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Lore, history and other content by the citizens of Underlight preserved for posterity.
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The Chosen
Posts: 22
Joined: Fri Dec 21, 2018 1:37 am
Character Name(s): Sadara


Post by Sadara » Tue Jun 11, 2019 6:18 pm

On the ground lays a plum diary, as its opened to a page.

Dear Diary,

There are some days like these that I go back and think about my time within my Mother's home. What it felt like to be loved for the first time, what if felt like to actually have a safe home, what it felt like to finally be a child again. It took some time to readjust. Instead of hunting around for food, we go to the marketplace to buy food. Instead of reading books on Cryptozoology, life and social sciences, and ancient ruins; I went to school and had a schedule, a teacher, and other students to interact with.
I had chores, an allowance, and was taught how to be independent. It was such a change from everything I had knew from before, yet I had enjoyed it so much! My mother taught me so much, its on days like theses that I remember sitting at her feet, while she brushed my hair and told me stories of the village. She told me of her family history, how her grandfather founded the village years ago, her father was such a hardworking fellow and how all of her 12 siblings went around to other places, exploring and adventuring. She was the odd ball out and wanted to start a family. From her stories and experiences, I cherished her more and more. I finally began seeing my adoptive mother as my own.

There were however some bad days. Sendea was not as accustomed to my stay as he always wanted to be the center of attention, getting into fights outside of the house, breaking things around the house, skipping school. I really cant blame him, as I just appeared and all of the attention that he had from Mother was now on me. After a while we finally saw eye to eye eventually, it took some time though... Yet all the while I never let up loving him, he was my brother... and always will be.

All the while of settling in to my new home I gained more and more insight to who I was as a person, while little things rang in the back of my head... When I was 13 I went through a phase of adventuring that seemed to never go away. Stories my Mother told me of my Aunts and Uncles gave me so much joy and curiosity as to what was outside. For the longest before I saw the outside as a place of unrelenting pain, yet sometimes with another pair of eyes you gain a new outlook on things around you. I remember this one time when I traveled up the path of the village north toward these barren ruins I was told about within a story from Mother, "The walls of an overthrown castle, Castle Eurea, the walls crumbled around the castle so quickly it was as if was made of sand." Of course in reality to that story, I saw the broken down walls of the Castle still blackened from fires that were set around the walls to draw the guards. As I walked up the path toward the castle loose arrows were still strewn about within the overgrown grass. Some torched and some sharpened so precisely that they still gave off a glistening sheen from the sun hitting them. As I entered the archway of the walls where the gates had been blown to shreds from what looked like powerful flaming catapults, I was suddenly grabbed on my arm by Sendea.

I thought I would get in trouble, severely in trouble, even have to sleep in the barn or have to clean the house for the next two weeks. Though as Sendea tattled on me, I stood there looking down at the ground contemplating what Mother would think. She tilted my head up from my chin, and looked into my eyes as she walked over into her room and called me in. I didn't expect what would happen next. She closed the door and told me to sit on the bed as she went over to her night side table and opened up a drawer. She pulled out a small black box that contained letters and many strewn documents, after taking out the letters she sighed as she took out a small golden locket. It was heart-shaped. She told me to come over and carefully put the necklace on me. She then told me of her sister... that story...

The page at the bottom seems to have been torn off. Yet there is a small signature in plum that seems to have bled through from the other side. -{S}
Time. Some use it to heal, some to help, and others waste it. - {Sadara}
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