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The Golden Tether

smells of

  • ♚
    oolong memories and summer rain
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    House Srisati
    ♚ Thrall Name
    'Nickname'
    duty
    training status     		Thrall Name
    'Nickname'
    duty
    training status     		Thrall Name
    'Nickname'
    duty
    training status     		♚

  • Journal

    • Seeds. May 2nd 2018, 6:56 pm

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      There's nothing quite like a brush with mortality to sink an appreciation for life on your shoulders.
      I've finally settled into this new life of mine... after months of hiding, thinking, reinventing.

      It's been months now but still I feel the unease, creeping, biting.
      I still look over both of my shoulders, and even into the face of my own shadow.
      I can't bear the thought of being touched anymore.
      Or being so close, and so vulnerable.
      We were so foolish to trust them, to trust anyone.
      I will not make the same mistake again.

      I'm nothing of what I used to be, and yet
      I am everything. I am more than I ever was.
      I am control.

      I haven't run from my past, not completely.
      Just from the sights and sounds of it.
      I can't ever escape the smell of their blood, mingling with the wet, rainstorm soil.
      It haunts me, and sometimes I wait for it. I inhale and breathe for it...
      I remember it all, sometimes fondly -- sometimes with a brewing, vicious ire that sends me into violent fits.
      My darkness still craves the sensation of warm blood against its skin.
      Especially in those moments where my hate becomes a living, breathing monstrosity...
      But no one here deserves his visit. Not yet.

      I've took to fencing again if only to calm my rage.
      Since, I've been able to claim those raw emotions and shackle them.
      They will not ruin this for me.
      I am control.

      I've finally hired a team to upgrade the estate I purchased months ago,
      and I've rented a suite in the main establishment on the island:
      The Golden Tether, they call it.
      It's a place of flesh peddling, with the raunch of sex and drugs thick as smoke in the air.

      It's a perfect place for someone like me.
      -Srisati

    • Dirt. May 2nd 2018, 6:03 pm

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      This entry has been smeared over with black ink...

      I ran.
      Does that make me a coward?
      I ran, and I left them all behind
      buried in our mistakes, covered in our blood.

      The nightmares trickle in like run off---
      watering my roots, reminding me from whence I came.
      Of whose blood runs through my veins...

      That night. This night? I can't be sure anymore.
      I choked on my escaping soul but I pulled it back in.
      Flecks of soil got caught in my lungs but there was rain on my face...
      or were they tears?
      Everything moved so fast.
      I think I left a part of me in the grave.

      I remember... cries hanging from the tip of my tongue.
      Monroe Alastor.
      I owe everything to him and it burns me within to admit it,
      to accept that I'm indebted to anyone but my own self, my own soul, my own mind...

      I left him there, alone, without a farewell, without anything at all.
      Because I was suddenly, abruptly, so terribly afraid.
      Who am I? What am I?

      I ran and here I am, en sail to some distant world where no one knows my face or my name.
      alone.
      sincerely,
      null
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