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Post by Fechak on May 31, 2006 7:54:29 GMT -5
((Loving this))
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Post by Sorcha'Rei on Jul 1, 2006 20:39:08 GMT -5
I've spent most of the last month wandering, not in body or even in mind, but in spirit.
Some of it was spent kneeling by the fountain in the Temple of the Moon, dressed in the robes of an acolyte, an aspirant to knowledge of the light. In these times, I felt bathed in the light and care of Elune, but gained no more conscious understanding of who or what I am. I feel cleansed, however, by Her light, more comfortable with it when it fills me. And more, accepting, I suppose is an accurate word, of the people I have been, and the choices I have made.
I chose the actions, and by so doing, I chose the consequences. Now I simply learn to live with them.
Some of the last month was spent curled up in Cat form in Moonglade. I traveled there with Ventus, and charged him to watch over me while I wandered. Then I shifted and curled up against the curve of his belly, and Dreamed. I wandered everywhere, it seemed. At first, I felt I was seeking something, but gradually the urgency wore off, and I merely wandered. After awhile, I began to see myself connected to the Dream, always and forever, but also connected deeply to the world as it is. I awoke from time to time, ate and refreshed myself, cuddled Ventus and thanked him for his care, and then Dreamed some more. I feel more sturdy, more solidly placed in myself by virtue of having not lost myself while I wandered so widely.
I pledged myself to the Dream many seasons past, never knowing it would become a part of me.
May Elune grace me with the wisdom I will need to live into Her gifts.
Druid, priestess, dreamer, fool.
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Post by Sorcha'Rei on Jul 22, 2006 19:06:19 GMT -5
It is as if I have been sleeping, merely going through the motions. For weeks, I have been tired, too tired to think, too tired to do much other than putter around, wondering what has gotten into me.
But today I Dreamed. And I found something I never saw before: a new exit to the Dream. I do not dare step out that door, but even finding it has brought me back to myself in a new way.
And so I have traveled to Moonglade and met with Dendrite, per his request, to "discuss and review" my priestly adventures. He frowns at me about the "priest nonsense" but seems to have gotten his anger under control.
We argued, of course, two strong-minded druids that we are. In the end he agreed to help me. Soon, we will go find Ventus, and with Dendrite anchoring us here, the cat and I will wander in my Dream.
I considered trying to get all the way to D'ana'no's spirit. While I would not disturb him to assuage my own losses, I am willing to do so if that is the only way to ease Ventus' pain. For now, though, we will simply go where we can see him, feel the serenity I have felt when I have been in his range in the Dream. I hope this will soothe Ventus' spirit, help him find his own destiny here in the everyday world in which he and I must both live.
I have a note from Rheyna. She is returning to Vanyel's Keep. I hold myself back from joining her. Instead, I plan my trip to the Dream with Ventus, and mend my priestly garb that I may properly honor Elune when I next step into it. Which will, I think, be very soon.
I am grateful for the lifting darkness, and hopeful about my future. Hopeful that past mistakes will not doom me to future misery, that mistakes can be Balanced with nonmistakes and the cheerful doing of my duty.
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Post by Sorcha'Rei on Jul 30, 2006 6:35:46 GMT -5
Enchanting is seductive. At first, I was reluctant to explore it. They told me, as they tell me so often, that to truly walk a new path, I need to adopt new hobbies, new pastimes, so I took up enchanting, without much thought. I used it hardly at all. It was just a way to take useless items I found on my travels and turn them into pretty little dusts and shards that I stored willy-nilly in a small jar in my pack. Sometimes I took it out and looked at it, a jar full of colored light and magic.
A few days ago, I got a new weapon, and I found myself wanting to improve it. I looked through my notes and found a simple way to make the staff a bit more useful to me. I carefully gathered the reagents from the jar, letting them all run through my fingers before I selected the ones I needed. I painstakingly arranged them in the pattern described in my rather sloppy notes, and then used my rod. I could feel power coursing through my arm and suddenly my staff was -- better than it had been.
I was seduced, charmed by the feel of the magical powders on my fingers, awed by what I had caused to happen. And then I looked down at my notes. They were a bloody mess. Scrawled carelessly, messy and unorganized. I would never write down information about leather crafting like that. I was suddenly ashamed of myself.
If I want to do this, I have to do it truly, with all that I am. So with a deep sigh, as I realized finally that I understood what the women in the temple have been saying all along, I sat down and neatly copied out my notes on enchanting, organizing them as I saw new patterns arise in what I had carelessly recorded.
It isn't a game. I have to be who I said I wanted to become. This is the only way to meet myself and learn who I am. I live into my own future, and construct it out of my choices. I choose to immerse myself in what I do in each moment.
