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]

I apologise for the massively long delay. My life has been somewhat hectic as of late and writers block has hit me in force. I think that's evident in this next portion of Helena's story. I'm actually rather disappointed in how it's turned out, but I can't for the life of me work out what I've done differently.

Anyway, thank you for all your kind words once again, and here is what I managed. As always, any criticisms, nits or general pointers are welcome.

Edit: I've reposted an edited version of the prologue. It's below, and I'd love any feedback on it as always. I took Subrosa's advice and tried to show rather than tell using the scene of Helena's 18th birthday and dialogue. Of which there is quite a bit in this edit. I'm somewhat nervous about it, as I've never been confident with my dialogue.

Prologue, Part 3

So this was it. My life, everything I knew, gone in an instant. I had no idea where to go, or what to do. The only thing I have going for me was a male voice in my head that, a few days before, told me I should go to my country’s capital city and try to find life there. Was I going insane? I mean, come on. Hearing voices is bad enough. Listening to those voices and actually doing as they say is just plain stupid. Although, it didn’t occur to me at the time. It made me feel safer, so I just went with it.

“Get out of my way! Stupid beggar!” This was something I’d become accustomed to over time. Everyone assumed that because I couldn’t afford to dress in silks and velvet, I was a beggar. I never once begged. I never had to. The eve of my arrival in Jehanna marked the fourth day since…it happened. I had no idea what to do. I’d heard nothing more from the mysterious voice in my head. The voice that was soothing, yet authoritative. I feared for my sanity more and more. So I sat in the lower class district, and cried. It must have been for hours, because when I finally managed to blink away the tears, I had company. A young Khajiit girl had sat down next to me and looked evidently concerned.

“What troubles you, smooth skin?” she purred.
“I’m lost.” Was my sobbed reply. I couldn’t manage any more words than that.
“If you are lost, why aren’t you seeking your way? When Tsiya is lost, she asks for help.” Something about the Khajiit accent deeply moved me. I don’t know why, but I trusted her. I’d spoken two words to a Khajiit I barely knew, and I trusted her. Looking back, it’s completely nuts.
“I have no one to ask. Look at me, Tsiya. Do I look like I have anything to give?” I said in a hoarse whisper, gesturing at my clothes. Well, what remained of them. I barely had a blouse anymore.
“This one thinks you are lucky it was me who found you before it got dark. The men will be back from their work soon, and they’d make your life worse.” That set me off crying again.
“Don’t cry. Come with me. You’ll have friends and a place to live. Safe, away from all your troubles.”

***

“Happy birthday!” cried my friends as I stepped through the door into our home.
I barely had time to register before Tsiya and Amusei had their arms around me. My eyes quickly sought out Azrael, sat in his usual seat near the books. He beamed at me. In his lap was a small box, immaculately wrapped.
“Thank you. You really shouldn’t have though.” I stammered, still flabbergasted by the surprise. Looking around, our usually mundane house was decorated in all manner of different colours. Streamers around the fireplace, what must have been hundreds of little signs saying “Happy eighteenth birthday, Helena” were dotted around all over the place. Not to mention the jewels that adorned the table.

How had they been able to afford all this?

I knew the answer, obviously. They never hid anything from me. I just had to ask to right questions.
“We’re thieves of necessity, Helena. Not because we want to cause trouble for anyone, but because we need to steal to live. The food on our plates comes from the pantries of the rich folk, who have enough to feed a small army. Does that bother you?” explained Azrael, the day I finally asked.
“A little, yes. My parents always taught me to live honestly, and follow the laws. But I’ve seen how things are. We’re too poor to get jobs, no one will hire a beggar as they seem to think we are, and we need to live.” I answered.
“Sometimes laws have to be broken though, and lies need to be told. I’m certainly not going to say I feel good about it, or that I enjoy doing it. But we need to live.”
“I know we do, Azrael, I know. I thank you for what you do for me, and the others.”

I managed to detach myself from their embrace, and made my way over to Azrael, who’s cheek I very firmly planted a kiss on.
“Happy birthday, beautiful” he said. His face taking on a very red hue. And judging by what I felt, mine was too.
“Thank you, you’re far too sweet to me, you know that?”
“Here, this is for you. Open it.” Smiled the Dunmer, as he pressed the present into my hands.
Grinning my thanks, I tentatively opened the wrapping, quite unsure what to expect.
“Oh Azrael! It’s amazing! Where did you get this?” Inside was an immaculately beautiful sapphire, about the size of a baby’s fist.
“That’s for me to know, I’m afraid. You didn’t tell me where you got my present from.” He grinned, gesturing at the thick, leather-bound journal that lay on the table. “Neither did you tell me how you managed to create a lock spell for it that only I can open.” True enough. A month and three days prior, it had been his birthday. I knew he’d been longing for a book to write his thoughts down in. Deeply troubled, we ended up deciding that writing down the things he didn’t feel he could talk to me about may have helped. Of course, I made clear that he could talk to me about anything. But, stubborn ‘til the end, I couldn’t change his mind.

