It’s no small secret that I am deeply inspired by the Keisha’ra by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes. One of the things that I find myself coming back to again and again is the style of opening with a journal entry. I almost never keep them, but I enjoy writing them, and they help me find my character and my tone. I sat down tonight to work on some death lore, to put to words some ideas Cait and I talked out on the way into work. I found this instead. 😛
It is said that the first fires came from Li’Daea’s hair, and that all fire returns us to her embrace.
So it is said.
I have seen plenty of fires, on the hearth, in the fields, in the hearts of bitter men. On the bodies of the fallen.
I have never seen any signs of any Goddess.
But it warms our bones as we huddle in the dark, a circle of light and warm to chase away the night. We do not fear its betrayal tonight. If there anyone left to see our fire, they are surely as cold and desperate as we. As defeated.
No one actually wins any battles. Sides may fare better or worse than other sides–but so long as there are “other sides”, no one will ever win. Our only hope is to become to beaten and downtrodden by mutual destruction that we come together out of desperation. Cooperation our only hope of survival.
Even then, I don’t hold out much hope for our chances.
Scaled devils. Heartless bastards. The thing that killed my father, brother, mother. They don’t look out and see people. They see targets.
But sometimes, sometimes I wonder. Do they really so those things, in the fallen bodies lying right next to our own? Or do they tell themselves those things so they can bear to raise their bows one more time, gut one more thing they know to be a person?
I don’t tell myself anything.
I simply do as I’m told.
Adrielle Shevell, First Captain
Second Division of Pikemen