The Journals of a Lost Elf

[Razael]

Therein lying the lonely writings of an elf far from hope and home.

I am the lost remnant of a civilization that, for all the world cares or knows, never existed.

I am a lost soul in a place that knows neither what I am nor what I have lost. And oh, my love, I've lost everything. My home is burnt, the World Tree charred and blackened; all the beautiful glades and forests of the only world that ever mattered have been turned to ash. And you, my love, are... you, my love, I have lost as well. Every living being in our treehome died screaming as the fires of hell itself consumed all... save one.

Here I stand, though I know not where or why, and I am not sure what to do, my love. I was always a simple elf, more prone to paint or hunt or write than philosophize, but I must ask myself: what is the reason for my survival? The ones who did this are long gone and you, my love, are gone as well. Where is your smile to chase away my doubts? Where is your touch to clarify and firm me? There can be no beauty beside the memory of you, nor world resplendent without your presence. Even these living trees are mere sticks, bereft of meaning and purpose.

Oh, if only I had contemplated what that spell would do to me! Oh, if only your tears had not swayed me as you laid that contingent dweomer over this poor, lost elf! 'Twould be a happier fate by far to die in your arms than to live a life hollowed by your absence. Now I am instead spared by your blessed, perfect selflessness and I, my love, am forever lost.

Do you remember, my love, when I was sent as ambassador far too long away and we wrote to one another? You always loved the poems I wrote you--with my "clever fingers," as you called them--but I could never compare to the easy, simple grace of your sweet words.

Perhaps I will write to you as I did then, my love. Perhaps I will linger long, waiting for your reply.

Perhaps I will dream of coming home to find your soft kiss waiting under the willow tree, as I did so long ago.

[asdfasdflkjty911]

((Looks awesome! Good job, although the whole world tree MIGHT interfere with others... Idk, let Saera decide or what ever, I just remember Andy and Tristo doing something similar to this for their nation and them having a world tree that obviously isnt gone.. Really love the aspect you have on this though.))

[Razael]

((It actually is gone; the city of Eil--the very same Razael came from--perished in fire and Orcs by varying degrees.))

[bonden]

((so awesome and beautiful i love it continue with stuff like this ))

[iDieForEXP]

((Yo Bonden, anything not rp in an rp thread is suposed to be enclosed by double parenthesis :)

Razael: This is awesome! I really like your choice of words and it convinces me your character is real))

[Razael]

((Part of this exercise is to teach me how to poetry. We'll see how that goes.))

--DAY ONE--
When I woke, love, it was to find myself in a place unlike any I'd ever seen before. All around me were tall, vine-covered trees supported by thick vegetation beneath. It seemed to me not unlike our home's aid jungles , but there was still something... different about the place--and when I cocked my ears to catch a remnant of something half-heard, I understood. there were no animals, no sounds, no chattering or chittering or even birdsong. Overcome by horror I spun in circles and searched frantically for a way back to our home--charred and dead though it must have been--but of course there wasn't a single sign of home or Elf here... besides me. I shall be a remnant, my love, no more than a singular abstraction lost to time. In fact, I doubted even finding another sentient sound from somewhere behind me. Through the evening light a pallid and sickly-countenanced creature came stepping, walking quickly to me with arms outstretched. I hailed the thing but it either did not understand me... or couldn't. I began to grow alarmed as its advance continued unabated, but the danger only became apparent when, my back flat against a tree trunk, the thing reached out and struck me; I can still see the bruise two days later. I know not how I broke free of that damn damning encounter, but without a moment's pause I was fleeing through thick underbrush that threatened to catch and choke the life from me. Still there was no sound--not a single cry or warble or howl was to be heard beside my own panting breath.

--DAY TWO--
I only stopped running when the sun crested the hills and bathed me in its warm embrace, melting away some of the hurts from the last night. Though my legs seemed afire from ache and tenseness, I stood at length and surveyed my surroundings. Oh, my love, you would have laughed to see my expression! As if straight from a painting I stood before a vision of our own cabin clearing from all those years ago. To my right was a serene, glassy pond, and to my left a plain full of grass, flowers and trees. Mountains in the background completed the picture and established even greater a sense of the uncanny in me. It fit so perfectly to my memory of that house we shared together, love---but that it had no house with us in it, no cabin to shelter and secure us.
I have a purpose now. I will build this cabin from my memory alone. Will I feel something else than loss when I've recreated the place we first looked so deep into each other's souls? I wonder.

--DAY THREE--
Whereas the last day was spent gathering wood, today was spent building the actual house. It took a great deal more time than I'd expected to collect the necessary materials, seeing as there was little to no fallen brush on the ground. I believe a fire ran through here not so long ago--and that theory has been solidified by the discovery of several burnt (but still standing) trees. I broke a small twig off one to show you, love, though the black-and-white representation is hardly adequate.

Once I'd collected what I could from the dead trees I'd found surrounding the area, I started to build. A shelter was enough for the first night, but I have something different in mind for the finished project. I'll make it beautiful as only memory can render it. I've done as much as I can in one day--would that I was a tree-shaper!--and the rest will have to wait for another day. I can see the moon from the open roof, love. I wish you could watch it slowly slide to the horizon with me.

I haven't written to you in far too long. I hope you find me skilled as the day you first read my work.

It is you in the trees, love, you in the ground--
(you in each shuddering, wind-driven sound)
You in the mountain, you in the stream
(you in the leaves and each single sun's beam)
You are the spaces between each new breath:
Sun, moon, shade, death.

My mind is in pain, love, from moments with you--
(sun in the shadows, feet in the dew)
Mem'ries of warmth and of soft summer skies
(Winter falls, Spring cries)
I remember the radiant glow of your light:
Warmth, touch, breath, sight.

It is you that I feel every time my chest heaves
(And I fancy I hear you in the rustling leaves)
I remember your heart, I remember your tears
(The product of our own, oh-so-secretive fears)
I'm alone now, love, while you're finally free:
From life, pain, tears--
me.