“It seems like yesterday that you found me, Tsiya, and brought me home with you. Yet it’s been four years.”
“Yes, I remember the scared little girl I found you as. Now look, you’re a strong independent woman. You’ve saved all of our lives countless times.” Replied Tsiya.
“What? How on earth have I done that? I’ve not healed any of you…” I stammered in reply.
“You have Helena, you know that.” This time it was Amusei who spoke. “Without you, we wouldn’t know how to heal our cuts and bruises. It’s with experience that this one speaks.”
“I guess I’m not going to change your minds, am I? Can we eat now?” I suggested, changing the subject. It always made me feel weird when my friends said these things. Yes, I had taught them to heal, but it wasn’t a chore for me. Of course it wasn’t. They’re my friends for Mara’s sake! I wanted them to be safe.

“Good night Helena, good night Azrael” called Amusei and Tsiya from the foot of the stairs.
Azrael and I called back “Sleep well, the both of you.” I wasn’t surprised they were tired, we’d eaten a fantastic meal of venison with a leaf salad, and Tsiya and Amusei drank at least three of the five bottles of wine they’d set aside for tonight. I’m glad they did, otherwise I fear I would have been too drunk for what followed.
“Now that we’ve got a bit of privacy, thank you for not saying anything about healing me, Helena. That meant a lot to me.” He said, quietly.
“I’d never mention something you’re not comfortable with. You should know that. We decided it would be between us from that day.”

I thought back to the day, a little over a year ago, that Azrael had come home with a deep stab wound. None of the others were around, and we had no gold for a Healer.
“Lie still, close your eyes and try to relax. This is more than I’ve healed before, I need to concentrate.” I was nervous. No, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. I was terrified. Here was my best friend, dying in front of me, and I was the one saving him.
Placing my hands around his wound, I opened a link between me and him. The pain shot through my body as I sent healing magic to the site of injury. I felt everything. The wound I was healing, scrapes and bruises all over his body, but most of all was the ache in his heart. He never told me why he was hurting so much. Even when I pestered him. He just said “I promise I won’t keep it from you forever, but now isn’t the time for you to find out. Please believe me on that.” I did, of course. I believed everything he told me.

“And for that, I am eternally grateful to you. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, for a few months now. But I’ve never had to guts to do it. I think I do now, I hope so.” He looked so out of his depth, I’d never seen him this way. Azrael was always the composed one, the calm one who had a plan for everything.
“You can talk to me, Azrael.” I smiled, leaning across to hug him. “Shall we sit by the fire first though?”
He brought a couple of blankets down from our beds, and laid them out in front of the dying fire. We snuggled in.
“Okay Helena, here goes. I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just going to come out with it. I love you. I love you with every fibre of my being. I know you probably don’t think the same way, I’m just a lowlife thief to you. But know that every day, anywhere you go, I love you.”
Tears streamed down his face. I was completely taken aback. I loved him too, dearly. But I never expected him to feel the same way. Not in a million years. A strapping young dunmer, fit and athletic, falling in love with a soft, Breton girl. I wasn’t skinny like the dark elf girls I’d seen in the city. The girls I’d seen him talking to.
“I lo-“ We were interrupted by a heavy bang on the door. Looking at each other, I could see fear in his eyes, as I’m sure he could in mine. Slowly, quietly, he got up and retrieved his dagger from the sheath I’d sewn into his boot a few years ago. Another bang. Footsteps upstairs, Tsiya and Amusei would be here in a few seconds and Azrael would open the door to whatever lay beyond.
“Helena, hide yourself. Quickly.”
There was no time. With a mighty crack the door came falling in. Walls of steel, too many to count, all holding huge longswords came charging into the room. Azrael went down under a tower shield, floored in one barge. Two figures detached themselves and ran up the stairs.
“Mara save us.” I muttered the prayer under my breath as the guards advanced towards me, crying in the corner.

This post has been edited by Count Lauriel: Mar 19 2011, 10:55 AM