[Venora] The Wilted Rose

There are a number of satellite villages in Rynmere, each overseen by a Duke of one of the seven noble families, and all ultimately controlled by the King of Rynmere.

Moderators: Plague, Djinn, Khymarah, Muse


[Venora] The Wilted Rose

Postby Kieran » Sat Aug 06, 2016 10:35 am

Image
14th of Saun

The Sky is lit with thunderous applause,
To each Venora fighting for their cause
Zvez for her love of Lord Burhan,
Fighting averse a King she cannot stand;
Andraska a writer, a Knight a steed,
All the city, Andaris he shall feed,
A justice that violence cannot quell,
He'll send those cri-mi-nals off to hell!

Willow is wise, for she loves her children,
Only despondent for she cannot see them,
Her love for Lord Kaleb has forever waned,
And now in her heart he cannot swell change

And now at the end of our prose,
We ask of the fate of the Wilted Rose?
Lord Alistair, heir, child of wisdom
Can he not see this powerful schism?
He speaks, he breathes, he cannot feel a thing
O love we have for our Wilted Rose,
But will he find love for the people he chose?


"They wrote a song about me," he said to Lord Riley, the man who had operated as his therapist for a long time. "The Wilted Rose," he said. "They've called me that for a long time. At first my family was offended as they thought perhaps it meant the people were calling me incompetent. No . . . the people of Venora do not consider me incompetent. Instead, they consider me . . . dubious. Morbid. Frightening. I think they've begun to realize my - what you call sociopathy. Do they respect me? I believe so. Fear me? Yes. But will they ever love me?" He frowned, leaning back into his seat. He could not know such things - he could never know. The things that laid in the hearts of men were startling to say the least, and he did not understand them. Perhaps that was why he was this 'sociopath' that everyone declared him. Unfeeling, unmoved, always. It saddened him to hear it, but what could one man do to resist that reputation? Certainly not all the things he'd done thus far; reject proposals, break hearts, make public appearances with a face as cold as ice. Something needed to change - within him, or without.

He looked away from the doctor, staring at one of the paintings he'd kept beside his desk. "I've begun to think about this. I love Sabaissant, somewhere in me. I love my home, I feel comfortable here and in a way happy. It doesn't resound strongly through me, and it's faded, but something is there. Something akin to what others call love. I feel the same love for my brother, Andraska. It's dim, but I know I have it. I just . . . I just need something to bring it out in me, you know? I don't understand the things that everyone is so moved by. Frankly I find a lot of the civilian expressions to be ridiculous - the sort of vacuous words they use to sway the minds of others. Like this group before that spoke of opposing the nobility, saying they felt they 'could not breathe' while we sat in such a position of high power. But clearly they can breathe. Things like that bother me, Ser Walter. The compulsion to emotional response so often comes from lies and statements seething in falsehood. The love many people share is rotten, I've found, with closer inspection. I think people should rather say 'I'm attached to you' than I love you, so many times, as that's what it is; a need, a nostalgic connection, while love itself seems a concept made to bind individuals together under false pretenses. I do not know if I have seen true love. Is it that familial sense of protection? If so, I love more than many. But a love for others that I am not bonded to - such a thing is . . ." He paused. "Not real."
Image
User avatar
Kieran
Walking on the mud in suede shoes.
 
Posts: 1527
Joined: Thu Apr 21, 2016 2:12 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Doctor
Fame: +188
Character Sheet
Prophets' Notes
Plot Notes
Partner
Player Review
Personal Journal
Templates
Letters
Medals: 39
Helper (1) Peer Reviewer (1) Artíst (1) Painting With Words (1)
Shop Keeper (1) Ambassador (1) Supporter (1) Alpha Testing (1)
Beta Bot (1) Review Master (1) One Arc Later... (1) Living Legend (1)
Pioneer (1) Hoarder (1) First Love (1) Bow Chicka Wow Wow (1)
Right In The Feels (1) Married (1) First Kiss (1) Heartbreaker (1)
Heartbreak (1) Changed (1) Starting A Family (1) Murderer (1)
Shopaholic (1) Scandalous (1) Immortal Lover (1) Party Animal (1)
Keep it in the Family (1) Pen Pal (1) Mailman (1) Legend In Waiting (1)
Cheater (1) Survivor (1) Lol Worthy (1) Idalos Awards 2016 (1)

[Venora] The Wilted Rose

Postby Kieran » Sat Aug 06, 2016 11:03 am

Image
A few hours had passed, and he'd wrapped up his therapist's appointment. The doctor allowed him to speak his feelings, then responded in turn. He informed Alistair that love was a subjective concept, but with objective results. The ideal goal was of course a selfless bond. But 'selfless' - that idea puzzled Alistair. It was an animal's natural instinct to preserve the self. Was man not animal? He did not know. Such questions had not been answered in this world, but he knew one day they would be. One day where he was likely already gone, if he had not simply made himself an Immortal Lich by then.