Today, I am a priestess of the moon, a woman who weaves patterns of light and shadow, and who can take glowing powders and transform inert objects.
Fool of priestess I may be, but I find more light everywhere I look for it -- and shadow when I forget to seek the light.
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Post by Robbyn Jonathan on Jul 30, 2006 13:13:17 GMT -5
((wonderful, as always.))
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Post by Sorcha'Rei on Jul 31, 2006 16:31:56 GMT -5
I went to the bookseller in Darnassus, the man who sold me the beautiful leatherbound journal in which I keep all my leathercrafting notes, my sketches, and even pasted in samples of things. This book, it is the record of my first love, my first area of mastery. Long before there was the Dream, before even Vlad, there was the leather and the mysteries of what I could create of it, using my fingers and my patience and my imagination.
Sometimes I think back on those days, working so contentedly in the shop in Darnassus. I assumed I would work there even after achieving mastery, that I might someday found my own studio, either in that shop, or in one of my own. That someday I would have apprentices to teach my vision to, who would then surpass me as I sometimes dared to dream I would surpass my own master.
None of that happened, and for one reason only. One day, I was a quiet leatherworker, aspiring to achieving artistry someday. Then next day, I was a woman in love, one who was too young, really, for the fire she walked into with such abandon and confidence.
I broke faith with myself, as much as with Vlad. Oh, gods, how I wish I could call it back, do it again. Sometimes I wonder what my world would have been like if I had not met him, had not dared to love him, had not betrayed him in the end.
My only hope is that the mistakes I have made have annealed me, forged me into a weapon in the hand of Elune. And yet, it is never so easy as that, either, for mistakes or not, my life continues. I have to choose each day who to be and how to be that person.
I Dreamed today. I walked right to the new exit to the Dream and stood staring at it for what seemed several lifetimes. I wondered, for a moment, if my destiny in the hereafter, when I Dream fulltime, will be to stand there, and stare at that exit? I considered stepping through it, but I did not do it.
I know not where it leads, who I might be on the other side of that gate. And until I discharge my obligations to Ventus, I will not risk abandoning him.
Elune hold us all safe, from the dangers of the world, and from the dangers we bring upon ourselves.
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Post by Sorcha'Rei on Jul 31, 2006 16:40:00 GMT -5
More fool I. Getting distracted by considering my sins and follies does not record my journey in the here and now!
Anyway, at the bookseller, I showed him what has become of the leather journal, and after he had examined my work closely, he told me he was honored that his work had fallen into such good care, had become so vital to my own work. I blushed.
Then I told him, "I need another journal, for enchanting notes."
He smiled slowly at me, and reached beneath the counter. He pulled out a book bound in silk-covered board, with the softest pages I have ever seen. And in the spine of the book was a space with an empty vial in it. He told me to put some spare reagents in it, and give him back the vial. I did this, choosing bits and pieces of the light and magic that seemed to me to need to bein the vial. Then I handed the sealed vial back to him.
He did . . . something. And now the vial is embedded in the binding of the book. I could not remove it without destroying the book. My own patterns of light and magic have become part and parcel of the journal I use to record my growing love affair with enchanting.
I spent most of today copying out my newly organized notes, making drawings, getting my book of enchanting ready. I sewed a new pocket in my bag to hold this book, opposite the one that holds my knowledge of the leather arts.
Only the journal in which I write these entries at the behests of the ladies of the Moon is tossed willy-nilly into my bag when I pack. I thought about making a pocket for it, too, but decided in the end, no. The others are the record of my attempts to master arts. This is the record of my attempts to master life itself. A bigger endeavour, messier, more prone to elven error. It is right that it sits among my belongings, not safely stowed in a pocket.
There is no safety in the journeys I take, and that is as it should be. Let the vessel that records them share the risk.
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Post by Sorcha'Rei on Aug 27, 2006 2:11:36 GMT -5
Did I really say "Sometimes I wonder what my world would have been like if I had not met him, had not dared to love him, had not betrayed him in the end"?? My mother always said to be careful what I wished for -- now I see I might want to be careful what I wonder.
I was in the Dream, wandering, loving the changeability of the place/time that is my Dream. So much there, some of it from me, some of it for me. But until recently, only one way out, back to this world. But I wandered until I found a Doorway. And after visiting it several times, I stepped through it.
I stepped into the world again, as I always do when I exit the Dream. But this is a different world, one where I did not meet Vlad at a young age. Yet, in this world, I am still a druid. When I am there, I carry two sets of memories -- the memories that are MINE, and the memories that I would have if I lived in that world. It is . . . odd. To say the least.
Anyway, I was in the woods behind Nighthaven when I Dreamed, and when I stepped through the Doorway, I was there, too. But even with my first breath of worldly air, I knew it was not a Nighthaven I had ever visited before. It was this world, but not.
