Talk:Morsithia - Revision history

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	Dear Diary,


	In light of a recent dream, I am given to recall that the victors write history. So, just in case, I have decided to pen a bit of my own.


	When I was younger and very sickly I would spend my time at the Leth Deriel school studying science and history. I would watch the other children at play outside my window, and long to be with them. They would frolick in the meadow, shove each other in the mud -- they made it look so easy.


	On the rare occasions the other children interacted with me in the mess hall, they made fun of me. "Freak!" they called me. They pointed at my cat-slitted eyes, and they laughed. A mostly Elvish bunch -- many of them had no idea what the mark of a savant was. Shamed by my differences, I held my tongue rather than correct them.


	Lonely, forsaken -- my only consolation was the dreams I had of the dark-haired lady with three eyes. She was kindly to me, with a soft voice and a gentle way that was alien. The bird on her shoulder always had a new song for me.


	Mother had sent me to the school at birth, convinced I would die. I reminded her, she said, of my late brother Deshian. My father, Lord Bloodston, Steward to the exceedingly wealthy Rathan Redthornes, had business at court that dominated his attentions. And of course, there was the matter of Chelia Redthorne -- so beautiful. So pressing. A pale, weakling daughter was a shoddy competitor at best. I was kept out of sight, and out of mind. That's not to say he didn't love me... every month there were new gifts, a tender letter -- but these were no replacement for a father.


	The school taught me what I needed to know. In addition to the regular faculty I had personal tutors -- Lanthander and Distress taught me what it meant to be a true Moon Mage, an objective viewer, a historian.


	At twelve, I was called to Crossing for a rare occasion. There was to be a ball, and I was to attend. My mother spent very little time with me that day -- in fact, her only attention was for my clothing. Prince Keresyk was to be in attendance, she said, and I was to do my best not to appear a stripling mess. Father, on the other hand, kept me by his side for most of the event. He introduced me to a beautiful Elven woman named Ysselt, and I sensed a chemistry between them. She was very kind and gracious to me -- one of the kindest people I have ever met. I hoped, in my hearts of hearts, that they would marry, and be happy, and I could come away from the school to live with them. I would be their very own child!


	That night, the Prince of M'riss and I danced -- he was very handsome and wonderful -- but all the eyes at court were upon us. I forced myself to dance as gracefully as I could, until blushingly I was able to excuse myself.


	When I slept, the dark-haired lady did not appear to me. In her stead, a vision of my father and Ysselt -- walking seperate paths forever -- haunted my dreams. My nursemaid -- who had been with me since I was a babe -- stayed with me that night, dabbing my forehead with cool water and keeping vigil. I thrashed, I screamed, I spoke unspeakable things. And it was the tamest of the nights that were to follow. Every evening -- then and since -- my dreams are an unspeakable torment.


	When I tried to return to school, so afflicted, the other students complained about my keeping them awake at night. So I was given my own quarters.


	But I did not remain long.


	The dreams had awoken a restlessness in me. I packed my belongings, and headed far away, where noone would recognize me -- Qi. There, I learned to climb and swim, and to enjoy and study nature. I did not write home. I did not write to the school -- aside from a hastily penned missive to my tutors, to let them know I was hale and healthy.


	After a month or so of living off of the land, a pair of priests came upon me in the wilderness. They had dreamt of a girl with nightmare visions which came true. They dreamt of where to find her -- and these dreams had led them right to me. The priests took me into their collective bossom with a warmth and reverance I was unaccustomed to. They brought me to the local temple, and had me bathed by servants. I was clad in the finest raimants, and brought to dine with them. They insisted, very delicately, that I was marked into the service of Dergati -- that the curse was in fact a blessing. That I was her vessel, through which she may choose to do her great works.


	I did not believe them then, and I do not believe them now. Faith is a bastion of the powerless -- so says mother -- and that, I believe. But in an attempt to placate the goddess and to inspire her mercy, should their ideas be in any way true -- I tattooed her all-seeing eye upon my forehead in homage. The offering did not work. As I grew older, these dreams became waking, finding me even outside of sleep. I have no control over them and little recollection when they are over. Accounts from others claim that my eyes roll back in my head, that I slather and spit, that I flail and flounder and experience magnificently awful seizures. They say I speak with a voice, a knowledge, an authority that is not my own.


