Unspoken

Unhappy Reminders

Wed, 29 Apr 2009 20:08:04 GMT

I allowed myself to forget who I was and become something else.
The question is simple. Do I wish to continue to forget or not?

He made me angry.
He made me, breifly, hate him.
But, regardless, all of the reasons that I pledged myself to him and his service remain.
I do remember.
There is no one else to match him. I made that determination and it.... remains true.
And this is an inconvienence.
And this is my fault.
Therefore it is mine to fix.
And, besides, I am no brood mare to be attached to a squalling babe who merely serves to wedge me farther away from any use or purpose I can ascribe to my life.
I am not a mother. I was never meant to be a mother.
The Prince said he would raise the child.
It is for the best, I'm sure.
And I must stop feeling so unaccountably, selfishly, and foolishly betrayed that it is so.
Now.

Mon, 02 Feb 2009 17:35:31 GMT

I spoke to Weir today.
I spoke with unhappy Weir today.
I do not regret my decision.
The only remorse comes in the fact that I gave up something for something that seemed better, that turned out worse, but ended up with best regardless.
... That's tangled even for me.
However, I am forced to wonder what matters might have been like had I not chosen to cast my lot the way I did.
I wonder if I would still be outcast. Scarred. Failed.
But it hardly matters.

He asked me why I still fought.
I fought because I'm a coward.
I am stomping my feet and crying out "I don't want to".
And I fear...
And I long...

And yet, are there options?
A house with strangers.
I might hate myself for it.
He would definitely hate me for it.
But he is not here.

There's just a swelling belly and a realization that my dodges can no longer include tumbling.

Fri, 21 Mar 2008 19:59:23 GMT

Being Stubborn or being Realistic

It hurt.
It still hurts.

Though I wonder if it hurts enough.

I'm inclined to think that I may be, in several ways, too passive.

But then again? There is no need to be otherwise. People are all too adept at drawing their own conclusions. If someone decides that I must mean this, that or something else, who am I to correct them?

Especially when correcting them only gives away the advantage of their ignorence.

And, after all, who am I to say their interpretation is wrong?

If someone is inclined to think me X because of action Y, who am I to say that X is not X for them?

Tangled.

If someone tells me that my action has shut doors in their face, then, to that person, I have shut doors.

Even if I feel like I left the options and paths are still numerous and open, that does not really matter, does it?

Besides. Even if I did point out the obvious alternative options, one must ask oneself - if someone is incapable of seeing said options without assistance, will they really be able to take such options without assistance? And if there is need of assistance to even take such option, were such options right for them in the first place?

So, in fact, to that person - was it not legitimately a situation with no other options?

....
Or I'm just a stubborn arrogant idiot who believes that she shouldn't have to explain herself to anyone.

Or...
Even less palatable possibilities.

Wed, 19 Mar 2008 20:53:46 GMT

Someone asked me why I didn't just wear a head scarf or something.
....
I am definitively less than happy.

Sun, 16 Mar 2008 17:46:50 GMT

It seems like complications never seem to run singly but in herds.
Though? I must say this. His response was the one that made the most visceral sense to me. A flash of - Yes, that is about what I meant, though not quite like that.
Granted.
But there was no fun to the hunt.
Ah. Because it wasn't a hunt, was it?
And the impulse to dominate a peripheral pack member is not one that I intend to meekly submit to.
And I'm going to stop brooding on that line of thought.
My ears hurt. I'm inclined to blame the skulking in the mud.
And my day today shall be? Cleaning my sword.
Years and life times. And still, no one seems to have a sense of pacing or possibilities.

Tue, 26 Feb 2008 01:03:41 GMT

The subject of my thoughts grows tedious. The same concepts weigh against the same realities. It bores even myself.
The question is begged - if the principles don't change, why do they always need re-evaluation?
Changing world. Changing situations.
Enough said.
Duty is clear. But, even I cannot promise that if I were in front of my Masters defending this duty that I would be standing perfectly protected by pure motives and protocols.
I lied.
But only in my expectations. My choice. My motives.
Now I live with that choice and I still must hold up to what I expect of myself.
He seems very...amiable.
I wonder if I'd been stark, would he still be so?
What kind of weakness is that I wasn't?
But he knew. He knew enough. And needs are...
valid?
Yes.
No.
No. Or should not be if one is strong enough.
Has there ever been one strong enough?