Someday I will write down the path I took in that world, but for now, I can't think of anything other than Vlad.
I left Nighthaven and went to Ironforge. There I bought a simple meal and settled down next to the fountain to eat it, my mind racing. I saw no one familiar in all of Ironforge, except for merchants. But the merchants seemed not to know me, even the ones I have been dealing with for years. I felt sad and scared and quite bewildered. But there was an edge of excitement, too. I felt very full of Elune's light, even though I was dressed as a druid, and in the fullness of my druidic powers.
While I ate, I watched people pass by. It was the usual press of bodies that characterizes Ironforge, and as ever, many of them were in a hurry. One who was not, a youg warrior named Rama, came and sat near me, after asking if I minded sharing my space. He gave me some grapes and I gave him some of the cheese I had purchased. We chatted, as strangers do sometimes. At the end of what became a shared meal, he told me he and some friends were off to fight some Scourge near Light's Hope Chapel, and asked me if I would like to come. Having no idea what else I might do, I said yes.
So off we went, insouciant and companionable, five of us, to fight the never-relenting blight in the Plaguelands. After several days of this, we made our way to Southshore, to reprovision and have some time away from the oppressive atmosphere that makes the Plagelands feel so gloomy and dank.
We were sitting in the tavern in town, when a paladin walked in. I was not paying attention, I am afraid. Rama said, "Sorch, do you know Vlad? He's in love with Ljanna, and is undoubtedly here to see her. Vlad, this is Sorcha'Rei, who has been helping us at the Mill."
I turned around, knowing already who I would see, and my heart beat so hard my ribs felt bruised by it. He greeted me wtih a friendly smile, told me it was nice to meet me, and took Ljanna in his arms, hugging her as if she were his sole dependence and delight. As of course, she is.
It is a world where we never met, and where he loves someone else (another druid, of course). I can still not decide if I was happier to see him alive and well, or more devastated that he did not know me, love me, look at me as if I meant everything to him.
But over the next few hours, as we all ate and drank and shared tall tales of our exploits, I realized, he is not my Vlad. He is who my Vlad might have become had he not become my Vlad. And in that world, I can be who I might have become if I had not loved him. I liked that Vlad very much. And yet...
Well, after many days and some more adventures with my new friends, I excused myself, citing "druid business". Ljanna looked at me, startled, for a moment, but she asked me no questions. I went back to Moonglade, back to the tree under which I had Dreamed, and entered the Dream again.
This time, I came back here, to MY world, to my home. To my utter conviction that I wronged both Vlad and myself by sending him away.
I don't know if I can go back there. I have been occupied with priestly matters since my return, and learning to live with what I know now are not the inevitable circumstances of my life.
If I can go back there, I don't know if I will. My destiny is here, in the world which I have shaped with my choices and my actions. Choose the action, choose the consequence. Avoiding it is cowardice.
I would be courageous in this.
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Post by Robbyn Jonathan on Aug 27, 2006 9:54:50 GMT -5
((very nice!))
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Post by Sorcha'Rei on Sept 1, 2006 2:10:25 GMT -5
I'm not a big fan of hot dry dusty places. Well, that's not entirely true. I can easily be seduced by a magnificent vista looking across Thousand Needles from the Great Lift.
What I don't like is having to work in such locations. I once met someone who grew up in a small settlement at the edge of Tanaris. Looking out from his mother's porch, he saw an endless vista of sand and sky. He got to know the sky in all its moods and incarnations very well, indeed. When we hunted together in Ashenvale one autumn, he got quite homesick. We spoke about it, and he told me that his eyes kept bumping into things -- trees, bushes, what have you -- and it hurt and disturbed him.
I am the opposite. Without the trees, bushes, riotous undergrowth, I feel unanchored, slightly disoriented. For an hour or so's viewing pleasure, taking in the glories of the Earth Mother's work, yes. But hot, dusty places with no trees feel utterly foreign to me, and I am always grateful and happy to return to a shady forest somewhere.
This work in Shimmering Flats, then, is not my ideal. But I have found a side benefit I never knew before. I had carefully gathered several items for the use of the people at the raceway. In return, I was given a set of bracers as payment. I wished to enchant them, so I got out my supplies and carefully selected the powders and essences I required. Laid out on my handkerchief in front of me, the uninterrupted sun, that I had thought of as "glaring" only a moment before picked up the edges of the dust and other reagents and made them dance before my eyes.
The hot sun beats down on me and makes me miserable as I do the work I came here to do, but that same sun makes my powders dance before me. It reminds me that nothing is as it seems, entire.
And that closing my eyes to beauty would rob me of moments of pure joy.
