#ulfarr

Ulfarr,

I never told you - well, you knew what I said it was, maybe, but I never really stood on that much.  I went by Gravespast, because it fit where I said I was from when I arrived in Eorzea.  

There was a family in the Peaks, dotting this small village of resistance, who'd been some sort of tender to the dead and their rites and tombs.  They're all dead, of course, but I have their name in a fashion so does that mean I am tending their deaths still...?   I've never been religious enough to think about that, honestly, because why believe in the dead when you can't even believe in gods but you were always so devout. You can ponder that, wherever you are.

Do I miss home... did you ever get an ache in your chest that there was something you wanted with every breath you took, and you were never getting it?  When I think about home, about my family, it sometimes is acceptance - me, go home?  They'll never let me go home, or maybe they'll send me home or call me back there to kill me.  But what home means to me... I miss what it was.  If I go back, it's not home - I left it.  It hasn't done what I've done, seen what I've seen.  And I wish that it never does.  But it means that home... there's no home for me, because what it meant, what it stands for - that's long dead.

It's strange to be able to say - or write, I suppose - that I ended up liking Eorzea.  It's not home, it's full of things that on a good day make me ill and on a bad day rip my focus from my body and I can barely recall what breathing means, let alone how to do it.  

I'd say that no, I know home wouldn't have changed... except it has to.  And I've been so far gone from it that when - if? - I ever go back, it will be this land I don't quite know.  It'd have been easier if I'd stayed in my old Legion, doing what my job there was.  I'd still be going home every few turns, and prolly have swung by and never felt that there was anything that could have been missing when I stepped foot inside home.

But broken... broken makes me think that it's a fracture.  I'm not broken Ulfarr, I'm shattered.  I'm waiting to piece the smallest things and hold them long enough that I can walk off someplace, someplace no one will look, and just break.  Not necessarily into something that I think can be repaired.  Have you seen what I did...?  Even if everything looks normal I can't stop feeling that it's so horribly wrong.

Sometimes I sit and watch the bells crawl and think I was working and nothing has been done.  Did you ever do that?  Did you ever wish that you could just... move?

I don't know if your lord will want it me to stop by but I wrote a note to send him a letter to ask for a bell to share tea.  I can fit that in before I do... well.

This is going to go into the fire as soon as the ink dries, you know.