Dear Diary 5
February 7th 2009 08:32
Dear Diary,
The fighting is getting worse. Dracon and Bannon almost broke out into a physical fight today, arguing about what we can do about the situation our people find themselves in. It was Raychel who stopped them. As she said today, fighting amongst ourselves won't make the situation any better. If anything, it will only make it worse.
My relationship with Raychel has always been tense, due to our very natures. I am the Goddess of Death and she is the Goddess of healing. We are not enemies, no, but we have never been very close friends either. I suppose that is just how it goes. We are opposites in our very natures, though I have come to hate this war as she does. And today all that she said made perfect sense.
It isn't easy, trying to run a country; it is indeed far from easy. We struggle each day, even as a group. We argue at times, though usually the council is peaceful. There is nothing to fight about, and there was little to fight about today. It is just that fifty years of war is too much. Too much for us, and so we become angry, and we fight with each other. It is too much also for our people. And they suffer, and in watching them do so so do we.
I suffer. Each day I suffer more and more, hearing the cries of our people. I cannot turn away from them, and yet I can do nothing to help them. It is a sad thing. I must simply listen, powerless to stop it. Any of it. My magic does not lie in that domain, though I have tried.
I saw Raychel today, and she looked very tired. I know that her healers spend every moment healing the wounded, and yet still she sees people die. She went last night to a village and gave them food, all that she could. She helped those who were sick, and she brought them a feast. It took so much out of her that you could see it today, see her exhaustion.
And there is nothing I can do to ease her pain. The others worry about her, and though our relationship has always been strained, so do I. I fear for her. That she is taking this too hard, that she is going to exhaust herself. That when the time comes she will be too weak to continue, and Those Who Are will punish her for using her power in such a way.
I wonder that Those Who Are have not punished us yet, for letting this war continue so long until our people are dying. I wonder that they do not simply destroy our enemy. And I wonder who the
Black Knight answers to, for he is beyond the power of even the Gods. We cannot track him, and I wonder if we could even destroy him; with the strength he has shown, I doubt it.
But would Those Who Are have planted him there? Though they did bring us our nemesis, it was not like this. They have not allowed him to destroy our temples, and they will not allow it until the war is won. But the Black Knight has.
His very existance chills me to the bone. Perhaps he is really and truly more powerful than a God, but it still does not explain where he came from. For if he did not come from Those Who Are, and his essence is not the same as ours, where could he have come from? Could Those Who Are truly have a rival, a rival who is of equal or greater power?
The thought frightens me. I think of all I know of Those Who Are; with their black robes, the hoods under which we never see. Their faces are hidden to us, always; they are hidden to us, mysterious figures who simply make the rules to the game we play. And I wonder sometimes what all of those rules are, for something tells me that there are many they have not told us.
I have seen Those Who Are only three times, but that is enough. Each time they have walked into a room all the warmth has gone. There was only cold. All the light faded, until it was dimly lit; a gray night, or so it would seem. And they did not say anything, but you could hear their voices in your mind. Not through your ears, as you would hear those of the other Gods; in your very mind. When they are around, there is no privacy. They simply invade your mind, invade your heart, search your soul for any little crime. It is a wonder they never found any of mine.
Those Who Are come to collect each Fatalis Intarnati at the end of their reign. They come, and they leave with the Fatalis Intarnati-who they turn into humans. They erase their memories. I have never seen this, but I know that this is their only regular appearance in the world. They come very rarely, as though They have other worlds to attend to.
Perhaps Those Who Are are the ones who created our world, and all the other worlds of which Loki tells us. Perhaps they created the mysterious universe. Or perhaps there were two different groups-Those Who Are and another-who created it. Perhaps Those Who Are truly do have a rival, and perhaps this world is the stage of where they have chosen the battle to take place.
If this is a battle between Those Who Are and their rival, then we are in store for centuries more of this pain and suffering. I pray that is not what it is.
~Astarael
The fighting is getting worse. Dracon and Bannon almost broke out into a physical fight today, arguing about what we can do about the situation our people find themselves in. It was Raychel who stopped them. As she said today, fighting amongst ourselves won't make the situation any better. If anything, it will only make it worse.
My relationship with Raychel has always been tense, due to our very natures. I am the Goddess of Death and she is the Goddess of healing. We are not enemies, no, but we have never been very close friends either. I suppose that is just how it goes. We are opposites in our very natures, though I have come to hate this war as she does. And today all that she said made perfect sense.
It isn't easy, trying to run a country; it is indeed far from easy. We struggle each day, even as a group. We argue at times, though usually the council is peaceful. There is nothing to fight about, and there was little to fight about today. It is just that fifty years of war is too much. Too much for us, and so we become angry, and we fight with each other. It is too much also for our people. And they suffer, and in watching them do so so do we.
I suffer. Each day I suffer more and more, hearing the cries of our people. I cannot turn away from them, and yet I can do nothing to help them. It is a sad thing. I must simply listen, powerless to stop it. Any of it. My magic does not lie in that domain, though I have tried.
I saw Raychel today, and she looked very tired. I know that her healers spend every moment healing the wounded, and yet still she sees people die. She went last night to a village and gave them food, all that she could. She helped those who were sick, and she brought them a feast. It took so much out of her that you could see it today, see her exhaustion.
And there is nothing I can do to ease her pain. The others worry about her, and though our relationship has always been strained, so do I. I fear for her. That she is taking this too hard, that she is going to exhaust herself. That when the time comes she will be too weak to continue, and Those Who Are will punish her for using her power in such a way.
I wonder that Those Who Are have not punished us yet, for letting this war continue so long until our people are dying. I wonder that they do not simply destroy our enemy. And I wonder who the
Black Knight answers to, for he is beyond the power of even the Gods. We cannot track him, and I wonder if we could even destroy him; with the strength he has shown, I doubt it.
But would Those Who Are have planted him there? Though they did bring us our nemesis, it was not like this. They have not allowed him to destroy our temples, and they will not allow it until the war is won. But the Black Knight has.
His very existance chills me to the bone. Perhaps he is really and truly more powerful than a God, but it still does not explain where he came from. For if he did not come from Those Who Are, and his essence is not the same as ours, where could he have come from? Could Those Who Are truly have a rival, a rival who is of equal or greater power?
The thought frightens me. I think of all I know of Those Who Are; with their black robes, the hoods under which we never see. Their faces are hidden to us, always; they are hidden to us, mysterious figures who simply make the rules to the game we play. And I wonder sometimes what all of those rules are, for something tells me that there are many they have not told us.
I have seen Those Who Are only three times, but that is enough. Each time they have walked into a room all the warmth has gone. There was only cold. All the light faded, until it was dimly lit; a gray night, or so it would seem. And they did not say anything, but you could hear their voices in your mind. Not through your ears, as you would hear those of the other Gods; in your very mind. When they are around, there is no privacy. They simply invade your mind, invade your heart, search your soul for any little crime. It is a wonder they never found any of mine.
Those Who Are come to collect each Fatalis Intarnati at the end of their reign. They come, and they leave with the Fatalis Intarnati-who they turn into humans. They erase their memories. I have never seen this, but I know that this is their only regular appearance in the world. They come very rarely, as though They have other worlds to attend to.
Perhaps Those Who Are are the ones who created our world, and all the other worlds of which Loki tells us. Perhaps they created the mysterious universe. Or perhaps there were two different groups-Those Who Are and another-who created it. Perhaps Those Who Are truly do have a rival, and perhaps this world is the stage of where they have chosen the battle to take place.
If this is a battle between Those Who Are and their rival, then we are in store for centuries more of this pain and suffering. I pray that is not what it is.
~Astarael
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