LuxTop
Legend of Altera
{Contains crude language and womanizing comments, beware.}
The writing is based on the recent roleplays from Reinhard's perspective.
You can find other stories of Reinhard {in here}
The writing is based on the recent roleplays from Reinhard's perspective.
When I wake up, the other side of the bed is empty and cold. The hope of seeing her there with the opening of eyes weights me down increasingly, - it becomes too heavy of a burden to pull in the morning. At night I could drown it, - pretend that she is within the darkness. If imagination fails to trick me, - there is always the soothing wine to drown oneself with, - or mind-numbing jog around the estate that knocks my troubled head out, right out in the fields. I find the temporary comfort in embrace of the meadows... Today I was spared of being a hippie-bum, as I found myself in the cozy, but lonely bed of velvet and not the grass. As I open my eyes, - I face the wall, - not the empty spot I was so mentally fixated at, - did I at last overcome the suffocating loneliness, the soul-shredding missing of my beloved? Eyes close and open again, to confirm this was not a dream. It... Was not. Rush of lukewarm emotions buckets me, - eyelids lift to the full, and a twinkle in my golds glistens. Only for it to die out in an instant, - as I see the spot. Mirrors, - the mystical objects often believed to possess magical properties, they entrance me. But not the way I intended, when I hanged them in the chambers. Their ethereal, reflective surfaces, - shift my focus right onto the other side of the bed. I look away from the ones on the wall, looking up, - finding myself in dismay - a large mirror was mounted up above on the ceiling. The picture I see is painfully unbalanced - I am there, on the one side. And she... She Is missing. I close my eyes in defeat, - raise up, and try to sense up my robes on the hanger. A wobbly gait, - and I, the clutz, knock it down. The bang, unlike most people would find it, - wasn't painful to my ears, - in fact, it was a saving grace from the silence of the room, - I heard no breaths, no voice, - the ones I expected, the ones I longed for, the ones that I grew used to. While the sound echoes throughout the chambers, - I quickly pull the robe onto myself and rush up to the windows, - to let the sound of the valleys enter this mournful temple of love, that was slowly becoming as quiet as at the funeral, only without the body of the withered. Just the painful memories. Window opens. Wind kisses me on cheeks before any sound comes, - and fondles with my hair, like she used to - seamlessly, gently. Chirping of birds follows behind the wind, accompanying it, - the sweet pitch reminds me of her sunrise croons. I melancholically turn to the spot, - with the built-up courage, - and stare at it, - at my obsession, - trying not to whimper. I had been getting better at it - in the first months I bawled my eyes out, drowned in debilitating sorrow. Then, - I had reached the stage when my eyes were watery, but not cried out till they were irritated. And now, - I manage to just stand still, - facially dead. But not emotionally, at least not deep inside. Storm of sorrow was unquelled, raging, drowning. Heartbeat and the dulled windows to my absent soul show the signs of the drawn-out melancholy, of the struggle inside. Only this superficial progress - at facing the spot once on my two, - had been keeping me together, - if there was not, - I do not know how I would have carried on living, - grinding it, to build the Empire, - that I wished to gift to her, - to our children... I do not even know, if I have them still, - if they are alive. For whom do I build it, the Heaven on Earth? For whom shall the peace be found, in the Land of Destruction? I do not know. I do not even think my Lord knows. But I got to keep on trying, else I succumb, - like body, one needs to maintain the will, the spirit. Once you abandon caring for it - you are lost. Gone. You become nothing but a husk of a former self, - and at death, you do not return. I had strength to resurrect a couple of time. But now? I didn't know, - and I wished not to dwell on it, - let the self-doubts surrender the core of my being. It was my duty, - to maintain my will, to live. What for? I know not, - but I had no purpose before meeting her too. And yet I found it. That's a good reason enough to persist, - say I to myself, - brooding, overthinking. As I do, - thought pierces my mind. If I believe that only strong-willed individuals return to life... I look at the spot, as pain grows. Vision gets blurry, and voice assaults my mind, asking. Asking why she isn't here? Did she lose the will to live? Am I to blame? What had I done wrong? Was I not good enough? Was I blind, - to her unhappiness? Did she grow tired of me? There... The thoughts breached the gates of my mind, - they had surrounded me. And yet, - I have no time to dwell on doubts, - on past. I must care for my vessel, for my mind, - to function, - after all, - I kept telling on to myself, - I had no purpose before meeting her.
