practically an intellectual compared to the usual crowds.

Even Kahlan gives me hope. There's something I like about her, and not just because she made the mistake of giving me a compliment once. Maybe it's her penchant for jumping immediately to violence. Maybe it's her utter dismissal of the continuous pathetic attempts to encroach on feelings she clearly doesn't have. Maybe it's her seemingly equal hatred of nearly everyone around her. She's not quite right in the head, being so defensive of the parents she was apparently avoiding, who I will ever doubt are actually related to her in any way, even through mere kindness. She doesn't seem to realize that everything she hates about men is all her father has to offer the world. He is the very pinnacle of what she detests most, and yet she leaps ferociously to his defense if anyone so much as sneezes in his direction. But if Kahlan were the worst the Horde had to offer, we would be well-equipped for whatever lies ahead.

Unfortunately, there are those like her parents, and the monstrous rabbit who put up with Malkaris' lechery with nothing but blushes and yet ran off in a panic at the sight of that half-demon I know nothing about and want to know nothing about but who I know has enough propensity for violence to be on the side of hope. But last night, they were outnumbered in a way that felt incredibly satisfying. So yes, hope.

Even at our meeting. It was small, yes, but not as small as it's been when the future has seemed darkest. We grow, slow but steady. The pendulum swings as it always does. I've been out of sync with the clock for too long to recognize its motions, but time tells its tales whether we want it to or not.
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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This is fine. It’s fine. It will be fine. Once I’m no longer blindsided nor hungover, it will be fine.

I was prepared to deal with Silvermoon’s tizzy over nothing. I had all my excuses and counter-stories ready for those accusations.

I wasn’t at all prepared for Syreena’s little revelation.

It was just a stupid game. I was supposed to be taunting her for accessing my correspondence, nothing more. I asked for letters written in code, but I wanted them to be inane, perfectly pointless, so that if Syreena actually went to the trouble of breaking them, she’d get nothing but grocery lists and meeting minutes for her efforts. And there it was, the whole of it. Don’t read my mail was all it was supposed to say.

I suppose I should be taking this as a win, considering it convinced Syreena to essentially confess to reading my mail. However, that’s rather lost under what kind of mail it proves Syreena’s reading.

I got my letters in code. And they were ordinary, in the sense that they were the same kinds of letters that she had been writing before. But those kinds of letters were... Personal? Incriminating? Certainly not inane, not to me at any rate.

I decided I didn’t care that much because it was so unlikely Syreena would ever find the cipher anyway. I could keep the game going indefinitely, and I might as well keep it going forever, as punishment for getting into my mail. Fine. Read my letters. And end up with an unsolvable puzzle. Enjoy breaking your brain against that one for a few years.

Well, game’s over. The jig is up. Check please.

Why would she do that? All it does is ruin what Syreena thinks of me. I don’t care what most people think of me. Rumors have been an integral part of my existence for as long as I can remember. That doesn’t mean I need to pay any attention to them. But could you leave well enough alone the one person that I managed to convince I wasn’t worthless? Of course she couldn’t. She can’t know why it would matter to me.

None of this matters to anyone else. I’m sure none of it even matters to Syreena. It only matters to me.

I think I know why she did it. She thinks she’s better than I am. Of course she does, or I wouldn’t like her. So she’s showing me how much better she is. If that’s all it is, then this will be fine. It will pass. It will blow over.

For now, the game isn’t mine anymore. It’s Syreena’s until she gets bored of it. Let’s hope that’s sooner than later.

I’m not sure what I told the bartender, or what he gave me to drink before he sent me home with... Was that cider? I think it was rocket fuel. Rocket fuel and champagne? What the fel?

I wonder if everything would be better if I had managed to kill the kid. That was... a far greater ordeal than this petty game of letters and innuendo. And it was a wake-up call that I never wanted.

I got what I wanted. I succeeded in what I’d been threatening all along.

And it hurt? Why did it hurt?

No, I know why it hurt. And so I let her hurt me in turn. Saved my life, the kid did. Probably. I don’t think she would have killed me, but she might have kept me in a jar for a thousand years.

He’s a good kid, smart, good reflexes, strong sense of power. I can hope he’ll grow up to have more sense than his mother, but with me stepping out that seems like a long shot.

