Post by Mehtomiel on Feb 20, 2012 20:07:36 GMT 1
She stands at the yard of the Warrior's Terrace, bow in hand and a full quiver at her back. Balance, wait - slowly raise and draw the bow. Stop. Relax the bowstring. Concentrate, repeat, until the movement is perfect. The arrows still in the quiver, unused.
I am Mehtomiel, once a Sentinel of the Kaldorei, now ready to take my place as the High Guardian.
The Sentinels standing guard at the Terrace watch her, the only one moving in the silence of the training yard. If they're curious to know what would cause her to return to such a basic lesson, they hide it well. The cut on her palm stings and the bandage makes the glove tighter than it should be. The druids would have healed it, but she refused.
I renounce all old oaths and ties: I give my oath to serve Nature and Balance, to give my life in defense of it if needed.
Bird's sharp cry breaks her concentration and she pauses for a moment, following the distant shape as it dives behind the trees of the Cenarion Enclave. It's angry and confused, seeking fights with anything that has wings. If she finds calm, maybe Bird will, too.
This is my oath, freely given, witnessed in blood.
A Guardian will not avoid responsibility. Anger would be childish and accomplish nothing. If there is anyone to blame, it's herself for not not doing what was necessary, months ago. Find the inner calm, raise the bow with slow, precise movement. Accept the duty and all that comes with it. Repeat the lesson, over and over again.
May Elune accept it and light my path.
The silent training yard, the watchful Sentinels, the words of the blood-oath and the weight of responsibility - all fade from her mind. There is nothing but the perfect, careful movement of the archery lesson. Concentrate on what is now, on the meditation, on the drawing of the bow.
The arrows stay untouched. Lift the bow, draw the string, wait. A hundred times, a thousand, as many as it'll take to clear her mind and focus on the only things that matter.
Oaths. Duty. Balance.
I am Mehtomiel, once a Sentinel of the Kaldorei, now ready to take my place as the High Guardian.
The Sentinels standing guard at the Terrace watch her, the only one moving in the silence of the training yard. If they're curious to know what would cause her to return to such a basic lesson, they hide it well. The cut on her palm stings and the bandage makes the glove tighter than it should be. The druids would have healed it, but she refused.
I renounce all old oaths and ties: I give my oath to serve Nature and Balance, to give my life in defense of it if needed.
Bird's sharp cry breaks her concentration and she pauses for a moment, following the distant shape as it dives behind the trees of the Cenarion Enclave. It's angry and confused, seeking fights with anything that has wings. If she finds calm, maybe Bird will, too.
This is my oath, freely given, witnessed in blood.
A Guardian will not avoid responsibility. Anger would be childish and accomplish nothing. If there is anyone to blame, it's herself for not not doing what was necessary, months ago. Find the inner calm, raise the bow with slow, precise movement. Accept the duty and all that comes with it. Repeat the lesson, over and over again.
May Elune accept it and light my path.
The silent training yard, the watchful Sentinels, the words of the blood-oath and the weight of responsibility - all fade from her mind. There is nothing but the perfect, careful movement of the archery lesson. Concentrate on what is now, on the meditation, on the drawing of the bow.
The arrows stay untouched. Lift the bow, draw the string, wait. A hundred times, a thousand, as many as it'll take to clear her mind and focus on the only things that matter.
Oaths. Duty. Balance.