#day132020

You think you belong with someone. You think they think that, too. You think you know someone. You think they’d go as far for you, as you would for them.

You’re abandoned, and everything shatters. Not just your notion of them. But your sense of self, and worth. Definitions for things melt and your vision of the world blurs through tears that are not only literal.

Your parents didn’t truly abandon you, but they died. And you were left cold and shaking in the snow, staring at a half frozen lake. You barely registered the commotion all around you. You abandoned your doll as thoughtlessly as your family left you.

Your Clan let her take you away. They passed you to her like any trade good in exchange. You’ve never known what she gave, but you know she gave something. She would hold it over you for years. The people you knew, the people you loved, the people you thought you were part of… They split you away. They looked at your potential and they weighed your cost. And they bargained you against something better.

No one came for you.

You learned abandonment before you finished learning your letters. Formative moments molded you to stand straight, chin up, and eyes clear. A laugh and a smile, a wink with a hint of mischief. Alluring, certainly. You hold yourself to the side just enough to draw attention. But full adoration, craved so desperately, you skirted courting even as you longed to grasp it.

When you finally found love, you could not believe. You botched it. You felt the spectre looming--he would surely see, soon, that you were not enough, that you were better left behind, that you had never been what he thought. That he deserved better. This time, you left.

You lashed out; it didn’t matter at what. You ached with regret. And you knew yourself a fool.  You had perpetuated the cycle and it was your own fault. You were ashamed and just as alone as you had feared to be. You had accomplished nothing but wounding a bond that had been strong.

And so you learned. You vowed to do better. You determined that you would not sabotage yourself again, even when you  made mistakes. The best of men had been worth the risk, you think now. You could not erase what happened, only continue the story forward. You could wallow, or you could pull yourself away. It was uncomfortable. And it was slow. You promised yourself--no one else!--you would be gentle with yourself as much as you could.

You can never abandon yourself. And now,  with time and grace, you wouldn’t want to.

Day 13

Day 13 - Abandon

@daily-writing-challenge​

It was a relief to finally be free, like the largest weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  The spotlight, the expectations, the constant scrutiny; being of noble birth in Quel’thalas was not an easy task. At a young age, Tristenne Darkmorn decided that this lifestyle was not for him. Not that there was anything he could do about it, his family was too powerful, too connected.  If he ran, he would be found and their family would be punished. He didn’t care much for the family’s reputation, but he did care about the repercussions that would rain down upon him.

The fire allowed him the chance to abandon all that he had once known, and to rise from the ashes as someone new. Over the course of that fateful night, the Darkmorn name had ceased to be. The estate was burnt to the ground and any remaining Darkmorns completely vanished from the public eye. Rumors of all varieties, and one fact which he would never admit to, circulated the population. Tristenne paid them no heed.  In the end, it was chalked up to be an accident.  At least that was the official statement, gold always brought forth the loudest voices.  Tristenne no longer existed anymore, as far as he was concerned. The book on that life was shut and sealed forever.  Thus was born Red.

It was a nickname from someone once close to him.  Simple and generic, with his red hair and his proclivity towards the color in general, no one would really question it. Sure, they may assume it wasn’t his real name, but he also wasn’t planning on being around the sort who pressed. He would leave Quel’thalas in his dust and never look back - of course all of that was easier said than done.