Sat, 09 Feb 2008 06:09:50 GMT

I was wrong.
They are alike.
Or am I being cruel?
Maybe not.
...
But I will be now, won't I?

Walking back

Sun, 03 Feb 2008 05:41:52 GMT

I want to blame him.
The familiarity bred was not a benefit and, frankly, it has shut some doors.
But it would have happened anyway, I think.
No.
I am not that. Why would you think that? And if I were? Your actions would have just changed that status instantly.
Or perhaps that's just my ego.
Ofeig should have taught me better.
But he hasn't. Not yet. He stays with me but I haven't yet twisted him to be a benefit instead of just hang over me.
Two faces.
I don't know that this will serve.
But I am quite attached, now.
I won't dwell on that.
Though, the sparring match. I will say one thing. At first I felt pity. Now I'm simply impressed.
He's said that there is something there. Now things are more balanced and, oddly enough, that assures me. A certain matching of situations that makes me more content.
I can blame him.
But that just means I have to be faster on mitigating.

Tue, 29 Jan 2008 20:03:56 GMT

The positive:
The dangerously self-satisfied apathy is gone.

The negative:
It has been replaced with uncertainty.

This is not really a net gain, all things considered.

The decisions that I've made lately have all seemed meet and good upon the occasion of their being made. All have been engaged in with the understanding that my vision is limited and capable of being wrong, I'm balancing matters in a dangerous way, and yet all has been deemed good enough.

This last decision, however, will not settle well. Perhaps because I cannot define my areas of control on it.
Which is foolish. If I could define it, peg it, it'd be rather boring.
But? I've the sneaking suspicion that this lack of ability to define comes not from the situation but from the participant. I can't define it because of a lack of...

Skill?
Practice?
Understanding?
All of the above?

It is the difference between entering into a combat situation with as good intelligence and equipment as one can have, at least knowing where the lines are that you need to hold, and accepting that the matter will be fluid, vs. having no idea what the terran holds, damaged equipment and having no idea what is vital and what is not. Where the lines are.

And the annoying thing is I am fairly sure that he knows exactly where the lines are and is, or could be, dancing in, out and over them with impunity.

Bloody well probably could steal from the supply line before I noticed.

How much is a measure of bravado?
How much is believed simply because it is said forcefully?
How many battles won just on the power of tenacity?
So we draw that first line.

I will not be unsettled, lessened, changed or anxious for this.

And that won't be crossed.

Mon, 21 Jan 2008 20:10:48 GMT

Certainties: I've just made my life more complicated.
Possibilities: I've just made my life a lot more interesting.
Unlikelihood: Matters will proceed according to my preconceived notions.
Uncertainties: Whether I care or not.

As an aside? It will be an unexpected joy to have the luxury of sleeping in less than full attire.

Mon, 21 Jan 2008 04:14:56 GMT

I fulfilled my duties. I got help.
That doesn't change the fact that the door is still shut.
I'll do my best to get over being angry over that.

Tue, 15 Jan 2008 01:37:49 GMT

The stars are strange here.
Which fits.
The Kitezhe camp was beginning to feel quite comfortable.
This place with all the straight lines, rules and formality feels ... less so.
Still.
It is time to expand on other aspects, it seems.
I should have hit him.
Sadly, even he seemed to agree that wouldn't help.
I wish that I could speak with Sol.
More than that? I wish I were not under instruction and could see if any of these uniforms felt up for a fight.
Hitting things may not be the most effective of answers, but it by far seems one of the most therapeutic.

Sat, 12 Jan 2008 21:41:34 GMT

Character Story Warning!

Though it is RL that has oocly taken me from the game for a bit - there is a IC reasoning for Anae's sudden departure.
The following is just a snippet in regards to that.

Bian stole her way through the great hall and watched the people moving to and from the Masters' offices. It was easy, despite the fact that she was supposed to be in the barracks with the rest of the second-years. There wasn't a lock nor door nor cage made that she couldn't wiggle out of, something which she suspected both delighted and annoyed her teachers.

