«------════════════》 - ‹⋅ ❂ ⋅› - 《════════════------» ╔══════════════════════ - ‹⋅ ✧ ⋅› - ══════════════════════╗ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████ ╚══════════════════════ - ‹⋅ ✧ ⋅› - ══════════════════════╝ «------════════════》 - ‹⋅ ❂ ⋅› - 《════════════------» -[ « Q U O T E » ]- "How lucky I am having something that makes saying goodbye so hard." Spoiler: THEME HOME. A simple, pleasant word. One only made beautiful by the meaning people apply to it. A home of great stature, with crystal panels and stonework entrances. A home with laughter echoing about, filling loved ones' lungs and tugging their lips into toothy grins. There are many definitions for the word, but for Palina de Pierre, she had never quite learned of its true meaning. She had never known the feeling it provided, nor the impact it'd have on her life. And yet, while longing for a taste of its comfort, of its security, she had yearned for something far greater. Freedom. A push and pull, and a conflict of great value. Now, standing with her front to the crashing of waves, and the ocean's horizon smiling to her, she could admit with absolute certainty the moments it had all changed. When the two - home and freedom - was no longer a restriction from an impossible choice, but a pathway leading to both. When she finally understood what home was, and received an answer from freedom. "There's more rum in the cupboards," she had uttered one particular night, deep into her time in the Holy City. "Maybe grab some whiskey, while you're at it! You all have no restraint when it comes to the Anglian Shuffle." Smiling, ear-to-ear, was what she greeted those around her with, her eyes bright with life, like a spark lit at long last. "You're one to talk!" spat a red-haired woman, her expression matching Palina's, and everyone else's who crowded the kitchen's space. They had all remained like that for some time, returning countless nights, and filling the Ithanian's home with stories and laughter. Those she loved, who she had come to embrace, every moment she leaned back in her chair, memorizing their faces. Friends, new and old, that had come and gone. Her family, who would stay with her always, protected through her memories. "Yeah, but I can take it," Palina had countered, waving a bottle in front of herself, with only her fingers gripping around its top. The woman rolled her eyes, dismissing the argument with a wafting of a hand, her lips twitching in protest of her grin. Remembering them then, as some had poked and jabbed each other; as some had cried out songs with horribly unreached keys; as some had wrapped an arm around another, tugging them closer; as some had gestured for Palina to join them, with their own memorable smiles; she knew what she had within her grasp. How valuable it was, the feeling that spread amongst her bones, trailing to the tips of her fingers, and warming a heart that had been guarded and strained. She had known it, too, when a projectile was heaved into her chest, one winter, a spray of snow and ice drawing her eyes to a squint. There, she could recall, had been the previous Commander of the Vigilant Shield and Storm Sentinels, and tapered to his gloves, a hint of leftover snow flurries. "Traitor!" Palina had accused, hardly containing her laughter. The group sprawled and flung, dug and ducked, leaped and yelled, and it'd remain one of her favourite moments. A winter that had, at a time, been given the meaning of cold and solemn loss, of loneliness that seemed to cling to her every step. The shift had snuck up on her, just as the snowballs had, creating a new sort of joy for the season. Those people who stood with her then, a family. Some, lost to shattered dreams and false promises, but individuals who had shaped her, and had helped her know of more, nonetheless. Home had never been about a piece of architecture, like the Deandroquin designs trailing the city's edge behind her, where she stood now. It had never even been a place. “Welcome to the Winslough Guard,” the voice had echoed, its owner’s gloved palm stretched down. Grabbing for it, Palina had been pulled from the dirtied pit to her feet, her longsword tight in her grasp. It would be easy to fall in love with the man, she had noted right then and there, as the comfort of his smile eased her worry. Little did she know the journey the two would embark on together, and the destination of a different man she’d be greeted with. The knight - her Captain, then - brought peace to her world, it’s true. A promise of a home, of security and stability. He had placed her back on her feet, if only for a bittersweet moment. But a duty tied to a silver ring, with it. A role to fulfil. Down, she had fallen, over and over and over again. To her bottom, her back, her side, her front. Her palms met grass, cobblestone, dirt, drawing fine lines along her skin. Whenever her hand reached up, high above, she’d only have the open air of a sky calling to her, with no response. Home became something to protect. Especially, as the arrival of a girl - not hers, through blood, but through the eventual bond of mother and daughter - clouded over her. It was a gift, and one she would cherish forever. One that stirred hope in even the darkest of times, but one that rooted her to a city she once resented, with only a niece, sister-like memory to guide her eyes elsewhere, where love often lay in its corners. “I’m glad you’re here, Radley.” It had been ages ago, when she had spoken those words. Years. She stood in the exact spot as she did now, overlooking the ocean, when Radley had stepped from the boat. Grinning, the woman - the only family she truly had, at that time - flung herself towards Palina, where a long-since needed hug pulled her up from the darkness she had succumbed to. Back to her feet, if only for a bittersweet moment. And she had plenty of those moments, but none permanent. “What adventure lies ahead of us, Palia.” Radley had never spoken such truer words. Once, the thought would have brought tears to her eyes, at the memory of her niece's end. But