Beckyann smiled, leaning forward to apply the brush containing the nailpolish to one of her toenails one last time, checking to make sure the black polish was just right before capping the bottle and setting it on the nightstand beside her bed. With that task complete, she leaned back against the over-sized pillows on the bed, bringing her knees up to her chest for a moment as she glanced around the room, the fabric of her dress laying around her on the top of her black silken sheets like an even blacker pool.
Her new quarters were easily twice the size of her old ones; Colonel Nis'tara had not been lying when she said officers got the best pick of the Hold. Beyond just being a bedroom, the enclosed set of quarters actually contained a bathtub set off in a side room, as well as a walk-in closet. Clearly it had once been used by one of the Cult of the Damned's living necromancers and it had all of the necessities that a living person might need; perfect for the frivolous vanities that Beckyann herself required in her room.
The center of the floor in the room had a marble inlaid motif of a skull, the circular pattern it made drawing the eye immediately. With as much space as she now had, Beckyann had been able to shove her writing desk off to one side of the room and actually had a table and chairs where she could sit and work if she felt like it, or even entertain guests...not that she'd ever have guests!
She smiled again, leaning back further into the fluffy black pillows behind her. Although she couldn't feel the material against her skin, she knew that she was surrounded by luxury and it gave her a vague sense of satisfaction. She looked up and examined the huge banner of the Ebon Blade that hung over her bed, admiring the decoration for a moment before sitting back up and reaching over to her nightstand to grab her journal.
The battered little book had seen better days. Covered with ragged leather and stamped in the center with a skull surrounded by a heart, the little book had a number of deadly wards set into the cover that would outright kill a living person and would be extremely unpleasant for any undead that might attempt to handle it. She whispered to words to unlock the wards, grabbing a pencil that had been sitting beside the journal on the nightstand.
Once the wards were unlocked, she turned the book to a fresh page, sliding her legs out in front of her a bit so she could lean it on her knees and write. She bit the tip of the pencil for a moment, chewing on it thoughtfully as she considered what she'd say. After a time, she set the pencil to paper, letting her thoughts out finally.
This is the first time I'm writing here in some time. I fell out of practice with it, maybe because I got lazy or maybe because I just had nothing to say. Certainly years ago there'd have been nothing of interest to record in this book other than a few spells I was researching or my most recent battle. Now though, things are a little different I think. Probably for the better if I have to admit it privately here.
First off I should mention my promotion. Did it piss me off? Of course it did. Red knew I didn't want to be an officer and so did the others I suspect. But whatever, if they want to take the risk I pose to the patrols then that's their business. I'm tired of trying to convince them that I'm bad news when it comes to leading others. I'll just have to grin and bear it and hope I don't mess up as badly as I did when I'm alive. At least the Knights can take a bit more damage before they are destroyed than living men can. And I can't make mistakes like forgetting to arrange for enough food or water for them eh? So it should be easier than that ill-fated expedition I lead at least.
I will admit that the change in quarters has been nice. This place has way more room than the old place did. I mean, I've already filled up the closets but there's plenty of space in the main part of my bedchambers to put things. So there's a bright side to everything eh?
I think I'm kind of stalling as I write here, because there's something else I need to touch on. I think it'll be important in the future, either for me to look back on, or for someone else to look through this should something go wrong. It has to do with the girl, Almaria. I saw her again this evening; she returned to Stormwind for some sort of holiday from her classes.
I can't explain why I care about this. Why did I go and intervene when I saw her potentially getting in trouble? Why do I check to make sure she's attending her classes, or look in on her when she's traveling? Red would say that it was the spell she used on me, some residual effect or something. I know he worries about it; I can see it in his expression even when he doesn't say it. I don't think that's it though, because all of us, every last Knight, knows what it was like to have our will dominated by the Lich King. Although the girl Almaria did cast a similar spell on me, the idea that there would be a residual effect seems wrong. I don't, after all, feel any residual loyalty to the Lich King. Far from it, my will is as strong as it has ever been.
So if it's not a spell, what is it? Why DO I care about what she's doing? She is a living person, and not my responsibility. And yet she writes to me, and I find myself happy to receive a letter from her. And I am concerned about what happens to her, even knowing that she and I are nothing alike and that I will be here long after she's gone. Why?
Maybe she represents something that I could have had with Fred? The way she looks up to me, respects me, and listens to my advice makes me think of what could have been. What my own child would have been like. It's hard to even think of that, and I could never tell anyone else such things, but there it is, here for my journal to know and no one else. I don't think I could ever explain it to Red or the others. There's no way to put that into words really. It just is.
And so there it is. I feel like I have to make sure the girl at least survives and learns enough not to get herself hurt by some prick that thinks he's doing the world a favor. She's in the same position I was in once, and she can become so much more than what I became. I'll do what I have to in order to ensure that comes to pass, one way or another.
I just hope that all of this is not insurmountable. The dead are not meant to be parents, and she is not really a child. I sense that she will put us all in great danger of the span of the next decade. Even so, if I've helped to save even one soul from darkness, then maybe I've made a chip in my own debt. We'll see what happens.
Going to end this here. I think I've written enough crazy things for one evening. I have to make sure to put extra wards on this. Last thing I need is everyone laughing at me or acting all concerned over what I'm doing, thinking its the remnants of that spell.
With a sigh, Beckyann closed the book, running her hands over the emblem burned into the cover and then holding it against her chest. She shook her head, whispering the words to re-apply the wards before leaning over and slipping the book into her nightstand drawer. Getting it out on paper always helped, even if she didn't fully understand why she thought the way she did. Now that it was done, she felt a bit lighter.
With a smile, she rose from the bed and walked into her closet, looking for her shoes. A bit of shopping would help clear up the rest of her mind, she was sure of it!
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