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jadedmusingsTitle: "Memories" (Aridhana's Journal: Entry #1)
Fandom; Pairings: World of Warcraft; Aridhana/Ilona (OFC/OFC)
Contents: Allusions to sex, hints of homophobia.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,155
Summary: Aridhana purchases a journal and writes to her lost beloved.
Notes: First time I have written in weeks, and of course the muse strikes hardest when there's a new character. My hope is I can go back and finish the original fiction I was working on before real life interrupted me. However, it still feels good to produce something. This piece can also be found at my new in-character blog over on WyrmrestAccord.net.
Dearest Ilona,
I purchased a journal today. It would surprise you to see me seated beneath the shade of a tree long enough to fill a blank page with my words. Of the two of us, you were the one who longed to chronicle our adventures while I was content to focus on what was ahead of us rather than behind. Even now I am writing to you instead of recording the events of my life as I would with a traditional journal. I suppose it is a reflection of my lingering desire to share my life with you. It helps to pretend, if only for the briefest of moments, that I could write to you as lovers separated by long distances would.
It is strange. Initially, I wanted this to be a means of recording my journey through Azeroth in addition to practicing writing in the Common tongue. However, since I chose to address you and not an inanimate book, all I can seem to think of is my past rather than my present. Given that my regret over what happened between us was the motive behind my decision to leave The Exodar, the nostalgia seems almost inevitable.
Is nostalgia supposed to hurt this much? To make my heart ache such that I scarce can breathe?
We were so fortunate to have one another during those thousands of years wandering through cosmos to escape the Legion. To us, Argus was not “home;” it was merely another word, a name for something we could never conceive of. What was home for those of us who had never truly had something so permanent? For centuries we bore the weight of our forbearers’ grief and fear—all of us born after our exodus from Argus did. We floated aimlessly about our lives with nothing to anchor ourselves to, but then you became my anchor. Because of you I learned home did not have to be a planet or some structure built by hand. My home was your head resting upon my chest, or your arms wrapped around me while you whispered precious secrets into my ear.
Even after so many centuries, I can recall the first sunset we shared with such clarity. Do you remember that planet? The sky was a deep purple with green clouds streaking overhead, but what strikes me most about that memory is not the peculiarity of the planet’s atmosphere or even the beauty of that singular sunset. What I remember is the silence that followed when you first reached for my head. The instant your skin touched mine, I froze. You worried you had frightened me and tried to take your hand away only to look at me in shock when I squeezed your fingers and pulled your hand back toward me.
It seemed like an eternity before I could manage a few pitiable words to assure you I was fine. I never told you how my tongue felt too large and useless in my mouth, how my heart pounded so hard within my chest that it dizzied me. It was well after dark before either of us uttered another word, our fingers interlaced, both of us ignoring the sweat that had formed on our palms. You asked if I was afraid, and I admitted I was. Afraid I would find myself waking in my bed to learn it was only a dream. How could I ever expect you to feel as I felt?
Your hand was so soft in mine. Days later I learned your lips were even softer and tasted ever so faintly of the native fruit you were so fond of eating. For the life of me I cannot recall the name of it, but I can still remember its sweetness on my tongue, your sweetness.
We managed to keep our love a secret for years, a wonderful and a terrible secret at the same time. We went about our days sharing furtive glances and quiet knowing giggles each time we passed one another while going about our daily tasks. And then we would find the time to be alone, always at sunset. I fear you will never understand how amazing it was to almost melt into your arms or how much it hurt to leave your side each night to go back to pretending we were like everyone else.
The last time we were watched. It is akin to a violation to know our last precious moments together were not solely ours. The sight of you with your head thrown back, white strands of hair clinging to the pale blue of your cheek as you called out my name should be my memory alone, not his. He claimed it sickened him to watch us engaged in such “perversions,” but my stomach still turns at the memory of his grin, the grin that belied his enjoyment. I wish I had understood then the perversion was not in us, but in him and the others like him who believe there is a wrong way to love another.
The next I saw of you, you turned your head unable to meet my eyes. I was such a fool to think you would not believe the lies I was forced to tell to protect us both from being ostracized or worse. I said I did not love you. I said what we had done—what we had been doing for years—was wrong. I lied so they would leave us alone, and I hoped and prayed you would see my deceit for what it was. With each false word I uttered, a piece of me withered inside, but it was the silence from you that destroyed the rest of me. If not for my faith and the Light, I think I might have let the Legion take me.
When I was chosen to go with The Exodar, I tried to inquire as to your fate, but my questions were either met with suspicion or outright ignored. Did you stay in Shattrath, I wonder. Did you escape the orcs before the city was overtaken, or were you as brave and selfless as I remember and stayed up until the very end? Light help me I hope it was the former. No matter how much time separates us from our last moments together, I still cannot bear the thought of living in a world that does not contain you.
I’m sorry, dear Ilona. We have enough unhappy memories without me reminding you of all we have lost. (Is it possible to live for as long as we do and not have our sorrows outweigh or joys?) Tomorrow I promise only happy news. It might entertain you to know I am learning how to cook. The delicacies here on Azeroth have inspired me to hone my skills with food. Perhaps in my next letter I shall share a new recipe.
