16. Falling

I don't care anymore.

This place is a verifiable political stonewall, and it looks more and more like a waste of energy the longer I stay. It's been almost a year, enough time for me to have made a definite impact, and yet, I have not. My wisdom is questioned continually, and my requests for opportunities to prove myself fall on deaf ears. Even within my own pack-- I am given purpose only to have it torn from me before I have the opportunity to enact it.

I see so much now, that I did not see before. Nothing in this dark world will be handed to you. If there is anything you want, you must take it. Take it and claim it as your own. There is no room for kindness. No room for mannerliness or love.  There is only rage. Hatred. Hatred for everyone and everything. And through Hatred, through tyranny, a leader establishes herself. No one will dare question you if they know it will mean their lives. No one thinks you are weak if you demonstrate your strength. That is the only way they will accept what is best for them... the only way to hold on to ethical rule, is by unethical means.

There was a time when I would have united these people by helping to mend rifts and promote the acceptance of our differences... but now, I don't care. If they will not stand with me, they stand against me-- and they will die for it. They will die if I must taste their blood on my lips; die knowing that it was they who drove me to this.... this... madness.

 I feel so much anger, so much rage-- and it seethes within me like molten rock.
There is a wrongness to it. One I find myself embracing without a reason why.
Perhaps retribution. Perhaps desperation.

I know what is happening, I know what is causing it, I know what it means...but I don't know how to stop it.
And now, I can't.

15. Diplomacy

Diplomacy is the art of telling someone they can go to hell, in such a way as to make them look forward to the trip.

14. Penance

I have observed that all cultures, no matter their origin, have a holiday like this one. One where  gifts are given and dances are had; fertility rites performed. It is a celebration of life (or its creation) and all with one, abiding message: that Love, fertility, children, the lot of it-- is to be celebrated.

I feel guilt, at not being able to find as much joy in the season as I should. It will all seem rather empty, when I see others paired off, and must stand alone in the solitude of the fate I've chosen for myself...

. . .

My thoughts so often go to you, John.
Do you languish as I do-- grasping for distractions in the name of duty and honor?
I am sure that you do, and yet-- I sense that you have departed from me.

No one can claim to know the heart of another... for hearts, like thoughts, are something that cannot be seen with the eye or felt with the hand.

The heart breaks, and then it heals. Growing back slightly more crooked each time.

I wonder how long it will be until mine simply stops beating, in protest. 

 
So whilst my friends, packmates, and fellow Garou busy themselves in the celebration of life... I will be in the business of  death...for in this time, my heart dies ever the more slowly.

Penance demanded;  a price, willingly paid.

Love is a crime that begins with a glance,

And ends, in eternity. 

13. Dawn.

The sun sets, and rises on a new day.

12. Succession

" I believe you have the potential to be what your tribe is meant to be. A Silver Fang should be noble, graceful, inspirational, fearless. They should be the shining silver pinnacle of what every Garou should aspire to be. Their subordinates should admire them, be utterly loyal to them, be willing to die for them, and cherish them."

-- Hutch, Suppessive Fire

I had a dream last night. One where I was standing at the edge of a cliff.  Before me there spread a vast ocean-- dark and deep-- whose waves roared like thunder and struck the rocky face like shattered ivory, soon to be lost beneath their swift and ever rolling crests. The seaspray broke upon the shore; tickled my face as the wind blew it past.  


...I shied from it, and tried to wipe the dampness from my face, denying it a place within me. But the more I wiped it away, the more fiercely the wind and water churned... until eventually, a wave rose, and swallowed me whole... sweeping me out to the sea.


And  that was when I heard them speaking. Howling. 

A chorus of voices, calling me in all directions.

 I tossed and bucked against them,  trying desperately to claw my way to the familiar surface...but I could not.  


The water, as heavy and cold as the weight of duty, swept into my lungs and filled them; yet I, while breathless, did not drown. Instead, I plummeted ever downward to see the face of death, where he waited for me.


His ghostly hand was knotted around a gnarled staff. I bade him spare my life, that I would do whatever he wanted-- but he took from his sleeve a silver klaive, and thrust it into my chest...as I lay dying, gasping for breath in shallow spurts...the creature then spoke.

"The wheel" he said "Still turns."

The wheel turns. It isn't going to stop turning.

 I

 The only question is... Shall I be the one behind it?

