Death and Healing - A Journal Options

[Count Lauriel]

Hi guys!
I'm here to post the first part of my Oblivion character's Journal. I'm doing it as a roleplaying exercise and because, well, I love to write and I've been struggling lately.

I'm not going to drag this out as I'd like everything you know about my character to come from the Journal, not from me.
I intend to post at least a section a week, if not more.
I got some inspiration from Buffy's Journal, which may not be entirely evident in the Prologue, but will become clear soon. Acadian, if you wish to discuss this (as is understandable), feel free to PM me

Any comments or criticisms will be greatly appreciated.


Prologue
We lived in the Western Reach. The Easternmost point of High Rock. I lived with my mother, Aila Aurelie and my father, Faric Aurelie in a cottage a few miles north of Jehanna. Our cottage was small, but it was cosy. A warm fire, good food and soft beds. What more could a simple Breton family want?
Every night I would kiss my father good night, then go to my room with mother so she could read me a story.

It was a good life. Hard, but good. During the day, mother would teach me simple spells to heal myself and others around me. I never questioned why. It was something the women in my family had done for generations. Not the quickest learner, she frequently became frustrated with me. I was never shouted at though. My mother would, when she became angry, merely mutter a few words and close her eyes. Moments later a pale green light would sweep over her and she was calm again.

Father? I don’t know where he went to work. Sometimes he stayed away from home for days on end. Other times he didn’t leave the house for weeks, locked away in his room with his experiments. Many times I tried to sneak a peek into that room. I never even got close. He always locked the door when he was away, and when he wasn’t, well, I was too scared to go near.

***

“Good night, my child of the stars. Sleep well.” Whispered my mother. Her evening ritual as she left my room, closing the thin door behind her. As usual I waited until I heard her footsteps stop when she climbed into bed. Reaching under my bed, I pulled out the candle I’d hidden earlier in the day, and placed it on my nightstand. Closing my eyes, I envisioned warmth spreading from my chest, down my arms and into the palm of my right hand. I focused more, willing the warmth to intensify, the space which it occupied to shrink. I opened my eyes and willed a spark to appear in my hand, just as I had been taught. Sure enough, there it was. Now I had to be quick. I grasped the candle and brought it to the flame. Wick not millimetres from the flame, I realised something wasn’t right and closed my hand, extinguishing the fire. Something was in my room. It didn’t feel out of place though. Like it was meant to be there.

It must have been an eternity. Nothing stirred in the house. Nothing moved outside. It was never this silent. I was terrified.
Go to mum. RUN.
But my legs wouldn’t obey. I just sat there, in the suffocating silence. Listening as though my life depended on it.
Something crashed. I started. I heard a male voice, low and gruff. My mother replied, her voice too low for me to make out any words, but I could tell she was afraid.
“NO! Leave her out of this!” She was shrieking now.
The intruder was saying something. Words I didn’t understand. Suddenly the light around the edges of my door flashed a brilliant white, and a wave of heat engulfed me. Tears screamed down my face. Blood pouring from my lip, I’d almost bitten clean through in an effort to stop myself screaming.
The window of my room clattered open. I couldn’t help it, I howled my fear to the heavens.
Helena! Get up! Get out of the house!
I scrambled to my feet. The presence in my room made itself felt again. Closer to me this time. I was by the window in no time. I stood with my back to the opening, staring at the door. I could hear heavy, booted footsteps getting closer. My heart threatening to burst through my chest.
The door opened. I tried to scream, but I was no longer in my own body. I was watching from the window. Watching the door open and a hooded figure slide through the gap. Then something weird happened. I watched him draw his dagger and step towards the me that was trapped by her fear. As he drew back his arm to strike, he was sent flying backwards. Demolishing the wall he hit.

Don’t worry Helena. I’m watching over you. Rest now.
Then everything went black.