So I proceeded to do that - to take care of myself. Starting, as always, from the body, being the soulless one that I am. I had my training routine, - nothing too extreme - a jog around the estate, - with a detour into the local woods to take a leek - after all, - got to mark my territory to those stupid animals, keep them in fear, and in their place. Then, after asserting my dominance over the creatures of the forest, - not in the sense you might take, you obscene, filthy pigs,- I had a warming up gymnastics, - as the first rays cascaded upon the valley, painting it gold. Always right in time, - can't miss the golden hour. The jog was then followed by the obstacle run, - that I added as I was returning to my Nid Arach runs, - it had the essential for the place activities - jumping over the gaps, - landing practice from different heights, - and bit of sideway galloping - it may look silly, to ballet around in the fight - but it had been saving my life on many occasions, and wasn't too bad for the definition of the glutes. Then I had pullups, - calisthenics as they call it, some weight exercised sprinkled in , - to keep it all sharp and proportional. Even if she wasn't around to appreciate it, - I grew used to seeing myself in the pinnacle form, - not... Boney, - as I was once, shrunk, withered, - like a skeleton... Fucking... I fucking hate them. Mhm... Nonetheless, - I pushed in the mornings, - facing my old enemy, - starvation. I knew I had food to relish afterwards, - nutritious meal, - the most gratifying one after the long training. I have also added to the routine practice with a shield, - ever since my return to the warfare, - I had been using it actively, - I wonder how I even survived before that, - with all these damned sharpshooters... Anyhow, - I work with shield, then with mace, - and finally, - I end it with another jog, - till reaching the baths. After getting squeaky clean, - with skin hydrated, - teeth taken care of, jawline sculpted with a facial exercise, hair brushed, and scalp massaged, - I finally come to the long and always empty except for my seat in the end dining table, befit for a large family. Family... The one I dreamt for. Thankfully, the mind is too starved to brood over it. Whole body is burning, - asking for the fuel. And what a fuel I had prepared for it! I enjoy my hearty breakfast in few sets, - cooked by the implings. That day I was having for the first course a delectable pastry sandwich with salmon, poached eggs, - some greens, - a yoghurt with a cupful of berries, and a glass of wine, naturally. I cut up the piece with my fancy silverware, or to be more correct, goldenware, - about to delight the nutritious and healthy meal of mine, - as the music started to play. At first, I enjoyed it, - humming loud, out of the tune, to the tune, - but slowly it dawned upon me - it wasn't an impling playing the harp. I only instructed them on how to play the piano, and occasionally let them drum the hell away all their stress on drums. All other instruments they were forbidden to touch - to not leave on them any scratches with their claws. I like it smooth, like I love my women. Mhm... Anyhow, - who the fuck was playing the harp?
<> The Utter Disappointment <> | Encounter with Sydri
With glass of wine still grasped in my hand, - I ambled, cautiously, through the kitchens to the music room, noting that indeed my impling wasn't the one behind the instrument - it was dutifully cooking the second course for me. I command him to cease and instead to hurry upstairs for my gauntlets - my edge in the battles. I should had probably waited it out there, before the imp brought me them, but I risked it - and entered, impatiently, the hall filled with the sounds of harp. The play was soft, pleasant to the ear. Eyes peer to the cloaked figure framed by the window, the harp towers over little them. Strings vibrate - so does my heart, - paranoia was kicking in. Was I about to be assassinated? By whom? This... Fuckwit? These questions cleaved my mind, it was weak at the time to answer any of the invasive questions. Instead, instincts were guiding me - and I followed them to the heart. Looked around the corner, for any other uglings who might shank me, not in the sense you perverts might think of, - then at the figure, at its hands, - then at the ceiling above, in case it was a spider fucklingt, - after taking few steps forward - cautiously back, - with stare finally returning to the figure once the surroundings were reasonably confirmed to be clean. The cloaked fuckwit-fuckling. I peered at it. I thankfully had on me the mace that I forgot to strap off my belt, to flatten to the ground this bozo. I unfastened it - and advanced to the ghostly looking silhouette. After observing it for long, - it in impatience finished its eerie performance, - and started to close up with me. Bitter exchanges followed. It had squeaky, unpleasant voice. Hood off, - and it turns out to be Sydri the Fuckwit-Fuckling, - the prodigal ex-step-daughter, the one who was disowned by her mother for me, - I immediately went furious, - at her intrusion, - my unwelcoming eyes drilled her unsightly small, dot like eyes. She mumbles something. Pathetic, I think to myself. She