11. Heavy lies the crown

I read once that Nobility does well and is ill spoken of...They lead kingdoms and empires, septs and packs, doing all that they can for the benefit of their people whilst becoming known as tyrants or  madmen. These are the sufferings a leader must endure in this age--burdens that are theirs and theirs alone to bear. And so, I found inspiration--a poem about what it must feel like to be a ruling Silver Fang-- from my own perspective...

A Galliard I am not... but nowhere is it written that words are for them alone.

The stars are very beautiful, above the palace walls,
They shine with equal splendour, still above far humbler halls.
I watch them from my window, but their bright entrancing glow,
Reminds me of the freedom I gave up so long ago.

The royal circlet of bright gold rests lightly on my brow,
I once thought only of the rights this circlet would endow.
But once I took the crown to which I had been schooled and bred,
I found it heavy on the heart, though light upon the head.

Although I am the head of state, in truth I am the least,
The true Queen knows her people fed, before she sits to feast.
The good Queen knows her people safe, before she takes her rest,
Thinks twice and thrice and yet again, before she makes request.

 They will be all my children, all that I swore to defend,
It is my duty to become both Queen and trusted friend—
And of my children high and low, from beggar to above,
The dearest are my Heralds, who return my care with love.

The dearest are my Herald, swift to spring to my command.
Who give me aid and fellowship, who always understand
That land and people first have needs that I may not deny—
So I must send my dearest friends to danger—and to die.

A friend, a love, a child—it matters not, I know indeed,
That I must sacrifice them all if there should be the need.
They know, and they forgive me—doing more than I require,
With willing minds and loving hearts go straight to grasp the fire.

These tears that burn my eyes are all the tears the Queen can shed,
The tears I weep in silence as I mourn my Heralds dead.
Oh gods that dwell beyond the stars, if you can hear my cry—
And if you have compassion—let me send no more to die!

((OOC- i didn't write the poem, they're song lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQtyZf1gzcM&feature=related ))

10. Longing

I came home to my tent today... which, wouldn't have been different than any other day, except that it is the first in some time that I have spent completely alone. Alone in the sense that there will be no one to imagine beside me.

I used to do that, you know... 

curl up with my coverlets draped over my shoulders... 

imagining that the warmth I felt was you.

I write this now, knowing that your arms are no longer there to shelter me.
That I cannot lay my head on your chest-- listening to your heartbeat, as I once did.

You said I was strong... for enduring what I have endured, and continuing to fight for the cause. But-- that strength is not my own. It is on loan from you, and from the happiness you have given me. Such that I would break the litany a thousand times, if it meant I got to remain with you forever.

I write this... because I stood five feet from you this day, and felt a vast emptiness within my heart. Emptiness born of the fact that I love you, you love me, and the both of us are powerless to do anything about it. An experience as painful as it is magnificent.

I don't know what I am going to do when your relationship with Elizabeth turns romantic again-- and I am certain it will, because you have been good to her of late in enough ways that she will inevitably warm to you...

I suppose.... I suppose I will try to smile and bear it... watch you go on to take your mate, have your children. All whilst denying these same things of myself-- that you might be free from the guilt and fear of betraying me...

Your conscience was suffering... I could not bear to see you suffer... 

...could not bid you stay.

Dusty has already sent out a request for a suitable partner on my behalf... 
I haven't the heart to tell him it won't go anywhere.

I talk to Richard, but I've no intention of being with him in the way I suspect he wants me to be.

And that count of the winter court?

Speaks Softly?

I do not want for offers... I feel badly for these men. At the heart of it I know I am only going through the motions. A thousand kinfolk, a thousand other Garou, a thousand handsome counts, could not change my mind... only assemble in a sea of faces, and still, I would see only you.

My heart is yours, my hands, my face-- and every other part of me.... and I am of half a mind to keep it that way. Untouched. Pristine.... that I might at least die with the confidence that I waited-- choosing you above all others in this vast and beautiful world.

You would want for me to move on, I am certain. To do the duty I will inevitably neglect... for reasons both selfless and selfish... but I intend to hold out for as long as I can.

Precious little compares to the sorrow I feel when I look to my side and see the twisted, girlish fantasy of a love that was never meant to be. When I lay in bed knowing that there is nothing I would not give... to feel your arms around me, your lips on mine... Nothing I would not sacrifice to watch you fall asleep...

one last time.

I am Sovereign Heart.

Destined to stand alone in all things.

Bound to willing sufferance for the benefit of those in my care...

I am a daughter of kings, and one day, as you say, I will be a great Silver Fang.

... but I miss you, John.