The man was seated atop a knoll overlooking a vineyard outside of Sabaissant. The sun had begun to set and all was beautiful, serene; the air was perfect and the wind a fine-tuned chill against his skin. It was a moment of beauty, one where a man could truly tap into their mind and think. Imagine. Lately, he'd been thinking a lot about a certain number of things, and imagining many more. It had been a time of new awakening for him, where his life had begun to change dramatically. His mother told him, you're in the Summer of your life. He didn't understand that term, but apparently it was Venoran. The seasons didn't mean much in the duchy of always fair weather, but they meant something to an individual. The concept of Spring were one's early days where they developed and grew, for example. His mother called Alistair's period in life his Summer, where he would come to enjoy things and find new ways to leave his legacy if only he'd allow the music of life to resonate in him. She worded this as any Venora would, of course, but regardless of the poetic way in which it was said, it began to make him think.

The Summer of My Life, he repeated in his head. "How can one be in the best time of their life when they're seething in such bitterness and depravity?" He asked aloud, despite there being no one near. He felt he was going insane these days, under the weight of expectations that he could not live up to - why could he just not feel anything? The weight itself felt like it sunk his heart, but not with sadness, only with disappointment. He was disappointed in himself, for being rejected by the world. No matter how long he'd gone on as the adversary to human expectations, however, 'sadness' was not something he could feel. That was how he emphasized this point. He could feel relaxation or discomfort, and even a burning need for something, but happiness, joy, sadness, despair . . . these things were far removed from him. He wondered what point life held without the knowing of true suffering, and without the knowing of true glee? How long could he live like this?

"I don't want to live like this forever," he said. "I want to be absolved of this illness of the mind. I want to be different." Different was what he was, as his brother Andraska said. But he didn't want to be that kind of different, the individual no one could properly understand. He wanted to be the kind of different people could come to love. He supposed in a way he did feel one thing outside of comfort or discomfort, or the sting of bitterness; it was loneliness. Even a man who knew not love did not want to be alone forever, as he had been. Twenty seven years without a moment of understanding with another individual. Twenty seven years where he could say in earnest that no other had ever felt strongly enough for him to really look deep and ask - who are you, Alistair? What is it that you want in this world, and can I help you with it?

That in itself was what he wanted - that concern for him, that understanding. He'd be willing to give anything in return for it, but instead all of mankind stayed far removed from his presence, fearing him and spiting him for the life he had led and the things he'd done. He wanted to be forgiven. For his Necromancy . . . his cruelty . . . for branding Alaric, the slave who'd died for him; he wanted to change. He would always love Necromancy, but he could use it for something else - something different. He wanted to. Like Damien said, he had always loved the preservation of life, rather than its decay. He wanted to bring good to the evil he'd done across his youth, but how would that ever be so?
Image
User avatar
Kieran
Walking on the mud in suede shoes.
 
Posts: 1527
Joined: Thu Apr 21, 2016 2:12 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Doctor
Fame: +188
Character Sheet
Prophets' Notes
Plot Notes
Partner
Player Review
Personal Journal
Templates
Letters
Medals: 39
Helper (1) Peer Reviewer (1) Artíst (1) Painting With Words (1)
Shop Keeper (1) Ambassador (1) Supporter (1) Alpha Testing (1)
Beta Bot (1) Review Master (1) One Arc Later... (1) Living Legend (1)
Pioneer (1) Hoarder (1) First Love (1) Bow Chicka Wow Wow (1)
Right In The Feels (1) Married (1) First Kiss (1) Heartbreaker (1)
Heartbreak (1) Changed (1) Starting A Family (1) Murderer (1)
Shopaholic (1) Scandalous (1) Immortal Lover (1) Party Animal (1)
Keep it in the Family (1) Pen Pal (1) Mailman (1) Legend In Waiting (1)
Cheater (1) Survivor (1) Lol Worthy (1) Idalos Awards 2016 (1)

