Charted Constellations

[ry0un0suke]

Sometimes, I've felt as though I should pen what occurs in more detail. For years have I charted my life and those around them that make me who I am today, portrayed as stars in the constellation that map out who I am. I'm unsure as to how it looks. It couldn't be a lion, I'm too gentle. I feel gentle, at least. Since the destruction of my first home, many paint me as mad and unforgiving. What they think matters little to me. Perhaps they see a lion and others see a flower. But, I do not write for what others may think.
 
I write, partially, for those who do not know.
 
Perhaps one day, something written can be found. I don't think I'll die any time soon. There's so much to work on! I've amassed thirteen-thousand coin for the expansion of Nysea, for a Church. For several years, I've began drafting a new edition of the Cosmos Codex. It's not complete and I'm not sure I ever will. But, I'm nearly there.
 
This has shifted into a diary entry, it seems. Let me put it back on track.
I wasn't always much of a writer.
 
All who have known me knew me as Del. My father named me Dellarossa mer Joyau on the Fourth month of 1716AC. My mother used to say it was too hot that day during tat time of year. Dellarossa is a name only one has come to ever refer to me as when I grew and aged. Of all people, he was someone I loved and cared for. I still am haunted by the sight of his body, by the chill it adapted as I dragged him away, my own body beaten badly.
 
Pericles Vitalis, thank you for being there for me.
 
--There as silly teeanger was kissed for the first time by their first and last love. A mercenary who didn't want to slow down for anyone, even the one who became to be his universe in the end. He's sleeping right now, with the boys as I write. How peaceful, how quiet. I hope he enjoys it. The slowness of it, marriage and parenthood. It's a slow burn, like crackles of embers spreading.
 
Owyn, I love you more than anything.
 
I was once told a few years ago that I could possibly had claim to a Warlord position. Decades prior, before my father, my grandparent held a seat- Warlord Lukas mer Joyau. It's buried in history, buried with the might and rise of dragonkind in Theria. I'm saddened, however. I didn't get to speak more to Dun Task. I know little of my heritage in Theria-- Would anyone believe that? That the Stellus had Therian roots? I was told it explained how angry I can get. Are Therians always so angry?
 
My mind feels all over the place. I am unsure what to write. Is this a diary entry? I never felt like the type to pen my thoughts in such a manner.
 
Compelled, to write of those I care for. People think poorly of me. Let them, I do not care for the thoughts of those who never walked an inch in my shoes. True to who I am, guided by Leonaus, noticed by Maltziel...
 
Am I a bad person?
 
Such is questioned as I stare at shaking hands. Hands that want to heal so badly yet the black in my heart pushes me sometimes. I don't mean it. Justice is to be served. I've given my body up long ago to the cosmos. I am a speck of Star on Eternia who works what they will. The miracles that people raise their hands towards I want to achieve. Like the Saint Florentina, I've tried to heal. I want to heal.
 
Elis, I'm sorry... Healing hands drained the life from you. I'm haunted by it to this day. He's the second of those I've sent to the Stars. The first, a witch when I was just fifteen. I shook, perhaps I cried... But I never hurt others. I tried my best. Often did I shackle myself from it. It was hard, I will admit. I'm not a bad person, I think. My faith brought an abandoned ten year old salvation. My faith told that child they were not alone. My faith led me to where I am.
 
Sethon, Filia.
 
Do they know how much I love and cherish them? I saw them grow, much like my own children, into beautiful people. Sethon, you work too hard, take a break, lower your bow for just a moment. Drink the tea I told you about- Better yet, after I write, I will seek you. Filia, how quiet you were yet dutiful. You've fallen into a state I understand in portions. I've lost, too. Yet not the one I married, not the one I had children with. You, of all people, deserve a break and time to rest. Your titles, my ivory paired High Keepers, are just titles. Ranks earned tooth and nail... But rest. Forward is the goal but you can pause.
 
Thoughts wander to Alexander when I think of the High Keepers. He is not only my King but my friend. I've seen him in his absolute worst and his best- Or, nearing his best. He rose from the ashes of what Nebula made of him and grow into a man and King I would die for, even if he was a bland as a wall when it came to hobbies. Baking, Alexander. You cannot run from me forever. We will bake, perhaps cookies?
 
There's more, so much more.
 
Lloyd, I miss you. Not a day goes by where you aren't thought about. You were my closest friend, a Knight I could trust my life to. You've seen so much before... your passing. So much horrors. I'm glad Filia could be a light for you. She's a wonderful woman and she misses you dearly. I miss you dearly. You weren't.. awake, or alive. But, the High Angel Maltziel said we were on the path to Avalon. I'm not sure when it will be, but I'll see you later. Much later, I hope. But regardless, we will reunite in Paradise.
 
I'll see you in Avalon, Lloyd.
 
I never hated dragons but one has proven himself a monster. Before Starfall, there was hope. A kindle, Sythaeryn. But you took it away when you took Pericles from me. I hated you, I said I didn't, then I said it again. The discomfort as I struggled and struggled. You took so much after Pericles. It's like it wasn't enough and it seemed like it wasn't because I could still smile at you. I could forgive you, I couldn't wish for you dead because it would simply hurt me.
 
Sythaeryn, don't hurt anyone else.
 
. . . .
 
It's late, or early. The sun cracks above the horizon and I've stayed up too late again. A lot keeps me up. The screams of Osrona, Pericles' body, the witch as she strangled me, another one who choked me so hard I couldn't speak, the one I strangled, the dark I was forced to fear, the Wraith, Asta's piercing shriek as she refused to die, the battlefields I stood in-
 
My hands are shaking. Goodnight, journal. I hope to see you again soon.
I think my birthday is next month.
 
Dellarossa mer Joyau
The Third Month, 1745AC, Winter