i'm with you all the way


Aufsteigende Flügel is German for "Soaring Wings", a beautiful piano piece composed by Masashi Hamauzu. It is a retreat, a place for me to speak my mind, my thoughts, and my ideas. I bid you all welcome and please, enjoy your stay while you can.

In case you're wondering, the song you hear playing in the background is called Memories, composed and performed by Kow Otani for the best PS2 game of all time, Shadow of the Colossus. This was one of the many unused tracks from the game, so I thought I might do it justice playing this lovely track here. It may take a while to load, but please pause it and give it a good listen. Otani makes good music (unfortunately, this is the only one I know of), and this is one of them. Enjoy!


a l l i e

"Who I am and what I want are a secret."



Looking Back

December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010
April 2010
May 2010
August 2010
October 2010
December 2010

Vielen Dank

Layout: vehemency
Icon: TCS, Sunlitdays, Bella.Sol

Wednesday, December 22, 2010, 21:23
i will twist the knife and bleed my aching heart, and tear it apart

Another adventure gone, another one begins.

Such is life, no? It never fails to give you something to do. I guess that's why such things happen; they want to make your life more beneficial...give you something to remember, telling you that, "Hey, at least you did this, right?"

I suppose I could subscribe to that.

In any case, that is now what I am here to talk about, neither am I going to talk about half the things that are going on in my life right now. That's not the reason why I made this blog. But...if anything, I can say one thing though; I'm more determined this time. And I will make things right. I have to.

That story I will save for another day, today, I will tell you a different one...

- - - - -

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there was a kingdom ruled by a king whose rule was fair and just. Since his ascend to the throne at the age of eighteen, the kingdom bloomed and prospered under his rule. The people of his kingdom loved their king and the soldiers and knights were loyal enough to die in his service.

But for a kingdom that prospered and a king that ruled justly, war was a rare occasion. The king was tactful enough to maintain good relationships with other kingdoms.

For thirty years, he was a happy king for as he ruled the kingdom, he had his loving wife, the queen, to support him every time he falls. He was blessed with two sons and loved them both very much.

The two sons were very close, often helping each other whenever they get into trouble.

On the king's fortieth year of rule, his beloved queen passed away. He grieved for her death and slowly, the kingdom slowly lost its glory.

Not long after that, he fell into a sickness that took away his ability to walk. Knowing that his end was near, he named his eldest son as the heir to the throne.

The eldest son knew that it was his duty to ascend to the throne, and thus, he accepted his duties. However, he was unaware of his youngest brother's flaring jealousy.

On the fiftieth year of the king's rule, the king finally released his final breath and died peacefully. For a long time, the people grieved on the passing of their beloved king.

The eldest brother was named king and soon after that was his coronation.

On the day of the coronation, just as the eldest brother was about to receive the crown that signifies him as the official king, the youngest brother summoned his army and attacked everyone present in the ceremony.

The eldest brother managed to escape the massacre, but left the kingdom with a broken heart. So, he wandered across the continent, trying to just die as he wandered...until he came across a certain something that changed everything.

While the elder brother fled the kingdom, the younger brother took over the throne and became king.

But after ruling for so long, he suddenly thought of his beloved brother and how horrible he was back in the past. He felt the guilt in him and at that moment, the love for his eldest brother returned.

He sent out search parties to look for his brother and after months of searching, he finally found his beloved brother.

The eldest brother returned, carrying a strange sword with him. Many noticed the change within the eldest brother, and most concluded that he was not the same person he was before this. Soothsayers warned of an approaching danger to not only the king, but the entire kingdom itself. Yet the younger brother denied their words and welcomed his brother with open arms.

There was a feast made in honour of his brother's return and for three days and three nights, they dined and celebrated. And for three days and three nights, the eldest brother remained silent.

On the fourth night, when everyone was fast asleep (including the younger brother), the eldest brother began his revenge.

In the dead of the night, he slaughtered every single one of the people who lived in the kingdom. No one was spared, not even children or women.

No one but the current king, the younger brother.

But that was momentarily, of course.

When the younger brother woke up, all that he saw was blood. All that littered around him were corpses. All that he smelled was death. And before him was Death himself, in the form of his eldest brother.

