The_gladiator
Avatar of Fantasy
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2007
- Posts
- 24,481
For his twenty thousandth post the elf decided it was finally time for him to have a new home. It was time to abandon the old guest book and find a true refuge where he could feel at peace, could store ideas, let out his thoughts and spend time with his friends or any fellow wanderers who wanted to stop by.
Finding or setting up a home would not be easy, he knew. He had long made a home in others threads, welcomed into their space and he still felt welcome there. However presented with inward questions of did he even belong on lit anymore he set out on this journey.
Reaching such a milestone had made him think about the past and all of the lovely friends he had made here and lost here along the way. The beauty of this place was that their was always new faces to meet and spend time with, so many wonderful people. However in order to enjoy all those new friends and faces the elf needed to cleanse himself needed to love himself again, somehow he felt he had lost that along the way. He rarely even wrote anymore and it was like a piece of himself was missing.
His feet drew him to the beach first. It was long a place of refuge for him. So many times he had sat here lost in thought, hands busy idly digging in the sand, shaping castles and forts with his touch, only to watch them be washed away by the rising tide. A metaphor for life, perhaps. He would always smile and rebuild the castles only to have the cycle repeat.
As much as the beach was a refuge for him it was a place to visit, it was not home. Light footsteps carried him into the forest, following a path that his feet seemed to know even if in his mind he had no idea. Light feet carried him to a small pool with a cascading waterfall. Here, perhaps. Yes, he could see himself happy here.
He began to sing to the trees the songs of magic, of his blood his spirit's song. He closed his eyes and pictured what he wanted.
A home formed from the trees, one with a large deck overlooking the water, he could see guests coming to chat. A place where music and conversation could be shared.
There was a bar for whoever desired such a thing and so much more. He would not explore his entire new home in this one post, it was enough that he had found and sang it into existence. 7 years later than he intended to make this journey, but now he had done it. He had his home.
He sat on a chair and gazed out over the water, its rushing making a gentle backdrop to his thoughts. He could be whoever he wanted to be here. In a sense the persona of Glad was always a idealization of the man inside, a written manifestation that could be more than the mortal coil. It allowed him the space to grow and learn in ways that he never would have in the real world. Though he doubted he knew he was not ready to abandon Glad, not ready to give up on the dream.
He whispered a word in elvish and his guitar came to him. Although he could not play in the real world, that had never mattered here, somehow his fingers always knew the way. He began to strum chords and hum to himself as he wondered if others might join him, might spend a little time in character once again. Though this might be a place that he wrote ideas, journaled, and the like, he hoped that his home would be welcoming to visitors, that they would stop by and stay a while.
Finding or setting up a home would not be easy, he knew. He had long made a home in others threads, welcomed into their space and he still felt welcome there. However presented with inward questions of did he even belong on lit anymore he set out on this journey.
Reaching such a milestone had made him think about the past and all of the lovely friends he had made here and lost here along the way. The beauty of this place was that their was always new faces to meet and spend time with, so many wonderful people. However in order to enjoy all those new friends and faces the elf needed to cleanse himself needed to love himself again, somehow he felt he had lost that along the way. He rarely even wrote anymore and it was like a piece of himself was missing.
His feet drew him to the beach first. It was long a place of refuge for him. So many times he had sat here lost in thought, hands busy idly digging in the sand, shaping castles and forts with his touch, only to watch them be washed away by the rising tide. A metaphor for life, perhaps. He would always smile and rebuild the castles only to have the cycle repeat.
As much as the beach was a refuge for him it was a place to visit, it was not home. Light footsteps carried him into the forest, following a path that his feet seemed to know even if in his mind he had no idea. Light feet carried him to a small pool with a cascading waterfall. Here, perhaps. Yes, he could see himself happy here.
He began to sing to the trees the songs of magic, of his blood his spirit's song. He closed his eyes and pictured what he wanted.
A home formed from the trees, one with a large deck overlooking the water, he could see guests coming to chat. A place where music and conversation could be shared.
There was a bar for whoever desired such a thing and so much more. He would not explore his entire new home in this one post, it was enough that he had found and sang it into existence. 7 years later than he intended to make this journey, but now he had done it. He had his home.
He sat on a chair and gazed out over the water, its rushing making a gentle backdrop to his thoughts. He could be whoever he wanted to be here. In a sense the persona of Glad was always a idealization of the man inside, a written manifestation that could be more than the mortal coil. It allowed him the space to grow and learn in ways that he never would have in the real world. Though he doubted he knew he was not ready to abandon Glad, not ready to give up on the dream.
He whispered a word in elvish and his guitar came to him. Although he could not play in the real world, that had never mattered here, somehow his fingers always knew the way. He began to strum chords and hum to himself as he wondered if others might join him, might spend a little time in character once again. Though this might be a place that he wrote ideas, journaled, and the like, he hoped that his home would be welcoming to visitors, that they would stop by and stay a while.
" 