This sort of mischievous behavior had been mostly quelled. However, a rider had returned today, a recent Graduate who Bian had known by sight, if not by actual interaction. The rider had wasted no time but gone straight in to speak with Master Dahan.

There were many things that twelve-year old Bian found harsh. However, unresolved curiosity was the harshest mistress of all and needed to be served. She gave the rider and the Master a few moments before she crossed the quad, dodged the stables and slid into position by the office's door out into the gardens. There she crouched and then lay on the stone steps, ear close to the floor where sound would carry the best.

"You've been gone for five months, now, Graduate," The Master began kindly. That wasn't a sign of anything in particular. He always began kindly. "Five months without finding a place to serve. Tell me what have you been doing in this time?"

Bian frowned. Master Dahan's voice was a rolling baritone and it carried with no effort. In contrast? The Graduate's responses were dronings with little variation to give the words placement. She thought she caught a few words. Mandrake and Feldane. Kitezh. A prince was mentioned but Bian didn't understand the name. The Graduate was apparently very expansive, though. And when she stopped talking, there was a long pause.

Bian had enough experience getting into trouble to think that this didn't bode well.

"Let me make sure I understand. In this time, you've gained free lodging in exchange for your company to a ball, weapons in exchange for ineffectual services where you were more burden then help, bodily harm in exchange for dubious experience as a common grunt soldier, and an offer of marriage in exchange for your ... charm? Graduate. Wouldn't you say that sounds like the repertoire of a common dull-witted mercenary at best?" His voice was raised by now. Not shouting. Never that undignified. This was more like booming burst of waves crashing on sand.

There was a murmur of an answer.

"I didn't hear you, Graduate." From a wave to a whip-crack.

"Yes, Master Dahan. I imagine it does," the Graduate spoke evenly.

"Good. We are in agreement," the Master said crisply, but almost soothingly. Kind once more. "Let us decide then if this is a result of a lapse of judgment, training or perhaps whether you are not suited for this Order's principles and should be released from them. Now. What was your reasoning behind agreeing to a trial status of service to Lord Ris de Mandrake?"

"..my arrival in the city...I thought..."

Bian's eyes were wide now and she wished that she had never thought to eavesdrop.

This conversation could not end well. There was no way that she could imagine that there wouldn't be some sort of reprimand to be involved and it wasn't like Bian could pull away now until she'd seen it through.

So she did the only thing she could. She swallowed and continued to listen.

Mon, 07 Jan 2008 02:23:29 GMT

The day has passed in a moderate haze.
I've drunk more tea today than I have have in my entire life.
I've hated every sip.
I took a look at the stitching.
I decided that dissecting how I felt about it, about the entire situation, was something that could wait for another time.
It would be my usual custom to dissect the flow of events as well. What happened. How did the choices made flow to that. What should I have done to shift it, avoid it, mitigate it.
But I don't want to do that right now.
I wish that there was a river near by.

Wed, 02 Jan 2008 17:06:26 GMT

I do believe that today I am inspired enough that I could write poetry.
If only I thought that words had the faintest chance in hell of doing it all justice.
No.
I'll just bask and allow myself an unbearably smug little smile.
...
...
And drink more water while avoiding loud places.

Sat, 29 Dec 2007 21:20:49 GMT

I gave advice on romance and love today.
It was exceptionally amusing.
It'll be even more amusing to see if she uses it or not.
And even further, what might happen if she does.

Tue, 25 Dec 2007 03:40:11 GMT

If an educated man mistakes a war horse for a brood mare, is it the horse's fault or the man's?

Fri, 21 Dec 2007 23:02:50 GMT

I do believe that he's angry or annoyed with me.
...
Good.

Tue, 18 Dec 2007 03:23:34 GMT

I am not a credit to my training.
I may never recover the loss of respect and credibility that I lost in his eyes today.
Human beings were never meant to function without support, alliances, or some degree of trust for long periods of time.
That is an explanation, not an excuse.
I wasn't thinking.
If I had been thinking, I may have been able to keep things from reaching this point.
I am not as good at anticipating as I'd thought.
He's deluded himself.
This may be for the best. Nothing hidden.
No illusions about what I can or cannot be.
These are facts.
They are quiet, firm and they remain, whether acknowledged or not.
Emotions, however, are not so kind.