	But aside from that, my life is relatively normal. My relationship with my parents is slightly better, now that I've matured. And I've seen Keresyk a few times since that first dance -- when last I saw him we were both covered head-to-toe in mud, with frogs in our pockets. Random Priests of Dergati still seek me out from time to time -- their bright eyes and faithful ways make me feel an unworthy charlatan. I tell them as much, but they do not listen.


	Social situations are awkward because of the dreams, but I do my best to control them with a daily application of oshu'mary tea. My only solace is in the company of my half-brother Luc, whose parentage makes him as much a pariah as I.


	By my hand,

	Morsithia Ilistaire


	OOCLY:

	Morsithia is a split-personalitied seeress whose unique visions tend to be legit.

	She's the daughter of Lord Magmus Bloodston and Anissa Ilistaire (Meanne).

	And half-Sister to Luc, born of Enef the Heir-Slayer.

Maintenance script at 23:03, 14 January 2010

2010-01-14T23:03:20Z

Maintenance script: Created page with 'Dear Diary, In light of a recent dream, I am given to recall that the victors write history. So, just in case, I have decided to pen a bit of my own. When I was younger and ver...'

2010-01-14T23:01:31Z

Created page with 'Dear Diary, In light of a recent dream, I am given to recall that the victors write history. So, just in case, I have decided to pen a bit of my own. When I was younger and ver...'

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Dear Diary,

In light of a recent dream, I am given to recall that the victors write history. So, just in case, I have decided to pen a bit of my own.

When I was younger and very sickly I would spend my time at the Leth Deriel school studying science and history. I would watch the other children at play outside my window, and long to be with them. They would frolick in the meadow, shove each other in the mud -- they made it look so easy.

On the rare occasions the other children interacted with me in the mess hall, they made fun of me. "Freak!" they called me. They pointed at my cat-slitted eyes, and they laughed. A mostly Elvish bunch -- many of them had no idea what the mark of a savant was. Shamed by my differences, I held my tongue rather than correct them.

Lonely, forsaken -- my only consolation was the dreams I had of the dark-haired lady with three eyes. She was kindly to me, with a soft voice and a gentle way that was alien. The bird on her shoulder always had a new song for me.

Mother had sent me to the school at birth, convinced I would die. I reminded her, she said, of my late brother Deshian. My father, Lord Bloodston, Steward to the exceedingly wealthy Rathan Redthornes, had business at court that dominated his attentions. And of course, there was the matter of Chelia Redthorne -- so beautiful. So pressing. A pale, weakling daughter was a shoddy competitor at best. I was kept out of sight, and out of mind. That's not to say he didn't love me... every month there were new gifts, a tender letter -- but these were no replacement for a father.

The school taught me what I needed to know. In addition to the regular faculty I had personal tutors -- Lanthander and Distress taught me what it meant to be a true Moon Mage, an objective viewer, a historian.

At twelve, I was called to Crossing for a rare occasion. There was to be a ball, and I was to attend. My mother spent very little time with me that day -- in fact, her only attention was for my clothing. Prince Keresyk was to be in attendance, she said, and I was to do my best not to appear a stripling mess. Father, on the other hand, kept me by his side for most of the event. He introduced me to a beautiful Elven woman named Ysselt, and I sensed a chemistry between them. She was very kind and gracious to me -- one of the kindest people I have ever met. I hoped, in my hearts of hearts, that they would marry, and be happy, and I could come away from the school to live with them. I would be their very own child!

That night, the Prince of M'riss and I danced -- he was very handsome and wonderful -- but all the eyes at court were upon us. I forced myself to dance as gracefully as I could, until blushingly I was able to excuse myself.

When I slept, the dark-haired lady did not appear to me. In her stead, a vision of my father and Ysselt -- walking seperate paths forever -- haunted my dreams. My nursemaid -- who had been with me since I was a babe -- stayed with me that night, dabbing my forehead with cool water and keeping vigil. I thrashed, I screamed, I spoke unspeakable things. And it was the tamest of the nights that were to follow. Every evening -- then and since -- my dreams are an unspeakable torment.