Still, I’m glad to drop the teaching. I dropped the others, as well. I’m no instructor. All but one. I’ll keep her.

Ninorra said no one saw her. What a liar. I told her I didn’t care. Evidently I’m a liar, too, despite my great pronouncements to tell nothing but truths. I know she’ll tell Vicailde everything I said, and everything she said, so there won’t be any real need for him to come after me. But that’s not exactly going to stop the entire city and apparently the entire Horde from saying something that’s patently not true and makes him look like a fool. If I were in his shoes, I’d want to kick my ass anyway, just for the rumors, whether I believed my wife or not.

And Syreena was already angry with her, so now she gets to be angry with me as well, because of course someone like Ninorra can’t walk through Silvermoon’s streets without being noticed. I should have told her to wear a sack and cover her face or something. I didn’t think it would be so damned necessary.

I don’t know what Vyalis thinks he’s going to do. I made my suggestion. I think it’s a good one. We’ll see.

We’ll see with all of it. I don’t want to see. Can I just... lock the door and come out when everyone’s forgotten everything? It’s not like I’m innocent of anything, but that doesn’t mean I want to deal with this garbage fire.
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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Someone should have died last night.

And I don't just mean Anduin Babyface Wrynn and the spanking he got from three measly Grim. To be honest, Tradire could have taken care of him herself, most likely. Naughty child shouldn't have let his father die. The Alliance have degenerated so much. I wonder if Moira shows as poorly these days. Perhaps I should pay her a visit. She was never that impressive back when she was in Blackrock.

Poor little purple princess. She's so sad and cranky that she'd fall for the snipes of a lizard, accurate shots at her other half, a lizard who won't even respond at all when the pushback comes from the Tauren across the room.

Usually people like that, people who insist on playing for a team, they'll back off once they realize that causing me pain would only give me a good time. Wouldn't want that other team to rub off on you now, would you? He was apparently willing to take the risk. Well, I may not give a shit about teams, and perhaps I don't even have a type according to him, but I definitely don't play those games with vermin, wildlife, animals. I know magic, and I know whatever he is trying to be, he isn't right. And we can all make our dubious educated guesses, can't we?

I've taken enough of them apart, scale by scale, sinew by sinew, vertebra by vertebra, soul by soul, to know for a fact.

Dragons aren't people.

But he doesn't even get that far. He's something less, something worse. He is a dog, after all.

I'd have more respect for Aaren if she'd been bent over by an actual dog than that thing. It seems the standards she has for her collection are standards that idiots must fall below rather than rise above. Anyone with too much intellect has to be kept at a distance. More power to her, abusing the stupid to get what she wants. Not a technique I'd ever use, but whatever works?

Always hilarious to see cowardice looked down upon. If cowardice keeps me from falling like the purple princess to a puppy with small words and some ash in his drool, seems cowardice is preferable in every way, isn't it?

Syreena should be careful about listing my collection. One time-lost connection never technically severed that allows me to insist I am not single probably wouldn't even make such a list. But she would. Along with Ninorra and Fayleah, probably Tradire as well at this point, and I don't even want to know what she was saying to Gavril, maybe even the unfortunate new kid. And Eva, of course, the only one who actually belongs there. Nevermind the other two whose names no one knows.

The better comeback to her saying she hasn't been seen leaving my personal quarters would have been she's seen leaving my office where she's alone with me all the time, occasionally with bags of money, but maybe I wasn't entirely comfortable saying that. Or I didn't think of it until it was too late. Either way.

Maybe I don't care about teams, but one team seems to care about me, hm?

Team or no team, what Eva's learning with the shadow is horrible. Something new. Something I haven't trained with. Something delightful. She never had trouble keeping pace with me, but now that she's learning to heal, I'm the one who's falling behind. Perhaps there are regrets to be had after all, but she seems to enjoy the results.

Vyalis shouldn't have given up his ear. He shouldn't have given up at all. Ninorra's not that fearsome. I'll have to talk to him. He's setting a bad precedent for the necromancer's child.

Amusingly, Syreena didn't seem to realize just how much I knew. I wonder if she was trying to keep her plans secret from me and Vyalis bungled that, too. He still should have kept his ear. Pieces are to be given in pride, not disgrace. Like that oaf of a squidgoat and my eye back in the day.