[Venora] The Wilted Rose

Postby Kieran » Sun Aug 14, 2016 6:28 pm

Image
Necromancy is freedom, she said. Her raven hair fluttered about in the wind. Her violet eyes. She stood over all of the aspiring Necromancers below, her arms crossed behind her back. Everything about her - the way she looked, the way she was - it was unlike anyone else in this world. She was as if a Goddess, but not a kind one. A bringer of unrest, persecution, cataclysm. A slayer of harmony, a harbinger of megalomania. She was Ellasin. He could remember her and her words. How she wrote them so colorfully. From the moment he locked eyes with her, he knew - she was on a level of power that could rival an Immortal. She was a witch with no equal, and all across Idalos would be pressed beneath her heel if the opportunity struck.

It is through seclusion and study that you begin to learn the true meaning of life: power. The power to control all others. The power to dominate the ground you walk on and have it tremble beneath your feet. Power is what I can give you, my sweet children, and the freedom that comes from it. I gained my freedom by slaying those who would bind me, and so shall you. Her words chilled him. He did not believe her for a mere moment when she'd first come to him, seeking to add him to the ranks of her Coven. No . . . even as the other masked noblemen did, hoping to escape their responsibilities while retaining their wealth, Alistair did not imagine that her rendition of the world was one wholly or even partially real. Instead, Ellasin's worldview was but . . . a fragment of the reality that could be - could if you were perhaps brave enough to venture out into the unknown, foolish enough to trust an Immortal Witch, and talented enough to surpass these obstacles.

What many failed to realize - however - was that Ellasin's worldview was objectively wrong. Yes, objectively so, and for a multitude of reasons. Seclusion, isolation, the losing of one's self to powermongering, Arcana and study - these things could not bring one true freedom. Instead they became as a slave to power. Alistair had known this for some time, which was why he had chosen particularly the instructor that he believed was the least 'owned' by Arcana. Damien Noch, that lovely man, one who Alistair had come to respect infinitely. One who taught Alistair how to function despite his sociopathy and social ineptitude, and to progress in magic as if a dalliance or a hobby rather than an all-consuming blanket that covered every orifice of his life.

Even so, did magic not control Alistair? He felt that it did, truly. He felt that very strongly - the pull of magic inhabiting his thoughts. He dreamt about it last night - of Ellasin, of her pull. And it had done much to corrupt him. A mere few days ago, he had killed someone to protect his secret. Murdered them in cold blood right in front of Andraska - a man who was to be his patient. And for what? For this constant struggle to maintain his secrecy? What was it all for?

He raked his hands through the grass, pulling out weeds by habit as he lost himself in thought. Was there room for redemption? Was there a chance for normality? He did not know. But he wanted there to be.

The sun was setting. Soon enough, Damien was supposed to arrive here and discuss important matters with Alistair - ones that could effect his future. And on cue, the Lich appeared, slapping the man playfully on the back. But the time was not one of playfulness. In reality, he was petrified by his thoughts. He wished for his instructor to make sense of them - the one man in this world that he admired, the one who could lay his burdens to rest.
Image
User avatar
Kieran
Walking on the mud in suede shoes.
 
Posts: 1527
Joined: Thu Apr 21, 2016 2:12 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Doctor
Fame: +188
Character Sheet
Prophets' Notes
Plot Notes
Partner
Player Review
Personal Journal
Templates
Letters
Medals: 39
Helper (1) Peer Reviewer (1) Artíst (1) Painting With Words (1)
Shop Keeper (1) Ambassador (1) Supporter (1) Alpha Testing (1)
Beta Bot (1) Review Master (1) One Arc Later... (1) Living Legend (1)
Pioneer (1) Hoarder (1) First Love (1) Bow Chicka Wow Wow (1)
Right In The Feels (1) Married (1) First Kiss (1) Heartbreaker (1)
Heartbreak (1) Changed (1) Starting A Family (1) Murderer (1)
Shopaholic (1) Scandalous (1) Immortal Lover (1) Party Animal (1)
Keep it in the Family (1) Pen Pal (1) Mailman (1) Legend In Waiting (1)
Cheater (1) Survivor (1) Lol Worthy (1) Idalos Awards 2016 (1)

[Venora] The Wilted Rose

Postby Kieran » Mon Aug 15, 2016 4:25 am

Image
"Damien," he began. The man looked to him. "I want to be absolved of my guilt. Of my reputation as the 'Wilted Rose'. Show me the path, Damien. Please." The man's jovial demeanor diminished, and in silence he immediately moved to seat himself beside his young student. The Lich looked into Alistair's eyes.