When I tried to return to school, so afflicted, the other students complained about my keeping them awake at night. So I was given my own quarters.

But I did not remain long.

The dreams had awoken a restlessness in me. I packed my belongings, and headed far away, where noone would recognize me -- Qi. There, I learned to climb and swim, and to enjoy and study nature. I did not write home. I did not write to the school -- aside from a hastily penned missive to my tutors, to let them know I was hale and healthy.

After a month or so of living off of the land, a pair of priests came upon me in the wilderness. They had dreamt of a girl with nightmare visions which came true. They dreamt of where to find her -- and these dreams had led them right to me. The priests took me into their collective bossom with a warmth and reverance I was unaccustomed to. They brought me to the local temple, and had me bathed by servants. I was clad in the finest raimants, and brought to dine with them. They insisted, very delicately, that I was marked into the service of Dergati -- that the curse was in fact a blessing. That I was her vessel, through which she may choose to do her great works.

I did not believe them then, and I do not believe them now. Faith is a bastion of the powerless -- so says mother -- and that, I believe. But in an attempt to placate the goddess and to inspire her mercy, should their ideas be in any way true -- I tattooed her all-seeing eye upon my forehead in homage. The offering did not work. As I grew older, these dreams became waking, finding me even outside of sleep. I have no control over them and little recollection when they are over. Accounts from others claim that my eyes roll back in my head, that I slather and spit, that I flail and flounder and experience magnificently awful seizures. They say I speak with a voice, a knowledge, an authority that is not my own.

But aside from that, my life is relatively normal. My relationship with my parents is slightly better, now that I've matured. And I've seen Keresyk a few times since that first dance -- when last I saw him we were both covered head-to-toe in mud, with frogs in our pockets. Random Priests of Dergati still seek me out from time to time -- their bright eyes and faithful ways make me feel an unworthy charlatan. I tell them as much, but they do not listen.

Social situations are awkward because of the dreams, but I do my best to control them with a daily application of oshu'mary tea. My only solace is in the company of my half-brother Luc, whose parentage makes him as much a pariah as I.

By my hand,

Morsithia Ilistaire

OOCLY:

Morsithia is a split-personalitied seeress whose unique visions tend to be legit.

She's the daughter of Lord Magmus Bloodston and Anissa Ilistaire (Meanne).

And half-Sister to Luc, born of Enef the Heir-Slayer.

← Older revision		Revision as of 18:03, 14 January 2010
Line 1:		Line 1:
	Dear Diary,		Dear Diary,


	In light of a recent dream, I am given to recall that the victors write history. So, just in case, I have decided to pen a bit of my own.		In light of a recent dream, I am given to recall that the victors write history. So, just in case, I have decided to pen a bit of my own.


	When I was younger and very sickly I would spend my time at the Leth Deriel school studying science and history. I would watch the other children at play outside my window, and long to be with them. They would frolick in the meadow, shove each other in the mud -- they made it look so easy.		When I was younger and very sickly I would spend my time at the Leth Deriel school studying science and history. I would watch the other children at play outside my window, and long to be with them. They would frolick in the meadow, shove each other in the mud -- they made it look so easy.


	On the rare occasions the other children interacted with me in the mess hall, they made fun of me. "Freak!" they called me. They pointed at my cat-slitted eyes, and they laughed. A mostly Elvish bunch -- many of them had no idea what the mark of a savant was. Shamed by my differences, I held my tongue rather than correct them.		On the rare occasions the other children interacted with me in the mess hall, they made fun of me. "Freak!" they called me. They pointed at my cat-slitted eyes, and they laughed. A mostly Elvish bunch -- many of them had no idea what the mark of a savant was. Shamed by my differences, I held my tongue rather than correct them.


	Lonely, forsaken -- my only consolation was the dreams I had of the dark-haired lady with three eyes. She was kindly to me, with a soft voice and a gentle way that was alien. The bird on her shoulder always had a new song for me.		Lonely, forsaken -- my only consolation was the dreams I had of the dark-haired lady with three eyes. She was kindly to me, with a soft voice and a gentle way that was alien. The bird on her shoulder always had a new song for me.


