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Shy away, shy away phantom, run away terrified child.
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Nov. 23rd, 2004 @ 02:42 pm (no subject)
Condition:: hopefulhopeful
As I was summoned to lunch this afternoon, and as I sat rigidly and discussed recruit ratios in the North, I stood. Unannounced, this sort of behavior is shocking. Then, I bowed gracefully to king and court and took my leave.

It is most difficult to write as my pen shakes with laughter, but I have left the palace behind, under the guise of tending to my worried human as her lupe had run off to battle. What do you know, the peaks of Terror Mountain are already rising over the horizon!
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royal
Nov. 23rd, 2004 @ 02:29 pm (no subject)
Condition:: contemplativecontemplative
The court is abuzz with talk of war. Being Brightvale, this talk shall not include action, but more hypothesizing upon the most probable outcome. I must admit that, at first, I indulged in the topic as thought it were a puzzle, something to be calculated and ... but then I recieved word from Leto. He too had heard of the war and the land of Terror Mountain was equally distant from his home, and yet he was preparing to embark on a journey. He spoke of ancient temples violated, of helpless creatures emtombed, manipulative theives attempting to recruit members for their larceny and enough adventure and heroism for all. At one point I would have leapt at the idea, spurned all restricting me and join in the fray. And now? How much as changed within me that I haven't fled this kingdom and joined Leto on the frontlines at the first word? Would I abandon my responsibilities of the court, to Eran, to the kingdom? I have no interest in ruling and have long since been looking for an opportunity to escape... however, now that that opportunity has come, I'm left questioning if I truely am who I had thought I was... Who would have thought that death could change a kougra?
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royal
Oct. 31st, 2004 @ 01:13 am (no subject)
Condition:: exhaustedexhausted
...and now his words echo in my ears, stabbing through this thin veneer I wear daily. What of this laugher, the haunting laughter that is so hollow, so devoid of all that laughter may foster, devoid of all joy. He taunts me, like a haunting spirit he vexes my nights, poisoning my dreams with memories... but are they memories? Perhaps they are merely fabrications, concocted in his mind to belittle me, to terrify me... Any petpet I coddle turns rigid at the mere shadow of the skelly, his mocking slander ever unshakable and his influence ever present. He is a constant reminder of that which I cannot remember.
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royal
Sep. 21st, 2004 @ 03:51 am The Ball
Condition:: contemplativecontemplative
Swirling gowns, vibrant colors, flashes of teeth and paint and lace; no, there is nothing quite like a royal ball. To even be privy to such an elaborate event is a treat but to be the guest of honor, to have each attendant ready at your beck and call, to be admired for no real reason other than your name... such is the privelege of royalty. Surely the praise and the adoration was welcomed, but for what? At one point this was all I had wanted, and yet I feel empty in an odd way. Praise without merit, I suppose. Who is to say I do not deserve what I have? Who is to question my right to the throne? Did I not go through the perils of the netherworld itself? Did I not overcome the temptations of death and accept the limitations of the soul? Not many get the choice. Twirling guests mesmerized me but there was one who stood above the rest...

Is she that different or is it the thrill of someone new? rp segment behind cutCollapse )
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royal
Sep. 20th, 2004 @ 10:03 am (no subject)
Condition:: accomplished
Fate surely has a funny way. In destroying my spirit it brought me closer to life. I was right when I had said that destiny could not be altered by falsehood. Surely the course of a hero could not end itself in dispair! Sir Eran of Brightvale then, summoning me from my limbo, recognized my potential and ability to provide great service to the kingdom. He speaks of a great insight I have gained, a deeper knowledge of existance. Although I don't quite know of what he speaks of, I am not in a position to deny his praise. Perhaps going throught he entries past will help me gain some understanding of what he means by perspective.

Brightvale is a beautiful place. My room is filled with ornate windows that only let light stream through in brilliant colors, dancing on the walls like rainbows. Do not think I haven't written because I have had nothing to say, quite the contrary. In order to "give me the position of influence I deserve" I was ordained Prince of Brightvale early last evening. Seeing as how there are no heirs to King Hagan's thrown, more than I have been decreed Princes, each with their own sponsor. Eran claims that I have the power of destiny guiding my course. He is a very powerful wizard and one of the king's closest advisors and so I can only assume he is correct. I don't know much about my fellow sucessors as I was not paying much attention at the other ceremonies. Why bother learning the names of those who won't impact the future? Of course, it would be good to have a companion or two, that is besides the skelly who remains an unpleasant apostle, constantly belittling my position and questioning the validity of my royalty.
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royal
Sep. 16th, 2004 @ 11:37 pm (no subject)
Condition:: groggygroggy
For the first time, in a long time, I slept. I felt the calming waves of languor gliding over my mind and body, closed my eyes and allowed myself to let go, to relax. These simple pleasures are so easily forgotten but once reminded, the soul is unable to discount them.

