This journal will be all IC through the eyes of Auriana. It is not public knowledge, nor is it obtainable unless given to a character, or RP'ed out to have been obtained. I hope that you find as much enjoyment in reading, as I do in writing it.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It happened again under the last sun. Most of the time it doesn't trouble me much, I just refocus and pass off as if a dream. But lately, it's been more often. I've no sense of time nor does it hold meaning for me, so I fail to keep track. Is it perhaps the sixth astral moon? Or the umbral? Who can say for certain.
I don't know if writing things down will help me or not. Someone suggested it a long time ago, and only now, do I give chance to the prospect. If I'm going to do this, then I should start from the beginning. With what I can call to memory at the least.
Oh, and if you are reading this..most likely you've killed me for it, so please, choke on it.
Alright. My name is Auriana Wynter. I do not recall much before the age of my leaving the care of Fareman and Selova Ironhand. They were good to me, gave me a home and cared for me as if their own. I was little more than an adolescent when they found me in the.
Selova was the first my eyes found when I awoke. I did't know her face, nor where I was. These strangers. I was afraid, and weakened. From what at the time, was unclear. Once she had calmed me, she and Fareman explained to me how I had gotten there.
Apparently, Fareman was returning from a hunt and had seen me floating downstream in the river. When he finally got me ashore, he could see my injuries were severe. The swelling in my head, they told me, they didn't think I would last the night. He found me during the fifth astral moon. I didn't awake until near the beginning of the fifth umbral.
I could not tell them who I was, nor how I was injured nor how I came to be in the water. All I knew was, I was afraid and alone. They found a necklace with the name Auriana Wynter inscribed on it. So it was assumed that to was my name. They helped me regain my strength, and let me stay. I worked for my keep, and in time, became fond of my rescuers and they me. Fareman taught me a lot about surviving.
Still, the questions of who I was haunted me. They haunt me still. Though I've long since accepted that I may never find the answers I seek, the visions in my sleep will not fade. It's becoming more frequent now, more vivid. I can hear the screams. I can see the fire, and almost smell the smoke. I'm younger, about the time Fareman found me I assume. Visions of my past? Or something else?
As time wears on, it grows increasingly difficult to determine what is real, and what is imagination. Maybe that's why I do what I do. Because while I'm busy do it, I don't think about it. It doesn't matter. Especially to those I've managed to do something decent for. And it's in that moment..that moment when they look back at me, I can see in their eyes that for that moment? They understand compassion is not gone from this world.
Ok, maybe that's a little dramatic. But it's true. Seeing the eyes of someone who a few bells ago had no hope, spark to life? For that moment, who I am or was...doesn't matter. I do what I do because it's what keeps me going, otherwise I fear I may succumb to one of my greatest fears..
So I will write down what I see, and what I learn along the way. And maybe, just maybe somewhere along the way, I'll discover who I am. If not who I was. After all, someone once told me, who we were pales in comparison to who we are. And what is in our hearts defines that truth. Or something like that..
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It happened again under the last sun. Most of the time it doesn't trouble me much, I just refocus and pass off as if a dream. But lately, it's been more often. I've no sense of time nor does it hold meaning for me, so I fail to keep track. Is it perhaps the sixth astral moon? Or the umbral? Who can say for certain.
I don't know if writing things down will help me or not. Someone suggested it a long time ago, and only now, do I give chance to the prospect. If I'm going to do this, then I should start from the beginning. With what I can call to memory at the least.
Oh, and if you are reading this..most likely you've killed me for it, so please, choke on it.
Alright. My name is Auriana Wynter. I do not recall much before the age of my leaving the care of Fareman and Selova Ironhand. They were good to me, gave me a home and cared for me as if their own. I was little more than an adolescent when they found me in the.
Selova was the first my eyes found when I awoke. I did't know her face, nor where I was. These strangers. I was afraid, and weakened. From what at the time, was unclear. Once she had calmed me, she and Fareman explained to me how I had gotten there.
Apparently, Fareman was returning from a hunt and had seen me floating downstream in the river. When he finally got me ashore, he could see my injuries were severe. The swelling in my head, they told me, they didn't think I would last the night. He found me during the fifth astral moon. I didn't awake until near the beginning of the fifth umbral.
I could not tell them who I was, nor how I was injured nor how I came to be in the water. All I knew was, I was afraid and alone. They found a necklace with the name Auriana Wynter inscribed on it. So it was assumed that to was my name. They helped me regain my strength, and let me stay. I worked for my keep, and in time, became fond of my rescuers and they me. Fareman taught me a lot about surviving.
Still, the questions of who I was haunted me. They haunt me still. Though I've long since accepted that I may never find the answers I seek, the visions in my sleep will not fade. It's becoming more frequent now, more vivid. I can hear the screams. I can see the fire, and almost smell the smoke. I'm younger, about the time Fareman found me I assume. Visions of my past? Or something else?
As time wears on, it grows increasingly difficult to determine what is real, and what is imagination. Maybe that's why I do what I do. Because while I'm busy do it, I don't think about it. It doesn't matter. Especially to those I've managed to do something decent for. And it's in that moment..that moment when they look back at me, I can see in their eyes that for that moment? They understand compassion is not gone from this world.
Ok, maybe that's a little dramatic. But it's true. Seeing the eyes of someone who a few bells ago had no hope, spark to life? For that moment, who I am or was...doesn't matter. I do what I do because it's what keeps me going, otherwise I fear I may succumb to one of my greatest fears..
So I will write down what I see, and what I learn along the way. And maybe, just maybe somewhere along the way, I'll discover who I am. If not who I was. After all, someone once told me, who we were pales in comparison to who we are. And what is in our hearts defines that truth. Or something like that..