Post by Cylistine Moongale on Feb 9, 2006 11:47:39 GMT -5
A very, very lost girl. Lost within herself, tried constantly by her own mind...to find herself from within. She had been searching for a long time, she felt she was on the dawn of her enlightenment...and then the dawn receded once again. She was unable to break free...as much as she tried. She cried for none to see. She feared everyone around her, and how they would affect her. She constantly glanced at them, with their curious eyes that she cursed repeatedly, with an awkward longing for the conversation. She wanted to be freed from her chains, she wanted to have friends. She wanted to be liked. She wanted to express herself. It was as if this girl’s mouth was sewn shut, for each time her heart leapt out, it was caught in a wicked spike fence she had built around herself. Each time it leapt, it was impaled on one of those wicked spikes, a deadly blow to such a fragile spirit. She found sanction in her own mind; she trusted only those who wanted her friendship first. From those she only had one. You could call her fragile, perhaps she was, but her mind was stronger than anything else. She was jailed between her own mental walls, her eyes blind to anything aside of her daily life. She constantly daydreamed of a better life, watching the other girls...she had often had nightmares in these figments, reflections of the bitter past: cruelty, hidden truths, lies...all that had been done unto her.
And now today, she hasn’t changed at all...but her past wasn’t as boring as her present.
One Stormy day in Azshara, a child was born. She was born amongst the great rustic cathedral halls of nature; the corridors of this land leading to the sea. Her mother had left her, and her father. They seemed cruel, almost judging the child like she was an object of desire.
“This is outrageous!” screamed the father, rubbing into the small baby’s head. He revealed a patch of indigo hair. He scowled at the mother.
“Y-yes my love?” she had spoken with great nervousness, her gaping eyes staring into his.
“Blue hair...? This is shameful to the Moonrose name!” the father grunted and slapped the mother. She shook, stunned for a couple of moments, and then guarded the child, furious tears drowning her feline eyes.
“No! My love, please! She is your child, you helped give birth to her!” the woman tried desperately to convince him. He turned around with a sickly look.
“You cheap (very *friendly* person)...I can’t believe I wasted my time, my money, and my body on your waste of flesh,” he said, facing his back in her direction and looking out into the wilderness. This time, he was trembling with anger.
The mother had felt as if she had just been brutally slain, she let out a gasp of fear and despair. She clenched the child with all of her love, and all of her might, and began to weep.
“How can you say that? I love you! I gave my heart exclusively, and you rip it to shreds before me! I love you,” no matter how loud and meaningful her words might have been, he must’ve not have heard them. She felt betrayed by her one and only.
The truth of the matter was...two elves in love, clad in white hair, do not make a child with blue. There was physical evidence that the child was not his...and the mother new that, and was now hopeless.
“Please!” she blurted out, slowly getting up from the bed and kneeling before him, she almost screamed in pain. The two pains might have just rended her in two if it wasn’t for the blue-haired child. The pain between her two limbs grew excessively, like she was being immolated from within.
He only looked to her with his cruel, pale eyes. He lifted her chin with his finger, and held her there for a moment. She almost mustered enough rejoice to smile. Would be believe her? Was there hope?
Almost...but not enough.
He kneeled down to her, and smiled, whispering into her ear.
“You have...30 counts to rid yourself from this villa. Or I will deal with you and your baby myself!!” his soothing voice had to crescendo at the end, turning into a raging pain that dwelled deep within him. He ripped her upwards by her long, ivory hair, she screamed instantly as pain shot from her scalp and ears. She barely snatched the child and began to run, her heart beating faster than ever before.
“I loved you once. Never again!” he shouted, literally kicking her out of the entrance. She fell face-first into the damp rain-fresh ground, cold and shivering in her silken robes. She could not cry anymore. At this point, she was past that. Her whole life, soon perhaps death, had turned upside down. She forgot how to cry. Her fingers bitterly anchored themselves into the freezing ground; she crawled for her life to find safety. She forgot hope. She knew she was going to die; only the baby was in her mind at this point. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t satisfied at all. She had been royalty. She got whatever she wanted. Now she saw life from the peasant side, and even worse. She had never truly understood love; her mother told her that ‘love is just another way to make money’. She had not realized until now, after what she had just experienced was how she saw love. And if that was love, she didn’t want anymore of it.
Time had frozen. A dead corpse was strewn upon a lonely path, snow gracefully touching it. The body was blue by now. She had almost made it to the town, but not in time before she froze to death. A small baby lie cradled in her frostbitten arms, luckily she was wrapped in a dense wool blanket.
Was it fate?
A tall priest held out a small letter, shivering in the cold. He was wrapped in many a cloth, designs that stretched the whole continent. The note was elegantly written in Darnassian, decorated with moons and stars, and well-known fabled icons. Tyrande was the side-profile portrait in the middle. It was a letter that described the killing of Naga. The note was already travel marked by crumples and stains, some of which were blood. The husky priest continued his way down the lone path that went into the unspoken wild.
“Stars!” he froze, his gaze locked on a dead corpse about the path. A baby still cried in her arms. What were the chances? Maybe a lot, maybe nothing. Somehow, this child deserved to live. Her mothers love was strong for her, it is a pity that no one would ever know...