This post has been edited by Count Lauriel: Nov 13 2010, 05:46 PM

[Count Lauriel]

Acadian: You're not reading too far into it. She does indeed have a voice in her head, which, well, is going to develop as she does. I don't want to give too much away yet

mALX: You'll have to wait and see, methinks. Thank you for the kind words

Thank you to everyone for the kind words and warm welcome. Ordinarily it would have taken me another few days to get my next portion of the story completed, but you've spurred me on to continue writing it.
I was somewhat worried about my writing. I don't usually post anything for other people to read as I'm usually ashamed of my work. But you've completely dispelled that. I wanted Helena to tell you her story, instead of having me overload you with information. I prefer it this way too, I feel like it's helping me understand her far better than I could have imagined.

Anyway, on with the show. What follows is the second part of the prologue.
As before, any criticisms will be greatly appreciated. Please post them in the thread, or perhaps drop me a PM if it would require a more in-depth discussion.



Prologue, Cont.

The scent of saltwater invaded my nostrils, brought in by the chill breeze that often signalled a coming storm. Without opening my eyes, I tried to explore where I was. The ground was soft beneath my back, perhaps it had all been a nightmare and I was still in my bed.
And my parents were still alive.
I needed to get up, but every movement I tried to make racked my body with waves of agony. A bad idea then. I was exhausted, but I managed to force my eyes open just a crack. Glancing around I could see thick, green grass, rolling hills covered in forests. A familiar sight. I saw it every day when I went out to do my chores in the garden. I hated doing chores, any child does, but I’d have given anything to be weeding the flowerbeds at that moment.
I couldn’t help it, I began to cry. Despair pulsated through my body, filling every thought I had. Where was I? Who murdered my family? How was I going to survive? Where would I go?

***

Helena…Helena, it’s time to get up. Come on. You need to move now, you need shelter and food.
The presence was there again. I could feel it. Perhaps it was this that enabled me to do what I did next. I opened my eyes and sat up. My clothes were in tatters. My skirt was torn in at least fifteen different places and my blouse had faired little better. Both needed replacing, quickly too by the ominous look of the sky. Luckily I wasn’t as badly hurt as I’d imagined. I had a few deep cuts and a possible dislocated shoulder, but that was nothing I couldn’t deal with. I closed my eyes again and imagined scenes of happiness. Running in the fields with my mother, holding hands and laughing. Calmness flowed through my body. I was ready to try and heal myself. I’d never healed more than a scratch, but I had to at least try.

I thought back to what I had been taught.
Think of it as bandages, you can imagine them well enough. Now, keep that thought and visualise your injuries. Got that? Good. Apply the bandages. No! Not with your hands. With your mind. Helena, we’re dealing with magicka here. It’s all in your mind, in your heart. Let’s try again.
It was easier than I imagined. It felt like someone was doing it for me. I imagined my wounds healing, aided by my magic. Sure enough, the pain began to subside, and I regained some movement in my shoulder.

Rain began to fall. The cold, icy rain of the North. I hauled myself to my feet and set off towards the woods, the dusk sun disappearing behind clouds, plunging my world into twilight. I figured they would offer at least some shelter, so I could stay partially dry. I’d make a fire when I got there, to keep the wolves and the chill at bay.

***

Everyone says fire is morale building. Which I understand to a certain extent, but when you’ve just seen your house burnt to a cinder it’s not the most welcome thing. Still, I needed to keep warm.

Tomorrow, you should walk south. You will come to Jehanna, where you can beg for some clothes.
Beg? BEG?! Who do you think I am? I’m not some lowlife!
I know you’re not. But you do need clothes, don’t you? You’ll freeze if you don’t.

I settled down to try and get some sleep. Curling into a ball, I lay with my back to the fire and cried myself to sleep. I was thirteen. Not four months before my fourteenth birthday when my father would take over from mother in teaching me about magic. When I’d start learning how to protect myself, how to disappear. Four months before I would have formed a far closer bond with my father. We barely ever spoke. I didn’t even get the chance to tell him I loved him. I wept for hours until I succumbed to my exhaustion.
Good night, my brave Helena.

This post has been edited by Count Lauriel: Nov 14 2010, 05:32 PM