Memoirs: Self
Nov. 23rd, 2005 03:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shosenMob mentality.
I wanted to blame that. It would be easy to do so; there had been many of us, after all. I tried, and, for a while at least, I succeeded. Long enough to retrieve the robes that had brought me to the Crossroads in the first place. Long enough to try them on at the Inn, with the crowd still outside. Long enough to summon the magic of my hearthstone and return to the cottage to accept the truth. The mob had granted the ability and opportunity, but the motivation had been purely revenge, purely mine.
I sat in the cottage, in my home, ignoring the other occupants as I watched Thokdok through the window. He stood guard outside, though he hated being in any city, even a small one like Brill. He protected me as much as he could with us both still so weak. Too weak, this time, and I felt my chest ache with the dull memory, even though the wound had now healed.
One shot, fired from a dwarven gun, and pain had ripped through my chest as I dropped to the ground. I had felt my strength vanish, watched Thokdok doing the same as I lost my ability to keep my guardian manifested on this plain. One shot, one glance, and the Dwarf left me where I fell, presuming me dead. If not for the foresight that had caused me to store my soul before venturing into the Wetlands, I would have been.
Instead, I was able to stand after he left, injured and still in pain, but able to summon the magic to take me home. When I arrived, I discovered that Brill had been attacked in my absence, and that even now our defenders waited in front of the Undercity preparing to repel another attack. I fled into the depths of the city, and managed to make it before hearing the sounds of fighting at the entrance.
I remained inside, hidden and healing, a victim with no sense of security. By the time I exited the city the fighting was over, with only the bones scattered across the cobblestones to mark that it had ever taken place. I made my way through them, took the Zepplin to Orgimmar, and the Wind Rider to the Crossroads. All I wanted was an unnecessary robe, a frivolous distraction.
Instead, I found myself among a mob of people hunting for an intruder in the city. With Thokdok summoned once again to my side, I waited with them until the intruder appeared. A Night Elf, not a Dwarf, but a member of the Alliance, and this time I was not alone, and therefore, not helpless. Thokdok moved towards the intruder as I cast a curse, reveling in the opportunity to fight back even as the crowd obscured my view of him. It didn’t matter; I still heard the sound of his screams as he fell.
It was only when it was over, and we were standing ready in case allies of his own arrived, that I finally comprehended his words before he fell.
Asking us to wait.
Such a simple thing, but the thought of one person asking fruitlessly for a mob to wait stole the fury from me. I had helped an entire group of people slaughter one injured man. How helpless had he felt when we ignored his request and beat him to the ground?
When I saw him move, I said nothing. When he hid himself and attempted to leave the city, I drew no attention to him. I let him go, and went numbly though my task before returning to Brill. Which left me sitting at the window, watching my demonic guardian and letting my hands drift over the fabric of the new robes.
I was losing myself. It was no longer a simple case of darkness flowing through me in place of the light. It was no longer even a case of seeing myself in a mirror and recognizing the wrongness of the reflection. Even in my own mind, I did not recognize myself anymore. I did not recognize the angry, vengeful being I had become. I was losing myself, and I hated it, but I could not seem to make it stop.
I wanted to blame that. It would be easy to do so; there had been many of us, after all. I tried, and, for a while at least, I succeeded. Long enough to retrieve the robes that had brought me to the Crossroads in the first place. Long enough to try them on at the Inn, with the crowd still outside. Long enough to summon the magic of my hearthstone and return to the cottage to accept the truth. The mob had granted the ability and opportunity, but the motivation had been purely revenge, purely mine.
I sat in the cottage, in my home, ignoring the other occupants as I watched Thokdok through the window. He stood guard outside, though he hated being in any city, even a small one like Brill. He protected me as much as he could with us both still so weak. Too weak, this time, and I felt my chest ache with the dull memory, even though the wound had now healed.
One shot, fired from a dwarven gun, and pain had ripped through my chest as I dropped to the ground. I had felt my strength vanish, watched Thokdok doing the same as I lost my ability to keep my guardian manifested on this plain. One shot, one glance, and the Dwarf left me where I fell, presuming me dead. If not for the foresight that had caused me to store my soul before venturing into the Wetlands, I would have been.
Instead, I was able to stand after he left, injured and still in pain, but able to summon the magic to take me home. When I arrived, I discovered that Brill had been attacked in my absence, and that even now our defenders waited in front of the Undercity preparing to repel another attack. I fled into the depths of the city, and managed to make it before hearing the sounds of fighting at the entrance.
I remained inside, hidden and healing, a victim with no sense of security. By the time I exited the city the fighting was over, with only the bones scattered across the cobblestones to mark that it had ever taken place. I made my way through them, took the Zepplin to Orgimmar, and the Wind Rider to the Crossroads. All I wanted was an unnecessary robe, a frivolous distraction.
Instead, I found myself among a mob of people hunting for an intruder in the city. With Thokdok summoned once again to my side, I waited with them until the intruder appeared. A Night Elf, not a Dwarf, but a member of the Alliance, and this time I was not alone, and therefore, not helpless. Thokdok moved towards the intruder as I cast a curse, reveling in the opportunity to fight back even as the crowd obscured my view of him. It didn’t matter; I still heard the sound of his screams as he fell.
It was only when it was over, and we were standing ready in case allies of his own arrived, that I finally comprehended his words before he fell.
Asking us to wait.
Such a simple thing, but the thought of one person asking fruitlessly for a mob to wait stole the fury from me. I had helped an entire group of people slaughter one injured man. How helpless had he felt when we ignored his request and beat him to the ground?
When I saw him move, I said nothing. When he hid himself and attempted to leave the city, I drew no attention to him. I let him go, and went numbly though my task before returning to Brill. Which left me sitting at the window, watching my demonic guardian and letting my hands drift over the fabric of the new robes.
I was losing myself. It was no longer a simple case of darkness flowing through me in place of the light. It was no longer even a case of seeing myself in a mirror and recognizing the wrongness of the reflection. Even in my own mind, I did not recognize myself anymore. I did not recognize the angry, vengeful being I had become. I was losing myself, and I hated it, but I could not seem to make it stop.