` scars and souvenirs is a blog I made dedicated to my roleplay stories on World of Warcraft. it is here that I will post both played-out stages of my characters' journeys, as well as experiences from their past that helped to make them who they are. I hope you can find these tales interesting, and if you have any questions or some constructive criticism feel free to drop me a message! :)

I'll mark all my posts with one of the following letters or words to label them- that way, nobody should get confused as to when they took place or what they're about!

x ;; past
o ;; roleplayed
v ;; an OOC update
diary ;; IC thoughts, though not necessarily kept in a journal

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

x A CHILD'S GRIEF

Seilu ran. She wasn't sure how far, or for how long, but she ran. Perhaps that was all she was really good at, in the end. Running away from her problems. After all, she had been running for over a century from her 'legacy' as Velonar would phrase it, and she had never once looked back. She had never considered that maybe she had been wrong, or that maybe her actions were the selfish ones of a child.

She was such a fucking fool. For many, many years she had put her past behind her and hadn't even given it a second thought. After all, one of her mottos was “Live in the present; don't dwell on the past.” You could not change a mistake you've already made, no matter how much you wished you could.

No, you couldn't change the past, but you could change the future and you could correct your errors. Seilu realized this too late- any hope of making amends had died with her father over a decade ago.

She was stupid. How had she been so blind? She had accused Uriel Sunhollow of being a terrible father, of hating her and of having standards she could never hope to meet. It was true that he had been distant and that he had never expressed blatant pride, but she had never stopped and thought that maybe it wasn't intentional.

He was a single father who had no previous knowledge on how to care for a child. He'd hired a nanny because he had no other choice- to his knowledge, that was the best he could have done. He had never hated her. Velonar was right; a father never wished for their child's death. Uriel just hadn't known how to cope with an uncooperative, stubborn little brat of a kid.

Maybe he had been disappointed, but then maybe he hadn't understood then either. Seilu did try her hardest to learn with everybody else, but she was younger and smaller than the other trainees. At the time, she was also the only girl, and she struggled. With her attitude, it could be very easily assumed that yes, she was slacking.

Everybody knew communication was very important in any relationship, with a friend or family member or significant other. It was common sense, but she had been so thick-skulled that it had never even crossed her mind to talk to her father.

Now it was all too late.

Too late.

Seilu skimmed her fingertips over a mossy tombstone as she searched the rows of the old cemetary. It was located in the ruins of Silvermoon- it wasn't well-kept anymore because of the Wretched, but some people braved the odds to visit their loved ones' graves.

It took her a moment of near-absent wandering to find what she had only semi-consciously been looking for.

Uriel Sunhollow

There were no titles, no endearments inscribed in the marble. Just his name. Simple, the way he would've liked.

The grave beside his was grander and more beautiful, with a life-sized statue of a beautiful elvish woman playing a harp and singing sitting atop it. She had a joyous expression, and her eyes seemed to glitter with mirth even though they were little more than a carving. Seilu stopped in front of this grave first, reaching out to idly brush off some dead leaves.

Hi, mom,” she murmured, gazing at the statue's weather-worn face. There were familiar lines there, ones that were present on Seilu's own face.

I'm sorry I haven't visited lately. I've been really busy.” The blonde took a deep breath and closed her eyes, choking down a few tears. Movements jerky, she moved on to stand before her father's smaller and less impressive grave.

She didn't say anything. She just stared at his name for a long time, before sinking down to kneel in front of it.

Seilu had never mourned for her father. When he had died, she had hardly batted an eye- she wasn't even present for the funeral. She arrived a couple of days after because she wanted to be there for her baby brothers.

All at once, the weight of her grief came crashing down on her shoulders, and the tears spilled over. It had never really occurred to her, but her parents were dead. She was an orphan, and she had thrown away her relationship with her father as if it didn't matter. “I'm sorry, Ann'da,” she said, her voice tiny and broken. She leaned forward, her arms wrapped around her stomach. “I'm so sorry.”

The dam broke, and she wept.

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