Laisren
Pet Name: Laisren
Owner: Apache
Theme / Type: Overgrowth Mericai
Born: March 25, 2009
Gender: Male
MisticPal Name: Forgiveness
MisticPal Age: 5008 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 3 / 3
Strength: 2
Defense: 2
Speed: 4
Intellect: 5
Misticpower: 2
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: None
1. - Scarab Soup
And we, like great sentinels condemned to united fates of isolation, old and frail and rusted, fell.
We, who thought only of ourselves as great, permanent, and holy -- learned a thing of all things to be learned.
We saw ourselves as we never could have comprehended, and we were both humbled and ashamed.
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"If there was ever a thing I would regret, it would be the wasted time I spent regretting."
ID No. 5M
Laisren; "flame"
courageous || resilient || wise || whimsical
"The Sage"
Laisren was a valiant warrior for the majority of his youth. He has fought in various battles, both small and large. He performed in the name of duty and honor, and stuck to the rules. He obeyed his orders without question, never worrying even if they were particularly unsavory.
One day, he just... woke up. He could no longer face within himself the things he had done in the name of duty. He realized that the ones he followed were corrupt, and that he had bought into their propaganda. When he was able, he left and never looked back.
Laisren is much older now. His leaves have a withered look and he is slower than he used to be. Now he prefers to approach things in a peaceful manner. Yet, when he is pushed he will defend himself as best as he is able. Usually this refers to avoiding harm and causing no harm in the process. He has not killed for many a year.
Laisren is a rather impartial fellow. He has, in his life, learned the value of patience and likes to take his time (sometimes too much of it!) The only things he really hates are to be rushed, misinterpreted, or talked over. When given the chance he loves to recall his stories and adventures.
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Raindrops cascading,
stolen into eternity by gnarled fingers
greedy for the company.
Faded tower,
lone in the midst of chattering white flecks,
rising boldly against the jealous breath of sky
that threatens to catch its arms
and bring it down to slumber.
Glistening skin,
bathed in golden light
spilled by the yawning sun.
In dawn they mingle,
the tree and the frost and the sky,
'till night descends,
and brings with in the gentle murmur
of a contented silence.
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Here I am again, beholding the fallen. I am coated with the life-blood of my enemy.
I am stone, unwavering and steady, unmoved neither by mercy nor by vengeance.
But still I feel a deep sadness color my thoughts. I am no worse than he. I wonder who will fret and worry and miss him when he does not return.
A mountain, unyielding, powerful, unmoved.
I move on, but do not forget his face. That night I even dream of him.
He is there, above me, immense and strong and I, the coward, fallen. There is darkness around me. My killer stands as a beacon, emanating light. He is serene and dutiful. He smiles, relief is a drug, he is happy and secure in his safety.
He is a knight who has served and done good and honest things. I am the devil who rots on the ground. I am known by all as evil.
He is there again, embraced by comrades and family. They exude warmth. I feel it at the edges of my feet, playing coyly with me. I am cold, and wish it nearer, but it will not come. I could yell, but I cannot speak. I am alone and forgotten as much as I am hated.
I think all of that, but there, someone steps near. They bring with them light and heat. I cannot move but I will myself to absorb its wonder nonetheless.
She there, adorned in white and more brilliant than any other I have seen, sits and weeps for me.
How could she weep for one so evil? I lay and ponder, finding myself slipping away, back to darker, colder places.
Before I am wholly gone, she places a single flower there, a small one, just a wildflower, not altogether rare but still a beautiful shade of violet. It rests near my chest.
And she speaks, with melody and grace, a single thing, "Fate is never binding, you are always free."
It is clear and loud in my head. I am startled suddenly awake. I rise slowly and with care, shaking off the night. The sun rises slowly, bathing us all in a beautiful orange gold.
My fellow soldiers are barely risen, most still sleep. I cast my gaze slowly over them all, breathing in sweet dawn air, before my eyes settle on a single thing before me: a wildflower, its bright violet petals in contrast to the sun's rays, nestled in the grass.
I do not hesitate. I gather my things and swiftly depart.
The wildflower sits, undisturbed in the forest, a sentinel. Unmoved and steady.
~
Laisren belongs to Apache.
Boxed Overgrowth on 3/6/11!
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