Fri, 14 Dec 2007 22:59:02 GMT

I thought it was gone. Driven away by sleep and conversation.
But, no. I dove to the bottom and held on tight and in the silence it was nearly overwhelming.
I was angry before.
Now I'm starting to become afraid.
...
How stupid of me. How incredibly stupid, sloppy and ...flighty of me. Afraid?
Enough self-indulgent whining!
So. Smarten up. Straighten up.
Pay. Attention.
Situations are faced with steel, wit, and intelligence.
Just because there is no name for it yet does not mean it doesn't get fought the same way.
Stop dulling reactions those with inane introspection.
Whatever it is, then? It will be met.
Angry again.
Good.

Fri, 14 Dec 2007 03:24:31 GMT

I am not even sure what prompted it.
I have no issues with ones demeanor changing. Even I know that cannot be helped. All lofty talk about not betraying when one is unsettled is the goal. The reality will, occasionally fall short. I can accept that.
But damn it if I want to know the reasons!
I feel like someone has walked over my grave.
And I don't know why.
Something is wrong.

Measures of Dross and Silver

Tue, 11 Dec 2007 03:20:48 GMT

(A bit of an exercise in writing / story - a thought that occurred to me earlier today that wouldn't leave. While it is Anae-Canon it is obviously OOC knowledge)

It wasn't that hot.

She was sweating beneath her armor but the wind had kicked up a bit and brought with it the taint of oncoming autumn.

Autumn. The season of endings.

Once she would have tried not to smirk. Now? Now she didn't care. She grinned lazily, allowing the pace of the horse beneath her to rock her body back and forth in the continued illusion of indolence. None of her escorts seemed bothered though and it was only Russo that even looked.

She could have mimicked their dispassion. It was a familiar mask after all and she still might. But for the most part? She refused.

They wanted her to be cowed, repentant. Ha. Never. But to act with her normal dignity and pride would only give them the chance to pity her. So? She'd give them this instead. Toss this bone to the dogs to see what they did.

What they did, for the most part, was keep their silence and their watch on her as they made their way through the Keep's gate.

As they started through the courtyard, she could hear the sounds of wood smacking against wood. There was dust in the air. The practice field was to their right, separated from them by a single half-hedge. Despite herself, she couldn't help but glance over to see who was using it.

There were about ten pairs sparring and going at each other with single-minded enthusiasm. The clunk and thud filled the ears along with the occasional yelp of childish pain. The yelps were only occasional, however. Restraint, after all, was a virtue and the children who sparred were already absorbing that hard lesson.

A few broke the lesson to look back at her. They paid for it as their opponents who were not so easily led astray took the openings and hit hard.

The number of yelps tripled immediately.

Her smirk drained from her expression as she found the gazes of those children who were free to look. Their enemies already defeated, they were not shy about watching the procession with curious eyes.

With awed eyes.

Her face turned forward again, and she tried to ignore the puppies as she swallowed hard.

She remembered being in that field. Of sitting through those dreadful history lessons just waiting for the monotonous routine to bring them back to /play/ again.

Play. Sparring. All the same thing, then.

All the same thing now, too, if she thought on it.

An hour of sparring followed by an hour of games for speed, strength and wit. Longer, when they got older.

Graduates didn't return often. So, she remembered each time that they did when she was in those children's position. They'd brought their horses along the same path she rode now.

She remembered dropping nearly everything to look at them, too. Some tall. Some short. Some dressed richly and others just in fighting leathers. All with the tattoos that marked them as full fledged Graduates.

For the first time since the four others had come to collect her, she felt her stomach sink and twist. Bile rose in her throat and she had to fight the urge to vomit.

Oh. God.

That it had come to this, then...

“Back to it!” It was the teacher calling the children to attention once more but it called her back too.

She choose her path and she would not shy away from it now.

She was herself. She was strong. She didn't need them. She didn't need this.

All a part of the litany that she forced into her mind, into her veins as she dismounted and, haughty expression held firm, walked into the hall under escort.

_________________

When she left it a little over an hour later, she was alone.

