Day 1 - Origin
Where does your Commander come from? How did they grow up? Who influenced them when they were young and impressionable? What were their goals and aspirations? If they are Sylvari, what was it like waking up from the Dream?
Cragstead was a lonely place, but it was home.
Weleria glanced back at the road she had traveled down. Coming back, she felt as much like she’d forgotten something as when she left.
“Have fun,” Braham had told her as she prepared for her trip. “There’s nothing left for me there.” She could guess at what he meant. Leaving as Eirsson and returning as Oathbreaker seemed like too great a shame to bear. She didn’t press him on it. Though, having left as a band of heroes, returning alone felt just as hollow. Still, she smiled at the excited children as she passed through the gates. How could the small village not take pride to have raised the Commander of the Pact and leader of Dragon’s Watch? The slayer of Zhaitan, Mordremoth, Kralkatorik - and of course, Issormir.
She gave a hug to the village elder and told stories around the bonfire, but her mind was elsewhere. Fragments of memories danced in the corners of her eyes, visions of a past far more distant than she cared to recount. Things were different now, of course - but even with new houses built atop them, she could still see each spot clearly. Where her and Braham had snowball fights and built snownorn. Where those fights had broken out into violent wrestling matches to be smoothed over by a cup of hot cocoa. Where Borje had caught them playing pranks. Where they would lay under the waning light and talk until they were called inside.
It was almost like a betrayal after all that. It sure as hell felt like one. But riding on the elation of the Great Hunt and being called to meet with the legendary Eir Stegalkin; how could she turn that down? She lied to her; told her she was from Hoelbrak. To tell her who she knew and what she knew about her? How could she burden Eir like that? She couldn’t tell Braham either - and didn’t for a long time - not until he confronted her about it. He was hurt, and she could tell. She spent countless hours listening to him vent about his mother’s abandonment and agreeing with his anger. But when she saw her face to face, she couldn’t see the fickle absentee, only a hero of her people and a legend to aspire to. To have the attention that her best friend was so sorely lacking; it sure as hell felt like a betrayal.
@gw2commanderweek
