The snow fell all around her, each flake unique and pure white. The winds blew the flakes into little cyclones, flowing white powder drifting over the white landscape and dancing in beautiful patterns. It glittered here and there, the unmarred newly-fallen flakes almost a promise that even the most vile places can be reborn as something new. The snowbanks and falling flakes went on forever, as far as the eye could see, promising mysteries and chilly adventure on the distant horizon.
All of the beauty, all of the soul-inspiring majesty of the place, was lost on Beckyann as her cold blue eyes stared into the falling snow, ignoring it utterly. It settled on her in places, landing in her hair and piling up on the cold plates of her armor. If not for the necromancy that fueled her, she would have frozen into a solid lump of ice, covered by snow and made pure by the piling drifts; just another part of the frozen landscape.
She stood as still as one of the frozen trees around her, unmoving in conditions that would have made a living woman shiver with chill before eventually succumbing to hypothermia. The cold meant little to Beckyann, not even bothering her when flakes landed on those small sections of her arms and midriff that her armor exposed. She had long ago passed beyond such petty concerns that occupied the thoughts of the living. Even so, though the cold did not bite at her, Beckyann did not wait patiently or in comfort as she stood in place, her mind a swirling quagmire of doubt.
What am I doing here? Is this really a rational idea? Is it even my own idea, or something that was put in my head? I'm not sure if I can go down that train of thought, as I fear it might drive me mad.
No one knew she was there of course, and no one would see her where she waited. She would tell no one that she'd come, and only the doubts in her mind would keep her company during her vigil. It was difficult to still them though, when so many questions lingered on within her, making her question who and what she was.
Red was concerned. He didn't think it was 'natural' or whatever term he used. I don't know how to explain it to him though. I can't tell him everything, nor would he care to hear the details about everything. He's just going off what he's seen and what he fears, and I can't fault him for that. I'm not even sure if I understand this myself half the time, but I know it's my own self, my own thoughts that drive my decisions. At least I know that.
In the distance Beckyann's baleful gaze detected movement in the snow; distant figures that struggled to walk across the newly fallen drifts. They wouldn't be walking far in these conditions, but they didn't have to; it was likely beneficial for those doing the walking to understand how to overcome such obstacles, possibly even using magic to do so. The thought brought a half-smile to her lips as she remembered her own attempts to do such things long ago.
What Red can never understand is not how I was affected, but what those moments showed me and what I remember. I can never be alive again, can never look forward to the future as I did in life. I can never dream of what it means to have a family, to care for my own children, to raise them and watch them grow and have lives of their own. But for a moment, for the briefest of moments, I was allowed to feel what that might have been like. It was a blessing and a curse I guess in its own way; a cruel thing to inflict on one of our kind. I should be filled with hatred for what that girl did to me, should wish to rend her to pieces, and yet I find a little part of myself utterly grateful to her for giving me one tiny piece of a dream I lost long ago, even if just for a moment.
The people slogging their way through the snow would never see Beckyann of course; with her dark black, silver, and gray armor she blended in well with the swirling snow and the grayness of the sky and scenery around her. When holding perfectly still as she was and letting the snow pile atop her blonde hair no one who wasn't a highly trained Kaldorei scout would detect her. It was an advantage that the undead had in battle; they could remain perfectly still until the time was right.
As Beckyann watched, the figures drew closer, heading back towards a series of cabins that bore emblems of the Kirin Tor upon them. The group had only a short distance to go, which was a good thing considering the small size of many of those walking through the beginnings of what would probably be a bad storm. They had wisely decided to come in from their lessons before it arrived, and Beckyann had the perfect opportunity to view them.
Her eyes scanned over the group, mostly children and lead by an aging teacher who would instruct them in magic. As she looked past him, her vision alighted on a figure that was taller than the others, her form stumbling in the snow clumsily as they made their way to warmth. As she saw the girl, Beckyann's face crept into a half-smile, the only movement she made as the group passed near her hidden location.
Almaria had returned to her lessons, as Beckyann had asked her to do.
Why should it matter to me if she did? The girl cast a spell on me and harmed me. And yet I cannot let her walk the course I did so long ago. She is naive in a way, innocent in her mind despite the magic that she so easily conjures.
Beckyann paused, watching the group move out of her eyesight and into the safety and warmth of the structures the Kirin Tor had left in place for their students. In her mind, she felt a strange sense of peace come over her, and she shook her head, finally moving and letting snow fall away from her as she turned to leave. She would not stop to speak with the girl or with her teacher; she had only been there to watch.
If I'd have had a child, he or she would have been perhaps ten years old now, maybe a little less. The child would have acted much like Almaria. It is hard to separate that fact from the reality that she is only a little younger than myself sometimes. She is not my daughter, she can never be my daughter.
And yet... I will not see her walk the path that I walked. I don't care what Red or anyone else says about it, the girl will prosper and be taught to take care of herself. I will see to it myself if need be, although I suspect the Kirin Tor will do a fine job of it.
Beckyann grinned as she crunched through freshly fallen snow, packing it down with her armored boots as she entered a clearing where her gryphon had been waiting for her. The beast hissed at her and she ignored it as she mounted, one final thought creeping through her mind.
They'd BETTER do a fine job of it... for they have no idea who it is that watches over the girl now. There will be no new chapter of horrors, no new mistakes that could so easily have been avoided. I will watch over her until she is safely walking a different course.
Light help anyone who tries to stop me.
No comments:
Post a Comment