Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 31 (Finale)
Life/Death ( @daily-writing-challenge )
World: Warcraft/Final Fantasy 14
Theme: Theodulus - The Sail of Eternity
What is life? How do we define it? How do we categorize it? Ask the scholars in Dalaran or in Sharlayan, and you will more or less get the same answer. They will go on and on about the physical requirements for life, the methods in which they came to their conclusions, and the differences between the animated and the unanimated. But then you ask about the undead… about the twiceborn… and all their silly little theories go out the window.
Jaeras stood on the side of the road, watching the parents of her classmates come to dwindle the crowd of kids with each passing minute. The sun was beginning to hang low on the horizon, the soft orange sunlight slipping through the canopy of the woods. She squeezed her doll in a tight hug, her bottom lip starting to quiver while she waited for her mom; did she forget again? Was she going to have to walk home with an Eversong Guard again? The little girl didn’t like strangers, especially ones that didn’t like answering all of her curious questions. The idea of spending the late evening walking with some scary stranger was enough to make her eyes water. Families began to whisper amongst themselves. Mothers grabbed their children and hurried in the opposite direction. Jaeras rubbed at her eyes and sniffled before squinting down the road, seeing a black and silver silhouette against the backdrop of gold and orange trees.
Rethandus was certainly a frightening sight. His black titansteel carapace was designed with skulls from boots to breast, with a healthy layer of frost gathered on his body. His leather hood had holes poked through for his ears, but it cast a permanent shadow to conceal most of his face; only his burning blue eyes could be seen from a distance. Quickly the Eversong Guards mobilized once the news of a Death Knight approaching a school filled with children, stopping him just short of the path leading up to the village itself. “That’s close enough, undead!” Barked one of them. Rethandus simply stopped mid stride when they raised their blades toward him, but said nothing; he could tell by the way the blades shook in their grasp that they were terrified… it would be easy to kill them and be on his merry way, but he wasn’t here to shed blood.
“RETHY!” Both guards turned to see a little elven girl bounding down the hill wearing a backpack almost as big as she was. They were about to stop her from getting any closer, but they noticed the doll in her grasp had a striking resemblance to the man they were about to question. She ran right into the Death Knight’s leg, using her fur coat to keep herself from freezing against his shin.
“Guess that settles it, then.” Spoke the Harbinger, almost cracking a smile. “Come along, little one. Momma’s been busy all day with your surprise… someone is turning eight tomorrow, isn’t she?” Jaeras squealed with excitement while he plucked the backpack off her to carry himself.
Then they turned and walked away without further interruption, leaving both guards dumbfounded.
There is joy in life. The innocence of youth is not something to be squandered. Savor the happiest moments of your life before you regret them forever.
“Push! Come on, your Grace!” She was surrounded by her handmaidens in her hour of need, with three on washcloth duty to keep her cool, and two between her legs, poised to deliver her baby. “Breath in! Breath out! Now… PUSH!”
“RAAAAAAUUUGH!” The Countess squeezed Ijiro’s hand with a strength he was not prepared for! His knuckles went white as he grimaced, but he held in his own shout with a muffled grunt behind clenched teeth. He was Lord Bloodfeather now, and he had a reputation he had to keep, and a wife who could not give one iota of a damn about his discomfort right now. Another damp cloth was rubbed across her sweaty forehead, but she hardly noticed; her eyes were closed tight and her teeth bared, and she was in more pain than she could ever imagine. “AAAAAUUUGH! HAAAAUUGH! AAARGH!”
“Almost there! I see the head!” A handmaiden promised, glancing up at the only man in the room. Ijiro gave her a nod but said nothing, silently wishing he was wearing his gauntlets -- this was his masturbating hand after all. “One more push! Come on…! Three! Two! ONE!”