Dear Defenders of Valor,
My name is Cylistine Kavish’evenya Moongale. I was born 73 years ago, in a small place in Azshara. I grew up in the forest of Duskwood. My parents where both large contributors to the Cathedral of Light, but they were determined to teach me my own people’s beliefs, at the consequence of heresy. You may be a bit surprised, but my parents where indeed human. My mother, Evanthe, was a strong and well-prided paladin, my father, Dren, was a remarkable priest who taught me everything I know. I say was, because the rest peacefully underneath the ground in Raven Hill. I visit them every year at their birthdays, and their anniversary. When I turned the age of 13, my father, who had been teaching me a lot of religious script already, sent me to the Temple of the Moon. I was captivated by this far-away elvish fantasy.
I finally was released from the academy of young apprenticeship at the age of 35. They ended my studying days with a very extravagant festival! I soon began to move about as a busy priestess; many people needed priests to help them on their adventures. But to ease the process, I was assigned a mentor, who changed my life.
Originally I had seen life as a never-ending whirlpool, each second we descended lower, and lower until death. My mentor had changed all of that. His name was Ladunch. He cared for my almost exactly like my father; to the point where I could only tell them apart by appearance. He was quite a handsome man himself; and before long, he had to leave me for priestly duties. From each day forward, I thought about him as a light at the end of the tunnel—that someday I would meet this angel in my dreams. I can confide in you that, I indeed had feelings that where not usually like me, the feelings that I wanted to touch him...that I wanted him to look me in the eyes and smile. I was incessantly hot around him, blushing and whatnot. During the course of 20 years, I fought and grew more and more experienced, each day was like the turn of a leaf in the seasons.
Then, at last, it was my fate. I saw him, and instantly I intervened. I actually talked to someone of my own will, but it was someone I knew. He in fact did remember me, and slowly we got closer. I had the unnatural courage to preach to him my love, and he did unto me. That was the happiest time in my life from that point on.
I might want to add, there was an unpleasant being in my childhood. This was the devil that was Nytae. I had never fully understood my sister, and I never want to. We had never gotten along then, and 73 years later, nothing has changed.
My father died 48 years ago. He was driven insane by some unknown demon, I prayed for him every night, and still I do. He had nothing left to give me; exiled from the Cathedral for such a case, he immolated himself within the house. Everything was burned; I can only hope my mother died of lack of fresh air, then raging fire. Perhaps it was fate also that it was the day of my graduation. I waited on the raised veranda, holding my papers of initiation, and I cried before the high priestess herself, before my friends, before the people of Darnassus. I peered in the crowd, and didn’t see my parents. I thought they hadn’t come out of shame. The High priestesses where confused, they only ushered me off of the stage with silence. I was terribly wrong, and will never forgive myself for thinking such things.
My ‘sister’ is the only one left in my family, and we haven’t talked since 20 years ago, and perhaps we will only if forced.
Today, I am happy as ever with my Love, Ladunch, and I have a much more positive aspect of life. This is my story, my feelings, my everything.
-Cylistine Kavish'evenya Moongale-
((Sorry it's so long!))
And now today, she hasn’t changed at all...but her past wasn’t as boring as her present.
One Stormy day in Azshara, a child was born. She was born amongst the great rustic cathedral halls of nature; the corridors of this land leading to the sea. Her mother had left her, and her father. They seemed cruel, almost judging the child like she was an object of desire.
“This is outrageous!” screamed the father, rubbing into the small baby’s head. He revealed a patch of indigo hair. He scowled at the mother.
“Y-yes my love?” she had spoken with great nervousness, her gaping eyes staring into his.
“Blue hair...? This is shameful to the Moonrose name!” the father grunted and slapped the mother. She shook, stunned for a couple of moments, and then guarded the child, furious tears drowning her feline eyes.
“No! My love, please! She is your child, you helped give birth to her!” the woman tried desperately to convince him. He turned around with a sickly look.
“You cheap (very *friendly* person)...I can’t believe I wasted my time, my money, and my body on your waste of flesh,” he said, facing his back in her direction and looking out into the wilderness. This time, he was trembling with anger.
The mother had felt as if she had just been brutally slain, she let out a gasp of fear and despair. She clenched the child with all of her love, and all of her might, and began to weep.
“How can you say that? I love you! I gave my heart exclusively, and you rip it to shreds before me! I love you,” no matter how loud and meaningful her words might have been, he must’ve not have heard them. She felt betrayed by her one and only.
The truth of the matter was...two elves in love, clad in white hair, do not make a child with blue. There was physical evidence that the child was not his...and the mother new that, and was now hopeless.
“Please!” she blurted out, slowly getting up from the bed and kneeling before him, she almost screamed in pain. The two pains might have just rended her in two if it wasn’t for the blue-haired child. The pain between her two limbs grew excessively, like she was being immolated from within.
He only looked to her with his cruel, pale eyes. He lifted her chin with his finger, and held her there for a moment. She almost mustered enough rejoice to smile. Would be believe her? Was there hope?
Almost...but not enough.