"You did something ill, didn't you?" He asked. Alistair nodded slowly. "Yes. I murdered someone brutally in front of my brother. Andraska knows now. He knows . . . and for the first time in my entire life I think I felt real anger. And now I feel guilt. I really do. At the time I felt nothing at all, but now it hurts. Everything hurts. I can't confront my brother, I can't go to anyone. I'm forlorn again. I'm despondent like I've always been, but these feelings that trapped themselves in my mind have started to all flow out, everywhere. What can a man do? What can he say to make things better than what they are? How does one deal with emotions like these - this desolation that I have felt?"

He didn't know. For all of his life, he had been categorized as an empty husk. He didn't feel like others did. But now, he felt anguish in the prospect of losing his brother. His family meant something to him. Perhaps only his family. He didn't want Andraska to fade into the backdrop while Alistair pursued only his wild and megalomaniacal life. No. That wasn't the future he envisioned.

"Can you cry?" He asked. Alistair squinted. "Cry?" He almost rolled his eyes. He had never done such a thing, except perhaps as a child. He didn't have the ability to feel sadness in the way others did. He didn't feel empathy, not for the self or for others. So how could he cry? "No?" Damien asked, almost with a grin. "Don't worry. I can't either, being undead and all. Lots of people say that crying is the best way to let it out, but people like you and me just don't have that option. So what then can we do to absolve ourselves of these . . . terrible feelings? We . . . can ask for forgiveness. I used to be a Priest of Ymiden. I can show you the path to forgiveness, Alistair. You just have to ask me. So - will you? Reach out?"

The Necromancer paused. He could almost feel it all, streaming back and forth through his mind. All of the guilt across so many years. So many regrets, and he'd never asked for forgiveness for anything. He always felt right, or at least okay, even as he performed actions suitable for monsters. It was a side-effect of not feeling any empathy, he supposed. No guilt . . . but this loss of love between he and Andras had somehow brought it all back into an intricate weave. All of these mistakes. The question was . . . was it time to absolve? To ask for forgiveness? To lay these burdens to rest?

Could he? This was a whole new world for him. He had always known that he could feel nothing. And yet, right now, he felt something indeed.

He felt love. For the first time in his entire life, he had started to feel real love, beginning with the chaste kiss of Duncan's lips and followed by the kind words that lived within his mentor. The fear of losing Andraska helped him realize something: that he loved him. He loved Duncan for being kind, brilliant and loyal. And he loved Damien for always being there for him, for being the greatest friend he'd ever have. And he loved the Duchess, his grandmother, for always watching over him despite his constant deviations in what she desired of her heir. He did love. He felt it now, a swelling of warmth in his heart. He knew it would go away. Feeling anything wasn't a very consistent thing in his life. But it was there. The man looked to his instructor and moved closer, giving the man a hug. Damien wrapped his arms around Alistair and patted him on the back. It was an odd convergence of strangely conflicting things; a sociopath with a cold dead heart and a man with a cold dead body getting along better than anyone alive. He knew this bond was one of love, and he trusted Damien with even his life.

The man stood over Damien, who sat against the rolling plains, and he spoke as the sun set behind him.

"I want to be forgiven," he said. The priest nodded his head.

"Me too. Shall we continue on then, as sinners seeking repentance?" The Necromancer nodded, and genuinely smiled. "Of course, Ser Noch."

"Ser?" he asked. Alistair replied. "I'm going to Knight you one day, when I'm Duke. For all of your loyal service to House Venora."

"It wasn't to house Venora," he corrected him. "It was to you, Alistair. To the greatest man I have ever known, even despite the so-called 'curse' that dwells within you. I don't care if you lack empathy by scientific standards - the way in which you feel is beautiful, pure, and relentless. I love you, Alistair. You'll always be a dear friend to me. I never thought I'd know that bond after a lifetime of death and solitude, but you brought it back in me: my goodness."