hadn't changed. She was the same utter disappointment she was. She wasn't even listening to me! And this... Bratty bozo-gnome was not just playing the harp, but had been playing on my nerves. First she tries to boss me around, - say that it is her home, - that she will be staying, then she... She dared to mention Ayda! I was engulfed by hatred for her in that moment, - she dared to speak ill of her mother, - she dared to mock me, my loss of her, - she even lied to me, that she left me, like her. No... I knew Sydri was a bitch of the cosmic proportions despite her teeny-weeny, nonexistent sense of self- so I didn't take it to the heart, - I wasn't a fool, I wasn't going to take her bullshit again. I gave her warnings to leave, - and when she kept on mocking me and her mother, - I didn't resist the temptation to teach her. I wished to scare her off with the heat of the mace, - but it didn't work. She kept on resisting. It escalated quickly to a fight. Naturally... Such a weakling was bound to lose. I gave her many chances to cease, to repent, - even going so far as to disarm, instead of hurting her, - being fucking good to her, after all she had done, - but no... She kept on being the whiney, bratty ugling that she was. I called her names, - I was mean, I did everything to break her will, I promised for her to live, - and let her leave, - but she continued to fight me, despite the fractured thigh, - despite the knocked out of hand sword, - despite fractured hand. I branded her, - watched her cry, tired of her games. It was right. She had to be taught. She needed to learn her lesson. People, unfortunately, - understand the best the language of force, and others they understand less so. I eventually broke her will, naturally, being me, - and carried her to the forecourt, just outside the entrance. It was raining outside. I laid her down like a stray dog beneath the overhang, - before the entrance, and gave her blankets, water, - and a vial breaking bone salve. She didn't take it - being all prideful. She was so childish in her behavior, despite the age. I pitied her, the utter disappointment. She made grievous mistakes, - irritating me further, - and revealing who her love was - another dumbfuck, the zealot - Vowrawn. She believed the rumors that I hurt him. Fucking... Unbelievable. They still keep squeaking about me. They keep on obsessing over me?! All of them!!! And it is not the kind of obsession I enjoy. She cast at me her tantrums, at getting back her weaponry, - she was completely deranged, - a lunatic, - was she so desperate to kill me? She doesn't even know the truth, - and commits fervently to these lies. I curse, tired, unwilling to dealw ith it - and use the slip-up of hers. She offered me anything for the weapons. What a dumb bitch. I thought promise to not return was good enough, - even if she isn't trustworthy, - after all, she got hurt enough. I pitied her. Truly. But she insulted me, - spoke of my missing fiancée, AGAIN. I punished her - I took the scarf she had, - and gave her back the petty weapons, - after shutting the doors loudly. I took up on her offer - anything for the weaponry. But she wasn't happy. She was hysterical, - lying, - just an utter annoyance. She has no principals, no morals, - she is an empty husk of a person, - she is a bug, - that I for no good reason hesitated to squash, sparing her, - after all she had done. She has no logic - she thought she could get away with her intrusion, with her insults, - with her admittance of hating me, wanting to hurt me. But...No. She got punished. She got taught. Just like this unhinged overgrown brat always deserved.
If to be short like her, - but in words instead of sense of pride, - she is an utter disappointment.
<> Mixed Signals <> | Encounter with Eirlys
I would describe my life as being painfully boring if not for the humour, mystery, fondling, praises, challenges, - and beauty to appreciate. In other words, - Eirlys. Once in a blue moon one may find a bottle that hits all the notes. The sweetness, the memorable fragrance, - the right viscosity, bit of acidity, - suggestive dryness, playfulness of the aftertaste, temperature, - transparency. Well, she does hit all of that, more or less. Only her contents is mixed with other things too, - she roughens me up - chokes or ruffles my hair after caressing them just moments earlier. Her praises get followed by humiliation, - I can hardly tell apart where she means it, and when she just teases me. She simpers, and then frowns, casting sharp icicles out of her eyes at me. She has both authenticity and inauthenticity. A walking contradiction. I get overwhelmed in the whirlpool of sensations she fires up in me. Sometimes it is too much even for me, the lover of extreme things. And you know, - it is hard to top me, the connoisseur, in this. I hardly can maintain an eye contact with her, - I do not know whether to smile or to cry. However, no matter how mixed, conflicted I feel with her, - I keep tasting her. I grew addicted to the intensity, - finally feeling something. It may leave bitter aftertaste and goosebumps on my skin, it may be unhealthy for me, - but I feel something for once. Life is just bleak without the fine wine I call Eirlys.