The sky was blurred overhead and it seemed to be canting. Like a ship. Back and forth.

Back and forth.

The ground crunched beneath her feet and she counted the steps to her horse.

Mounting, strangely enough, seemed to settle her.

She raised her chin and carefully straightened her posture. Laughter. And jeers. She could hear the children still in the field. They must be in games now and ... and she would be restrained. She knew her lessons. Strong. Straight. Proud.

She remembered.

But by the time the horse made it mid-way along the path past the young ones there was silence coming from her right. No laughter. No cheers. No instructions from the teacher.

They were on her right. Why were they quiet?

“What are you looking at, child?” the sonorous tone of the teacher was never raised but it carried. She flinched at it.

“A graduate,” the high-pitched voice could have belonged to either girl or boy. “A....graduate who is crying, Master.”

Oh.

That's why.

“Julia,” the teacher called out. Called out to her. She knew what he wanted and for a moment, her jaw tightened. No. No. She'd not give him the satisfaction.

But... obedience was also something she remembered.

Even more than that? She owed it to them.

She owed it to the children-she-had-been and who might-yet-become-her.

So she turned and she raised her chin as she looked to her right.

Not at the teacher but to the young pup he'd asked his question of.

The girl was a skinny thing, all gray eyes and black hair. Julia got to watch those eyes widen and that little mouth part just a fraction before it was closed again. Other children did actually gasp and weight was shifted. None spoke though.

They'd been expecting to see the tattoo. Not the red charred flesh that had replaced it, already weeping. Not the burn that obliterated the mark from her body and her body from the Graduated.

The horse kept moving. She did not slow it.

The Keep and all it meant kept slipping behind her. She didn't try to hold it.

And the gray-eyed little girl and all her would be brothers and sisters kept watching until they were a prickle at her back.

They were a heat in her mind.

“No,” the teacher's voice came again, as the gateway to the outside world loomed. “You are seeing a disappointment, Anae. A failed Graduate. Remember this.”

“I will, Master.”

“Good. Back to the line then. Pair up with Thomas.”

“Yes, Master.”

The sounds of children at play. The sounds of sword against sword.

Julia shuddered and bared her teeth to the sky.

Damn them all to hell.

All of them.

Sat, 08 Dec 2007 09:00:08 GMT

I decided it didn't matter. It wasn't going to come up again.
Then it came up again.
And I decided that delving for motivations was useless. I'd hold the ground I held in my head and keep the walls strong.
And, after all. Perhaps applying a little of the advice I was given would not hurt matters.
Then the combination punch.
It never rains - but it pours, damn it all.
So? I thought I could apply the same principles. I thought perhaps allowing some flexibility in myself and applying a little of the advice would still fit.
He'd scored a hit before. He wouldn't get the chance again and I could retain the upper hand.
Then was reminded why and how things like this become issues.
So.
Upper hand retained.
One aspect likely to happen again.
The other likely to remain remote.
Done.
On another note? It is good to hear that he is still in Amber. The distance has done its job and I am content again. I would help. I might have, on another day, even served.
I wonder if I still would.
I gave away my book. Silly. I shouldn't have kept it or brought it in the first place.
And it doesn't feel wrong.
He gave squids.
I'll give the Order.

Mon, 03 Dec 2007 23:22:31 GMT

It hurt.
I'm actually a little pleased.

I got my wish.
I'm actually a little ego-bruised.

I am wearing chain mail.
I'm actually getting a little defensive.

I've reading material now.
I'm actually a little touched.

I'm losing faith in the strength of others.
I'm actually a little reassured.

It seems like a long time since I've been referred to by a kenning.
Despite vindication of my world view...

I'm actually a little wistful.

Fri, 30 Nov 2007 00:51:07 GMT

It is fairly disturbing when someone you thought of as an innocent has had more experience than yourself.
It is even more disturbing when she recommends a course of action that seems to be counter to innocence.
I don't know whether I should be grateful or upset that we didn't get to talk further!
If I knew then what I know now.
I might have done things differently.
But then again, I might not have. Certainly the situation now doesn't speak to easy resolutions later if I had.
I will waste no more time on this.
But? I think I will need to decide exactly what value I do place on things.
If only to know when the barter price is being met.