There's something not right about Shalassian. I've gotten so used to understanding people trying to speak against me in a tongue they think I don't know. Amusing how Pandaren have never even made the attempt. Eva's shared a few words, but they have rather specific applications, none of which applied last night. Shame. I wonder what they were doing there, but I wasn't in much of a place to make inquiries. I doubt I ever will be. The Nightborne crowd I've fallen in with are not the Nightfallen, but they do suit my purposes oh so well.
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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Home is a strange thing. People put so much stock by a handful of dirt. I mean Silvermoon is mine, and if it were to vanish tomorrow, I would lose perhaps half my reason to fight, but certainly not all of it.

I can likely thank my worthless family for that attitude, hm? Removed from home as soon as it was plausible to be removed, why would I give it any value? The fact that I had one for a time has only made it even less desirable, nevermind the butler.

I hope he is dead. I hope his child is dead, too. I hope all their children fall off cliffs and rot on the rocks. I hope their pathetic family disintegrates and their ashes scatter to the void. I don't know how they got Syreena to play their disgusting games, but it's painful to watch, especially when they make idiotic suggestions like putting the worthless parts of her back together. Let her be. She's sharp the way she is. That puff of cowardice would only dull her entirely.

It's not fair that people like that can taint the good, but I suppose there's always something out there taking what's valuable and twisting it to worthlessness.

Hilarious again to see that I am everything they wish they were and can never be.

I know peace. I know how to make peace. I know how it's done. I could teach them lessons. It's done so:

You stand before your enemy, you lay down your weapons, and you open your arms.

If they kill you, there is peace.

If they don't, you ask them what they need, and you provide it for them. And there is peace.

I'm not an idiot. I know war serves no peace. I know precisely how peace is accomplished.

I simply have no interest in it whatsoever.

Oh, I'll fight for peace certainly. I'll fight to force the enemy to be the one to lay down their weapons and open their arms. And when they do? I'll cut them down, and there. We'll have our peace, the only way we have ever professed to take it.

And I'll still surprise the bartender when I know how to get what I want when I want it. And the hypocrites? They cry on each other's shoulders as, one by one, each of them turns bad, each of them starts fights, each of them sacrifices peace for petty revenge or misguided notions of whose home belongs to whom.

I have your peace right here.

And he'll surprise me when he's good at his job. Not the serving drinks part, but the other part, the letting your patrons talk out their own problems, or asking them the simple, obvious questions they hadn't yet thought to ask themselves. They're all so frustrating because they don't hide the way Lilly and I know how to hide.

Vyalis hid quite well. I think that's why I liked him. Then when I force them to dredge up what they're trying to bury so that we can force them to kill it, even the ones who don't wave their issues like banners have to confront them. And Vyalis loses the advantage he had, as his issues cause his courage to deteriorate.

I have my baggage, but I don't wear it on my sleeve. I don't announce it to people in bars. I don't rant about the importance of family or the loss of mentors. I have a confessor for that now. I'll go to my confessional where I'll receive my freedom in exchange for truths until the burden becomes too heavy and sends me back.

But the facts remain. Those issues I refuse to confront are what lost me my arm, not any warlock, nor her child. I'll still refuse to confront them. And maybe they'll lose me the rest of my body in the end, but I've accepted that. I am highly skilled at putting aside my past for the sake of my future. I have always been good at that, as he intuited. My past simply stood in the way of one small child's death. How could I have known his discolored eyes would hold all my ghosts? But it hasn't stood in the way of anything else, and no other child will have that measure of luck when I'm turning the next orphanage to ash, and the next, and the next.

I have their peace right here.

Apparently, I'm also neither pretty, not prissy, nor vain. Hahaha! She's so astute, but how many would disagree with her? And Tradire doesn't even count.

Her master would choose the overly prideful for his artistry, yet pride is a Thalassian birthright, yet he himself was Thalassian? There's a contradiction for certain. I don't want to tell her who's a fleshcrafter and who isn't. And I don't want to give her back that heart. She has two choices if she finds her master, and I don't entirely trust that she'll be capable of either yet.
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Qabian
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

Unread post by Qabian »

I don't regret any of this. Yet. Maybe some particular words used, but overall, no. I doubt I'll be lucky enough for Vyalis to simply grow a pair without revealing who handed them to him. And given what he's been through, if he follows my advice, he's not going to be cooperative, is he? Of course not. That would be too easy.