The most memorable night out with her was after we returned from Nid Arach. It was a chaotic run into the accursed land, - with patched up, but still branded Sydri the dwarf, - menacingly quiet Erwin the caretaker of this headache-overchild, Eirlys, the stunning, the tasty, of course, and some quiet goth girl that trailed along. They were all rookies, - and I couldn't contain myself as usually, - I made few daring comments in their address, pointing out who they were. Fucking slow, fucking incompetent, fucking DISORGANIZED rookies. I was too hurt to not say anything, to not let go of my emotions. My pride hurt. Eirlys drowned me completely in the last few days, - I had no juices to run. If you know what I mean, heh~. So this speaking down at them was my way of regaining some of my dried up force. It was a long-awaited grasp of fresh air. She was bitter, - but at the same time she was too focused on the adventure, - as seemingly the rest. My mean talk didn't make them turn up on me. Good. Let them be distracted. You must had seen how dumbfounded they were by the Nid Arachian aura, - what can I say, rookie-rookies, - with no cookies. I cautiously followed them, - fearing retritbuion from hurting Sydri earlier, - and watched them. I expected Eirlys to boss around, - but she was more of the follower than a leader in the wild. Quite the contrast with the private chambers, heh~. Mhm... Joking, I am joking, alright? Do not tell her. Mhm... Anyhow, - despite her not domineering anyone around in public, - she had strong personality and brains - to push on the rest, who got distracted along the way again and again, at every pebble, at every croaker in the bog. It was getting on our nerves, of the efficient ones. It was also nice to see her concord with me. But anyhow... I let them do their roaming around, while fueling my pride with being a smartass, - telling them that they won't find anything of interest in this structure, - that there was a dead end, do not step there... And so on. I breathed my superiority while I could, - fearing I would suffocate if I didn't show it. After all, Eirlys was good at sucking out any breath out of me... Mhm - fine, - enough with jokes, - please, do not tell her. As I was saying, - let the rookies do their things... And surprise-surprise, - it worked. Even pissed-off Eirlys had to admit who was the competent one. I smiled beneath the mask as the rookies descended from the tower, mostly empty-handed, with disappointment plastered over their faces. I guided them, - totally without accidents and totally without trying to get back on Eirlys to regain my pride while I could. Despite how chaotic it was, we were successful in our run, picking up plentiful of useful seeds, traversing through new to me locations, - scrambling together fancy loot, - and gaining intel for our objective. Thankfully, - conflict was evaded in the group, I had great time, and we parted ways. I and Eirlys had the dinner, as I said, - in a tavern in Eldpoint, after all the adventures. She was somewhat peaceful after getting injured, - I liked her this way... I mean - tranquil, not injured. It was tense as usually, but less so than before - she wasn't as mean as before, and she even had a flash of authenticity, when I brought up the question that was tormenting me, on being not good enough. My fear was confirmed, - I wasn't. I wasn't good enough. She didn't tell how, how I could improve, but made promise, - to be more truthful to me, so I could understand, know her. It was the only, but enough at the moment, relief to the gnashing sense of hollowness that I felt through my core. Being not good enough...
After our adventure to Hellmaze, that was tense as well - as I kept on irritating her and I do not know how, can't even imagine how someone may have too much of me, - we went to the tavern again. I didn't ask her the burning, personal questions, - knowing she was tired and irritated. I was too weak, too frightened - to enquire, just like I couldn't with Iris, but Eirly at least spent time with me - dinning, talking. I was getting insights into her mind. Without the contract. She felt different compared to Endowyn. As if she was a puzzle that wanted to be solved. The one that used me? Yes, she but had a droplet of sympathy, of authenticity. That is enough for thirsty me. I didn't know, if tidbits about herself were her slip-ups in her act, or made intentionally, nonetheless, I appreciate them. For she is a creature stranger than any I encountered, - she is too complex at times, - and I did not know if I could muster forces, to endure the humiliation. Alas, - that Nid Arach escapade, - it does inspire me to persist. I still live on that breath of air she gave to me, - her admittance of my competence, - it was a break in the series of humiliations and feelings of unworthiness. Being not good enough is painful, -but I do know now, that I will keep on pushing, - I will get answers, - in what aspects I am lacking. I want to be better. And I want to solve the puzzle.
<> Faith <> | Encounter with Sophie
Another woman to reach me out, out of the sudden, in my misery, in my loneliness, - was Sophie. I hadn't heard of her in months. Unlike with Eirlys, - her intentions were clear to me from the start - she wanted to return to my Lord. I took up on the offer to meet her, and we had a wine and dine in Sandaru's top notch tavern. You might ask - why Sandaru? Well, - I wanted a break from the soiling my eyes landscapes of Cerullian Expanse, from the moldy cesspool sight and smell that the Landing was, from the unwelcoming to me Evenfall, - with ungrateful, prideful, not respectful Lana, - and from stony architecture of the always stoned Eldpoint. Besides, - well, if it isn't too stupid of a reason... I wanted the name of the tavern to be fitting for our meetings, - and I chose Smoke and Cloak tavern - was quite fitting with the theme of my Lord. I just had to make it significant, you know? I follow... Symbols, meaning, as a practice of the Occult. I am that guy, - the horoscope guy. Symbols are my everything. So I gifted my Patron with a cloak, - and smoke was his domain. So it all made perfect sense to meet there, right? The stars had aligned.
