I couldn't tell you how long I walked. More often than not, I would find some place, or some creature, observe it, not get involved, and be on my way.
You know, like high school.
I started to wonder about the differences between the strange, fantastical world before me, and the nightmarish hell that was closest to Earth. Back where it all began.
God damn, it felt weird to say something like that. First, that I was actually NOT on Earth, a planet that was meant to hold the entirety of my life, and Second, to feel like that my life has had a real adventure. I wasn't meant for adventure, or terror. I was meant to push pencils, or whatever the modern day equivalent is, 'pound keys' I suppose. 'Push buttons' is better. Regardless, this was a life I had stupidly dreamed of, and fate decided to give me what I wanted.
I can't remember the quote, but I can paraphrase.
"When we're young, we all have amazing dreams, we have wild ideas about what we want in life.
As we grow older, we shift our goals to something else. A home, security, maybe a family. maybe even a picket fence. But those dreams we had, they don't just disappear. They sit there, like fallen leaves, just under the snow.
And every now and then, every so often, fate will dust off one of those leaves, and send it trailing your way just to see what happens.
We are all bound to pick it up."
Front Mission 4, ladies and gentlemen.
I've been a murderer now, (still am), I've been a counselor, and a victim. I don't know if I've got anything more left in the tank. Like, what's my end purpose? Am I to struggle? To rise above?
Shit, that does NOT sound like me. My one great chance to do some good, ended up with Matchstick dead, me technically responsible for his death, and ending up losing an arm, gaining a fae cat who had been oddly pensive of late.
I stopped on a brilliant, emerald hill and sat on the ground. For lack of anything else to do, I started just digging at the ground idly with my little sword...or big knife. I looked over at Chonk, and just asked him my thoughts. "Does purgatory absolve you of anything? Like...I was punished for what I did. I accept that, and I just can't make peace with it."
Chonk looked at me without a response.
I pressed, "I guess it is a pretty human thing, to think of your life as being on a scale. Paragon and Renegade. Doing good things doesn't erase the bad things you do.... 'bad things'. It was fucking murder, not something so nebulous as unpaid parking tickets. What would I have to do to get a clear conscience? I've already died."
Chonk meowed at me. I snorted and got back up. I always heard that the soul only blooms under struggle. The soul only heals in peace. I've had some peace of late, and as I turned back to the east, back towards the Underland, I decided to try struggle again.
