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       #Post#: 539--------------------------------------------------
       A History of Violence
   DIR By: Kaidrel
       Date: January 6, 2017, 10:59 pm
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       How long have you lived?
       Too long.
       The water rolled down the curves of her palm, bright alien eyes
       following the flow.  It was raining, Kaidrel's favorite weather
       pattern.  Water meant life, and promoting life was everything to
       the Draenai.  Even one that followed Nobunto’s shamanism
       teachings.
       Well, she of course still revered the light, but the spirits
       simply offered more.  It offered an emotional out: the wind
       whipping and earth trembling reflecting her teary-eyed rage; the
       gentle rain mocking her joy.  Even if it took her further away
       from her people.  They trusted little that was even perceived to
       stray from the light.
       They were a long lived race; they forgot nothing.
       Too damn long lived, to be honest.  They took from the cosmos
       and typically only returned at the hands of the enemy.  A
       society of ancient beings struggling against the darkness.
       Unless taken of course.  Taken and used up, like candles
       dripping wax.  Kaidrel had seen enough kin burned up that way.
       Minds twisted beyond comprehension.  Madness riddled on their
       faces.  There was no burning those images from her mind.  From
       any of their minds.
       She'd always wondered how her peers survived some of the trauma.
       They were the exiled, truly, in spirit.  Kaidrel had long ago
       decided that survival was triumph enough.
       When the others ran, she had not.
       Her eyes followed the water down the scars on her palms, old
       wounds, never forgotten fights, drip dripping to the haft of an
       axe strapped to her side.  A slight frown creased the corner of
       her lips.  She always forgot about the weapons on her when she
       day dreamed like this.  Rare moments, as it was hard to escape
       the violence.  Hard to avoid what seemed like a lifetime of
       fighting back.  The axe was brilliantly clean, unlike her hooves
       and clothes, caked in warm earth.
       The frown eased away as the ground trembled.  Good – The demon
       was approaching.
       #Post#: 542--------------------------------------------------
       Re: A History of Violence
   DIR By: Sila
       Date: February 14, 2017, 4:21 pm
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       Great read! Curious to see more!
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