Mhm... Anyhow, - I digress. This Sophie rolled in - we talked. She was... Very sweet, and smiley, - I couldn't keep myself from reciprocating, - especially with how lonely I was. I hadn't just hit on anyone in months - after my streak of about nine dates with the ladies, - no, - I hadn't even spoken to any friend. Asero was spying on me, - and being shallow, pretending to care about me. Others... Were not matching with my personality, or were absent, - I just am too tired to look into that anymore. I lost at the time all the faith I had in the people, getting broody. So... This Sophie, - she was the first ray of sunshine that struck through the gloomy clouds of my ot so bright, darksome mind. I was somewhat cautious, - at not giving out too much information to her, - as she got little bit suspicious - she didn't ask me to sign contract immediately, - as I would had expected, - neither at enquiry did she clarify why she would take up the risks, of becoming the most persecuted kind of Altera - the horned one. Yet, - she was authentic, - and we kept on talking. I slowly found out her reasons for contacting me, - she wants to be less lonely, have a family. Geormorren offers it indeed. Me? I do not know... I still wasn't over, and still am not, over disappearance of Ayda... Mhm... Mhm... Anyhow. In spite of all, I was truthful to her, - that being abyssal might be not what she wants, - that it entails risks, - that even I, who spent the most time with the Lord, - do not know if he is peaceful enough of an entity, in comparison to the Ivory King, or not. I told her that she needs strong will, - and to assess this situation well, - whether she would risk it or not. She seemingly got surprised by it - that I wasn't trying to take up her soul like most Abyssal, like Melarue or Iris would had tried. She was even more surprised, - when I offered to return the fraction of the soul Geormorren retained from her. Do not know what was so shocking in it - I explained, it entails risks, at people being upset, - that they would target the fiends for these petty fractions of the souls, that do not make the grand difference. So we conversed for little bit more. It was... An odd encounter, - with a confused woman, - but I hope she makes up her mind.
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P.S. Thank you for reading the Triptych from the Reflection series! Hope quality of the third story wasn't lacking - I just grew too tired in my spontaneous writing marathon. Will appreciate any criticism or thoughts, on forums or in discord DMs.
So I proceeded to do that - to take care of myself. Starting, as always, from the body, being the soulless one that I am. I had my training routine, - nothing too extreme - a jog around the estate, - with a detour into the local woods to take a leek - after all, - got to mark my territory to those stupid animals, keep them in fear, and in their place. Then, after asserting my dominance over the creatures of the forest, - not in the sense you might take, you obscene, filthy pigs,- I had a warming up gymnastics, - as the first rays cascaded upon the valley, painting it gold. Always right in time, - can't miss the golden hour. The jog was then followed by the obstacle run, - that I added as I was returning to my Nid Arach runs, - it had the essential for the place activities - jumping over the gaps, - landing practice from different heights, - and bit of sideway galloping - it may look silly, to ballet around in the fight - but it had been saving my life on many occasions, and wasn't too bad for the definition of the glutes. Then I had pullups, - calisthenics as they call it, some weight exercised sprinkled in , - to keep it all sharp and proportional. Even if she wasn't around to appreciate it, - I grew used to seeing myself in the pinnacle form, - not... Boney, - as I was once, shrunk, withered, - like a skeleton... Fucking... I fucking hate them. Mhm... Nonetheless, - I pushed in the mornings, - facing my old enemy, - starvation. I knew I had food to relish afterwards, - nutritious meal, - the most gratifying one after the long training. I have also added to the routine practice with a shield, - ever since my return to the warfare, - I had been using it actively, - I wonder how I even survived before that, - with all these damned sharpshooters... Anyhow, - I work with shield, then with mace, - and finally, - I end it with another jog, - till reaching the baths. After getting squeaky clean, - with skin hydrated, - teeth taken care of, jawline sculpted with a facial exercise, hair brushed, and scalp massaged, - I finally come to the long and always empty except for my seat in the end dining table, befit for a large family. Family... The one I dreamt for. Thankfully, the mind is too starved to brood over it. Whole body is burning, - asking for the fuel. And what a fuel I had prepared for it! I enjoy my hearty breakfast in few sets, - cooked by the implings. That day I was having for the first course a delectable pastry sandwich with salmon, poached eggs, - some greens, - a yoghurt with a cupful of berries, and a glass of wine, naturally. I cut up the piece with my fancy silverware, or to be more correct, goldenware, - about to delight the nutritious and healthy meal of mine, - as the music started to play. At first, I enjoyed it, - humming loud, out of the tune, to the tune, - but slowly it dawned upon me - it wasn't an impling playing the harp. I only instructed them on how to play the piano, and occasionally let them drum the hell away all their stress on drums. All other instruments they were forbidden to touch - to not leave on them any scratches with their claws. I like it smooth, like I love my women. Mhm... Anyhow, - who the fuck was playing the harp?