The younger brother begged for him to be spared, reminding him of the brotherly love they had for each other. But the eldest brother stood there, his face revealing nothing but emptiness. There was no love in him for the younger brother, or the kingdom, or anyone else for that matter. There was nothing in him.

And so, the eldest brother raised his sword and smite it down on his defenseless younger brother.

Then there was absolute silence.

The eldest brother took the crown from his younger brother's head with his sword and walked all the way into the throne room.

He sat on the throne and struck his sword to the ground. The crown was then placed on the pommel of his sword and remained there, unmoved.

And there he sat.

And there he closed his eyes.

And there he ruled the land of the dead.

There, he waited.

- - - - -

I think I've posted this before. Somewhere. I don't remember.

Something tells me that I should work on this one too.

But when you have so many other things in your head, it makes you wonder when you'd be able to spare some time for the others. This isn't the only one that is still labeled as WIP; there is plenty.

And I am determined to finish them.

One by one.

P.S. I meet all sorts of interesting people everyday. I hope to keep meeting them. They're my source of inspiration, and my reason to keep doing what I'm doing. =]

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Saturday, October 23, 2010, 10:20
we don't always see eye to eye

It has been a very long while since we last spoke. How have you been?

. . .

Is that so? Well, I'd say things on my end are not looking too well. It feels as though the mess that I've been dragging since day one caught up with me.

. . .

I suppose you are right, we can't do away with it. Some we can only carry with us through the years. But there are those that we can discard, of course. *chuckles* Then again, you know me; I'm a hoarder. Of sorts.

. . .

Of course you would know; you've seen my head, haven't you? It's a clusterfuck of pain; pain for your eyes to see, I meant. But still, I know you can see past all that, right? After all, you're...you're like that, just as how everyone in this world hoped you would be.

. . .

I know, you're meant for everyone. Meant to be shared. But sometimes, I can't help but notice that people seem to just use you for their own means. Not to say that I'm innocent of that; heck, all of us are guilty of that act.

. . .

I guess, in a world of imperfection such as ours, we seek something like you. So we found you, in the back of our minds. But tell me exactly; if we actually found you in our minds, does that mean that we made you?

. . .

True, we can't make things like how you could. But we can always dream that we could, just like how we dreamed of you, no?

. . .

I've confused myself, you say? Perhaps, perhaps I have confused myself. And that in the midst of all this confusion, I'm just burying myself into a much deeper hole. Yes, you know that hole. I've told you that story many many times. *laughs* I wonder if you've grown bored of hearing it.

. . .

Ah, I forget. You're like that; you can take all the shit we go through and make it all nice and happy, no? All those things you hear; prayers, wishes, dreams, wills...they're all said to you. All the time. And you never get bored listening to them, don't you?

. . .

Yes, I know, you are like that.

. . .

Descriptions to that? What, are we leaning to the vain side now from all your glory? Oh, you meant 'appreciation'. Oh, no no, isn't that insincere to be asking for such things in return?

. . .

Well, tough luck. We're raised like that, I suppose. At least, I am. If you do something for me and expect something in return, then that's a no-no. I give it to you as I see fit, and you do the same for me.

. . .

Sorry, you said you've been helping me all these while? I...I guess I do need the help. And so does everyone. I guess that's why you've always been there for them.

. . .

Yes, I have been denying you all these while. Not you, per se, but rather, the teachings.

. . .

So, I guess I'm a heathen now, eh? A heretic, because I'm not doing the things everyone else is doing. Well, I'm living my life, as a human being, driven by my instincts and thoughts; is there any ill thoughts in it?

. . .

Oh yes, if we follow that all the way, then we're no different from animals, right? I've always thought that it was the mind that makes us different from them, not our way of life. Good and bad, the usual shit; yes, those.

. . .

Goddamnit, I came here to talk about other things, not to debate with you. It's endless, and pointless. I'm stubborn, you're patiently stubborn; and the whole world is against us.

. . .

I came here to talk about us, about what's going on between the two of us right now. About our relationship. Do you see us going anywhere with this?

. . .

