Dear Diary Day 2
February 3rd 2009 14:31
Dear Diary,
Today was a long day, as I thought it would be. I do not get nearly enough rest these days, to deal with the things I do. These frustrations, as it were. They seem never to end. The war seems never to end, and yet I feel the end is near.
I do not know what to say, for I saw Loki today, and we had a very interesting conversation. I wonder about him, sometimes. I wonder what I see in him, and I fear that my cold heart is warming to him; that perhaps soon there will be love there, in the heart I swore would never love again.
He is kind to me, and he is taking this war very seriously. It surprised me, to see how quickly he pulled us together when the time came. How he sat and talked with Dracon and I, that was incredible; Loki is a good man, I can see that now. Before this, all any of us could see were his jokes and his tricks. Now even Bannon grows fond of him.
I do not think any of us really thought Loki had this side, this serious side. Perhaps that is what draws us to him now, and makes him such a good center. He never took the Alliance seriously. He never trusted in Fidolius. And so now he does not feel the same pain as the rest of us, who suffer from the fact that it was not serious.
Loki has shown his loyalty, when the time did come. He has proven that he is trustworthy, though we think in our minds that no one is truly trustworthy. Each cut limits our ability to trust, each wound that does not properly heal leaves us with scar tissue that is easily walked upon.
But Loki has been good and strong, and never anything like our enemy. He is completely himself still, and we still see the old God in him, the trickster that he truly is. But there is a new part of him, one that has been in hiding all of these years. A serious part of him, which brings us together, which unites us, and which takes us into battle.
When we spoke today he seemed almost distracted yet altogether there. I do not know how he manages to be so kind in a time when we are all so tense. But he has shown me only kindness and forgiveness since this war has begun. The warmth of his heart perhaps exceeds that of the others when it comes to me. Bannon is cold to me now, but I do not mind; they are all cold, and in the end I am cold as well. I realize this. This betrayal has made us all cold.
He told me that there is much to look forward to; though times are dark, the dawn will come, he said. I said nothing. And then he told me that the night wasn't over yet, but soon-at least to our minds-it would be. I just pray it is soon enough for our people as well.
Talyn seems worried. Perhaps him and Loki are planning something. It would not surprise me, to see those two together, plotting away. I have faith that neither of them would betray us, in spite of their tricky natures. They have been good friends to me throughout the years, especially during this war.
I must pull through now, for my people. I must be prepared that the end comes soon, the time when I will finally have to face him. I cannot hang my head in shame, though I trusted him and he turned out to be false. I must not allow myself to be broken by this man, no matter how he tries to break me; he must not be successful.
I cannot be broken, or so I tell myself. I cannot be broken now, not when my people need me so desperately. Though there is little comfort I can give, I have kept the plague at bay, I have kept the famine away as long as I could. But the harsh winter cannot be blamed upon me; weather has never been my domain.
I must remain a pillar of strength, standing between the plague and my people, standing between the war and my people. They must be able to fight this war, to rebuild when this war is over. I pray that it ends soon, if only so that no more die in this war. The deaths have been overwhelming; it is agony to be aware each time a life ends.
And I am afraid that the priests and the mages of Fidolius will try to burn our forts and camps in the night. Night watches can no longer be as secure; there are simply not enough soldiers left. Soon the women and children may have to fight, if this goes on much longer.
I may rule the land of death, I may bring people to their doom, but this is too much. Fifty years of war is far too much for my people. I cannot say how much longer they will survive, how much longer they can hold out. It scares me, that they could die soon. That they will most likely die soon leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
We cannot lose this war, I tell myself over and over again. I pray for the people of Appollinia who are running out of food. I pray for those who are fighting at the border, who are still fighting for our cause; many of them the children of men who died in the war. Will this war ever end? They ask themselves each day.
I hear the questions. I hear the soldiers as they call upon me, wondering if this will be the last time they get a chance to pray. Who pray that I hold death from them, that I can keep it away just another day, another week, perhaps even another month. And I wish that I could do more for them, but the people they are fighting do not fall under my will. I cannot stop them, but I can try, I can delay death.
I hate hearing their prayers, their questions. I'm sure that each of us, every single God, even Loki who shows no signs of pains, suffers from the sound of their voices each night. As each soldier prays before bed. Every man, woman and child incapable of warfare. Every person who is left behind and who is waiting for their father or brother to come home.
I have never seen our people in so much pain, so much agony. I have never felt so many different prayers, all so full of fear and agony. I can feel their pain. It comes off of them in waves; you can hear it in their voices. You can feel it coming from the land, and the land feels it coming from them; perhaps that is why it does not bear as much fruit as it once did. Perhaps the suffering is why the people starve; because the land is suffering as they are.
I cannot be sure. I can only know that there is little I can do to comfort my wounded people, and wish that there was more.