<> The Utter Disappointment <> | Encounter with Sydri
With glass of wine still grasped in my hand, - I ambled, cautiously, through the kitchens to the music room, noting that indeed my impling wasn't the one behind the instrument - it was dutifully cooking the second course for me. I command him to cease and instead to hurry upstairs for my gauntlets - my edge in the battles. I should had probably waited it out there, before the imp brought me them, but I risked it - and entered, impatiently, the hall filled with the sounds of harp. The play was soft, pleasant to the ear. Eyes peer to the cloaked figure framed by the window, the harp towers over little them. Strings vibrate - so does my heart, - paranoia was kicking in. Was I about to be assassinated? By whom? This... Fuckwit? These questions cleaved my mind, it was weak at the time to answer any of the invasive questions. Instead, instincts were guiding me - and I followed them to the heart. Looked around the corner, for any other uglings who might shank me, not in the sense you perverts might think of, - then at the figure, at its hands, - then at the ceiling above, in case it was a spider fucklingt, - after taking few steps forward - cautiously back, - with stare finally returning to the figure once the surroundings were reasonably confirmed to be clean. The cloaked fuckwit-fuckling. I peered at it. I thankfully had on me the mace that I forgot to strap off my belt, to flatten to the ground this bozo. I unfastened it - and advanced to the ghostly looking silhouette. After observing it for long, - it in impatience finished its eerie performance, - and started to close up with me. Bitter exchanges followed. It had squeaky, unpleasant voice. Hood off, - and it turns out to be Sydri the Fuckwit-Fuckling, - the prodigal ex-step-daughter, the one who was disowned by her mother for me, - I immediately went furious, - at her intrusion, - my unwelcoming eyes drilled her unsightly small, dot like eyes. She mumbles something. Pathetic, I think to myself. She hadn't changed. She was the same utter disappointment she was. She wasn't even listening to me! And this... Bratty bozo-gnome was not just playing the harp, but had been playing on my nerves. First she tries to boss me around, - say that it is her home, - that she will be staying, then she... She dared to mention Ayda! I was engulfed by hatred for her in that moment, - she dared to speak ill of her mother, - she dared to mock me, my loss of her, - she even lied to me, that she left me, like her. No... I knew Sydri was a bitch of the cosmic proportions despite her teeny-weeny, nonexistent sense of self- so I didn't take it to the heart, - I wasn't a fool, I wasn't going to take her bullshit again. I gave her warnings to leave, - and when she kept on mocking me and her mother, - I didn't resist the temptation to teach her. I wished to scare her off with the heat of the mace, - but it didn't work. She kept on resisting. It escalated quickly to a fight. Naturally... Such a weakling was bound to lose. I gave her many chances to cease, to repent, - even going so far as to disarm, instead of hurting her, - being fucking good to her, after all she had done, - but no... She kept on being the whiney, bratty ugling that she was. I called her names, - I was mean, I did everything to break her will, I promised for her to live, - and let her leave, - but she continued to fight me, despite the fractured thigh, - despite the knocked out of hand sword, - despite fractured hand. I branded her, - watched her cry, tired of her games. It was right. She had to be taught. She needed to learn her lesson. People, unfortunately, - understand the best the language of force, and others they understand less so. I eventually broke her will, naturally, being me, - and carried her to the forecourt, just outside the entrance. It was raining outside. I laid her down like a stray dog beneath the overhang, - before the entrance, and gave her blankets, water, - and a vial breaking bone salve. She didn't take it - being all prideful. She was so childish in her behavior, despite the age. I pitied her, the utter disappointment. She made grievous mistakes, - irritating me further, - and revealing who her love was - another dumbfuck, the zealot - Vowrawn. She believed the rumors that I hurt him. Fucking... Unbelievable. They still keep squeaking about me. They keep on obsessing over me?! All of them!!! And it is not the kind of obsession I enjoy. She cast at me her tantrums, at getting back her weaponry, - she was completely deranged, - a lunatic, - was she so desperate to kill me? She doesn't even know the truth, - and commits fervently to these lies. I curse, tired, unwilling to dealw ith it - and use the slip-up of hers. She offered me anything for the weapons. What a dumb bitch. I thought promise to not return was good enough, - even if she isn't trustworthy, - after all, she got hurt enough. I pitied her. Truly. But she insulted me, - spoke of my missing fiancée, AGAIN. I punished her - I took the scarf she had, - and gave her back the petty weapons, - after shutting the doors loudly. I took up on her offer - anything for the weaponry. But she wasn't happy. She was hysterical, - lying, - just an utter annoyance. She has no principals, no morals, - she is an empty husk of a person, - she is a bug, - that I for no good reason hesitated to squash, sparing her, - after all she had done. She has no logic - she thought she could get away with her intrusion, with her insults, - with her admittance of hating me, wanting to hurt me. But...No. She got punished. She got taught. Just like this unhinged overgrown brat always deserved.
