Flashbacks and Writings... Stories of Ronan.
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_The dim glow of the rising sun entered the inn room. A nude Ronan sits propped up on the pillows. His lightly tanned skin matching the colors the morning sunlight gave off. His hair… is a mess. "Bed Hair" is what he calls it. The definition being that as he tossed in turn in the night, his hair became incredibly frizzy and messy. None outside the privacy of his room has ever seen this style of hair, save for the one he shares his bed with. It is a humerous sight, to be sure.
In his lap, is his journal, along with a few writing utensils. Quietly, he writes his thoughts down, his lips moving as he silently reads the thoughts aloud..._
At long last, Ah'ria has returned from her trip into the mountains. Though it wasn't a trip without injury. Her leg was broken when she returned, the wound infected. The healer's refused to treat her the quick way, with magic, so they began the torterous treatment of snapping her leg back into place, along with treating the large wound.
The sight of her pain was unbearable. Moreso was the fact that she could barely walk, or move. The dissapointed looks made my heart sink, as she could not wander the lands freely, as she so loves to do.
During the treatments, I became so angry that she had to suffer this. I felt the need to tear down the healer's with bolts of lightning, and storms of ice. This feeling is all to familiar. I nearly lose control of myself, and my powers seem to have a mind of their own as it shows itself without me calling upon it. I had thought I had that under control, but apparently not. Though my love, the one I cherish so much, was suffering… and there was not a thing I could do about it. I rarely feel so helpless.
Though she was healed and recovered fully. We celebrated. A kiss. A touch... and so much more. Nothing in the world makes me happier than to see her enjoy life, and be happy. It was certainly a challenging time for us both.
Speaking of challenges, I've yet to find one who can best me in combat. Of course, there have been higher powers who have threatened the land, and some were more powerful than I... but lately, I've found little to challenge my potential. Mayhaps one will find me, and give me the proper challenge I seek, whether it be in a duel... or to fight for survival.
Perhaps it is unhealthy to wantingly search for someone to best me, but I do not care. What is wrong with a bit of a challenge? It is more fun when things are more difficult to defeat. Once defeated, it is a great pleasure to feel that rush for using my power to repel something that could devistate those who are much weaker.
Mayhaps sometime soon, I will get my wish...
Ronan closes his journal and places it beside him on the bed. He relaxes against the pillows, letting out a soft sigh of relaxation, before looking down to his lap again, smirking as he speaks aloud:
My, aren't -you- excited this morning.
((Couldn't resist. Hope you've all enjoyed this so far.
))
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A week or two has passed, and nothing of huge interest has happened. It has been quiet, peaceful for the most part. I find myself with little to do when Ah'ria is away. Usually there was some evil thing I could blast back to the Abyss, though ever since the warrens, there's been little to none of that. I suppose that is a good thing, though it leaves me bored. Not that I'd want some new villian to pop out of nowhere to entertain me, but I sometimes wish that I could make myself useful, instead of just sitting on this rock.
While sitting, though, I've been thinking of several things. Mostly past events, the people I've met, the things I've gone through. I sometimes wonder if it was all for nothing. Just another spec in time, that will be forgotten. I hear of praise of past veterans, that I've never even heard of. What did they accomplish that I haven't? Why are they remembered?
As I've thought on this, I realize that a few people -wish- to see me fail, instead of succeed like these veteran heroes. They're looking, waiting for me to stray, looking for excuses. All the good I've done, and they expect more, more and more, until I either fall to death, or to darkness again. Are they afraid? Jealous? It doesn't matter either way. I don't intend to fail. Failing gets me nowhere. I failed myself in the past, and it only brought pain. Never again. If I can't make sure of it, then my friends and loved ones will.
Never am I alone.
Brushing the white hair from his dark grey eyes, Ronan slowly shuts his journal… before remembering something, he quickly jots down a few quick notes:
- Get a book to read to Ah'ria and Obtuse (Eresse)
- Buy more Silverymoon Ruby
He thinks to himself a moment, then smirks
- Silk retraints for my scout
Snickering to himself, he rips out the small list he made at the bottom of the journal, closing the journal, and then tucking it away in his pack. Ronan then trudges to the inn, heading up the stairs for a beauty nap