“GAAAAAAAAUGH!” Syrahn arched her back while her body locked in place! It sounded like she was dying! Like her soul was leaving her body behind! Ijiro gripped his knee with his free hand as his wife squeezed his palm so hard he was about ready to pass out himself! Her scream was long and arduous until at last she settled down! Lord Ijiro Bloodfeather’s face was pale when she finally released her death grip, with the handmaidens gathering between the Countess’ legs to marvel at her bounty.
Life often begins the same, more or less; the screams of a mother in pain. Life and pain are consistent bedfellows, after all. To live without suffering is to not live at all -- how can you enjoy the fleeting blissful moments of life without suffering? We suffer… we all suffer… that is the unfortunate truth to it. But where there is life, there is death. Fitting, isn’t it? We find suffering in life, but solace in death. They are two halves of the same coin, you know; life without death is not living at all. Everything born must and will die eventually… and everyone handles the death of their loved ones differently.
On the anniversary of his brother K’nolas’ death, K’thalen would find the nearest clearing in the forest so he could see the stars. Coroh and his crew were with him, of course, huddled around a dead campfire in the middle of the night. The full moon cast a grey haze upon his somber expression. His piercing yellow eyes blinked while he stared off into space, either unwilling or unable to say the words again. Coroh gently placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a tender smile. “Take all the time you need.” She whispered sweetly, causing his ears to perk and his gaze to drift to her lips, but he said nothing. Instead he popped the cork of a half-empty bottle of aged blackheart whiskey, took a swig just large enough for the sour taste, then poured some out for his fallen family.
“Drink up, Nol.” K’thalen weakly mumbled, grimacing for half a heartbeat before his scowl returned. This year he fought his tears and came back victorious.
Sayuune, however, wasn’t so reserved. Her husband’s urn was the heaviest thing she’s ever carried, and it took all her strength and willpower to keep from dropping it from her grip to shatter at her feet. Her daughter had no such restraints, weeping and wailing beside her mother, begging Elune to bring her daddy back. Tears began streaming down the widow’s face when she lifted the lid to see dull grey ash within; she wanted nothing more than to bring him back so they could be a family again, but such things could never be. Tonight she would dream of his smile again, like all the nights before. But they were dreams and nothing more.
When she tilted the urn and the wind carried Vrenn Tideclaw out to the Stormwind Harbor, her strength fled with him. The woman collapsed to her knees, dropping the urn against the grass to shatter; she wrapped her arms around her daughter and they wept together for the rest of the hour.
J’azel danced and chanted with her kin aboard the Vindicaar with the lights off, letting their lightforged bodies illuminate the room instead. Her eyes were closed and her head hung low, with her arms raised into the air in praise and prayer to the Light and all the victorious dead; for they were free of the burdens of life, and one with the Light once more.
“Vaal ash nyesk! Vaal ash nyesk! Rakkan tiros vaal ash nyesk!” Her father and mother could no longer be harmed by the Burning Legion. Her neighbors were at peace with the Light, far and away from pain and fear and sorrow. J’azel grimaced for half a heartbeat as tears began to stream down her face, but she kept her joyful chanting all the same. “Vaal ash nyesk! Vaal ash nyesk!” It was a celebration they practiced every solar year; those fallen to the Dark Titan’s malevolent army would never have to fear them again, of this the Lightforged were certain. It was up to them to avenge their deaths, of course, and the Burning Legion would surely suffer greatly for this treachery. But knowing their families, their friends, their children, their loved ones… were beyond the reach of the fel, gave them the peace of mind they needed to continue this war. “Vaal ash nyesk! Vaal ash nyesk! Rakkan tiros vall ash nyesk!”
Life isn’t supposed to continue forever. The unstoppable march of time puts value every moment you spend amongst the living. Immortality and undeath are two sides of the same accursed coin; one side cannot die, and one side cannot live. There is no greater punishment than to be denied death for eons, for eternity, watching time slip around you as you are forced to watch your world change and move on without you -- did I describe the undying, or the immortal? The answer is the same. Do not fear your impending death. Cherish the moments you have now, and live life to the best of your ability. And when the time comes, know that you will never be alone.
