@Silvan HavenJason AlexanderYou know, there are a few things I don't appreciate about life. I think I've made that fairly clear, but it's always smart to repeat what you know. They say it helps with memory. So yeah, there's plenty I'm not fond of when it comes to living on this world. I believe I've touched upon a particular category, too.
Illegitimate things. Ungenuine things. Lies. Deceptions that only exist to hurt, and even deceptions that exist to, in a sickening, misguided manner, help. I hate them all to the bone, and it's only corroborated by my seeing them day in and day out. They're a cancer upon society, growing, multiplying, and spreading unchecked at everything else's expense, crippling the entire system. It's as natural a response to hate them, in my mind, as it is to hate a horde of locusts, or a miasma of malaria or toxic gas. Their very existence is a terrible thing, and can destroy like nothing else.
So you'd think, then, that the peaceful, glorious, and absolutely amazing call of sleep would be a much-needed reprieve from a world inundated by what I hate. After all, sleep's the consciousness's retreat inwards, away from interacting with any other person's facades and machinations. Should be paradise, right?
That's the thinking that would cow and hold great power over the uninitiated. But I'm initiated, aren't I? A member of the League of Solitude, oxymoronic in name and powerless against the hands of fate.
No, sleep is probably where the worst lies of all come. I appreciate the rest and relaxation. I appreciate the rejuvenation of my body and organization of thoughts and memories after a long day.
But I have a love-hate relationship, as it were, with dreams. I won't lie, I'm probably at my happiest when I experience them. However:
Of my own accord, I rose from my bed, groggily looking around a room I couldn't quite identify. That was strange, I could have sworn I'd been in club all but two seconds ag—
...
That moment, right there, is where I always end up cursing the very existence of dreams. People who believe nightmares to be bad, to be a torment, don't look at the big picture in any capacity. Nightmares are brief periods of fear that you wake up from, and that's it. It's over, the bad things are done, and a sense of relief washes over you.
"Good" dreams on the other hand, they show you a different world. A place where you have friends you can count on, fantastic situations to topple with ease or a spirited, victorious struggle, power beyond your wildest dreams, or love from an ideal partner. A positive take upon a world, a place you'd always much rather be, having the understanding that, yes, this is a great time, with great people, and great things happening to you and around you. And then, much like the bad dreams, you wake up from them. And that's it. The good things are done.
"Fuck."I hope it's clear just how much crueler one is than the other. What's really more painful, honestly? Pain and then relief? Or relief tailed by pain? By longing? By wishing for something that doesn't exist, that never existed, that was all just a lie you told to keep your mind entertained while you slept?
I thought so.
Rolling out of the bed proper, I looked over to Lux's.
Gone. Of course. Rising early to get morning training or whatever in's probably ingrained so hard it's a quarter of his identity at this point. No surprise there. I could already guess what the note said, too. It was right around the time where we were to be running low on pooled spending cash, so I had it at pretty good odds he was at the job board we'd waded through a throng to find two days ago. Hopefully, he'd pick something easy, but realistically, he wasn't going to when he could shoot for glory and save as many people as possible from something like a dragon.
I looked to my sword.
Since I was gonna do a job one way or the other, I supposed I should be prepared to do it quickly and efficiently, to minimize time and energy wasted on it.
And that meant keeping a katana, which I'd learned requires more care than I'd say it's worth, in top condition, as well as myself.
...Breakfast first, then. Empty stomach is a shitty stomach.
I wandered downstairs to the inn's first floor.