My slumber was interrupted only minutes ago by a the triumphant trumpeting of a silk clad techo. From what I could decipher through sleep encrusted eyes and nearly deafened ears there was a proclamation issued that I was to attend a "royal banquet" to celebrate my "homecoming." Dazed and confused I ushered him out the door, vaguely understanding that I was to leave this coming morning. Alertness is not a dominant feature of the living.
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royal
Sep. 16th, 2004 @ 11:30 am (no subject)
Condition:: confusedconfused
I awoke in a daze this morning. Yes, awoke. What has become of me? I feel the sunlight draping itself across my pelt and it's warmth caresses me. I feel the soft down of a comforter and the urge to roll myself up in it, relishing in it's comfort. I am home, and haven't been in quite some time. I feel the ground beneath my paws and the physical sensation that is hunger. I have felt nothing but longing for so long -- and now I am whole. Whole, what a concept! The entire day streatches out before me in a previously unfathomable way. Anything is possible, the world is at my dispossal and all wrongs shall be righted!

Strange, to see these words pouring from my pentip into this journal. So natural they seem to flow and yet I am barely conscious of their meaning. To live, to breathe, ah but that it were but a dream! The look on my family's face, the sense of their disbelief, their joy. What is to become of me and what has transpired this last night? Future is a funny thought, isn't it? To have it stripped from you prematurely and then unexpectedly restored.

I am wary of my past entries, they seem as unreal as my current situation. What to think? More importantly, what to do?
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royal
Sep. 7th, 2004 @ 12:14 am (no subject)
Condition:: constriction in my chest
Its fascinating to watch the slow degeneration of self. As days pass less of me longs for who I was and even less of me remembers. The desperate longing remains but is no longer plagued by clear memory and emotion.

The abomination Reissue calls a skelly hovers about me constantly and gives me no peace from his incessant heckling. Although those bones appear to break under pressure it has no effect on his vexing dialog. There apears to be more than myself and the skelly in my home now. Granted I do not spend many moments haunting it's hallways but the small lupe always seeks me, as though he is able to sense the moments when I return. The other is more sullen and leaves me well enough alone, although the skelly has taken quite a liking to trifling with him. There is an unknown constriction in the core of my chest that is causing me great distress. Although there are no physical signs of the dialating itself its presence is certain. Perhaps an allergic reaction to gelert dander as whenever Reissue embraces him in much the same way she tried to embrass me the night of her breakdown the constriction occurs.

Wouldn't one believe the dead would receive some pardon from the woes of the living? Dispite my attempts at dissociation I am unable to free myself of this prison. Unable to rest, unable to breath, unable to tear apart my cell and escape into oblivion. The skelly says I'm weak, that I am not trying. He speaks of Karth -- he fills my mind with horrible images. Could it be that my entrapment here, that this pain and this longing is punnishment? Could it be I am meant to save little Karth from this thing of life?
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reg
Aug. 31st, 2004 @ 02:32 pm (no subject)
Condition:: gloomygloomy
I have seen enough! My owner met me half way last night. Devestated and torn apart, violated and used; the truth destroyed her. She vomited and trembled and no amount of effort could pull me from her side. Certainly I wanted nothing more than to leave, the sobbing and the shaking were all to unnerving. By some dark twist of fate I was forced by her side, watching her mental breakdown and unable to do assist.
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sad
Aug. 30th, 2004 @ 03:53 pm (no subject)
Condition:: crushedcrushed
I walked today; at least as much as one in my state can feign walking. I had before seen a skeith, young and trusting, emotionally torn apart as his fifth owner left him in the pound. His very existence was to serve whim and greed and to be a slave to braggarts. Again I saw him, in the dark and binding outpost of society, of life. He was told the truth of his creation, the truth behind his purpose, and his futalistic dreams were shattered, along with his soul. He drifts here now, much as I do, unable to fathom himself or his own existence. The truth shall set you free. I suppose it has.

There is the age old story of a mother, forced to choose between her offspring a survivor and a victim. The choosen child was murdered and the condemned saved, to grow up with the knowledge that his mother hand forsaken him. Choice does not impower, it destroys. Responsibility is the root of all anguish and knowledge the start of all pain.

Life then, existing in a world which praises both truth and choice, knoweldge and responsibility, exists only to further the suffering of it's inhabitants. In the act of truely living then, your soul truely dies.
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reg