Dear Diary 7
February 9th 2009 16:08
Dear Diary,
Today I feel that I should write of the past. I must not think about the present nor the future, for to truly be present for either I must come to accept my past. This is a hard thing for me to do; it is my past that has led into this war. It is my past which has brought my people the suffering they feel each day in this long war.
I remember long ago, before this war began; it seems like an eternity, though to a God it has not been that long. But it has to our people with their short lives. To them this war has been forever, since before many of them were even born. Five long decades that stretch on and on as they suffer. The agony prolongs the war or so it would seem.
This is a dark time, here in what may be the final hour of the war-at least metaphorically. I can watch the world suffer. I can see the men and women of Fidolius running, hiding for their lives, clinging to one another; I can see the men and women of Appollinia doing much the same-and I can hear them praying.
But that is not what I must think about. I must come to terms with my past, no matter the suffering it has caused. None of us are perfect, and none have ever been so, though we have all dreamed of it. It is the unachievable. I doubt even Those Who Are are perfect.
To face my past, for each of the next several days I will write out one memory. Once they are out on paper perhaps I will see the common flaw in each one. Or perhaps I will be even further blind to the truth that should be very clear to me. But either way I can do nothing about it, for my mind is my mind, and we will see what comes of this.
Today I will remember the first time we met... and I suppose that means for the first time in this diary I will write his real name.
Dracon and I were walking through a forest we often traveled through, talking as we often did; I knew that today he was doing something new, that he was introducing me to someone. But he had not told me the full truth of who it was.
We walked into a clearing with a little pond, surrounded by flowers of all sorts. It was on our soil, near the border; near the piece of land that would later become the monastery. I suppose that was a cruel twist of fate.
Sitting by the water was a man, not bulky but not small either, pale as a ghost. The kind of man you rarely saw in either country, with handsome features and bright, excited looking blue eyes. His hair was a dark brown. He stood up and smiled, turning to face the two of us. I wondered for a moment who this could possibly be, as I doubted Dracon would introduce me to a human.
And then I felt the power of his aura, and it almost knocked me off my feet. I had never seen something so enormous, a power so great coming from someone who looked to be but a mere mortal; none but Loki had this kind of an aura.
“Astarael,” Dracon said, “meet Elric.”
The moment I knew his name, my eyes widened. He was Elric? I supposed that it made sense, with his power. The power that I could sense; I could see that he was Elric, the Fidolius God of war and honour. I could feel his aura now, fully. I knew his strength for the first time, which very few Gods had known before. He was said to be a man who liked to be left alone.
“It is nice to meet you,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. I smiled back, my mind racing, my heart unsure what to think of this man.
“And you as well.”
“Astarael, Elric is a very good friend of mine; we have been close friends for quite some time. I didn't tell everyone, not when I first became friends with him. I was afraid they would look down upon a friendship between Gods of seperate pantheons. After all, our countries have been at odds for almost their entire existances.”
I stared at Dracon, my eyes wide, not sure what to say; I didn't know what to think of it myself, for the words he had spoken were very true. I could sense that he was being honest with me. And something told me Bannon would not like it when the time came for him to know the truth of this; he was the one who was least trusting of Fidolius.
I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. This was not a surprise to me, really. Dracon had been very eager for me to meet him-but had made me promise not to tell any of ther others. And now I understood. I understood completely.
“I am sorry about this,” he said quietly. My eyes opened again and met his.
“Do not apologize; for perhaps a friendship between Gods may lead to a friendship between nations, something we have wanted for quite some time.”
“The lady speaks well,” Elric said, his slight accent showing very clearly here, “I very much agree with her. Perhaps it is time our nations laid down their arms and became allies.”
I think back to this moment, and it tells me that I should have known sooner. A war God that longs for peace? Something is wrong with that picture. But I did not see it then, not until much later would I see it. So I smiled then, and I looked at him, and it was then that I first realized he was very handsome. And that perhaps there was something appealing about him.
“I am glad to meet you,” I said, “perhaps this truly is the path to friendship.”
“I certainly hope so,” he said with a large smile. Dracon smiled too, now that he knew we got along; now that he knew I wasn't angry.
