Of Wanderlust and Solitude

[Karo Sa'Nepenthes]

Timestamp: 38 Aperitus, Spring of Era XIII PF. Midmorning.

There was only so long, Karo reflected darkly, that one could remain inside. Not that being outdoors was so much intensely etter, but after a while walls began to close in on a man. Besides which, Jan had essentially told Karo that if he didn't bathe, change his clothes, and for Phedos' sake leave his sanctuary of solitude in Kard en'i'Arnatir's study so that the human could clean, the former Governor would find himself without prepared meals until he came to his senses. Moreover, Jan had decided that as long as he was cleaning anyway, he would take steps to help Karo make the right decisions. A bucket of cold water had been unceremoniously dumped upon him to aid in getting the former Governor out of his chair.

So Karo had. Grumbling and ungracious, he had roughly shoved by his secretary -- for although Jan was much more than a humble secretary, he could never be persuaded to take either a raise in pay nor any other more glorious title -- on his way to go bathe and change. He failed, though, as Jan knew his master more than well enough to anticipate such an eventuality and had moved out of the way very spryly for one his age.

"Jan?" said Karo, pausing before he went downstairs to bathe.

"Yes, my lord?"

"You're fired."

"Of course, sir." Jan's lack of emotion or reaction betrayed his intention to utterly ignore Karo's temper, and in a way the Elementalist felt a little better because of it. He hadn't really meant it anyway.


Some hours later, then, Karo found himself in his current location. He was working out his black mood by walking aimlessly through the Tawnleaf. Unfortunately, his mood only seemed to get blacker by the step. Karo could not help but dwell and brood on all that had gone wrong in his life of recent brightenings. First and foremost, of course, was the utter rejection of his help by Imperia, and the forcing of his hand to place that unparalleled idiot Chris Strain in the position of Thane. The fact that he had been so universally hated and despised in Imperia and rejected because of something so stupid as his race, coupled with the city's stubborn refusal to do anything to help themselves and still demand that Karo help them, and the fact that Karo had only ever meant well, absolutely infutiated him But along with his towering rage, Karo harbored a vast, bubbling black sea of resentment.

Too, he had only recently discovered that Calairiel and the Lord Nimavel of House Mynendil had evidently fallen madly, hopelessly in love with one another. He was happy for Calairiel, of course, and thrilled that she had found someone who could complete her in that exceptionally rare way that only true love could. He had even more or less managed to get over the surprise and the... whatever it had been that had caused his blood to pump wildly and hotly, his stomach to drop away and vanish, and that unpleasant rushing sound to echo in his ears... that he had first experienced when he allowed himself to think about it.

Yet, all the same, he had thought she held him in higher esteem, that she trusted him more. But she had only allowed him to find out along with the rest of the Combine, on the darkening that was supposed to have been his and his alone -- and had been, he had to reluctantly admit, smiling at the memory even now. But Karo would normally have thought that she would have considered him trustworthy enough to share such an important event in her life with him, and the fact that she had not seen fit to do so hurt a little bit, and rankled at him far more. He tried to be fair, it was true, but sometimes it was extremely difficult for him to manage even neutrality, much less to be happy for Calairiel, as she deserved. The guilt he felt over this discontent didn't help his mood any more than the discontent itself.

And then there had been that bloody Syl'ger incursion. Bloody, that was, both literally and in terms of a label coming from sheer frustration. Karo had spent a lot of time thinking on it, and had come to the conclusion that rarely, if ever, had he been so humiliated. To have been caught helpless and treated so intimately by such a beast still made his skin crawl. It, too, was worsened by the fact that a small part of him -- likely the part that had allowed his traitorous body to betray him, the part that had thought Hey, might be interesting... -- was not really sure that it had been a totally bad experience. The sheer shame of those thoughts was even worse than the embarassment of having needed to be rescued, which in and of itself was something his pride would not allow him to forget, nor to forgive himself. The suicidal charge into the fray had been born from this same bleak mindset, this general rage at the world, but he still could not forgive himself for having been so stupid.

Making everything worse yet, Karo felt lost. Without purpose. For as long as he could remember, the elf had had a goal, some ultimate design towards which he had moved. It changed scores of times over the eras, of course, but there was always that sense of vision that had propelled him forwards. In giving up his position as Governor, Karo had also given up that sense of purpose. He had no stars now by which he might chart the course of his life, no guide to help him find his path. In many ways, the newest scion of House Celerrond felt as if he were merely marking time, vaguely going through the motions of What He Ought To Do without any real interest or drive. Here only until it was time to go. Patiently waiting out the eras until something happened or until it was time to die.

Perhaps it was the visions that were bothering him. The first day of Winter, when the meteors had devastated the capital city he still thought of as his, Karo had been visited by a disturbing vision of betrayal. One of his own Scutum Ferri, his Iron Shileds, had stabbed him in the back and left him to die. Now, obviously, that vision would never come true, as the Scutum Ferri had dissolved with Karo's resignation. But the thought and the memory still haunted the elf's dreams. Then, the other vision. Karo could not be sure, but he believed it to have been sent by Diana herself. He had seen a vast plain, filled with blood. Surrounded by the dead and dying, he had seen his own lifeless corpse laying forgotten in the dust. "Help them," he had been told. But help whom? To do what? He simply could not have done more to help the people in Imperia -- he had done everything he could and more, working harder at that job than at anything else in all his long eras -- and he had no clue who else it might have meant.

But no, he decided swiftly. The visions might mean anything, but they were not the cause for this sea of rage, this horrible black emptiness that had grown within him, terrible and ravenous as death itself. Vast reservoirs of untapped rage and bitter resentment boiled within him in constant turmoil, begging to be released.

The Illuxian priest trapped within the untapped and unreachable depths of Karo's mind must have been having the time of its life, feeding on such misery and hatred.

Intellectually, he knew he must do something with this bleak, brooding silence that he had wrapped himself in. Do something to it, to rid himself of it and be at peace. But in practice, he could not. Nothing seemed to help. Not even now, when he should have sought the comfort of his friends and family, could that familiar warmth cheer him and heal his soul.

No. All told, Karo had had an extremely unpleasant Winter, and thus far Spring hadn't been a whole lot better. It was true, the night he had officially been acknowledged a Celerrond through the Rite of Embrace had been incredible, and he knew he would remember it with joy for all time. But it had only staved off the darkness within him for so long. He felt as if he was a failure, as if nothing he touched could go right. He was a shame to his family, a stain upon their honor, in his eyes whether or not anyone else could see. What he needed, he decided, was redemption. In his own eyes, if in no one else's, he was fallen as low as he had ever been. This quest for redemption did not, and could not, fill the huge void where his purpose used to be. But perhaps it would be enough.

Yes, Karo thought, a smile of blackest amusement and darkest humor crossing his face. Perhaps, for now, redemption would be enough to keep him from going mad.

The former Governor began to walk with a renewed appearance, at least, of purpose, though he knew it was more out of impatience than any true brightening of his mood. Deeper into the Tawnleaf he wandered, keeping no particular course, in search of he knew not what.