If to be short like her, - but in words instead of sense of pride, - she is an utter disappointment.
<> Mixed Signals <> | Encounter with Eirlys
I would describe my life as being painfully boring if not for the humour, mystery, fondling, praises, challenges, - and beauty to appreciate. In other words, - Eirlys. Once in a blue moon one may find a bottle that hits all the notes. The sweetness, the memorable fragrance, - the right viscosity, bit of acidity, - suggestive dryness, playfulness of the aftertaste, temperature, - transparency. Well, she does hit all of that, more or less. Only her contents is mixed with other things too, - she roughens me up - chokes or ruffles my hair after caressing them just moments earlier. Her praises get followed by humiliation, - I can hardly tell apart where she means it, and when she just teases me. She simpers, and then frowns, casting sharp icicles out of her eyes at me. She has both authenticity and inauthenticity. A walking contradiction. I get overwhelmed in the whirlpool of sensations she fires up in me. Sometimes it is too much even for me, the lover of extreme things. And you know, - it is hard to top me, the connoisseur, in this. I hardly can maintain an eye contact with her, - I do not know whether to smile or to cry. However, no matter how mixed, conflicted I feel with her, - I keep tasting her. I grew addicted to the intensity, - finally feeling something. It may leave bitter aftertaste and goosebumps on my skin, it may be unhealthy for me, - but I feel something for once. Life is just bleak without the fine wine I call Eirlys.
The most memorable night out with her was after we returned from Nid Arach. It was a chaotic run into the accursed land, - with patched up, but still branded Sydri the dwarf, - menacingly quiet Erwin the caretaker of this headache-overchild, Eirlys, the stunning, the tasty, of course, and some quiet goth girl that trailed along. They were all rookies, - and I couldn't contain myself as usually, - I made few daring comments in their address, pointing out who they were. Fucking slow, fucking incompetent, fucking DISORGANIZED rookies. I was too hurt to not say anything, to not let go of my emotions. My pride hurt. Eirlys drowned me completely in the last few days, - I had no juices to run. If you know what I mean, heh~. So this speaking down at them was my way of regaining some of my dried up force. It was a long-awaited grasp of fresh air. She was bitter, - but at the same time she was too focused on the adventure, - as seemingly the rest. My mean talk didn't make them turn up on me. Good. Let them be distracted. You must had seen how dumbfounded they were by the Nid Arachian aura, - what can I say, rookie-rookies, - with no cookies. I cautiously followed them, - fearing retritbuion from hurting Sydri earlier, - and watched them. I expected Eirlys to boss around, - but she was more of the follower than a leader in the wild. Quite the contrast with the private chambers, heh~. Mhm... Joking, I am joking, alright? Do not tell her. Mhm... Anyhow, - despite her not domineering anyone around in public, - she had strong personality and brains - to push on the rest, who got distracted along the way again and again, at every pebble, at every croaker in the bog. It was getting on our nerves, of the efficient ones. It was also nice to see her concord with me. But anyhow... I let them do their roaming around, while fueling my pride with being a smartass, - telling them that they won't find anything of interest in this structure, - that there was a dead end, do not step there... And so on. I breathed my superiority while I could, - fearing I would suffocate if I didn't show it. After all, Eirlys was good at sucking out any breath out of me... Mhm - fine, - enough with jokes, - please, do not tell her. As I was saying, - let the rookies do their things... And surprise-surprise, - it worked. Even pissed-off Eirlys had to admit who was the competent one. I smiled beneath the mask as the rookies descended from the tower, mostly empty-handed, with disappointment plastered over their faces. I guided them, - totally without accidents and totally without trying to get back on Eirlys to regain my pride while I could. Despite how chaotic it was, we were successful in our run, picking up plentiful of useful seeds, traversing through new to me locations, - scrambling together fancy loot, - and gaining intel for our objective. Thankfully, - conflict was evaded in the group, I had great time, and we parted ways. I and Eirlys had the dinner, as I said, - in a tavern in Eldpoint, after all the adventures. She was somewhat peaceful after getting injured, - I liked her this way... I mean - tranquil, not injured. It was tense as usually, but less so than before - she wasn't as mean as before, and she even had a flash of authenticity, when I brought up the question that was tormenting me, on being not good enough. My fear was confirmed, - I wasn't. I wasn't good enough. She didn't tell how, how I could improve, but made promise, - to be more truthful to me, so I could understand, know her. It was the only, but enough at the moment, relief to the gnashing sense of hollowness that I felt through my core. Being not good enough...