My thoughts? Well, I don't know what the future hold, you know? Heck, I don't even know if half of my plans would go through fine. When we only have love and perseverance, it's kinda difficult.

. . .

Hm? This world is not permanent? Yea, I can see that. We have doom signs looming all around us.

. . .

What? No, not those silly signs; I meant the 'actual' threats. If it's not coming from us, then it's probably from everything else outside our planet. Maybe there's someone there out to get us. I know it's not permanent. My life is not permanent.

. . .

Honestly, I'd like to believe you. I want to believe you. But there's so many you all around. And everyone says different things about you.

. . .

Choose what I want to believe? Well, I'd like to believe in you 'you'.

. . .

Too much for my brain to process? All right, fine, I understand. I'm not great enough. But at the very least, I try...and confuse myself along the way. Pick myself up after the fall and try again. You've seen it before, many many times.

. . .

Trying the wrong way? What, there's an actual method to this? Gah, no, not what the rest of the world is doing. Don't you know that we're killing everyone else in the world for the sake of that?

. . .

Unity? There's no unity if everyone's segmented like that, dude. I'm not even touching on race here.

. . .

Speechless? Well there you go, your most devoted ones off to war, off to die for you. Wouldn't you like that? You made life anyway, so death really doesn't bother you...you eternal beings.

. . .

Me? Bitter? Hell yes, I'm bitter. I'm bitter that we're relying on you to stop all this nonsense.

. . .

You know, we're just like that kid begging for a new toy. You don't give us one, we throw a fit. Well, tell you what, father, this is our fit here. And it's costing us our fucking lives.

. . .

I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. I want to talk to you about something else, but...goddamnit, I'm just so bitter when it comes to you and your stupid devotees.

. . .

Calm myself? Well, I'll bloody well do that.

...I'm sorry. Things hasn't been going too well on my end. Easy things to solve, really, but you know how my head works. How I like to confuse myself like this.

. . .

We'll have to talk again. I'll try to put my bitter thoughts aside. We'll have an honest, open talk between you and I. And next time, I want you to tell me everything.

. . .

Your connection has very bad lags.

. . .

Most of the time, I just assumed on what you would say.

. . .


Thursday, August 12, 2010, 16:36
and even though I know how very far apart we are

For the first time, in the longest time, I find myself unable to think of anything else but...nothing.

Perhaps 'tis the lack of food from fasting that is depleting my brain's processing power. It craves the bed; /I/ crave for my bed.

And the envy for good cameras continues. Reason being:

You can find more of these beautiful photographs here.

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Wednesday, May 19, 2010, 14:42
i guess that's why i'm leaving, i crave reality

I watched her as she grew.

I watched her as she created her dreams.

I watched as they tore her out from her dreams.

I watched as she was tossed into this cruel, cruel world.

I watched, oh-so-painfully, as she created a fragile bubble around her from the fragments of her dreams.

I watched the bubble burst.

I watched it formed around her again.






I watched as she trapped herself within that hardened shell of a bubble.

I watched as the surface of that shell formed faces attached with different emotions to it.




And joy. Plenty of joy.

But they were mere masks, for she remained hidden, protected within that shell. There, she dreamed of endless pastures, of bliss, of company, of love.

I watched as a crack began to form around that shell, and saw her peek out from within it.

I watched as another being approached her and offered her his hand.

I watched as she took it into her hand and held it for a very long time, feeling the warmth that is reality and not the coldness of dreams.

I watched as she suddenly released that hand and retreated deeper into her shell, forming more surfaces across the already hardened shell around her.

I watched as the faces around the shell began to twist and turn, forming strange and odd expressions.






I watched as more and more beings begin to gather around her, in an attempt to crush the shell hid herself in.

I watched as she screamed in protest, like the selfish little girl she is. She formed more surfaces, only to watch it shatter before her very eyes.

I watched as the shell began to crack open, and watched as they dragged her from within it once more.

I watched as they tossed her to the side and left her there.

I watched her as she sat there, rocking back and forth miserably.

Lost. Angry. Sad. Confused.

I watched her when they started to touch her hair, lips, cheeks, ears, neck, shoulders, breasts, stomach, waist, thighs, crotch, thighs, calves, and feet with their bare yet ghost-like hands.


