Journal of a Recovering Dead Woman, Part 3
Ten Years, Ten Days after Incident: Spent part of the day training with Knight-Commander Dawnstalker. He may not have taught me how to use the Light, but his continuing instruction over these years has been instrumental in teaching me the discipline and focus needed to use it without falter. Though we differ in our views on it, he holding a more...utilitarian and practical approach while mine is a more emotional and spiritual approach, I have found him to be a good friend over the years since my rebirth.
The rest of the day was spent doing paperwork. I will never hold a position of leadership in the Sunguard, but I can be the best soldier I can be. Long before my rebirth I understood that, but after learning of my daughter, losing her, and regaining her, my rebirth and childish rebellion I lost my way. Only by the grace of the Guardian did I stay, and by her continuing grace I have remained. Some days I still wish I was that impetuous and reckless, full of the fire of life. Now though...Now I am honed, tempered. A sharpened and light blade is more effective than a dull and heavy one.
Caeliri is...well, I think. We do not speak much. Part of the unspoken agreement we reached long ago. It works for us; I am there when she needs me, and she does not spurn me when I miss her. She has her secrets, I have mine. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t worry about her, that I don’t want to rush to her side, hold her, and make all of her pain go away. But I can’t do that anymore. I was never able to do that. I was trying to hold on to something that I could never have. I don’t know how many times I’ve written those words, but I still keep writing it like a mantra, like a punishment. I’ve...never quite forgiven myself for driving her away, for making the deal she made. That blame lies squarely at my feet, and I do not think in all my years of eternity I will forgive myself for it. Twelve years after the Winter of Woe, and I still write it here, where only I will see it. Feyrintha would say that I should stop punishing myself for my failures, but in this regard I’m going to ignore her usually sage device.
Speaking of her, she is well. She...lost herself for a bit after her and the Cabal helped neuter the Legion, now she keeps herself occupied doing Light knows what. I do not ask what it is that she does, for I feel that she will tell me in time. We enjoy our time spent together as always, and though I have always kept my proposal to myself I wonder if she might agree to it now. I still love her, as much then as I do now. Still haven’t seen her eyes, and in some ways I hope I never do. Though we fight and argue at times, she has my undying (ha) respect. If she chooses to never show me, I will find myself as honored as if she chooses to do so.
And now I seem to be explaining myself to myself. And reflecting wholly on the past as well. A journal is to write your thoughts, to keep track of your day and the events of your life. I suppose I am fulfilling one, and not the other. My practice to use my old abilities progresses, albeit slowly. Without the saronite to ease the flow of the necromantic energies, it is a struggle every time I try to channel it. It exists within me though, a darkness against the Light, and I would be a fool to not utilize it. I must keep my practice secret, as always, but the fact that I do progress gives me hope that one day, perhaps, I can convince them that it is not inherently evil as they so believe. It is likely a fool’s errand, one to get me killed or expelled, but I will pursue it regardless. As Gloomweaver would say, “Fuck that noise.”
I think that’s enough for one day. Tomorrow I train more, both with the Light and the dark. I think I’ll write a letter to Caeliri tomorrow, perhaps along with one to Feyrintha. I miss both of them terribly.
