#andrusha

“Its okay Rizzy! You never have to go back to that, I promise. That’s why we came here, right? The mists will protect us. Shhh, Rizzy, Rizzy… don’t cry Rizzy. We got out. And now you can have noodles every day if you like and we can help in the garden and you can still bend all you like. Rizzy… don’t cry.”

It had been years since I last heard your voice. Not since shortly after the mists lifted, shortly before our sanctuary was peeled and torn from our fingers. Did you know what was coming, Rusha? Did you run? Or were you looking for a new place for us to hide? I was so naive. I really thought after all those years they would have given up the chase. They would have left us along knowing we never intended to go back. I didn't want to go back... but it was home. 

I'm ashamed now, to say I was eventually glad to be home. Training again. Sharpening the skills I had let lax there in the mists. Tools that had grown dull in the comfort and embrace of those like me. No one escapes, not forever. That's what they taught me. Brought me back to my senses. Gave me a cool hate for those that thought they could have what I wasn't allowed. It's not fair they said. Either all of us are free or none of us... and Azeroth still needs people like us, Rusha. They need us and they won't let us go. 

I was taught again that freedom was an illusion. Everyone is a slave to something so it's alright if we enslave ourselves to the greater cause. So I followed order after order. And then Rusha, the strangest thing happened... I saw you again. You had your mask off, but the mists didn't escape you in a cloud of vapor like they once did... no, that would come later when I met another that reminded me of you, also searching for a mother. I saw the shock of red hair. Your first real moment of freedom was to let it grow, remember?

It wasn't really you of course. I know that now. I see you there sometimes, in that vibrant red, but I'll hate myself more if I let that persuade me too much. The freedom you wanted is just an illusion and it's not fair. But these people live free. Have shown me something that feels so real, so easy to burn down, but they fight for it.

It's not fair, but they want it anyways. Maybe life isn’t meant to be fair.

Did you know I eventually thanked them for their cruelty? Thanked them for returning me to the glory of what I once was. For making me feel unafraid, whole, weaponized. Its an identity given, but then I look at Kurel, identity forged - from who only knows what... but its his. He also seems unafraid, perhaps not whole, but with purpose, and also weaponized. Could there be another way?

Just as I'm starting to question, just as I look at my captain and my crewmates I hear my own words, spat back at me with venom from that bright red hair that reminds me so much of you. Its useful. Its handy. Its a tool. Its kept us safe. And every time he says it, I wonder a little bit more if safety, or tools are worth the gilded prices we pay for them. The questions have power when I see those words from the other side and yet... I’m powerless to share them.

The marks in my own skin; I had no choice. It wasn’t fair, but they are useful. They saved our lives again just a few days ago. Should I thank them again for the opportunity to be used? Should I thank them for blessing me with clean breath to drowning lungs? Can I appreciate how they burn and blister my skin in my sleep because they are... handy. How I can feel shadows all around me, a darkness I never wanted to know existed, but we all have to make sacrifices right?

It's not fair... I still have my orders. I still have to do it, because it's not fair. Why should he get all this freedom? This family? Why do I have to stay behind again? I can’t convince anyone of anything, why should I let them convince me? Why do I keep clinging to hope that I can find a way out of this that doesn’t end in death? I don’t want to die. I will, assuredly, we all die someday. Do I want to fight for this place? These people? Their dreams? Can I hope to be part of this life, hope they’ll in turn protect me? I don’t want to kill him, Rusha... he gave me someone that reminds me of you. He doesn’t know it, but he started all these questions and I want to thank him for that, not assassinate him. He brought your voice back to my heart.

The monk-in-a-box, sat up in the rig, watching the stars. He wiped clean his wet cheeks, a shiver in the breeze before he let out an audible sniffle. Saeris was right, they needed to get back out to the water. They needed to -work-.

“Shhh Rizzy, Rizzy... Don’t cry Rizzy.”

“Rusha…” He spoke aloud, covering his face with his hands, “There’s no’ even a proper noodle cart in Sunspire.”

Andrusha and a breakfast setup. He's a Resinsoul Song.

I took Andrusha to the beach. It was a bit chilly and very quiet; no one else was there.