I watched as she grew numb to their touching.

I watched as a man approached and drew them away with his mighty blade.

I watched as she struggled to gather the remaining pieces of the shell and wore it over her face.

I watched as the man got to his knees and took the mask away, smiling at her.

I watched as he tied a red string to her finger, joined to his.

I watched as he presented a door before her.

I watched as he undressed himself and stepped into it.

I watched as she sat there, looking from the red string to the man that waited for her on the other side of her door.

I watched as she brought her hands to her eyes to look at the remaining shards of the shell that latched itself on her hands.

I watched as it weighed her down when she approached the open door to where the man was.

I watched her fall to her knees and begin to crawl towards the door.

Then, she stopped.

And then, I moved towards her and stood behind her.

"Why do you stop?" I asked.

She whispered: "Heavy,"

"But you could still move just now,"

"I can't now. I'm unsure,"


"I don't know what's there. I'm afraid. I'm afraid I might hurt him,"

"Why would you want to hurt him?" I asked; confused.

"I don't want to hurt him. I don't. He is very kind to me. Very kind. I love him. Very much. I don't want to hurt him. I never want to. I never will,"

"But you stopped," I said, and pointed at the red string on her finger, "And he tied that on you,"

"Fear, Saaya. I fear," she whimpered, "I fear for him, and for me. I want to run,"

But I stopped her, and pulled her back to the open door, where he stood waiting for her. She looked so fearful, yet, that apparent longing expression on her face was stronger.

I held her in my arms as I pulled those shards off her, watching as blood began to flow from the wounds left by the shards I pulled out. She winced, twitched, and turned about. She cried out names, our names, as I pulled them all out.

"We are stopping you. We are planting machinations into you. We are blinding you," I explained softly to her, "We must go,"

"Please, please, pleeeeease, don't take them away from me. I need them. I need them," she wailed, flailing her arms to reach for the fallen shards.

"No," I replied sternly, plucking the others but leaving only two shards in her. One of them was mine; "You must stop making us. You must stop creating us,"

"But without you, without all of you, I..."

I spun her around and made her face the man, "You have him," and I gently lifted the red string to her eyes, "And this. See-" I tugged at the string, smiling at her, "It is strong, stronger than any of ours,"

She watched in wonder, but with a tinge of doubt.

"And it can grow much stronger than it is now," I continued, holding my hands tightly on her shoulders, "All he needs is you, as you have once needed us,"


I took her hand and let her touch the string, letting her feel its smooth texture and the strength within it. I watched as she caressed the string gently, lovingly, before lifting her face up to look at the man on the other side of the door.

"Fear no more, my dearest one," I whispered into her ears, "You are in safe hands,"

She shuddered as my wings came down upon her trembling body, giving her one final embrace before I backed away from her.

Whimpering, she almost turn-- "DON'T," my voice boomed towards her, "We are gone, Alissa. We are no more. We cannot be,"

Softly, she asked; "Why?"

"Grow with him," I looked at the man beyond the door, "Move forward, and don't turn back,"

From where I stood, I watched as she lifted her head high and closed her eyes. And for the longest time, she remained silent, her eyes closed, her mind thinking. Her fists were clenched tightly on her sides, but it softened soon after.

I watched as she undressed herself before the door, before him.

I watched as revealed the last two shards that sunk deeply on her back. They were much deeper than the others.

I watched as she bit her lips in pain as she removed both the shards from within her.

I watched as she held them tightly in her hands, sobbing, and throwing them both to the floor. At that moment, I could feel myself disappearing. My sight began to blur. My senses grew numb. And my thoughts, my memories, fading slowly.

Yet, I continued to watch her, watch as she got to her knees and picked the smallest piece from one of the shards she broke. Needless to say, it was not mine.

I watched her as she stood up once more, held on to that speck of the shard in one hand, and the red string on the other.

I watched as this girl looked up to the man, smiling as he held his hand out towards her.

I watched as the girl took a few steps through...what was it? A door? Something. I don't know. I can't remember.

She walked, and then she...moved faster. Running? I can't see very well.

