[Essek knew what an empty shared space was like - it wasn't entirely uncommon for an elf to have a soulmate who was yet to be born, to live decades with that hollow ache. As a new soul he was not gifted the comfort of knowing and waiting for the other half of his soul. No, it was just.. empty. A void that pressed against him until he learned to shut it away, leave it in an unused corner of his mind. He let the cold seep into him, for ambition to push him, for his goals to outweigh any morals-
And then a few years short of his ninth decade, he felt it - the first spark of distress, unbridled and confused.
Like a flame, it flared to brilliant life and left him breathless. It was unpleasant - he's long since convinced himself he didn't ever want to feel another's distress pushed upon him, to have such a connection - yet, he feels unimaginable relief. As if the world was cold and he's feeling warmth for the first time.
So he opens the door he's long barred shut and brings life to their shared space. It's small things: making it more welcoming, lived in, bringing the warmth of a comfort he never had. To not leave his soulmate as cold and devastatingly alone as he was. The compassion surprised him -- he was far from moral or ethical, his ambitions driving him forward relentlessly -- but there was some soft, neglected part of him that he pushed down, hid, that came to life when his soulmate did. Like a fragile moth coaxed out by a flame.
An apt description for the burnt orange shadow that flickered in their shared space. Getting to listen to that accented voice become deeper with age, how his flame's distress became more frequent along with it. Essek would not hesitate to stop his research when he felt his flame's distress, to be there to give comfort.
And then there was distress so intense it took him to his knees, his vision whited out, ears buzzing. It overwhelmed him to the point that Essek could not slip into the their space - could only clutch his chest as the air was stolen from his lungs. It felt like hours, days, before it just--
Stopped.
And it was over. His flame was snuffed out, gone. It took two years for him to realize his soulmate wasn't coming back, the space empty and cold -- colder than it had been before. At times, he would feel a short flare of panic that wasn't his, but the room was still vacant - phantom distress the clerics called it. It took another five for him to finally bar shut that part of his mind and focus instead on his goals -- there was nothing to lose, whatever his soulmate had nurtured in him was a only a hinderance in his absence.
Every flare of distress went ignored, even as they became more frequent -- he would not give into a ghost. Essek pushed and pushed, until he was lofty in his ambition. Until.. it was threatened.
So used to ignoring the phantom distress, he wasn't nearly used enough to his own. It took effort to school his expression in the face of a beacon held aloft by some unknown man - it almost became overwhelming when he felt a flare of that phantom distress alongside his own. Why did it almost feel as if someone was banging on the door of a place he rather not remember--
The polite smile is difficult when he's tasked to see this group to the Dungeon of Penance, but he will not let himself slip. Essek only has his ambitions now, he cannot lose them too.]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2023-03-05 06:50 am (UTC)And then a few years short of his ninth decade, he felt it - the first spark of distress, unbridled and confused.
Like a flame, it flared to brilliant life and left him breathless. It was unpleasant - he's long since convinced himself he didn't ever want to feel another's distress pushed upon him, to have such a connection - yet, he feels unimaginable relief. As if the world was cold and he's feeling warmth for the first time.
So he opens the door he's long barred shut and brings life to their shared space. It's small things: making it more welcoming, lived in, bringing the warmth of a comfort he never had. To not leave his soulmate as cold and devastatingly alone as he was. The compassion surprised him -- he was far from moral or ethical, his ambitions driving him forward relentlessly -- but there was some soft, neglected part of him that he pushed down, hid, that came to life when his soulmate did. Like a fragile moth coaxed out by a flame.
An apt description for the burnt orange shadow that flickered in their shared space. Getting to listen to that accented voice become deeper with age, how his flame's distress became more frequent along with it. Essek would not hesitate to stop his research when he felt his flame's distress, to be there to give comfort.
And then there was distress so intense it took him to his knees, his vision whited out, ears buzzing. It overwhelmed him to the point that Essek could not slip into the their space - could only clutch his chest as the air was stolen from his lungs. It felt like hours, days, before it just--
Stopped.
And it was over. His flame was snuffed out, gone. It took two years for him to realize his soulmate wasn't coming back, the space empty and cold -- colder than it had been before. At times, he would feel a short flare of panic that wasn't his, but the room was still vacant - phantom distress the clerics called it. It took another five for him to finally bar shut that part of his mind and focus instead on his goals -- there was nothing to lose, whatever his soulmate had nurtured in him was a only a hinderance in his absence.
Every flare of distress went ignored, even as they became more frequent -- he would not give into a ghost. Essek pushed and pushed, until he was lofty in his ambition. Until.. it was threatened.
So used to ignoring the phantom distress, he wasn't nearly used enough to his own. It took effort to school his expression in the face of a beacon held aloft by some unknown man - it almost became overwhelming when he felt a flare of that phantom distress alongside his own. Why did it almost feel as if someone was banging on the door of a place he rather not remember--
The polite smile is difficult when he's tasked to see this group to the Dungeon of Penance, but he will not let himself slip. Essek only has his ambitions now, he cannot lose them too.]
Come, follow me.