plots

Message 365:

Date:     Thu Dec 21 22:29:50 2000 CST
From:     Carydhuin (#5222)
To:       *plots (#1506)
Subject:  Leaving...

Carydhuin stood outside the Sanctuary for a long moment, searching her mind.  Long-hidden memories
 and things she had sought to forget poured over her in a flood, overwhelming her.  It was hard to
 sorr through them, hard to pick out what was important and what was merely the remnants of another
 girl's life, but she knew she had to.  There was something there, something that, like the combat
 skills she'd inherited from Maigyn, could save her sanity...or destroy it.
<<There was a place...>> That was how this had all begun.  The thought had drifted
 through her mind during her contemplation of the sleeping Sefira, as she tried to sort out the
 pain and guilt that threatened to overwhelm her.  <<There was a place where once
 I...-she-...went, when the training nearly broke her.  She was young, they won't recognise me. 
 I've changed.  They healed her then...lifted the suffering from her somehow.  Maybe, just
 maybe....>>  The name of the place was lost in her memory, its location uncertain. 
 <<Details.>> She knew where she was headed without knowing, relying on the instinctive
 memory of the young, unnervingly alert girl she had been.  <<Seven years old, and they had
 trained her so well...only seven.  No wonder the drive to fight seems inborn in me.>>
She reached up to touch the rose that had been entwined in her hair ever since Brad had first wound
 it there; replaced without fail when it started to fade.  It wasn't there.  She had left it with
 Brad.  Her dagger as well lay in their tent, no doubt discovered by now, and the comfortable,
 familiar weight of her sword was no longer across her shoulders; cast aside until she could bear
 to carry Ryken's gift without guilt.  Instead, his own sword rested at her side - heavier than her
 own, and without the intricate engravings, but it was somehow comforting to know that his love
 went with her in physical form.
There was nothing more to think about.  The memory she held was compelling, driving, and she knew
 somehow exactly where she was going and how to get there, although she had no words to describe
 it.  Tightening the straps on her backpack, she set off, taking passage on the first ship she
 could, knowing the path would clear itself before her.  She glanced back toward Bernia only once,
 one thought ringing through her head:
<<I'll return for my sword and the chance to see my love, I swear it.>>  


[OOC - I'm going away for an extended period of time, as in until the 23rd of January.  I'll be in
 Nicaragua, in a village without telephone lines, for three weeks.  This will understandably put a
 cramp on my Internet connection.  So apologies for the spammy plot.]