Did the girl fnd th mn wth th...red...str....i.....n...g..







- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Growing up is not an absence of dreaming
It's being able to understand the difference between the ones you can hold
And the ones that you've been sold
And Dreaming is a good thing cause it brings new things to life
But pretending is an ending that perpetuates a lie
Forgetting what you are
Seeing for what you've been told

Oh, truth is stranger than fiction
This is my chance to get it right
And life is much better without all of those pretty lies

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Friday, May 14, 2010, 16:54
om mani padme hum

How would this sound in piano?

If I have the time, I'd like to do a piano arrangement on this lovely tune. =]

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Friday, April 30, 2010, 18:35
i need a miracle, and not someone's charity

Amidst the green leaves, the mosses upon the tree barks, the bushes that formed a painting of green with everything else; there, five figures hid. Three were roughly the same height, one was the tallest of them all, and the last of the five was the shortest. All were clad in similar garbs of black with a dash of green, which tells us one thing; they were all part of the same group. And the five stood there, eyeing an abandoned village not too far from where they stood.

"Is that the one?" asked one of the three, huddling close to the tallest one, "That village?"

He nodded, "Yes, that one. According to our scouts, that village was recently abandoned by the villagers due to some...event that occurred not too far from here,"

"Shouldn't we be worried about that little event than going there?"

The shortest figure in the group flashed out a knife and began to proceed towards the abandoned village; "We can discuss about that later. For now, our objective is to secure the remaining food supply in this village,"

The others watched the short one shifting from tree to tree, keeping close to the shadows until the short one eventually stepped outside of their hiding place. Her sharp violet eyes scanned the area before signaling to the others to come out. Seeing them slowly moving past the bushes, she turned back and strode straight into the village. Sheathing her knife, she drew out her sword and began to slowly pace about the area, eyeing the houses for any signs of food in the houses.

"Found anything, Goldhair?" asked the tallest man in their group.

The woman shook her head and turned back to the others; "Spread out. The faster we find something, the sooner we can leave this place," she pointed a finger at the tall man, "Berthold, check these houses near the entrance," and then she looked at the other three, "Auld, you go with Grenn to the houses near the crops. Don, you're coming with me to the houses on the other end,"

Nodding, they dispersed to their assigned locations. The woman, who was called 'Goldhair' earlier, hurried to the houses at the end of the village with Don tailing her from behind. She entered the first house to her left and with a swift kick to the door, she brought her sword down in a single arc. But what she slashed was nothing but air, the empty air of this abandoned village.

Don got to her side and looked about them; "Nothing here," he stepped away from her, "I'll search the kitchen,"

She acknowledged his words and proceeded to check upstairs. Goldhair reminded herself to be quick. After all, villages do attract other bandits aside from her group. If the other bandits were to arrive while they are still scavenging for food, well...

I lost a man back then. It won't happen again.

The first door to her right was open, as though to indicate that these people left in a hurry. But what could have made them leave so soon? Goldhair was aware of the current situation of the world, from everything else going down the drain in a matter of days to the New Erudia's armies claiming lands all around them; perhaps these villagers fear the coming force and fled before facing that danger. But to where? Even those people did not know. So long as they are far from danger, they will be fine; but how long can these people run with no place to go? She understood their sufferings, their pains, their sorrow.

She vowed to change all that.

Goldhair searched the rooms and found nothing but old clothes and smelly blankets. Sighing, she grabbed some of the old dresses and tunics and went downstairs, only to find Don with nothing but a piece of dried bun in his hand. The villagers really made sure that nothing was left.

Don shrugged and smiled sheepishly, "It's better than nothing, right?"

She managed a wan smile; "Come on, let's rendezvous with the others,"

But just as they were about to step out of the house, something sharp flew past her ear and hit the side of the door. Goldhair quickly turned, seeing Don on his knees with blood sprouting out from the arrow in his throat. Cursing, she snatched the bun from his hand and hurried back to where the others gathered, trapped between four bandits.

Berthold drew his sword and swung at them in full, causing the bandits to back away from his swing. As he did this, Goldhair took the opportunity to stab at one of the bandits, who was unaware of her presence from behind, and quickly got to Berthold's side.

