- Messages
- 122
- Character Biography
- Link
Grief was nothing new for Kaira.
Despair was something fleeting, something to be felt and then let it seep away into nothingness. It made a person cold, detached, and unwanted.
Why not me? For Death placed each hand at the shoulders of her mother and father when she was only a young girl. What did I do wrong? For first flutters of affections turned sour with jealousy in the wake of her promotion. Why did you leave me here? For she had been her happiest and yet that felt like a sacrifice and a height to fall from.
Kaira had not seen darkness in four months.
She could not bear to feel it's seductive allure, to hear the voices unclaimed call to her and pull her into that descent of madness. The dark was cold and left her blind, and the Ancients pulled her into prayer only in the light. Her grandfather had ensured that her bed chambers were always lit with an enchanted lamp gifted from a fae girl that heard the Faith Guardian's woes. And that the hallway too was always lit so that no shadow dared to haunt. The new Guardian of Darkness, although not yet introduced to Kaira, did a kind service by ridding her environments of shadows for they turned Faith to cower.
The only way she knew what time of day it was when her meals came. Now living in the newly restored Yehven home in Old Town, she had a small staff that tended to her needs, and a cook that insisted Kaira eat a meal to keep healthy. She had never been taken cared so well with her meals thrice daily, often paired with a drink that was never the same. She never questioned what she ate, for her interest in the plating was tolerant at best. Her attentions lied elsewhere, to read or try her hand at painting and sketching.
At least she had a maid for that. A warm bath was drawn for her each night and Kaira would rub away with soap at the colours sticking to her arms and hands while the maid went about tidying the room and prepare the Guardian for sleep. At least the staff kept her on a schedule.
The Somners had several meetings about her state of mind since her reclusion, and only a select few of them had sided with the Absalon and other Guardians that Kaira still had her wits to serve as Guardian. Those that followed the Faith often prayed at her doorstep, but their prayers reaching her ears through the windows above only wrenched her heart into lonliness.
Why have Faith in me when those that are important to me no longer hold it?
Please... turn your prayers to someone more deserving...
But Kaira would not relinquish her role as Guardian. The Ancients took on the faces of her departed loved ones, the faces of past Guardians and Protectors. Without them, Kaira was afraid of the pit of guilt and ache she would slip into without their hands holding her up and pulling her to the light.
And that was why Kaira was afraid to sleep at night. To close her eyes was voluntary darkness. Some nights she welcomed it when she wished to feel something disturb her monotony and twist the knife between her ribcage, to remain present and remind herself she was capable of withstanding this tendril of grief.
Just... one more day. One more and perhaps I will have the strength to... revive.
Despair was something fleeting, something to be felt and then let it seep away into nothingness. It made a person cold, detached, and unwanted.
Why not me? For Death placed each hand at the shoulders of her mother and father when she was only a young girl. What did I do wrong? For first flutters of affections turned sour with jealousy in the wake of her promotion. Why did you leave me here? For she had been her happiest and yet that felt like a sacrifice and a height to fall from.
Kaira had not seen darkness in four months.
She could not bear to feel it's seductive allure, to hear the voices unclaimed call to her and pull her into that descent of madness. The dark was cold and left her blind, and the Ancients pulled her into prayer only in the light. Her grandfather had ensured that her bed chambers were always lit with an enchanted lamp gifted from a fae girl that heard the Faith Guardian's woes. And that the hallway too was always lit so that no shadow dared to haunt. The new Guardian of Darkness, although not yet introduced to Kaira, did a kind service by ridding her environments of shadows for they turned Faith to cower.
The only way she knew what time of day it was when her meals came. Now living in the newly restored Yehven home in Old Town, she had a small staff that tended to her needs, and a cook that insisted Kaira eat a meal to keep healthy. She had never been taken cared so well with her meals thrice daily, often paired with a drink that was never the same. She never questioned what she ate, for her interest in the plating was tolerant at best. Her attentions lied elsewhere, to read or try her hand at painting and sketching.
At least she had a maid for that. A warm bath was drawn for her each night and Kaira would rub away with soap at the colours sticking to her arms and hands while the maid went about tidying the room and prepare the Guardian for sleep. At least the staff kept her on a schedule.
The Somners had several meetings about her state of mind since her reclusion, and only a select few of them had sided with the Absalon and other Guardians that Kaira still had her wits to serve as Guardian. Those that followed the Faith often prayed at her doorstep, but their prayers reaching her ears through the windows above only wrenched her heart into lonliness.
Why have Faith in me when those that are important to me no longer hold it?
Please... turn your prayers to someone more deserving...
But Kaira would not relinquish her role as Guardian. The Ancients took on the faces of her departed loved ones, the faces of past Guardians and Protectors. Without them, Kaira was afraid of the pit of guilt and ache she would slip into without their hands holding her up and pulling her to the light.
And that was why Kaira was afraid to sleep at night. To close her eyes was voluntary darkness. Some nights she welcomed it when she wished to feel something disturb her monotony and twist the knife between her ribcage, to remain present and remind herself she was capable of withstanding this tendril of grief.
Just... one more day. One more and perhaps I will have the strength to... revive.