How do you explain what it is like to live a life that is not your own? The 'imposter syndrome' was a sensation that never went away. The good moments as they celebrate a birthday that was not my own, the bad moments when my 'foster' father and elder brother died. It tarnished the good and enhanced my misery in the darkest of times. Because of me those two would never know I was not their Kin. They would never be afforded the right to grieve, not in this life anyway. I suppose part of me thought I would always have the chance to reveal it, yet I always put it off for fear of the consequences. Losing that opportunity with the 124 incident was a sobering moment. Our lives had changed irreversibly.
The old home was destroyed. Our family torn apart by a tragedy.
My foster mother took ill, leaving all of this weight on Mephisto's shoulders, the poor woman. Mephisto had been my crutch growing up. It would be a lie to say I did not feel protective towards her. She almost lacked the emotional depth needed to navigate the complexities of life. I felt I had more than enough internal turmoil for the both of us, so I was something of her keeper growing up. Of course, looking back on those events, I was just imagining my own importance in her life. She never truly needed me, least of all now. In recent years I have began to question my presence in their lives. Do I want to continue this charade? Have I not staved off the inevitable for long enough?
I had dreams of adventuring to far off lands, riding the waves in a sturdy ship as the sun bathed the blue horizon. It was such an alluring dream to me, the promise of true freedom. My refusal to pursue it was one of numerous self-punishments.
For years I have tried to make up for what I did to Valette. Living a good life in her name by helping others, by doing it pleasantly with a neutral position on political matters to never cause harm towards House Montelione. Although recent years have proven my resolve waned, in that regard. I have however tried to fight my violent impulses with everything I had. I simply do not want to hurt anyone, even if it is part of my nature to. I understand that some people deserve to die, it is simply too costly to risk redemption. But I have never stolen another face. I refuse to use a weapon to take a life, by my own hands at least. The walls I have placed around my core prevent it. All of my desperate actions towards redemption, towards self punishment, resulted in people starting to see me only for my bedside manner, my stolen title and Valette's body.
How I felt was less important than how my false presentation made them feel.
The unending propositions from people that could not know and would not accept me, should they learn the truth.
The false friendships built on lies and deceptions.
Even those I had dared to let closer to the true me would invariably betray that trust. Whether through intent or circumstances. Aphros is a cynical place that perhaps enjoyed proving my insecurities to be true.
As I write this journal I muse over the man who had been the only one to prove my presumptions wrong.
Vaelrun Emris, the former Oracle of Aphros, was a warrior who viewed himself as a blade, more than a man. How strange it was that only after his fall from grace did we begin to grow closer. It was through him that I learned much of my nature. I opened myself up to him and defied his every presumption of me. He did not reject me, despite learning I was no noble being. I feel he made me a better person in a genuine sense. I would like to believe I did the same for him. I was so close to convincing Vaelrun to live a quiet and earnest life with me, away from all of the pain we had both endured. No more oaths towards violence, no more living a false life. I still remember the day he had left for the Shadowlands, following a lead that might enable Aphros to fight her many enemies. He promised me in a moment of affection that he would be careful.
I want to believe he kept that promise, all the way to the bitter end.
As I hold the only object of his to return, I consider the reality that once more I am truly alone.
The old home was destroyed. Our family torn apart by a tragedy.
My foster mother took ill, leaving all of this weight on Mephisto's shoulders, the poor woman. Mephisto had been my crutch growing up. It would be a lie to say I did not feel protective towards her. She almost lacked the emotional depth needed to navigate the complexities of life. I felt I had more than enough internal turmoil for the both of us, so I was something of her keeper growing up. Of course, looking back on those events, I was just imagining my own importance in her life. She never truly needed me, least of all now. In recent years I have began to question my presence in their lives. Do I want to continue this charade? Have I not staved off the inevitable for long enough?
I had dreams of adventuring to far off lands, riding the waves in a sturdy ship as the sun bathed the blue horizon. It was such an alluring dream to me, the promise of true freedom. My refusal to pursue it was one of numerous self-punishments.
For years I have tried to make up for what I did to Valette. Living a good life in her name by helping others, by doing it pleasantly with a neutral position on political matters to never cause harm towards House Montelione. Although recent years have proven my resolve waned, in that regard. I have however tried to fight my violent impulses with everything I had. I simply do not want to hurt anyone, even if it is part of my nature to. I understand that some people deserve to die, it is simply too costly to risk redemption. But I have never stolen another face. I refuse to use a weapon to take a life, by my own hands at least. The walls I have placed around my core prevent it. All of my desperate actions towards redemption, towards self punishment, resulted in people starting to see me only for my bedside manner, my stolen title and Valette's body.
How I felt was less important than how my false presentation made them feel.
The unending propositions from people that could not know and would not accept me, should they learn the truth.
The false friendships built on lies and deceptions.
Even those I had dared to let closer to the true me would invariably betray that trust. Whether through intent or circumstances. Aphros is a cynical place that perhaps enjoyed proving my insecurities to be true.
As I write this journal I muse over the man who had been the only one to prove my presumptions wrong.
Vaelrun Emris, the former Oracle of Aphros, was a warrior who viewed himself as a blade, more than a man. How strange it was that only after his fall from grace did we begin to grow closer. It was through him that I learned much of my nature. I opened myself up to him and defied his every presumption of me. He did not reject me, despite learning I was no noble being. I feel he made me a better person in a genuine sense. I would like to believe I did the same for him. I was so close to convincing Vaelrun to live a quiet and earnest life with me, away from all of the pain we had both endured. No more oaths towards violence, no more living a false life. I still remember the day he had left for the Shadowlands, following a lead that might enable Aphros to fight her many enemies. He promised me in a moment of affection that he would be careful.
I want to believe he kept that promise, all the way to the bitter end.
As I hold the only object of his to return, I consider the reality that once more I am truly alone.
![[Image: dOmPfIR.png]](https://i.imgur.com/dOmPfIR.png)