The Venora looked to the setting sun, and nodded his head. "And you, my goodness as well. I thought it didn't exist, and yet I feel it now. It's like watching a flower retract at first, then expand outward in all directions to reveal its core. A rebirth. A new life. You can be my guide."
Image
User avatar
Kieran
Walking on the mud in suede shoes.
 
Posts: 1527
Joined: Thu Apr 21, 2016 2:12 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Doctor
Fame: +188
Character Sheet
Prophets' Notes
Plot Notes
Partner
Player Review
Personal Journal
Templates
Letters
Medals: 39
Helper (1) Peer Reviewer (1) Artíst (1) Painting With Words (1)
Shop Keeper (1) Ambassador (1) Supporter (1) Alpha Testing (1)
Beta Bot (1) Review Master (1) One Arc Later... (1) Living Legend (1)
Pioneer (1) Hoarder (1) First Love (1) Bow Chicka Wow Wow (1)
Right In The Feels (1) Married (1) First Kiss (1) Heartbreaker (1)
Heartbreak (1) Changed (1) Starting A Family (1) Murderer (1)
Shopaholic (1) Scandalous (1) Immortal Lover (1) Party Animal (1)
Keep it in the Family (1) Pen Pal (1) Mailman (1) Legend In Waiting (1)
Cheater (1) Survivor (1) Lol Worthy (1) Idalos Awards 2016 (1)

[Venora] The Wilted Rose

Postby Faith » Sun Aug 28, 2016 6:40 pm

Image
Peer Reviewed: Rewards!

Alistair

Points!:
Story: 5 /5
Collaboration: 0/ 5 (solo thread)
Structure: 5/5


Knowledge:
Basic
The Song of Venora: Yes, it's a thing
The Wilted Rose: Your nickname
You want to be different
Politics: The view of the people is complex
Psychology: How others view you is important to self image
Psychology: Love is subjective
Psychology: Guilt is a vile and vicious emotion to deal with
Necromancy: Undead don't cry
Use of imagery in words can be confusing to you
Andraska: You love your brother
Forgiveness is what you seek
Ellasin: Believes necromancy is freedom
Ellasin: Does not speak truth
Damien Noch: Not a slave to power

Specialised
Politics: The people of Rynmere view you as dubious and morbid
Psychology: understanding others is hard
Psychology: people lie
Psychology: happiness is not a choice when you can't feel it
Psychology: acceptance from others feeds self image
Andraska: The fact that you love him is a major realisation.
Ellasin: A level of power as an Immortal
Forgiveness only happens if first you forgive yourself
Damien: Helped you to understand how to walk as a sinner seeking repentence
Damien: Loves you
Change starts with wanting to change

Loot: Nothing

Fame: NA in this thread

Overview:
General comments. Oh, I love the complexities of Alistair. He has such a clarity of vision and he seems to feel most deeply, yet is concerned that he does not feel at all. He is, as you so poignantly express here different but this thread feels like the beginning of him finding and accepting that he has found, love. Not just romantic love, but in many aspects of his life. I look forward to reading more.
Story Compelling and fascinating.
Structure Well written and easy to read.
Please remember to mark this thread as "Reviewed" in the request for review thread.
Please record these in the "Skill Point Ledger" you have in your CS.
PM me if you've got any questions at all!
"To be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others."

Cally's Restaurant & Charity | Luna's Dream (Orphanage)
User avatar
Faith
Devoted
 
Posts: 2696
Joined: Sat Jun 25, 2016 8:12 am
Race: Human
Profession: Chef / Professor
Fame: +1000
Character Sheet
Prophets' Notes
Plot Notes
Partner
Personal Journal
Templates
Letters
Medals: 45
Character of the Month (1) Contributor of the Month (1) Story of the Month (1) World Developer (1)
Helper (1) Peer Reviewer (1) Artíst (1) Painting With Words (1)
Shop Keeper (1) Mentor (1) Ambassador (1) Supporter (1)
Beta Bot (1) Review Master (1) One Arc Later... (1) Living Legend (1)
Hallowed (1) Pioneer (1) Hoarder (1) First Love (1)
Bow Chicka Wow Wow (1) Right In The Feels (2) True Love (1) Married (1)
Changed (1) Starting A Family (1) Shopaholic (1) Scandalous (1)
Immortal Lover (1) Dreamer (1) Party Animal (1) Pen Pal (1)
Mailman (1) Legend In Waiting (1) Lol Worthy (1) Vhalar 716 (1)

Return to Villages