I had been made quite aware of Naturals' view on Outlanders. Though it was a Natural who had fetched me off the Fangs and brought me to the township of Snowcloak, he had since made it clear I was nothing but a pest to him, an irritant - I had tried to show that I only wanted to contribute positively to the lives of the residents of Halo, to return the generosity that they had showed me, and yet I was declared a nuisance, a bother, at least to him. So I endeavoured to ensure I owed him nothing more, and to only give my energy and skills to those who needed it, who wanted it, who would accept it - which was most of the rest of the small town, it would seem.
But it was very easy to see that I was, and always would be, an Outlander, a newcomer, always forgetting some little ritual or lore, never truly feeling like I belonged - but persisting, nonetheless.
Closer and closer we came to the tower, to the great pillar, my eyes bulging as I took in all that it was, all that it stood for. The very earth we tread upon held memories, scents and long-forgotten footprints - my imagination conjured images of battles waged, of warriors pressing upon the door and forcing their way in, of wraiths and unknown entities pushing back, screaming, fighting, and then magic, the unknown energy of the elements that was still so mysterious to me, and yet it fit this story, this scenario that played out in my head. Magic is what released the Voice, in the tale my mind crafted.
Ah, but it wasn't magic, not the elemental, human magic Jigano spoke of, at least. It was sacrifice, and the tales I had heard of the Voice fit this narrative as well. A low growl vibrates my throat at the acquisition of this knowledge, my dislike for the Voice a certainty now. 'Sorry,' I say with apologetic tones, with repentant emotions flowing through me. 'Life is precious, and that a god would extract such a permanent price from a follower… is baffling.' I pause my thoughts, a trickle of the same anger that caused my earlier growl rumbling through me. 'More than that, it's infuriating.' I was a doctor, I focussed on the preservation of life, on the prolonging it while there is still quality of life left to be lived.
'Do any of the other gods demand such sacrifices?'
But it was very easy to see that I was, and always would be, an Outlander, a newcomer, always forgetting some little ritual or lore, never truly feeling like I belonged - but persisting, nonetheless.
Closer and closer we came to the tower, to the great pillar, my eyes bulging as I took in all that it was, all that it stood for. The very earth we tread upon held memories, scents and long-forgotten footprints - my imagination conjured images of battles waged, of warriors pressing upon the door and forcing their way in, of wraiths and unknown entities pushing back, screaming, fighting, and then magic, the unknown energy of the elements that was still so mysterious to me, and yet it fit this story, this scenario that played out in my head. Magic is what released the Voice, in the tale my mind crafted.
Ah, but it wasn't magic, not the elemental, human magic Jigano spoke of, at least. It was sacrifice, and the tales I had heard of the Voice fit this narrative as well. A low growl vibrates my throat at the acquisition of this knowledge, my dislike for the Voice a certainty now. 'Sorry,' I say with apologetic tones, with repentant emotions flowing through me. 'Life is precious, and that a god would extract such a permanent price from a follower… is baffling.' I pause my thoughts, a trickle of the same anger that caused my earlier growl rumbling through me. 'More than that, it's infuriating.' I was a doctor, I focussed on the preservation of life, on the prolonging it while there is still quality of life left to be lived.
'Do any of the other gods demand such sacrifices?'
Chulane
fridooh & whimzi @ deviantart