~Astarael
Today was a long day, as I thought it would be. I do not get nearly enough rest these days, to deal with the things I do. These frustrations, as it were. They seem never to end. The war seems never to end, and yet I feel the end is near.
I do not know what to say, for I saw Loki today, and we had a very interesting conversation. I wonder about him, sometimes. I wonder what I see in him, and I fear that my cold heart is warming to him; that perhaps soon there will be love there, in the heart I swore would never love again.
He is kind to me, and he is taking this war very seriously. It surprised me, to see how quickly he pulled us together when the time came. How he sat and talked with Dracon and I, that was incredible; Loki is a good man, I can see that now. Before this, all any of us could see were his jokes and his tricks. Now even Bannon grows fond of him.
I do not think any of us really thought Loki had this side, this serious side. Perhaps that is what draws us to him now, and makes him such a good center. He never took the Alliance seriously. He never trusted in Fidolius. And so now he does not feel the same pain as the rest of us, who suffer from the fact that it was not serious.
Loki has shown his loyalty, when the time did come. He has proven that he is trustworthy, though we think in our minds that no one is truly trustworthy. Each cut limits our ability to trust, each wound that does not properly heal leaves us with scar tissue that is easily walked upon.
But Loki has been good and strong, and never anything like our enemy. He is completely himself still, and we still see the old God in him, the trickster that he truly is. But there is a new part of him, one that has been in hiding all of these years. A serious part of him, which brings us together, which unites us, and which takes us into battle.
When we spoke today he seemed almost distracted yet altogether there. I do not know how he manages to be so kind in a time when we are all so tense. But he has shown me only kindness and forgiveness since this war has begun. The warmth of his heart perhaps exceeds that of the others when it comes to me. Bannon is cold to me now, but I do not mind; they are all cold, and in the end I am cold as well. I realize this. This betrayal has made us all cold.
He told me that there is much to look forward to; though times are dark, the dawn will come, he said. I said nothing. And then he told me that the night wasn't over yet, but soon-at least to our minds-it would be. I just pray it is soon enough for our people as well.
Talyn seems worried. Perhaps him and Loki are planning something. It would not surprise me, to see those two together, plotting away. I have faith that neither of them would betray us, in spite of their tricky natures. They have been good friends to me throughout the years, especially during this war.
I must pull through now, for my people. I must be prepared that the end comes soon, the time when I will finally have to face him. I cannot hang my head in shame, though I trusted him and he turned out to be false. I must not allow myself to be broken by this man, no matter how he tries to break me; he must not be successful.
I cannot be broken, or so I tell myself. I cannot be broken now, not when my people need me so desperately. Though there is little comfort I can give, I have kept the plague at bay, I have kept the famine away as long as I could. But the harsh winter cannot be blamed upon me; weather has never been my domain.
I must remain a pillar of strength, standing between the plague and my people, standing between the war and my people. They must be able to fight this war, to rebuild when this war is over. I pray that it ends soon, if only so that no more die in this war. The deaths have been overwhelming; it is agony to be aware each time a life ends.
And I am afraid that the priests and the mages of Fidolius will try to burn our forts and camps in the night. Night watches can no longer be as secure; there are simply not enough soldiers left. Soon the women and children may have to fight, if this goes on much longer.
I may rule the land of death, I may bring people to their doom, but this is too much. Fifty years of war is far too much for my people. I cannot say how much longer they will survive, how much longer they can hold out. It scares me, that they could die soon. That they will most likely die soon leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
We cannot lose this war, I tell myself over and over again. I pray for the people of Appollinia who are running out of food. I pray for those who are fighting at the border, who are still fighting for our cause; many of them the children of men who died in the war. Will this war ever end? They ask themselves each day.
I hear the questions. I hear the soldiers as they call upon me, wondering if this will be the last time they get a chance to pray. Who pray that I hold death from them, that I can keep it away just another day, another week, perhaps even another month. And I wish that I could do more for them, but the people they are fighting do not fall under my will. I cannot stop them, but I can try, I can delay death.
I hate hearing their prayers, their questions. I'm sure that each of us, every single God, even Loki who shows no signs of pains, suffers from the sound of their voices each night. As each soldier prays before bed. Every man, woman and child incapable of warfare. Every person who is left behind and who is waiting for their father or brother to come home.
I have never seen our people in so much pain, so much agony. I have never felt so many different prayers, all so full of fear and agony. I can feel their pain. It comes off of them in waves; you can hear it in their voices. You can feel it coming from the land, and the land feels it coming from them; perhaps that is why it does not bear as much fruit as it once did. Perhaps the suffering is why the people starve; because the land is suffering as they are.
I cannot be sure. I can only know that there is little I can do to comfort my wounded people, and wish that there was more.
~Astarael
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