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Jenasis (wowstead)
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re: Until Time Takes Me

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Very sad story. I need a hug after reading it.

Sephe (wowstead)
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re: Until Time Takes Me

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For three days and three nights I endured a living nightmare, drifting closer and closer to the infinite dark. What I saw horrified me for I dipt into the future, far as elven eyes could see...

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If only the light of day could pierce into the depths of the Undercity, surely after all these years it would have bleached my outline into even these stone walls. Except for my daily devotion I rarely moved from my spot overlooking the Trade Quarter, preferring to watch in silence the prosperity we fought so long to obtain. 05:50. Time.

Turning around I step back from the ledge and begin to make my way. Past the light and heavy armor merchants. Past the weapons merchants. A right turn by where the Kor'kon Overseers once stood, posts manned now by Royal Dreadguards. As it should be.

Another turn, then another at the Siege of Stormwind Envoys trumpeting their Call to Arms. A sad and glorious thing to fall in battle, even more terrible to do so on the eve of our final victory. I believed you when you said forever.

An elevator ride to just below the surface then up the torch lined ramp to the Tomb of Menethil II where I bear left and continue on to the old Throne Room. 05:55. Almost dawn.

Across the great seal, through the double set of doors, and beyond where the big bell used to lay before it was melted down. It, like so much else, had to be sacrificed. Why? Why did so large a burden have to fall upon so few?

Around the corner and out into the courtyard. Over the bridge, then a final right at the old lamppost. Bent, but not broken. Still standing. Game and defiant till the end. How could I not be proud of you?

There. The one on the end. The one without a stone. No marker, only memories, unknown now to all but I. It's not what he deserves. I know it's what he would have wanted but it it's not what he deserves.

At the foot of the mound of dirt, now far from fresh, is a patch of turf that has been repeatedly trampled down. And as the sun crests the top of the ruins I sit on it once again to resume my vigil.

I know it is really the sun warming me and not him. I know it is really the breeze moving my hair and the wind whispering in my ear and not him. But the hand on my shoulder, ne'er seen yet always felt, that is real. That is him.

I shut my eyes to stop the tears and together we watch the sun rise. Watch it as we do every day until time comes to take me.

I know you didn't want to leave.

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...and saw a vision of the world, and all the loneliness that would be.

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