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Some Scribbles in the Margins.

We are fragile things, only a blink maybe two.

In time all that will remain.

Screaming phantoms.

How can something so great, look at something so small, and feel anything but pity.

I will not be pitied.

"Chapter Twenty Two."

What's another Wonder.

What's another Miracle.

Just another day.

When I must answer for all I have done, on the bank of the Edutu.

I will boldly declare, all I have done, I have done for good.

I Walk the narrow reeds and thread the precarious shore.

Look in their eyes defiant.

To challenge death, and win. Can they say they would not act the same?

To meddle in the realm of gods, is that not what we have always done?

"Chapter Twenty One."

This grand and impossible work.

Did not even take me Three days.

How can they fail to be impressed.

What will secure them, aside from my death.

What task could be so great, I risk my life, I gamble and I win.

Time and time again.

Still it is never enough, every step forward is clouded by doubt. Every misstep shown in the actors lime light.

How can anyone succeed, what am I doing here.

"Crazed Ramblings."

Praise and subvert the wheel.

The Mother giver of life, be praised for the treasure we crave.

The Magi keeper of the knowledge of life, be praised for to hold this treasure.

The Warrior taker of life, be praised to fight for this treasure.

The Wyld caretaker of life, be praised for her gentle growth of this treasure.

The Sabotage taker of the knowledge of life, be praised to allow me to pry it free.

The Wanderer watcher of life, be praised for the deliverance of this treasure.

The Martyrs mourners of life, be praised for vigilance over this treasure.

The Wroth revanchist of life, be praised for the punishment against profanity of this treasure.

The Wyrm usurper of life, be praised for the ambition which makes the hunger for this treasure.

Be praised, Be subverted.

A circle is not empty, it is whole.

    O O
  O     O
  O  /  O
  O     O
      O

"Unassociated Page."

I WONT be stopped, I WONT be stymied, Fate is in MY HANDS.

Light Like Blood - can be quenched in the vein.

Blood like light - can be occluded by shadow.

Resist me if you wish.

Struggle if you dare.

I drown in them.

If you are afraid, we will look together.

You will be afraid, I will be your end. What leaks from me is NOTHING.

"Chapter Twenty"

I've been thinking. It's a shame so many people descended on Narwen. I really meant what I said but I fear like usual it was, misunderstood at best. A copy of what my.. Superiors, have said. I didn't speak to them about it. It came from my heart, as much as she frustrates me, I sympathize with her. Did I respond the best when we had troubles, no I did not; but, I am certain all the more after today.

That Narwen Alendiel is a blessing.

Some Scribbles in the Margins.

HAHA! It was exhilarating and terrifying. It isn't over, I'll need every moment and advantage. But Step one, was a success.

"Chapter Nineteen."

Three days.

They don't understand what I could do with Three days.

Unharanged, Unimpeded, Unhampered, Unburdened.

I wouldn't even need three days.

"Chapter Eighteen."

I argued with you, about our history, about the narrative.

But if a Lie can mend a shattered heart.

But if a tale can inspire greater deeds.

But if a story can bring the broken pieces back together.

Is a Lie stronger than the truth?

"Chapter Seventeen."

"I heard Xon say the same thing." As if Xon was a monster, he was our friend. He was right, he might have been hard to understand. He might have been hard to contain; But He was right, about so many things.

I heard the speaker of Izdu today, talking of his polished bricks in the halls of knowledge. And I couldn't hold in my contempt. The halls of knowledge are not pristine, they are not polished mirrors of stone, but scraped and scarred.

"All wisdom descends from Izdu," he said. Izdu did not grant marcellus the wisdom to avoid his mistakes, he didn't grant him the knowledge to not wave a cursed stone about.

Wisdom descends from faith, and rage, and pain.

It is as I have always said. The Gods care nothing for our souls, save that they are dedicated to them. It is upon us, as it always has been to avoid taint.

It is our duty to safeguard the soul, to ensure it is clean and healthy.

It is my duty.

"Chapter Sixteen."

A Parable.

Once there was a child, who looked upon an ember, glistening with warm light.

To the youth it appeared as a brilliant fruit, tempting, daring, alluring in it's delicious glow.

The wise parent, held out a hand, forbade it's touch, and denied the child it's gruesome feast.

The words of warning, the caution of danger, all known, all heard.

Yet still discontent grows, for the denied resent their deniers.

So the child lashes out, acts against those that would help it.

And so in exercising wisdom, the parent creates an enemy.

What is worse, to allow someone to come to harm, or to save them and become their oppressor?

"Chapter Fifteen."

I am betrayed at every turn, by everyone. Is this what my master felt that turned her so sallow. Will I be able to endure it. Should I? Zain was the last person I expected to reveal information I had given in confidence in frustration, in. There is no one I can trust. No one but myself. How can I continue with that knowledge.

"Chapter Fourteen."

What does it mean to touch?

Is it a purely physical act?

Or does touch mean impact, does impact only mean to damage?

Such funny words.

I only wanted you, to be as changed, as you changed me.

When you called me an artist my heart beat twice.

Because it meant you thought what I did was beautiful.

"Chapter Thirteen."

It is not easy to follow the path of discomfort. I thought myself able to deny these feelings, the fundamental desires.

I am struggling now. Without Air, Without Water, Without Love. I feel myself curling inward, using my body to protect my heart.

But if I don't let it touch me, then what was all of this for. Uncurl and touch the void.

I wish you were here.

Some Scribbles in the Margins.

I'm beginning to hate paintings.