I don't suppose she'll have the good sense to talk to me first. In her place, I doubt I would, but we've been trading favors for a long time now. Not talking to me is what made all of this a problem instead of merely incidental, but somehow I don't think she has the wisdom to see that.

So I expect she'll do her best to make me regret, but while I've given her the tools to do so, I'm not sure she has the intellectual capacity to use them to effect. Will she get angry or bored if revenge gets no reaction?

I have a rationale for all my choices, several actually -- being uninformed, the ineffective motivation she was using, narcissism. All in her best interests as well as mine. But I doubt she'd understand them even if she did let me explain.

So if she's going to react without mercy, I'll expect none, but I know how to keep peace. She can have her pound of flesh. Not literally this time, at least not mine, but whatever she decides to do. Everything will be fine.

Once the storm passes.

I hope.

Maybe I should call for that protection that was offered. Ha!
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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Seems if she's going to do anything about anything, it will be slow. I've spent too many hours worrying about something that isn't a problem. If anything, it's the opposite.

I've remembered something in these newest lost hours.

I fell back into my hatred of others easily. Its warm and inviting nature called to me the moment I stepped away from the Bronze.

What I did not immediately regain was the hatred of others towards me. Stormwind had it, of course, but even then, not in its old intensity.

It is just as warm and inviting to have the hatred of others focused on me as it is to have my own hatred focused outwards.

Perhaps I should make that my focus. I don't like puppetry, it's true. But I don't need to puppet someone to convince them I'm worthy of hatred. Even if they have no loved ones I can murder, there are other ways to make people hate.

And I am at my best when everyone hates me.

If she does take any steps, she'll make this happen for me. It will be... good.

Eva won't fall for it. She's too much like me. She'll take it in stride and find pride in new scars.

But anyone else? Anyone else can burn, and I'll pull a comfortable chair up to the fire.
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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I wasn't certain, not at all. It was entirely my paranoia, and I know it. I was paranoid as soon as I heard that Vyalis took my advice to heart a little stronger than I might have hoped. So to send out a warning only to have that warning become useful? How could I not make the leap?

But if she were innocent, her initial reaction should have been outrage, rather than suspicion. Even then, though her initial reaction was convincing, it was not enough to make me certain.

What made me certain was her saying she didn't know where the money went. If she were innocent, she would have signed that paper herself. If she were innocent, she would have taken the gold in coin rather than paper. Now I can accuse her of anything, provided it's not something she can easily disprove herself, and even without proof of my own, I have the upper hand.

The only question remaining is how long to play the new game. And when I do put an end to it, I think my message will be quite clear.

Don't fuck with me.

I imagine she thinks she could turn me in for my financial games, but those are both false and warranted in ways her intentions to hurt me are not.

Amusing that she didn't understand how our relationship worked, given the nature of the correspondence she stole from me. I'm sure his name was mentioned several times. I could easily have brought him to the Grim instead, if he weren't so obsessed with Suramar and its well-being as a nation-state.

She's one of the ones who always thought I was better because I am not like the rest of them. Really? Do you not remember why I left? How I left? How long have you held onto that mythology?

Maybe they will finally lose the lie. I doubt it, though. You act cold enough long enough, and people will forget what they already know about you.

The only way I am different than the rest of my people is that I am superior. I am just as arrogant, but I am more arrogant and my arrogance is of higher quality. I am just as deviant, only more so, and again, higher quality. I don't feel the need to shout it in the streets the way the less self-assured do. I don't feel the need to appraise everyone who walks past as Malkaris does. But on my own time, behind closed doors, with a touch of common sense? I am exactly what they are. The only difference between them and me is I am not cheap.

So if being "elfy" as she would say is a crime, and I am not different, only greater, then I should get the harshest sentence, hm?

She would say Kiannis was different, but catch him when he thinks no one's looking and he's behind the shrubbery in Dalaran with his hand up someone's dress, too.

We are none of us different. We are all of us exactly the same.

I am merely better at it.
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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Tradire...

She's going to regret this. I'm going to regret this.

The reasons I had to shut her down are... numerous. And yet, it's a dance that requires two. We’ll see. I don't think she'll get what she wants and yet Malkaris already gave in. Maybe she's smarter than I give her credit for. But the entire conversation would go more smoothly if she weren't a coward.