He kneeled down to her, and smiled, whispering into her ear.
“You have...30 counts to rid yourself from this villa. Or I will deal with you and your baby myself!!” his soothing voice had to crescendo at the end, turning into a raging pain that dwelled deep within him. He ripped her upwards by her long, ivory hair, she screamed instantly as pain shot from her scalp and ears. She barely snatched the child and began to run, her heart beating faster than ever before.
“I loved you once. Never again!” he shouted, literally kicking her out of the entrance. She fell face-first into the damp rain-fresh ground, cold and shivering in her silken robes. She could not cry anymore. At this point, she was past that. Her whole life, soon perhaps death, had turned upside down. She forgot how to cry. Her fingers bitterly anchored themselves into the freezing ground; she crawled for her life to find safety. She forgot hope. She knew she was going to die; only the baby was in her mind at this point. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t satisfied at all. She had been royalty. She got whatever she wanted. Now she saw life from the peasant side, and even worse. She had never truly understood love; her mother told her that ‘love is just another way to make money’. She had not realized until now, after what she had just experienced was how she saw love. And if that was love, she didn’t want anymore of it.
Time had frozen. A dead corpse was strewn upon a lonely path, snow gracefully touching it. The body was blue by now. She had almost made it to the town, but not in time before she froze to death. A small baby lie cradled in her frostbitten arms, luckily she was wrapped in a dense wool blanket.
Was it fate?
A tall priest held out a small letter, shivering in the cold. He was wrapped in many a cloth, designs that stretched the whole continent. The note was elegantly written in Darnassian, decorated with moons and stars, and well-known fabled icons. Tyrande was the side-profile portrait in the middle. It was a letter that described the killing of Naga. The note was already travel marked by crumples and stains, some of which were blood. The husky priest continued his way down the lone path that went into the unspoken wild.
“Stars!” he froze, his gaze locked on a dead corpse about the path. A baby still cried in her arms. What were the chances? Maybe a lot, maybe nothing. Somehow, this child deserved to live. Her mothers love was strong for her, it is a pity that no one would ever know...
Dear Defenders of Valor,
My name is Cylistine Kavish’evenya Moongale. I was born 73 years ago, in a small place in Azshara. I grew up in the forest of Duskwood. My parents where both large contributors to the Cathedral of Light, but they were determined to teach me my own people’s beliefs, at the consequence of heresy. You may be a bit surprised, but my parents where indeed human. My mother, Evanthe, was a strong and well-prided paladin, my father, Dren, was a remarkable priest who taught me everything I know. I say was, because the rest peacefully underneath the ground in Raven Hill. I visit them every year at their birthdays, and their anniversary. When I turned the age of 13, my father, who had been teaching me a lot of religious script already, sent me to the Temple of the Moon. I was captivated by this far-away elvish fantasy.
I finally was released from the academy of young apprenticeship at the age of 35. They ended my studying days with a very extravagant festival! I soon began to move about as a busy priestess; many people needed priests to help them on their adventures. But to ease the process, I was assigned a mentor, who changed my life.
Originally I had seen life as a never-ending whirlpool, each second we descended lower, and lower until death. My mentor had changed all of that. His name was Ladunch. He cared for my almost exactly like my father; to the point where I could only tell them apart by appearance. He was quite a handsome man himself; and before long, he had to leave me for priestly duties. From each day forward, I thought about him as a light at the end of the tunnel—that someday I would meet this angel in my dreams. I can confide in you that, I indeed had feelings that where not usually like me, the feelings that I wanted to touch him...that I wanted him to look me in the eyes and smile. I was incessantly hot around him, blushing and whatnot. During the course of 20 years, I fought and grew more and more experienced, each day was like the turn of a leaf in the seasons.
Then, at last, it was my fate. I saw him, and instantly I intervened. I actually talked to someone of my own will, but it was someone I knew. He in fact did remember me, and slowly we got closer. I had the unnatural courage to preach to him my love, and he did unto me. That was the happiest time in my life from that point on.
I might want to add, there was an unpleasant being in my childhood. This was the devil that was Nytae. I had never fully understood my sister, and I never want to. We had never gotten along then, and 73 years later, nothing has changed.
My father died 48 years ago. He was driven insane by some unknown demon, I prayed for him every night, and still I do. He had nothing left to give me; exiled from the Cathedral for such a case, he immolated himself within the house. Everything was burned; I can only hope my mother died of lack of fresh air, then raging fire. Perhaps it was fate also that it was the day of my graduation. I waited on the raised veranda, holding my papers of initiation, and I cried before the high priestess herself, before my friends, before the people of Darnassus. I peered in the crowd, and didn’t see my parents. I thought they hadn’t come out of shame. The High priestesses where confused, they only ushered me off of the stage with silence. I was terribly wrong, and will never forgive myself for thinking such things.
My ‘sister’ is the only one left in my family, and we haven’t talked since 20 years ago, and perhaps we will only if forced.
Today, I am happy as ever with my Love, Ladunch, and I have a much more positive aspect of life. This is my story, my feelings, my everything.
-Cylistine Kavish'evenya Moongale-
((Sorry it's so long!))