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Solitude Isn't All That Bad

Celise's picture

(( Better late than never.  It's been a very long time since I've wrirten anything. I started this a while back, and decided to finish it today. ))

 

The bustling sounds of her Garrison were muffled in her study at the top floor of the main building.  She’d added extra materials to keep the entire loft a quieter place.  This place was her home for now.  A bedroom with a bath, a spacious den where she could write at her desk or read in one of two overstuffed chairs; a small kitchen, and of course, her laboratory.  She didn’t need the guard that gently insisted that he be stationed at the entrance to the top floor; she’d only shrugged and decided to let him do his job.

The Warlock had travelled with them in the past, and now she finds herself wearing the tabard of their guild.  It was her guild now too.  The group seemed to be fairly close-knit, or it seemed that way to her.  And now that she wore their tabard, she was aligned with the Meddlers’ associated guild:  The Silver Dragoons.

She’d known some of them in the past; she’d attended a few of the Dragoons weekly meetings so long ago.  The last time she was at their gathering was when her friend Sowelu had died.  The Warlock had spoken at the memorial.  She had worn white, had been barefooted, and more importantly, had arrived without any of her minions in tow.

Celise really liked these folks.  She wasn’t certain though, how they felt about her.  She had always kept a safe distance from people in general, and now she finds herself doing the same thing even while wearing her guild’s colors.  She was, after all, a Warlock, and most people didn’t take too kindly to her.  “She’s a Warlock, a criminal…”  And worse things.  The whispers of the past weren’t usually too far from her thoughts, especially when she was near others, and she had yet to hear such things from her guild and associates.  In all reality, Celise wanted these people to like her, and she understood that not everyone would.  Tolerate might be a better word, for some.  Being tolerated was better than being hated.  Maybe it was the same thing.

The Warlock had sequestered herself for the past few weeks in the solitude of her laboratory, not joining the guild in their travels of late.  And when she had, she’d kept a bit of distance, and kept mostly to herself.  She found that she missed seeing them, and even though she didn’t know them in any great detail, she did know some of their names.

Celise finished her warm brandy then descended her loft to check on the goings-on in her garrison.

 

(( Loneliness can be conquered only by those who can bear solitude. ~Paul Tillich ))