	Mother had sent me to the school at birth, convinced I would die. I reminded her, she said, of my late brother Deshian. My father, Lord Bloodston, Steward to the exceedingly wealthy Rathan Redthornes, had business at court that dominated his attentions. And of course, there was the matter of Chelia Redthorne -- so beautiful. So pressing. A pale, weakling daughter was a shoddy competitor at best. I was kept out of sight, and out of mind. That's not to say he didn't love me... every month there were new gifts, a tender letter -- but these were no replacement for a father.		Mother had sent me to the school at birth, convinced I would die. I reminded her, she said, of my late brother Deshian. My father, Lord Bloodston, Steward to the exceedingly wealthy Rathan Redthornes, had business at court that dominated his attentions. And of course, there was the matter of Chelia Redthorne -- so beautiful. So pressing. A pale, weakling daughter was a shoddy competitor at best. I was kept out of sight, and out of mind. That's not to say he didn't love me... every month there were new gifts, a tender letter -- but these were no replacement for a father.


	The school taught me what I needed to know. In addition to the regular faculty I had personal tutors -- Lanthander and Distress taught me what it meant to be a true Moon Mage, an objective viewer, a historian.		The school taught me what I needed to know. In addition to the regular faculty I had personal tutors -- Lanthander and Distress taught me what it meant to be a true Moon Mage, an objective viewer, a historian.


	At twelve, I was called to Crossing for a rare occasion. There was to be a ball, and I was to attend. My mother spent very little time with me that day -- in fact, her only attention was for my clothing. Prince Keresyk was to be in attendance, she said, and I was to do my best not to appear a stripling mess. Father, on the other hand, kept me by his side for most of the event. He introduced me to a beautiful Elven woman named Ysselt, and I sensed a chemistry between them. She was very kind and gracious to me -- one of the kindest people I have ever met. I hoped, in my hearts of hearts, that they would marry, and be happy, and I could come away from the school to live with them. I would be their very own child!		At twelve, I was called to Crossing for a rare occasion. There was to be a ball, and I was to attend. My mother spent very little time with me that day -- in fact, her only attention was for my clothing. Prince Keresyk was to be in attendance, she said, and I was to do my best not to appear a stripling mess. Father, on the other hand, kept me by his side for most of the event. He introduced me to a beautiful Elven woman named Ysselt, and I sensed a chemistry between them. She was very kind and gracious to me -- one of the kindest people I have ever met. I hoped, in my hearts of hearts, that they would marry, and be happy, and I could come away from the school to live with them. I would be their very own child!


	That night, the Prince of M'riss and I danced -- he was very handsome and wonderful -- but all the eyes at court were upon us. I forced myself to dance as gracefully as I could, until blushingly I was able to excuse myself.		That night, the Prince of M'riss and I danced -- he was very handsome and wonderful -- but all the eyes at court were upon us. I forced myself to dance as gracefully as I could, until blushingly I was able to excuse myself.


	When I slept, the dark-haired lady did not appear to me. In her stead, a vision of my father and Ysselt -- walking seperate paths forever -- haunted my dreams. My nursemaid -- who had been with me since I was a babe -- stayed with me that night, dabbing my forehead with cool water and keeping vigil. I thrashed, I screamed, I spoke unspeakable things. And it was the tamest of the nights that were to follow. Every evening -- then and since -- my dreams are an unspeakable torment.		When I slept, the dark-haired lady did not appear to me. In her stead, a vision of my father and Ysselt -- walking seperate paths forever -- haunted my dreams. My nursemaid -- who had been with me since I was a babe -- stayed with me that night, dabbing my forehead with cool water and keeping vigil. I thrashed, I screamed, I spoke unspeakable things. And it was the tamest of the nights that were to follow. Every evening -- then and since -- my dreams are an unspeakable torment.


	When I tried to return to school, so afflicted, the other students complained about my keeping them awake at night. So I was given my own quarters.		When I tried to return to school, so afflicted, the other students complained about my keeping them awake at night. So I was given my own quarters.