After our adventure to Hellmaze, that was tense as well - as I kept on irritating her and I do not know how, can't even imagine how someone may have too much of me, - we went to the tavern again. I didn't ask her the burning, personal questions, - knowing she was tired and irritated. I was too weak, too frightened - to enquire, just like I couldn't with Iris, but Eirly at least spent time with me - dinning, talking. I was getting insights into her mind. Without the contract. She felt different compared to Endowyn. As if she was a puzzle that wanted to be solved. The one that used me? Yes, she but had a droplet of sympathy, of authenticity. That is enough for thirsty me. I didn't know, if tidbits about herself were her slip-ups in her act, or made intentionally, nonetheless, I appreciate them. For she is a creature stranger than any I encountered, - she is too complex at times, - and I did not know if I could muster forces, to endure the humiliation. Alas, - that Nid Arach escapade, - it does inspire me to persist. I still live on that breath of air she gave to me, - her admittance of my competence, - it was a break in the series of humiliations and feelings of unworthiness. Being not good enough is painful, -but I do know now, that I will keep on pushing, - I will get answers, - in what aspects I am lacking. I want to be better. And I want to solve the puzzle.
<> Faith <> | Encounter with Sophie
Another woman to reach me out, out of the sudden, in my misery, in my loneliness, - was Sophie. I hadn't heard of her in months. Unlike with Eirlys, - her intentions were clear to me from the start - she wanted to return to my Lord. I took up on the offer to meet her, and we had a wine and dine in Sandaru's top notch tavern. You might ask - why Sandaru? Well, - I wanted a break from the soiling my eyes landscapes of Cerullian Expanse, from the moldy cesspool sight and smell that the Landing was, from the unwelcoming to me Evenfall, - with ungrateful, prideful, not respectful Lana, - and from stony architecture of the always stoned Eldpoint. Besides, - well, if it isn't too stupid of a reason... I wanted the name of the tavern to be fitting for our meetings, - and I chose Smoke and Cloak tavern - was quite fitting with the theme of my Lord. I just had to make it significant, you know? I follow... Symbols, meaning, as a practice of the Occult. I am that guy, - the horoscope guy. Symbols are my everything. So I gifted my Patron with a cloak, - and smoke was his domain. So it all made perfect sense to meet there, right? The stars had aligned.
Mhm... Anyhow, - I digress. This Sophie rolled in - we talked. She was... Very sweet, and smiley, - I couldn't keep myself from reciprocating, - especially with how lonely I was. I hadn't just hit on anyone in months - after my streak of about nine dates with the ladies, - no, - I hadn't even spoken to any friend. Asero was spying on me, - and being shallow, pretending to care about me. Others... Were not matching with my personality, or were absent, - I just am too tired to look into that anymore. I lost at the time all the faith I had in the people, getting broody. So... This Sophie, - she was the first ray of sunshine that struck through the gloomy clouds of my ot so bright, darksome mind. I was somewhat cautious, - at not giving out too much information to her, - as she got little bit suspicious - she didn't ask me to sign contract immediately, - as I would had expected, - neither at enquiry did she clarify why she would take up the risks, of becoming the most persecuted kind of Altera - the horned one. Yet, - she was authentic, - and we kept on talking. I slowly found out her reasons for contacting me, - she wants to be less lonely, have a family. Geormorren offers it indeed. Me? I do not know... I still wasn't over, and still am not, over disappearance of Ayda... Mhm... Mhm... Anyhow. In spite of all, I was truthful to her, - that being abyssal might be not what she wants, - that it entails risks, - that even I, who spent the most time with the Lord, - do not know if he is peaceful enough of an entity, in comparison to the Ivory King, or not. I told her that she needs strong will, - and to assess this situation well, - whether she would risk it or not. She seemingly got surprised by it - that I wasn't trying to take up her soul like most Abyssal, like Melarue or Iris would had tried. She was even more surprised, - when I offered to return the fraction of the soul Geormorren retained from her. Do not know what was so shocking in it - I explained, it entails risks, at people being upset, - that they would target the fiends for these petty fractions of the souls, that do not make the grand difference. So we conversed for little bit more. It was... An odd encounter, - with a confused woman, - but I hope she makes up her mind.
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P.S. Thank you for reading the Triptych from the Reflection series! Hope quality of the third story wasn't lacking - I just grew too tired in my spontaneous writing marathon. Will appreciate any criticism or thoughts, on forums or in discord DMs.
You can find other stories of Reinhard {in here}
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