now, all she could do was smile, her eyes flicking from the waves, to two birds gliding along the clouds, high above. “Focus on them, ‘Lina. Breathe.” Her hand gripped the cloth lining her chest, tugging, yanking, praying to be free from its clutches. Suffocating. That’s how she had felt, in that moment, with shadows and smoke clawing at her lungs, and blinding her vision. Go, go, go. Get out. Run. “The birds, ‘Lina. Look at the birds. You’re here,” he murmured. Where? That’s what she wondered. Lost to an unfading nightmare, one that haunted her most nights, and sprung to life at even the presence or mention of flames. She yelled, as his fingers jerked her chin upward. Blinking back tears, her shoulders and frantic shoving halted with their movements, where blurry greens danced after the birds dipping from the sky, their wings reaching at their sides. In, and out, the voice had ordered, over and over again. In, and out. That was the first time she had been successfully pulled from that vulnerable state. The first time she managed to concentrate on the cold sensation of snow beneath her paled fingers. The first time she could suck in a proper breath, stifling the gasps. The first time she had heard the words, “I understand,” and knew he had meant them. The man - her best friend, her brother - and the one at his side, a brother-like nephew. No matter their outbursts or disagreements, they had always stood by her, with a hand pulling her from the bench she had been planted atop. They had helped her to find her own footing. She had not left the ground, just yet, but it was the last time she had allowed herself to fall. At least not without a fight. Palina didn’t know when she had begun crying. For the longest time, a weight of unknown significance had begged her to yield. A crushing force, hoping for her fall, clawing at her outstretched hand. High above, seemed like a childish dream. It felt like that promise she had made as a child - one including a vision of a future, with unravelling skies and limits - was impossible. Standing at the docks, with her fingers releasing the railing’s wood, she could smile. She could close her eyes, and release each fear and restraint alongside it. Crying that did not mean sorrow, but content, and acceptance, and growth, and happiness. When she opened them, her gaze revealed a deeper blue than the one filling her view, only moments prior. “I get that a lot, you know,” he said. A voice she protested against and belittled for what felt like ages, all leading up to an understanding between two lost souls. “The comment about my eyes. Everyone always says they resemble oceans.” “Because they do.” Palina had been careful to not slur her words. It was easy, with how often she found herself in that drunken state, those years ago. The man who stood before her, and the man who began as an enemy. An addition to the weight that had sunk her shoulders. The past did little for the two. But as time - their greatest enemy and saviour - touched their souls, they were given a choice. Remain, or grow. It was then, she decided, with a child’s weight plopped atop her hip, that she would go from reaching to the sky, to extending out to him, instead. It lasted for a little while, but it was a decision she’d never forget. When she looked at him, years later, and mere hours before starting her journey to the docks, she saw a different man. Her chin hung low, in a gesture of respect, with her eyes glimmering of love. Strictly platonic, for it was a love shared between two friends. Enemies, in the start, to family, in the end. A breath escaped her - relieved her of the duty and doubt - as she slipped the child into his arms. She pressed a kiss to the girl’s forehead, knowing their separation would not be for long. But it was trust, in this man before her, that had her murmuring her delicate goodbye. Home. A simple, pleasant word, one only made beautiful by the meaning people apply to it. It was true, how it signified no place or building. Because, for Palina de Pierre, it meant people. Those who you could share a drink and laugh with, and feel accepted, regardless of your past. Those who offered you a hand up, and a feeling of comfort, in your lingering darkness. Those who stood by your side, guiding your way with a light held high, but allowing for you to make your own steps. Those who could learn to forgive, and those who wrap you in blankets of love and care. Each moment is precious. Each moment may seem small, but it is through the little things, a home is built. So, standing with her back to a city of tales, and her eyes fixed on an ocean of dreams, she could indeed smile through those tears. And it was with every relief, every release, and every decision throughout, that guided her following motions. She reached up, high above, to a sky once demanding of her admiration. A sky she had struck a hand out to, time after time, to which a gentle breeze was her only reply. What met her now, with a familiar touch, warm and loving, was a hand from no other than the man who adorned a golden ring on that very same finger as hers. It tugged her up, high above, to the wooden boards of her new home, with the smell of freedom beckoning her closer. Her answer at last. An end, no doubt, but just like the crimson sunset peeking along the coastline, she had been taught that endings can be beautiful, too. Especially ones that spark beginnings. «------════════════》 - ‹⋅ ❂ ⋅› - 《════════════------» [OOC NOTE] It's been a fun 6 years rping as the character, but it's time for her to be shelved permanently. Her arc came to an end, but there were a lot of themes I added to the character throughout the years, that I never felt came out entirely. Internal struggles and thoughts that can't really be shown. So! I wanted to dedicate a story as a goodbye of sorts, but also in acknowledgement of some actual roleplays that had happened. Also to shed some light on those little details of who she was and what she valued above all else in life, like finding freedom and a home. Something she eventually did find.