"Why, all we want is food, missy," said one of the bandits, inching closer to grab the bun from her hand, "We're nothing but poor hungry folks, so give us some, eh?"

Goldhair was half planning to throw the dried bun away, but before she could do it, Auld and Grenn stepped in front of them and attacked the bandits head on.

"Your Highness!" cried Grenn, "We'll hold them off!"

Auld managed to land a clumsy blow on one of the bandits, "Avalantiaaaaa!!"

She looked at them in amazement; not too long ago, Auld, Grenn, and Don were mere peasants with no experience with a sword. Of course, three lessons in swordplay with Berthold was not enough to make them efficient fighters. But they had no choice; they were the only few able-bodied men in their group that were able pick up a sword and do a good swing with it. Now, she had already lost Don, and soon, Auld and Grenn.

Berthold placed a firm grip on her shoulder, realising what she planned to do; "We are outnumbered, Goldhair. Let's not put their sacrifice to waste,"

She turned to glare at him, her violet eyes full of hate and loathe, but within it, there was defeat too. He was right; they were outnumbered. Goldhair uttered a curse under her breath and turned away from the struggling two, running back to their camp, their current home, with Berthold following close from behind.

And once again, she vowed.

- - -

It was quite a sight to behold, she thought as she leaned on the side of her tent. Goldhair watched the children tearing the buns into very small pieces and gave them to the elderly men and women first before they munched on it themselves. Their mothers helped their children by feeding the rest with a spoonful of rabbit broth, something they managed to catch while Goldhair and the others were away. This was both a delayed lunch and a late dinner. This was how it went on for months after the fall of the kingdom of Avalantia.

One of the women offered her a bowl of rabbit broth, but Goldhair took only a spoonful of the broth and gave the rest back to the woman. She smiled; "If you are all having a spoonful, then I too will have a spoonful,"

Minutes later, Berthold returned with two young men, their newly-trained scouts, and had his fill of dinner as well. She watched him for a moment before gesturing for him to enter her tent.

Goldhair pulled the flap down over the entrance to her tent after he entered and turned to the map that was laid out on a table before them. She looked at it and noted that it was quite an old map, salvaged from an abandoned house not too long ago. It was old simply because Avalantia and the names of the rest of the kingdoms were still mentioned on each part of the continent when it is already gone by now, either destroyed by other kingdoms or 'taken' by New Erudia. In the case of New Erudia, 'taken' signified both destroyed and conquered.

"Berthold," she began as she stared at the map intently, "Today, I have lost three men in a...worthless attempt to search for food,"

He only looked at her, as though he knew what to expect from her.

She slammed her fists on the table, "THREE MEN, Berthold! Not one; THREE, ALTOGETHER!"

"Calm down, Goldha--"

"You think I should be calm? You think I should...just...sacrifice my people like that!?" Goldhair glared at him, "I am Princess Daena Avanteo, the First of Her Name, daughter to King Duval Avanteo III, ruler of Avalantia. I am a princess, and a princess is suppose to protect her people, to offer them safety!"

"And you have done so, Your Highness, for the time being," he replied, leaning on one of the poles that held up the tent, "You have accomplished more than any other princesses have ever done in times like these,"

"For what, Sir Berthold Orrey? So we can go hungry for another day and lose more men!?" she squeezed the ends of the table and stared down at the map, "We can't go on like this forever, Berthold. We...we need Avalantia, no-- a home. A home for all of us,"

Sighing, he moved to where she stood and looked down at her, "I understand your concerns, Your Highness. Like you, I too have seen the people traveling with us. I have seen their suffering," he placed a concerned hand on her tired shoulders, "But you are still young, only 20 years of age, and the fall of your homeland happened only months ago. It is natural for you to feel this way, Your Highness, but you must understand that certain things cannot be accomplished in a matter of minutes,"

She looked up at him, holding back the tears in her eyes; "I am at loss, Sir Berthold, truly, I am,"

Berthold paused for a moment, pondering on something, and then he continued; "You say we need Avalantia, no?"

