Grey Nights in Greycloaks

[Tattles]

"I've seen your kind, time and time again.

Every fleeing man must be caught. Every secret must be unearthed.
Such is the conceit of the self-proclaimed seeker of truth.
But in the end, you lack the stomach,
For the agony you'll bring upon yourself."

Summer, 1758

It's warm outside.
The leaves have turned green once more.
There is no snow on the ground.
I recall much of the past, the bits sewn in the stream of my life's passage. I imagine friends who have long since vanished, laughing amidst games that only children could ever truly enjoy.
In these bittersweet reminiscent moments, I am only interrupted by a similar and cheerful raucous cackle of my children as they make their way out into the city proper from the doorstep of our home.
I had expected a soldier's life. I had expected a soldier's death.
But I found responsibility and authority placed upon my shoulders.
From there I expected to find my end as Asta did, some strange sacrifice for my kin that might inspire them to lose themselves in a fervor of my design. I expected such an end for myself would not have brought about some great sins to be regretted, but a brighter moment of valiance, of honest devotion.
I expected a hero's end knowing full well that I was not a hero.
Perhaps then it is for the best that I lived out those years mending what I could. A path to redemption and forgiveness is not one easily tread, and yet, I made my attempt. Many will never forget, and many still likely call me monster, murderer, villain. They will see it in black and white, but those who knew me best know it was not so easily cut in such shades.
I find some distinct and exquisite peace in knowing that my resignation gave them a refuge to wait out this storm, that they are in proper and guiding hands that are far gentler than mine, that lack the blood still staining my palms.
I've loved my people as much as any could. I've hoped for humans more than most of my kind might find capable. I have seen the lowest of their treacheries and the height of their courageousness.
The hills in the Vale keep me company when my Amy cannot.
These misty and winding paths have become my refuge.
And on some night as the years continue to roll by, my bond and I might pass through some unseen barrier to find ourselves in the next world. I see such visions when the moon shines bright upon my skin, when my pale fingers become translucent in that blessed and reverent beam.
Such is the end I expect now,
an end befitting a person, a human,
or a Teraphim.

On an OOC note, I'd normally not break my biography's fourth wall like this, but throughout the last month or so I've had a lot to think about regarding the game and everything this timeskip offered me. I didn't really want to put this on another thread, and instead wished to simply place it here at what I feel will be the final addition to Finley's bio, and that was a simple thank you to everyone who helped offer the environment that I was able to play him in early on. Whether it was a bitter friendship turned rivalry or a back and forth in some philosophic gridlock, I really did love the story you all provided for me to write him within.
Thank you.