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- Joined
- Jan 24, 2020
Doing this because it is a must, not really needed, but, can see a use for it later.
Writing about a story written by yours truly, and a partner held close, and lost.
Constantly reminded of the great success of two complete opposites joined together through pain.
Pain of a overbearing religious father, and pain of war keeping one away from true desires.
Thinking, this story had been safely saved away to be re-written as something for a legacy. Much like usual.
It is a habit, to take roleplays and turn them into proper readable tales.
Love it.
But alas, this ... tale never saw daylight, because foolish as it was to not save it, it was later torn away from by a system update.
Losing both very very deer characters, and the plot with it.
All that is left, is a memory.
Longing.
Missed, very very upset, and well, thought it be nice to write about it.
Nothing else to write about.
Join in this thought, of something you've created so loved, so respected, you think time and time again how proud you are, only to have it torn away out of shock, because it was so glorious that even it's vanish almost made it seem like a dream. As years go, so does every memory and you fear it will someday be forgotten in it's glorious legacy.
But oh well.
The tale lost, was about a Knight in war, capturing a tribal assassin.
The knight longed for peace, and the assassin longed for freedom.
For one was a scarred brutal man of bloodshed, and the other a heir to a throne of a religion outdated.
The two come together clashing blades to only have on fall.
A death is what the assassin wished for, in respect for the wits of the knight that foiled him, only to be granted mercy and yet punished in slavery.
The two fight but it is clear after a time that the two honestly enjoyed the bickering that took both of them away from the thoughts of war and the bindings of religion.
Together they leave and lead a new upbringing of life and people under a new name and completely erase their old existence for good.
The end.
The short details cannot bring life to what the story truly was in it's glory, this is but a small feather that makes up the hen. Sad.
But all that is left.
Oh well, that's my journal.
Writing about a story written by yours truly, and a partner held close, and lost.
Constantly reminded of the great success of two complete opposites joined together through pain.
Pain of a overbearing religious father, and pain of war keeping one away from true desires.
Thinking, this story had been safely saved away to be re-written as something for a legacy. Much like usual.
It is a habit, to take roleplays and turn them into proper readable tales.
Love it.
But alas, this ... tale never saw daylight, because foolish as it was to not save it, it was later torn away from by a system update.
Losing both very very deer characters, and the plot with it.
All that is left, is a memory.
Longing.
Missed, very very upset, and well, thought it be nice to write about it.
Nothing else to write about.
Join in this thought, of something you've created so loved, so respected, you think time and time again how proud you are, only to have it torn away out of shock, because it was so glorious that even it's vanish almost made it seem like a dream. As years go, so does every memory and you fear it will someday be forgotten in it's glorious legacy.
But oh well.
The tale lost, was about a Knight in war, capturing a tribal assassin.
The knight longed for peace, and the assassin longed for freedom.
For one was a scarred brutal man of bloodshed, and the other a heir to a throne of a religion outdated.
The two come together clashing blades to only have on fall.
A death is what the assassin wished for, in respect for the wits of the knight that foiled him, only to be granted mercy and yet punished in slavery.
The two fight but it is clear after a time that the two honestly enjoyed the bickering that took both of them away from the thoughts of war and the bindings of religion.
Together they leave and lead a new upbringing of life and people under a new name and completely erase their old existence for good.
The end.
The short details cannot bring life to what the story truly was in it's glory, this is but a small feather that makes up the hen. Sad.
But all that is left.
Oh well, that's my journal.