Daena nodded, "Yes,"

"Then we need an army to face the rest of these forces, and a safe place where we can leave our followers in the mean time," he stood back and touched his beard thoughtfully, "Do you remember the lords? The lords who were part of the court of Avalantia?"

She wondered about this, and instantly, the memory returned; "Yes, I remember they...managed to flee before the attack began," the word 'flee' intrigued her. If they managed to get away before the castle went down with the attack, they may still be alive somewhere out there. Probably back in their homelands; "Berthold, I know what you're thinking of, but persuading the lords..."

He chuckled lightly, "And the lords claimed that they could never refuse your words. You shame me, Goldhair,"

A small smile formed on her lips at his jest, "It seems that I haven't been my optimistic self, lately," she nodded, "It is decided then,"

Berthold nodded in agreement.

"We will form an army, and we will march for the one force that took away all our hopes and dreams of Avalantia," her finger moved to a particular spot on the map, the only part of the map that still proved its authenticity,

"New Erudia,"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I'm really horrid at fight scenes. It's either I become too abstract with it or too straightforward.

This is actually a post in reply to a roleplay forum I joined a very long time ago. I thought it might have potential. Somewhat.

At the very least, the story is very much influenced by none other than George R.R. Martin himself. For those who find the name somewhat familiars (to readers of ASOIAF), Daena reminds you of Daenerys, does it not?

Well, technically, the names are both quite similar. But Daena herself is a character of her own (not this one that I wrote but in the actual story by Martin). She was said to be very headstrong and adventurous. A lot of...back-stories to that, but the fact that her traits were so brought about the creation of Daena Avanteo.

Similar to Daenerys's (or Dany, as others would call her), she leads the survivors away from her father's kingdom, Avalantia, in hopes that she will find a safer haven for her people after New Erudia's latest expansion plan that involved Avalantia in the process of it.

She has siblings, yes. In fact, she had four brothers. Three died protecting the kingdom from New Erudia. The other one, Daena's eldest brother, Daeren, was believed to have drowned at sea. But Daena refused to believe that, instead, choosing to believe that her brother was still alive; missing, but alive.

You would think he'd come running to save his family, but no, he didn't.

And I suppose it's also one way for me to test the human limit through this one. How much stress can one person endure before they break completely?

Then again, this story is one of the many stories I've put on hold. My current focus is on an old one, one that I've been wanting to finish all these while.

You see, it all began with this abandoned temple...


Friday, April 23, 2010, 13:05
who are you? a look and a smile

Understanding people has been one of my many predicaments.

It simply doesn't stop at listening and understanding their lives through their speech and what they talk of. It is more than that.

I have come to realise that in order to know them is to become them.

Like acting, in order to know the character, you have to become the character and live through his/her life. The same can be said for trying to understand people...nay, rather--humans.

I look at the person who was to be my twin brother in the play and I often wondered about his nature. My director has told me countless of times to spend more time with him so we could bond together as actual siblings; in this case, identical twins.

Yet, even in the times we meet (previously), I could sense a huge barrier that separates us. Although it is true that each humans live in their own world, there is a probability that a mutual bond can be forged between those worlds. No matter how small it was, it is there. Hence, this is the reason why I was able to mingle well with my fellow cast members.

But him...

...he is rather peculiar.

It felt very different with him than with the others.

Please, do not misunderstand me. I have mingled with the others in private, one-on-one sessions, and they all proved to be fine. That fine line of awkwardness remains, but it is fading as time goes by.

Yet I do not sense this from him.

He always seemed as though he has something more to say in his long pauses. Often, I assume that he was finding the right words to say it. Yet, as time went by, I began to realise that it was more than just that. At least, according to my observation, it was.

Was it because of me and how blunt I am towards him?

Was it because of his girlfriend?

Was it something about him that he never tells anyone at all?

Then I searched for my answers elsewhere; I went to his blog. There, I...somewhat saw a partial of the answers I was looking for.

My eyes caught sight of his girlfriend and how close they are, how he often takes her pictures and comments on how much he loves her. Made me chuckle a little; it reminded me of myself a long time ago. Perhaps a little of me now, perhaps.

But if anything, I could use this piece of information to my advantage.

If he doesn't talk, perhaps his lady might.

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