Witcher sketch dump
Visions constrict and restrain the one good memory I want to keep;
drowning it out in a confused haze, where matter and mind intertwine.
Countless seasons have passed during which I have already considered
this gift a curse, but it is not until now that I realise just how
much I despise it for what it does to me.
I do not know for how long we were there, that night in the gardens.
It felt like an instant and an eternity all at once, as my entire being was
swept away to a place of a hushed serenity that I had never known before,
where time and all the universe stood still. For a first, solitary instance
of my life, there was no interference. My feelings were my own, and my
visions were only of you, in the now; trembling and writhing in my
arms, your moans muffled into my skin as your warmth became mine.
When so the world returned, accompanied by dawn’s first rays glimpsing
through the canopy, and the gradually rising cacophony of the voices of
both past and future, I knew that it was over. Maybe a part of me had
already prepared for it, for I never stopped thinking of how you still
are, and always will be, hers. Even though I felt, if only for a moment,
that maybe you could also be mine…
There is no going back to what was. That place is gone, never to come
back again. I have come to terms with this, and I would settle for
the memory; but I am not allowed to keep even that in peace. The relentless
miasma of phantoms are already tearing it to pieces - the emotions being
warped and disfigured, or buried in heavy sand. The usual remedy results
in pretty much the same, in a different way. What use do I have for this
memory, if I cannot recall it with any kind of lucidity in my head; if all
I have is a discombobulated mayhem of entangled images and feelings?
I have heard the whispers among the trees: Visitors who will bring
conflict at their heels, and death. Among others, my death. I will
soon be free, the forest welcoming me back home…