Role

Chapter 3

After what I have witnessed in my lifetime, it may seem strange that I
had any fears left. I tried to tell Jakziim and Ryasyn that I shunned
their love to protect them from the hurt that would be caused when I
could never be honest with them.

But now... I have released my death-grip on the truth, and I have
no longer the fear of being thought mad to keep Ryasyn at bay. I've
experienced one of the physical aspects of love, my first kiss. There
have been other kisses since then, shared between myself and Ryasyn,
and I cannot help but feel sheer fluttery delight...and longing for
perhaps more. I felt like this before, long ago, in another body.

I know that old body had a purer mind, a certain mind that held no
fear but that of physical danger and sought out, never anticipating
regret, what it knew was true. I've said before I must never forget
the little truths I knew as a butterfly, and I realized that I have,
at least in part.

The Monarch must've come to me for a reason, a reason that could not
possibly be my paralysis when it comes to matters of the heart.

The song I wrote after Jakziim's death was meant as a eulogy, yes,
but it was also a lesson, a warning--one at the time I never had any
intent to heed.

The kisses led me to contemplation. I gazed at my left hand, watched
the everchanging mark there, noted the divine ink's simple yet mystical
beauty. And I understood. I was not tattooed by my elusive goddess
because I allow myself to shut out parts of my song and stagnate. No!
She did not seek me out because of my inability to take my own advice!

I made up my mind. Promptly panicked, but I was still resolute in
spite of my rebellious nerves.

In the Araile, I bade Ryasyn to hear my outpour, and I asked my lady,
in prayer, if she would listen, too.

When I had finished promising him my heart if he would but have it,
Ryasyn told me something that nearly brought me to tears.

He has loved me since he was a new Herald, when I told him I knew he
could do well.

That is such a long time... Our own ignorance is often amazing.