User:Selenium/Juliandra

Many of us who have awoken undead remember little; if only that were the case for me. I remember everything, too much. I remember the long walks along the shores collecting the herbs my father needed to treat the sick. I remember the way the breeze felt in my hair and the sweet scent that wafted through the air as I snapped off a flower or leaf. I remember the carefree joy of my childhood in the port town along the shores of Lordaeron and the hustle and bustle of merchants and markets along the wharf.

I remember the silky feel of His hair as I twisted His dark curls around my finger. I remember the roughness of His cheek when it had been too long since He’d shaved. I remember the softness of His lips and the low timbre of His voice when He called my name. I remember His inherent goodness, though He tried to be wicked and indeed did some wicked things that I cared not to think of. The only thing I cannot remember through all that I’ve endured, though try as I might, is His name.

I remember the sickness that began to plague the people of our town and the horrors it ravaged on those who were afflicted. I remember the pallor of death that clouded our land and the pyres ignited day and night burning away the infectious remains until there was no one left to manage the fires. I remember feeling feverish, nauseated, and weak, until I had to lie down.

Then, I remember nothing until I awoke in darkness, the voices of hate and rage searing my brain. This was not me! I did not think of the horrid images of death and suffering that played through my mind. The thoughts burned, though it was a pleasureable burn for awhile, like an overwarm fire where a lick of flame would escape and singe your skin. I placed my hand over my eyes to quell the pulsing pain and realized it was not skin touching skin, but the exposed bone of my fingertips touching the death-bruised skin of my face. I leapt up from the cold stone tableau which was sealed by cobwebs, ran up the rat infested, bone littered stairway and was greeted.

I have since wandered the lands of Lordaeron, a dichotomy of wills; good and evil, love and hatred, kindness and cruelty. Coping with the curse of remembrance and the lull of the primeval urges that overcome me. And I have been searching.