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Cyclical Cynicism (1 Viewer)


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And though the fires burned brightly in Chiara's Golem Forge, her own passion and compassion had gone cold. She felt more than anything alone and chained. She'd tried so long to make herself her own person, free herself from her own devices. She'd spent her life helping others, or so she thought. Yet she couldn't help but feel no one would do the same for her. No one actively looked out for her in her own eyes. She knew Reina cared at the very least, that she had someone at least who thought about her more than daily. The thought pleased her as she went about, shaping the metal of her craft.

Soon, tears came from her anguish, cooling the hot metal she shaped with her magic, creating a short sizzle before pattering out into nothing. Chiara worked through the piece, setting it to cool for now before stepping away from it. Matilde began to walk with her but she urged her to stay for now. Still, the mage went and began to pace before coming out from the bellows beneath the Merrigold house she'd once saved until she reached the end of the island, seeing the vastness below. Its waves in the shadows of the floating isle, crashing up against nothing. Her legs dangled over the side as she swung them back and forth, and a thought brushed by her head.

What if I jumped?

She thought about it for a moment, staring down into the blue abyss. She knew it'd be death if she did slip or jumped from this point, there was no doubt about that. With that, she stood up, backing away from the edge. She wasn't sure what people would think. Her family was ruined, she didn't feel she had anyone she could depend on there. Finn, her nephew, gods bless his heart, she thought. She knew he was a good spirited boy with enough self-conflict in him to solve out on her own. She was a grown woman, meant to watch over him. She could never burden him with her issues in the slightest. Her mother was hardly family now. The woman rarely had checked in on her since she had become an adult, not that she had done much in the same in turn. She'd found her when she was lost but the two didn't interact anymore. She supposed it didn't help that she'd found someone else she cared for to wed. The way Chiara'd saw it, even if her father wasn't dead, their family was. Her mother would no longer be a Dawn-Lyren and probably would forget about her eventually after having more kids.

She'd taken the trip from Tyr'Arien to feel free, to find herself. She'd meditate on average to clear her mind but it didn't make her feel peaceful, only anxious. She no longer knew who she was. She was lost and on the verge. But the verge of what? Whatever it was, she felt as if shackles had bound her to a place, however good the cause was where she was so cynical that she could hardly care about her own self. She was driving others away and she knew it. Yet she didn't know how to stop being bound, or stop falling. With that, she turned back inside, her loyal golem cat brushing against her leg as she lit up her pipe, and allowed smoke to spill into the room with no mirrors, yet a reflection.

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