And it already feels like revenge, despite the looming specter of repeating history. Syreena will hate it. Good.

I'll need to get the heart back. It was cute for a show, but I'm already wondering if an alcohol soaked necromancer has ruined everything. Is that yet another decision I need to regret? Will the tower fix anything? She'll meet the others next week at least. That should stave off the worst.

On the one hand, good to break that illusion early. On the other, its loss could do harm that cannot be repaired. Good to know now rather than much later, I suppose.

Syreena can take care of the new one and start requiring every Supplicant trade an ear for their tabard. I truly don't care. I'll fight their battles for them when their tests are over.

I have an offer for her. I doubt she'll take me up on it, especially now. We'll see if I even get the chance to make it.

I’ll at least have rather a lot to discuss at my next confessional.
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Re: Time Shattered [Journal]

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The wolf is right. Being Grim requires caring intensely. I didn't like that description initially, but there is core truth to it. It doesn't require caring intensely about others, but it does require a fanatical dedication to the goal. I'm not sure the girl has that. All she has is the sense of a debt owed. Paying debts is not all there is, and it's certainly not enough to make one Grim. Is there a test that can force her to care?

And her sense of Peace...

I see the pattern, though I'm loath to admit it to others. If I'm choosing alcohol, it's because my own failure has been too fierce to set aside. That's what I'm not going to spill. I'm not going to admit something is my fault without considerable duress.

I've failed again if she doesn't have the sense to keep that version of Peace to herself. Let's hope she shares that definition of Peace with Awatu. He'll be impressed, I'm sure.

Accept the Peace that those among us who believe in it desire. Accept it for what it is. And while they travel the endless road to their dream, enjoy the annihilation along the way. But you still need to accept and praise appropriately the Peace in public, or the entire structure falls apart.

It's better that Syreena doesn't trust me. I was uncomfortable enough that she trusted me with what she gave me. If there's anyone who should know better, she should. And yet? All evidence seemed to point to the contrary.

It's odd then, that while I got what I wanted, something seems off about the entire debacle. Does she even acknowledge what else I could have done with the power I had? Does she even care that it was less an outright lie and more a bending of the truth? She was absolutely responsible for the death of a Grim. It was just a brief death of a priest with priestly connections who never would have let her soul drift away for something as pathetic as an overly enthusiastic beatdown.

There was just enough truth in my lie that I could have played it for a very long time. I could likely have played it long enough to end her if that had ever been my goal, but it was not.

My goal was confession. I got my confession. That game is over. I respect her incentives, despite how misguided they were, but she thought they were worth following for the same reasons that she is willing to take on puppets where I am not.

She had a right to be angry at my lies, whether they were based in truth or not, but it's not like she never lied to me. We lie to each other, all day every day. It keeps us going. The truth is inherently boring when not being manipulated to interesting ends.

But her anger should have been tempered by how little I asked of her, how little I toyed with her. Was it? Would she have done worse if I hadn't kept the truth in the fiction to myself? I could have killed her with that weapon. That was never my intent, and she should see that. She should know that now, that her death, her punishment is not something I will ever aim for, because if I wanted it, I could have had it with ease. She should understand that now.

But something tells me she doesn't. All she holds against me now is my falsehoods, not my reasons for telling them.

Why do I even care? I don't. It's better when none of them trust me. They'll treat me as they should when I'm untrustworthy. I don't like the expectations that come with trust.

Tradire has... no idea what she's doing. I still don't believe I can give her what she wants. As much as she lies about what that is, I think she believes her own lies. But I do think she wants more than a shield. She wants conversation and there she takes advantage of the words that are my weakness. She wants knowledge, and though I do believe her when she says that desire is limited, I don't think it's quite as muted as she would insist. I also think she wants knowledge I cannot give her, or that my version of it is twisted and broken, and to share it with her would only cause harm.

What she wants she should really be getting from someone else, someone... softer in the ways she is, someone sheltered enough to still believe in possibilities that have long since been erased from me.

I've at least made it clear what lines I will not cross. And I haven't decided what I will or will not admit to in honor of her game, which makes most conversations where she becomes the subject incredibly awkward, but at least said game seems to be succeeding where it concerns my accepting my role.
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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