The following is creative art piece, please do not metagame.
. . . . . ╰──╮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆╭──╯ . . . . .
Slowly, like the trudging of a horse through snow, the wood-elven man climbs up the cliffside once more. Weary and broken, the man carried with him only a blue-lit lantern as he approached the gravesite of his late wife. His eyes barely illuminated under the dark of night, his golden iris' faded in complexion to the bloodshot eyes of the brittle body he carried. "I was always told to let the dead rest in peace.." He'd recount gently to himself, setting the lantern beside him. "But for tonight, listen to my woes, wife of mine." He'd speak as if the dead could hear him, his knotted mind caring not for the truth.
"I've worked so hard for you in all I promised to do," He'd preach in gentle anguish. "And while I doubt all has fallen to the wayside... I am broken this night, as none care to hear the pleas of a widow." He'd give guttural spite to that fact, lowering his head teary-eyed. His sleek black hair had lost its luster, the Sun abandoning him at this dark hour to his thoughts. "Disappointment, wrath, suspicion, I have stomached it all from the children thrust upon me in your final hours." He'd argue his case with the formless woman nearby him. "Still, I love them all, Mitrona itself... I am no Khari'cerr, but I have acted their father whether they asked or wanted it." His voice hastened with aggression. "I've defended them, covered for them, been firm with my guidance when they needed it."
He'd dip his head forward, leaning his skull against the sandstone. "It is a thankless job. It is Izara with whom I empathize, as I am alone..." The words would hang in the dead air as if he'd waited for someone to call and disprove him. "I am a tool, used up and thought little about. While they all take comfort in the luxuries I've assured them, I stay strong day after day bereft of care, let alone affection." He'd whip his head back, crowing out to the starry sky. "I swore against hedonism, those who would ride the coattails of pleasure instead of living simply; why do I not strike them down for taking advantage of me?" He'd turn his gaze to the lantern with a piercing look, hearing the words of a memory on the calm wind.
"Because they are children..." He'd recite his wife's words carefully. "My children, and I am their widowed shepherd..."
. . . . . ╰──╮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆╭──╯ . . . . .
. . . . . ╰──╮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆╭──╯ . . . . .
Slowly, like the trudging of a horse through snow, the wood-elven man climbs up the cliffside once more. Weary and broken, the man carried with him only a blue-lit lantern as he approached the gravesite of his late wife. His eyes barely illuminated under the dark of night, his golden iris' faded in complexion to the bloodshot eyes of the brittle body he carried. "I was always told to let the dead rest in peace.." He'd recount gently to himself, setting the lantern beside him. "But for tonight, listen to my woes, wife of mine." He'd speak as if the dead could hear him, his knotted mind caring not for the truth.
"I've worked so hard for you in all I promised to do," He'd preach in gentle anguish. "And while I doubt all has fallen to the wayside... I am broken this night, as none care to hear the pleas of a widow." He'd give guttural spite to that fact, lowering his head teary-eyed. His sleek black hair had lost its luster, the Sun abandoning him at this dark hour to his thoughts. "Disappointment, wrath, suspicion, I have stomached it all from the children thrust upon me in your final hours." He'd argue his case with the formless woman nearby him. "Still, I love them all, Mitrona itself... I am no Khari'cerr, but I have acted their father whether they asked or wanted it." His voice hastened with aggression. "I've defended them, covered for them, been firm with my guidance when they needed it."
He'd dip his head forward, leaning his skull against the sandstone. "It is a thankless job. It is Izara with whom I empathize, as I am alone..." The words would hang in the dead air as if he'd waited for someone to call and disprove him. "I am a tool, used up and thought little about. While they all take comfort in the luxuries I've assured them, I stay strong day after day bereft of care, let alone affection." He'd whip his head back, crowing out to the starry sky. "I swore against hedonism, those who would ride the coattails of pleasure instead of living simply; why do I not strike them down for taking advantage of me?" He'd turn his gaze to the lantern with a piercing look, hearing the words of a memory on the calm wind.
"Because they are children..." He'd recite his wife's words carefully. "My children, and I am their widowed shepherd..."
. . . . . ╰──╮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆╭──╯ . . . . .