~Astarael
Today I feel that I should write of the past. I must not think about the present nor the future, for to truly be present for either I must come to accept my past. This is a hard thing for me to do; it is my past that has led into this war. It is my past which has brought my people the suffering they feel each day in this long war.
I remember long ago, before this war began; it seems like an eternity, though to a God it has not been that long. But it has to our people with their short lives. To them this war has been forever, since before many of them were even born. Five long decades that stretch on and on as they suffer. The agony prolongs the war or so it would seem.
This is a dark time, here in what may be the final hour of the war-at least metaphorically. I can watch the world suffer. I can see the men and women of Fidolius running, hiding for their lives, clinging to one another; I can see the men and women of Appollinia doing much the same-and I can hear them praying.
But that is not what I must think about. I must come to terms with my past, no matter the suffering it has caused. None of us are perfect, and none have ever been so, though we have all dreamed of it. It is the unachievable. I doubt even Those Who Are are perfect.
To face my past, for each of the next several days I will write out one memory. Once they are out on paper perhaps I will see the common flaw in each one. Or perhaps I will be even further blind to the truth that should be very clear to me. But either way I can do nothing about it, for my mind is my mind, and we will see what comes of this.
Today I will remember the first time we met... and I suppose that means for the first time in this diary I will write his real name.
Dracon and I were walking through a forest we often traveled through, talking as we often did; I knew that today he was doing something new, that he was introducing me to someone. But he had not told me the full truth of who it was.
We walked into a clearing with a little pond, surrounded by flowers of all sorts. It was on our soil, near the border; near the piece of land that would later become the monastery. I suppose that was a cruel twist of fate.
Sitting by the water was a man, not bulky but not small either, pale as a ghost. The kind of man you rarely saw in either country, with handsome features and bright, excited looking blue eyes. His hair was a dark brown. He stood up and smiled, turning to face the two of us. I wondered for a moment who this could possibly be, as I doubted Dracon would introduce me to a human.
And then I felt the power of his aura, and it almost knocked me off my feet. I had never seen something so enormous, a power so great coming from someone who looked to be but a mere mortal; none but Loki had this kind of an aura.
“Astarael,” Dracon said, “meet Elric.”
The moment I knew his name, my eyes widened. He was Elric? I supposed that it made sense, with his power. The power that I could sense; I could see that he was Elric, the Fidolius God of war and honour. I could feel his aura now, fully. I knew his strength for the first time, which very few Gods had known before. He was said to be a man who liked to be left alone.
“It is nice to meet you,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. I smiled back, my mind racing, my heart unsure what to think of this man.
“And you as well.”
“Astarael, Elric is a very good friend of mine; we have been close friends for quite some time. I didn't tell everyone, not when I first became friends with him. I was afraid they would look down upon a friendship between Gods of seperate pantheons. After all, our countries have been at odds for almost their entire existances.”
I stared at Dracon, my eyes wide, not sure what to say; I didn't know what to think of it myself, for the words he had spoken were very true. I could sense that he was being honest with me. And something told me Bannon would not like it when the time came for him to know the truth of this; he was the one who was least trusting of Fidolius.
I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. This was not a surprise to me, really. Dracon had been very eager for me to meet him-but had made me promise not to tell any of ther others. And now I understood. I understood completely.
“I am sorry about this,” he said quietly. My eyes opened again and met his.
“Do not apologize; for perhaps a friendship between Gods may lead to a friendship between nations, something we have wanted for quite some time.”
“The lady speaks well,” Elric said, his slight accent showing very clearly here, “I very much agree with her. Perhaps it is time our nations laid down their arms and became allies.”
I think back to this moment, and it tells me that I should have known sooner. A war God that longs for peace? Something is wrong with that picture. But I did not see it then, not until much later would I see it. So I smiled then, and I looked at him, and it was then that I first realized he was very handsome. And that perhaps there was something appealing about him.
“I am glad to meet you,” I said, “perhaps this truly is the path to friendship.”
“I certainly hope so,” he said with a large smile. Dracon smiled too, now that he knew we got along; now that he knew I wasn't angry.
~Astarael
| 26 |
| Vote |
Add To: 
