It had always been my intention to settle down the moment that I’d found a good steady source of Rashad, and nice occasional employment. I didn’t need much, but that was all I assumed that I would need to die a pleasant, if wasting death. I’m not suicidal, nor am I one of those junkies who lives for the next fix, although a good high is nothing to scoff at.
Simply put, I just love the dreams. The world always seems so manageable after a good dose of Rashad. Or so I thought. I’d already taken three shots of white-lightning, and was working on my second dose of Rashad, or so checking my stash the next day told me, since I’d completely lost track at the time, when I fell into the most realistic hallucinatory state that I’d ever before been in.
The entire world fell away, leaving me in a town I’d never before seen, looking at a woman who was more symbol than object. Her features just told me woman, and her body told me beauty. I’m sure that was the order of it, for I’d sure hate to think that it was her body that told me woman.
Simply put, she was perfection, or that ideal that I have sought ever since. The only thing of reality that I took from that vision was the song, one that even now eludes my waking mind. I am tempted to repeat the experience hoping once again to see that divine beauty, to bask in her glory, and to hear that song singing to me across space and time.
I’m afraid that she is the only woman I will ever truly love.
That day, I put the wastrel’s ways behind me, hoping to be able to find that creature of purity that I saw in my mind’s eye. I know that she exists. Knowing I would never recognize the woman, I am seeking the song, the song I will know, that will sing from my heart the moment that I hear it played.
Its pounding rhythm and compelling melody will bring me to raptures beyond any I can now claim to have ever experienced.
I first sought the song among the monster tribes north of my Western Empire home. Among them I found songs that sped the blood even as they inflamed the passions, but the truth of it is that their songs were too primal to have ever been the song.
I then moved into the Wolfen Empire, hoping that they could temper the bestial passions I found among monsters, but even there, the song was too harsh. The songs I learned amid the Wolfen were passionate, but they lacked in beauty. They lacked that staying power of love beyond lust. They missed out on eternity in some small fashion.
Still I pressed on, even until I made my way into the Easter Territories. Humanity is not short on one thing in their love songs: Eternity. They seem to revel in the eternal nature of the soul, putt5ing their lovers through hell with the assumption that it makes their love stronger.
Unfortunately, it seems that they forget that passion has its place as well. Sure, they usually include that flash, but humans are embarrassed of the depth that passion can bring to a relationship. Or they miss the concept entirely thinking it a thing to lock away behind closed doors.
Their songs were entirely unsuitable.
A pigeon from my relative sent me into a different direction entirely. My worship of the goddess Bast has lead me to some surprising people, but none more than the hero of CrIsis Rell. I don’t know what I expected upon meeting him, but it wasn’t the broken man I met. His song was one that lacked all passion, something I wept to see. I’d read all of the entries sent to me by way of you, and I know that he thought he had reason to leave, but can I really forgive him? Were I to be called by my goddess I would complete the quest or die in the attempt.
But Rell is only human, so how can I expect him to live up to the ideals of my own race.
Still I look, Grandfather. I haven’t found the song that I seek, even as I go on the quest that you offered to me.
Is this a chase for an untamed waterfowl, or does this song, this woman, truly exist in the world?
Yours, unsuccessful, yet undiscouraged and ever the best looking Elf to have gone a questing, Ferrel Fesqueue.
Image from Just Symbol