	But I did not remain long.		But I did not remain long.


	The dreams had awoken a restlessness in me. I packed my belongings, and headed far away, where noone would recognize me -- Qi. There, I learned to climb and swim, and to enjoy and study nature. I did not write home. I did not write to the school -- aside from a hastily penned missive to my tutors, to let them know I was hale and healthy.		The dreams had awoken a restlessness in me. I packed my belongings, and headed far away, where noone would recognize me -- Qi. There, I learned to climb and swim, and to enjoy and study nature. I did not write home. I did not write to the school -- aside from a hastily penned missive to my tutors, to let them know I was hale and healthy.


	After a month or so of living off of the land, a pair of priests came upon me in the wilderness. They had dreamt of a girl with nightmare visions which came true. They dreamt of where to find her -- and these dreams had led them right to me. The priests took me into their collective bossom with a warmth and reverance I was unaccustomed to. They brought me to the local temple, and had me bathed by servants. I was clad in the finest raimants, and brought to dine with them. They insisted, very delicately, that I was marked into the service of Dergati -- that the curse was in fact a blessing. That I was her vessel, through which she may choose to do her great works.		After a month or so of living off of the land, a pair of priests came upon me in the wilderness. They had dreamt of a girl with nightmare visions which came true. They dreamt of where to find her -- and these dreams had led them right to me. The priests took me into their collective bossom with a warmth and reverance I was unaccustomed to. They brought me to the local temple, and had me bathed by servants. I was clad in the finest raimants, and brought to dine with them. They insisted, very delicately, that I was marked into the service of Dergati -- that the curse was in fact a blessing. That I was her vessel, through which she may choose to do her great works.


	I did not believe them then, and I do not believe them now. Faith is a bastion of the powerless -- so says mother -- and that, I believe. But in an attempt to placate the goddess and to inspire her mercy, should their ideas be in any way true -- I tattooed her all-seeing eye upon my forehead in homage. The offering did not work. As I grew older, these dreams became waking, finding me even outside of sleep. I have no control over them and little recollection when they are over. Accounts from others claim that my eyes roll back in my head, that I slather and spit, that I flail and flounder and experience magnificently awful seizures. They say I speak with a voice, a knowledge, an authority that is not my own.		I did not believe them then, and I do not believe them now. Faith is a bastion of the powerless -- so says mother -- and that, I believe. But in an attempt to placate the goddess and to inspire her mercy, should their ideas be in any way true -- I tattooed her all-seeing eye upon my forehead in homage. The offering did not work. As I grew older, these dreams became waking, finding me even outside of sleep. I have no control over them and little recollection when they are over. Accounts from others claim that my eyes roll back in my head, that I slather and spit, that I flail and flounder and experience magnificently awful seizures. They say I speak with a voice, a knowledge, an authority that is not my own.


	But aside from that, my life is relatively normal. My relationship with my parents is slightly better, now that I've matured. And I've seen Keresyk a few times since that first dance -- when last I saw him we were both covered head-to-toe in mud, with frogs in our pockets. Random Priests of Dergati still seek me out from time to time -- their bright eyes and faithful ways make me feel an unworthy charlatan. I tell them as much, but they do not listen.		But aside from that, my life is relatively normal. My relationship with my parents is slightly better, now that I've matured. And I've seen Keresyk a few times since that first dance -- when last I saw him we were both covered head-to-toe in mud, with frogs in our pockets. Random Priests of Dergati still seek me out from time to time -- their bright eyes and faithful ways make me feel an unworthy charlatan. I tell them as much, but they do not listen.


	Social situations are awkward because of the dreams, but I do my best to control them with a daily application of oshu'mary tea. My only solace is in the company of my half-brother Luc, whose parentage makes him as much a pariah as I.		Social situations are awkward because of the dreams, but I do my best to control them with a daily application of oshu'mary tea. My only solace is in the company of my half-brother Luc, whose parentage makes him as much a pariah as I.


	By my hand,		By my hand,

	Morsithia Ilistaire		Morsithia Ilistaire


	OOCLY:		OOCLY: