Well... so much for putting all of the blame on him. That lie was no longer an option.
She couldn't leave her room. She'd tried on two occassions but always ended up back on the bed, hidden under the quilt, face buried in the pillow. She'd cried a little, here and there - so ashamed of her actions that she was unable to face the world - but her tears were not of shame or guilt, but that of enormous loneliness. While at University in Paris, when the rare bout of homesickness hit her, she was always, at most, a few weeks away from getting a quick flight home to Lyon where she could spend some time with her family and old friends. And so, while being in a whole new city, her first time living away from her parents, her ability to go back was probably the reason that she never felt truly lonely. But now...
It was astonishing just how far from home she was. She was stranded an entire cosmos away. Not to mention; she was dead. And in spite of being just about as far away as one could possibly be from home, she was still drifting
further away. With every day and every action, she was less
'MacKensie Trydant' and more
'MacKensie the Ranger.''MacKensie the Killer.' A horrible thought.
'MacKensie the Harlot.'That day in the Temple of Hades when she'd crept up and slit the throat of the unsuspecting cultist, she'd lost a piece of herself that she could never get back. It was one thing to kill monsters and beasts in self-defence, but what she'd done in the temple was unequivocally murder. In that moment, she'd strangely thought of her mother and wondered what she would think of 'Ranger MacKensie.' Over the days she'd come to understand why it was that random thought that had entered her mind as the fight in the library began. She was losing them. Losing her parents. First in the physical. Now in the spiritual. And it all amounted to an incredible loneliness that she found impossible to resolve.
Zell. Beyond the multitude of reasons she was attracted to him - feelings amplified by a flirtatious rivalry, sparks and chemistry, and an unbelievable combat synergy in the face of danger - she knew that he was not serious about her. Zell was a suave, smooth-talking heartbreaker. Well-practiced in telling a girl everything she wanted to hear. And sure, she was a complete novice in love - gullible and happy to feel special, even if it was fake - but she could have stopped herself from making that mistake, that evening at The Nightingale. The truth was that; she was just lonely and seeking not to be. And it had worked. In addition to all of the pleasures that came with...
the mistake (now, she finally knew what all the fuss was about and boy, did it live up to expectation!) ... in addition to those pleasures; for that span of time, the physical and emotional closeness to Zell had truly banished the loneliness. But when sobriety and clarity returned... guilt, shame and regret followed.
Her honour cut down in the Temple of Hades, and killed off in hotel room of The Nightingale. And now she was more lonely than ever. And while she could pretend that it was all Zell's fault - that he'd swept her off her feet with his lies and charm. Preyed on her vulnerability, knowing that she was just another conquest of many - how could she blame him for
this afternoon? That was all her. Wanting that pleasure again. That closeness. Wanting to forget the pressure that she would soon be fighting not just for her own life, but the lives of
thousands of people - children, elderly and all. And wanting that loneliness gone for a while.
She was no longer innocent, pure, irreproachable MacKensie Trydant, adored and admired by all. She was something different now. And she would have to accept this.
Late Afternoon - The Rooftop of a Northwestern Watchtower
After skipping swiftly and vertically up the side of the tower with the help of her magical grapplehook, MacKensie was sat on the edge of the roof, one leg crossed over the other, absently watching her foot make little figure-of-eights.
When she was finally able to freshen up and leave The Mended Drum, she still was not ready to see anyone she knew and most certainly did not want to bump into Zell, or worse, Adam. So she made the most of her agility and acrobatics and found this secluded spot to get some fresh air. There was an argument, within her, that would vouch for a sense of honour that was still very-much alive. It was hard to take on-board, but she did not entirely dismiss it, even if her guilt and shame still outweighed everything else. She had killed, yes, but in her doing so, she had helped free a local region from the tyranny and wanton destruction of a demonic Greater Wraith and it's growing cult. And yes, she had slept with another man, with no hope of a serious relationship in sight, let alone marriage, but was it really the end of the world? She was dead - and now in a world where her Christian God did not exist, nor her family, nor anything she ever knew. It was not an inhumane mistake. Quite the opposite.
This was the argument that she would hope, one day, to convince herself of. But for now, guilt or not - shame or not - she had no choice but to move forward. For a hope that Fenna might be able to get home. For the lives of Valhiem's citizens. For the fate of Mytheria.
Qui n'avance pas, recule.MacKensie's lips pursed hard, her eyes hardening with determination.
Qui n'avance pas, recule.
Noctis
Zapdos
Damycles
Izurich
Teyao
Dark Cloud
Lucid Dreaming
xenon
Charybdis