With all my love,
Aridhana
Fandom; Pairings: World of Warcraft; Aridhana/Ilona (OFC/OFC)
Contents: Allusions to sex, hints of homophobia.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,155
Summary: Aridhana purchases a journal and writes to her lost beloved.
Notes: First time I have written in weeks, and of course the muse strikes hardest when there's a new character. My hope is I can go back and finish the original fiction I was working on before real life interrupted me. However, it still feels good to produce something. This piece can also be found at my new in-character blog over on WyrmrestAccord.net.
Dearest Ilona,
I purchased a journal today. It would surprise you to see me seated beneath the shade of a tree long enough to fill a blank page with my words. Of the two of us, you were the one who longed to chronicle our adventures while I was content to focus on what was ahead of us rather than behind. Even now I am writing to you instead of recording the events of my life as I would with a traditional journal. I suppose it is a reflection of my lingering desire to share my life with you. It helps to pretend, if only for the briefest of moments, that I could write to you as lovers separated by long distances would.
It is strange. Initially, I wanted this to be a means of recording my journey through Azeroth in addition to practicing writing in the Common tongue. However, since I chose to address you and not an inanimate book, all I can seem to think of is my past rather than my present. Given that my regret over what happened between us was the motive behind my decision to leave The Exodar, the nostalgia seems almost inevitable.
Is nostalgia supposed to hurt this much? To make my heart ache such that I scarce can breathe?
We were so fortunate to have one another during those thousands of years wandering through cosmos to escape the Legion. To us, Argus was not “home;” it was merely another word, a name for something we could never conceive of. What was home for those of us who had never truly had something so permanent? For centuries we bore the weight of our forbearers’ grief and fear—all of us born after our exodus from Argus did. We floated aimlessly about our lives with nothing to anchor ourselves to, but then you became my anchor. Because of you I learned home did not have to be a planet or some structure built by hand. My home was your head resting upon my chest, or your arms wrapped around me while you whispered precious secrets into my ear.
Even after so many centuries, I can recall the first sunset we shared with such clarity. Do you remember that planet? The sky was a deep purple with green clouds streaking overhead, but what strikes me most about that memory is not the peculiarity of the planet’s atmosphere or even the beauty of that singular sunset. What I remember is the silence that followed when you first reached for my head. The instant your skin touched mine, I froze. You worried you had frightened me and tried to take your hand away only to look at me in shock when I squeezed your fingers and pulled your hand back toward me.
It seemed like an eternity before I could manage a few pitiable words to assure you I was fine. I never told you how my tongue felt too large and useless in my mouth, how my heart pounded so hard within my chest that it dizzied me. It was well after dark before either of us uttered another word, our fingers interlaced, both of us ignoring the sweat that had formed on our palms. You asked if I was afraid, and I admitted I was. Afraid I would find myself waking in my bed to learn it was only a dream. How could I ever expect you to feel as I felt?
Your hand was so soft in mine. Days later I learned your lips were even softer and tasted ever so faintly of the native fruit you were so fond of eating. For the life of me I cannot recall the name of it, but I can still remember its sweetness on my tongue, your sweetness.
We managed to keep our love a secret for years, a wonderful and a terrible secret at the same time. We went about our days sharing furtive glances and quiet knowing giggles each time we passed one another while going about our daily tasks. And then we would find the time to be alone, always at sunset. I fear you will never understand how amazing it was to almost melt into your arms or how much it hurt to leave your side each night to go back to pretending we were like everyone else.
The last time we were watched. It is akin to a violation to know our last precious moments together were not solely ours. The sight of you with your head thrown back, white strands of hair clinging to the pale blue of your cheek as you called out my name should be my memory alone, not his. He claimed it sickened him to watch us engaged in such “perversions,” but my stomach still turns at the memory of his grin, the grin that belied his enjoyment. I wish I had understood then the perversion was not in us, but in him and the others like him who believe there is a wrong way to love another.
The next I saw of you, you turned your head unable to meet my eyes. I was such a fool to think you would not believe the lies I was forced to tell to protect us both from being ostracized or worse. I said I did not love you. I said what we had done—what we had been doing for years—was wrong. I lied so they would leave us alone, and I hoped and prayed you would see my deceit for what it was. With each false word I uttered, a piece of me withered inside, but it was the silence from you that destroyed the rest of me. If not for my faith and the Light, I think I might have let the Legion take me.
When I was chosen to go with The Exodar, I tried to inquire as to your fate, but my questions were either met with suspicion or outright ignored. Did you stay in Shattrath, I wonder. Did you escape the orcs before the city was overtaken, or were you as brave and selfless as I remember and stayed up until the very end? Light help me I hope it was the former. No matter how much time separates us from our last moments together, I still cannot bear the thought of living in a world that does not contain you.
I’m sorry, dear Ilona. We have enough unhappy memories without me reminding you of all we have lost. (Is it possible to live for as long as we do and not have our sorrows outweigh or joys?) Tomorrow I promise only happy news. It might entertain you to know I am learning how to cook. The delicacies here on Azeroth have inspired me to hone my skills with food. Perhaps in my next letter I shall share a new recipe.
With all my love,
Aridhana
