[ A sealed envelope is left on the doorstep of Vindicator Ohulan’s home, marked only with his title and name, in unfamiliar handwriting. The letter within, however, bears a more recognizable style—an elegant, tidy script that’s seen millennia of practice. ]
Ohulan,
First of all, please, don't destroy this letter. I know I'm the last person you want to hear from, but these are things I feel you need to know.
Secondly, I am not writing this letter to beg you for forgiveness. There's no point in doing so, because you don't owe me that.
The fact is that, over two years ago, I left you, without any kind of notice whatsoever. It wasn't the first time, either, and I recognize that's probably why it hurt so bad—there shouldn't have been a second time. But there was, of course, and I had my reasons, misguided and backwards as they may have been. Keep in mind that I'm not asking you to find them acceptable, but I do hope you'll understand at the very least.
None of it was intended to hurt you; that was the furthest thing on my mind, in spite of everything else I felt. I loved you just as much when I left as I had prior. But that's what made it hard to stay—I couldn't bear the thought of being a burden to you with how deeply I was grieving. In retrospect, all too late, I realized you'd have understood more than anyone—you'd lost your father and an eye as well. Our bond had the potential to strengthen with that kind of support.
But my mind didn't work that way at the time. Everything was too much and I felt like I was being crushed beneath it. Lurja's death. The loss of my eye. My inability to wield a bow. Being forced from my duty as Arbiter. Another failed attempt at leadership. My inability to be a good partner to you, a good sister to Rurik and Freiha, a good aunt to Isaala. Everyone had their own problems and I just couldn't be there for them.
An impotent, incompetent, irrelevant failure. That's all I could see myself as. So I had to get away from it all. The choices presented to me by my ailing mind were to run, or to end it all. One offered an opportunity at sorting myself out and returning, while the other promised finality and release from everything. And as incredibly tempting as the latter option was, I chose to run.
I don't know if it helps or hurts more for you to know that there wasn't a single day that went by while I was holed up in Pandaria that I didn't think of you, even during the darkest (and drunkest) of them. I wanted to come back. I regretted leaving. But every time I thought about coming home, the fear of facing the pain I'd caused held me back. I was a coward for all of it, and it's going to take a long time to forgive myself for it, which is why I don't expect you to do the same. It's asking far too much of someone who has already suffered deeply from my actions.
I understand if you still don't want to speak to me—or even if you still hate me—after this. That's your choice and your right. I only hope to help give you a measure of peace regarding this particular subject so that you can move on with some kind of closure and freedom from the burdens of the past. However, if you would like to salvage and mend any kind of amicable relationship, I'd be happy to work with you on that. You still mean a great deal to me, despite everything about this situation, and I doubt I'll be able to let go of it for some time. It's because of this that I wish for you to do well and be happy, even if I'm not part of that picture.
Regards, Kasmia
(@samiesan)