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Post by Sorcha'Rei on Sept 1, 2006 2:35:06 GMT -5
I am staying in Gadgetzan these days, without access to anything druid-like. I sleep in a small room over the alchemist's shop, which she rents me for a few coins. I spend most of my time using my growing priestly abilities to help people who need help. I weave light and shadow into patterns I could not even imagine only a few months ago. The patterns ... shift ... things. With them, I can heal wounds or hold a ghostly terror immobile. I can hurt things, and fight well with them.
Every time I weave a new pattern, I learn a little more about how to See Light. I see it everywhere, in places I never knew it lodged. I see it shining out of some people's eyes. I see it glimmering behind the rocks, and in the flowing water of a stream. What I cannot see is the physical connections between things, the tendrils that my druid eyes notice without thought, that bind each living and nonliving thing to the world.
But slowly, my priestly eyes are learning to let my druid senses layer underneath, to show me both at once. And the opposite is true, too.
When I went to the other Azeroth, I went as a druid. I had no way to be a priest there, of course. But I oculd see light and shadow anyway. I was surprised by that, but maybe I should not have been.
One morning, Vlad and I were washing the dishes from breakfast at our camp, and he was telling me a story of an expedition he had taken into some ruins filled with howling spirits and discontented souls. As he spoke, I watched his face, and the Light that he follows shone from his eyes as powerfully as I ever saw it in this world. But I did not shy away from it. I understood it. And as I stared at him (please let my fantasy that I plastered an interested-in-the-story-you-are-telling expression on my face be true!), I could feel myself filling with light, too, the light Elune sometimes sends me.
Ljanna came out of their tent about that time, and helped me pack away the clean dishes. "You are powerfully touched by Elune," she said to me. "Sometimes it hurts to look at all that light shining from your eyes."
I hardly knew what to say to her. I finally settled for, "Is it so different from the Light that shines from the eyes of your paladin?" and she laughed, and said she hoped so, hoped that I was not as impetuous or stubborn with my light. If only she knew how impetuous and stubborn I can be . . .
If only I knew if those qualities were my strengths or my weaknesses.
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Post by Celera on Sept 1, 2006 10:48:05 GMT -5
((The opportunity to have Sorcha exist in parallel versions of Azeroth has been very good for your story - in a rather unexpected way! Very nice.
And none of us has a list of strengths and a list of weaknesses -- they are the same list. Every part of our personality works for us one minute and against us the next.))
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Post by Sorcha'Rei on Sept 1, 2006 12:04:58 GMT -5
((I know. Sorcha doesn't. Yet.))
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Post by Celera on Sept 1, 2006 14:41:32 GMT -5
((OK. I won't say anything then ))
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Post by Sorcha'Rei on Sept 10, 2006 1:42:42 GMT -5
I run up and down the hill between the Mirage Flats and Gadgetzan. I miss Conundrum and Ventus, and the speed they lend me. Sometimes I feel my body start to change into a cheetah, and I have to pull myself back from that edge. I wear cloth. I weave spells. I am not in leather and singing spells. I am a priestess of Elune.
I grow slowly into these powers, this weaving, that almost seems to let me ride the waves of light and shadow. Each day, my painstaking weaving feels more like a natural thing to do, and the patterns seem to take on a life of their own. When it goes well, I see the pattern in my mind, and my fingers fly to create it in truth.
And when it goes poorly, I make a tangle of light and shadow and uncertainty. Before I can go on to do it correctly, I need to untangle the mess. No one told me this, but I have known it from the first time I made a knotted mess instead of the pattern I meant to weave. I stood under a tree in Aldrassil with a mess in my hands and wondered what to do with it. And then I knew that even though it was not the pattern I intended to weave, it was a pattern nonetheless, and if I left it as it was, it had some power to do something. I did not know what it might do, but I could not risk leaving it as it was. So I sat beneath that tree, and carefully untangled the mess I had made.
Untangling the messes often teaches me more about light and shadow than successfully weaving some pattern I have learned to make. Someday, I hope to be able to look at the tangles and know what they would do, if I were careless enough to leave them. In the meantime, I carefully pull apart my failed weavings and the light and shadow escape and go back where they came from.
Druidic magic uses powers I can see and sense -- the power of the Earth Mother, who is always there, and whose aura imbues everything. Priestly magic uses light and shadow. I harvest what I need when I need it.
Here, in the desert, the edges between light and shadow are very sharp -- it is often much cooler in the shade than in the sun. I have to reach beneath the edges of rocks to get the shadow I need to weave with the light that beats down on me. And at night, I have to harvest the starlight to weave with the shadow of the night. But there is always an unending supply of it.
Provided I look for it, using the eyes that are learning to see it.
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