12-26-2016, 07:50 PM
And Shephard I shall be, for Thee
He could see.
Was blind, but now, he sees.
Awakened from an unnatural slumber, he slowly came to. The ground beneath him cushioned him, cool and moist. Ready for the coming Winter. How many Winters had passed in his absence, in his state of rest? Would anyone know him anymore, the Fey Monk who tends the Fairies' children? The one who heals them with his glowing touch. A conduit of the Fairies. Their direct link to Their beloved creations.
His eyes were solid white as he looked around, as though they were still blind. The Meadow. It was the same as he remembered and yet it was different. The tall grasses were trampled in places, he saw as he slowly rose to his feet, as though a number of bodies had been suddenly thrust upon the land. Most had seemed to keep to their kingdoms, last he remembered. What had happened? And why was he here, finally awake after an indeterminate length of time? His muscles ached with disuse.
He looked over his shoulder and examined himself with a trained eye, searching for the differences between then and now. The first thing he noticed were his tattoos. The runes of magic covering his skin were no longer lit with the power of the Fairies. They were the source of his power. No, not his power. The Fairies' magic. He was only the tool that channeled it on Their behalf.
Had They released him from his sacred duty?
No magic. No healing. They gave him back his sight, as though he'd never sacrificed it in the first place. Did that mean the mother and child he'd healed were also undone? Would they be dead now, their healing stripped away and returned to his eyes? It had taken a lot to save them, enough that he should never had healed from it. And yet, he sees as clearly as if it had not happened.
The silence within him confirmed his disconnection. He would not be able to aid anyone now, not even from a fever or a bruise. Nothing at all. Was he to continue on as just another of Their creations? Was he meant to give up his path in life? Perhaps..this was Their way of telling him he was missing something, something that he could not have in his eternal service to Them. But what?
He stood in quiet contemplation, a large mass of thick muscles and draping black hair, looking over the others near and realizing how similar he was to them now. Where was he to go from here? Without Their voices, he had no purpose, no guidance. Who was he now?
Who am I?
What am I not seeing?
Was blind, but now, he sees.
Awakened from an unnatural slumber, he slowly came to. The ground beneath him cushioned him, cool and moist. Ready for the coming Winter. How many Winters had passed in his absence, in his state of rest? Would anyone know him anymore, the Fey Monk who tends the Fairies' children? The one who heals them with his glowing touch. A conduit of the Fairies. Their direct link to Their beloved creations.
His eyes were solid white as he looked around, as though they were still blind. The Meadow. It was the same as he remembered and yet it was different. The tall grasses were trampled in places, he saw as he slowly rose to his feet, as though a number of bodies had been suddenly thrust upon the land. Most had seemed to keep to their kingdoms, last he remembered. What had happened? And why was he here, finally awake after an indeterminate length of time? His muscles ached with disuse.
He looked over his shoulder and examined himself with a trained eye, searching for the differences between then and now. The first thing he noticed were his tattoos. The runes of magic covering his skin were no longer lit with the power of the Fairies. They were the source of his power. No, not his power. The Fairies' magic. He was only the tool that channeled it on Their behalf.
Had They released him from his sacred duty?
No magic. No healing. They gave him back his sight, as though he'd never sacrificed it in the first place. Did that mean the mother and child he'd healed were also undone? Would they be dead now, their healing stripped away and returned to his eyes? It had taken a lot to save them, enough that he should never had healed from it. And yet, he sees as clearly as if it had not happened.
The silence within him confirmed his disconnection. He would not be able to aid anyone now, not even from a fever or a bruise. Nothing at all. Was he to continue on as just another of Their creations? Was he meant to give up his path in life? Perhaps..this was Their way of telling him he was missing something, something that he could not have in his eternal service to Them. But what?
He stood in quiet contemplation, a large mass of thick muscles and draping black hair, looking over the others near and realizing how similar he was to them now. Where was he to go from here? Without Their voices, he had no purpose, no guidance. Who was he now?
Who am I?
What am I not seeing?
Shen'zen