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shosenI don’t know what’s wrong with me.
It started after the trip to the Dark Portal. While an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything, it was exhausting. Travelling to take care of a few loose ends right after I returned was probably not a good idea, but I had been energised from the trip. I couldn’t sit still, stay in one place, until I hit Revantusk Village and just… stopped.
At first, I thought I just needed rest, a break. But one day turned into two, and then three, and then I looked up and realised I had spent almost a week there. I had done nothing the entire time, only leaving the Inn to sit on the beach, to watch the water and let the sounds of the waves, the drums, and the troll-speaking voices wash over me. Almost a week, and it had passed with the surreal quality of a dream.
When I realised how long I had been there, I returned quickly to the Undercity. I still had tasks to perform, including one for Apothecary Zinge. Even as I stood at the bank, passing items back and forth to Mortimer as I made preparations for leaving, I could feel the desire for action draining from me. It was as though all my energy and motivation had been consumed by the simple action of returning to the city.
By the time I finished my preparations, I no longer felt like performing any of the tasks on my list. When I passed through the entrance of Lordaeron and summoned Vinegarra, it was to ride to Brill, and not to the Zepplin Tower as I had planned.
I wanted to go home. When I finally reached the cottage and dismissed my steed, the thought forced my spirits farther down than before. I entered without greeting Johaan, or even Carolai, and through about a comment I had overheard while standing with the group at the Portal.
“I’m coming to believe that home is less a place, than the people we care for, and who care for us.”
By that definition, I had no home, perhaps had never had one. I spent the entire night with the thought haunting me, until the sounds of Johaan working, Carolai instructing those who came by, and the movement of the people outside the cottage lulled me back into the dream-like state I’d fallen into at Revantusk. It hasn’t gone away, and my lack of desire to do anything disturbs me. At least, it does when I’m able to look at it, acknowledge it. The rest of the time it’s lost behind the haze with everything else, swallowed by the focus required to watch the bottles on Johaan’s work table.
Bubbling green liquid moving from one bottle to another through pipes. Light clinking of glass as ingredients are added and stirred. Steam billowing over the edge of the bottles, running down the side, across the table, spilling over onto the floor…
It started after the trip to the Dark Portal. While an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything, it was exhausting. Travelling to take care of a few loose ends right after I returned was probably not a good idea, but I had been energised from the trip. I couldn’t sit still, stay in one place, until I hit Revantusk Village and just… stopped.
At first, I thought I just needed rest, a break. But one day turned into two, and then three, and then I looked up and realised I had spent almost a week there. I had done nothing the entire time, only leaving the Inn to sit on the beach, to watch the water and let the sounds of the waves, the drums, and the troll-speaking voices wash over me. Almost a week, and it had passed with the surreal quality of a dream.
When I realised how long I had been there, I returned quickly to the Undercity. I still had tasks to perform, including one for Apothecary Zinge. Even as I stood at the bank, passing items back and forth to Mortimer as I made preparations for leaving, I could feel the desire for action draining from me. It was as though all my energy and motivation had been consumed by the simple action of returning to the city.
By the time I finished my preparations, I no longer felt like performing any of the tasks on my list. When I passed through the entrance of Lordaeron and summoned Vinegarra, it was to ride to Brill, and not to the Zepplin Tower as I had planned.
I wanted to go home. When I finally reached the cottage and dismissed my steed, the thought forced my spirits farther down than before. I entered without greeting Johaan, or even Carolai, and through about a comment I had overheard while standing with the group at the Portal.
“I’m coming to believe that home is less a place, than the people we care for, and who care for us.”
By that definition, I had no home, perhaps had never had one. I spent the entire night with the thought haunting me, until the sounds of Johaan working, Carolai instructing those who came by, and the movement of the people outside the cottage lulled me back into the dream-like state I’d fallen into at Revantusk. It hasn’t gone away, and my lack of desire to do anything disturbs me. At least, it does when I’m able to look at it, acknowledge it. The rest of the time it’s lost behind the haze with everything else, swallowed by the focus required to watch the bottles on Johaan’s work table.
Bubbling green liquid moving from one bottle to another through pipes. Light clinking of glass as ingredients are added and stirred. Steam billowing over the edge of the bottles, running down the side, across the table, spilling over onto the floor…
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on 2007-01-18 01:52 am (UTC)Satyra on Sat, 2006/02/18 - 8:28pm.
((Intriguing! Very fitting imagery at the end too. Look forward to hearing more from Koani. ^^))