Perhaps remembering is more than simply "not forgetting." When one dies, we mourn, we vow to remember, and then we pick up the pieces and try to put them back together. We cry, we grieve, but life goes on. Perhaps remembering is less not forgetting, and more acknowledging the past, honoring the dead. Alone, we are weak. Together we stand stronger. Unity, honor, loyalty, and fellowship shape us. just as Kara helped shape our group. She was a leader, and made the Rising Sun Fellowship all of that and more. More importantly, she was OUR leader. She has molded and shaped us, and will not soon be forgotten. In her death, she showed her loyalty and dedication to our cause. To some degree, she is a martyr. A figurehead, a standard to fight for.
In death, Kara has become a symbol of the hope for the future, and the light in the darkness that is the world.
Yes! We grieve, it would do her memory a great dishonor not to! But we do not drown in our sorrows, for Kara would not want us to waste what she has set into motion. The Rising Sun Fellowship honors her actions and words, and we will carry her memory with us always.
We honor Kara's courage, her dedication, she fought for us, and just as she fought, so will we. No one can question her bravery or strength. We remember her healing nature, and warm smile. We recall her role as a guide, and a leader. As a friend, and a compatriot.
We honor Kara Vaelia, may the Light shine on her.
That is what she had written, what she had wanted to say in honor of her friend and leader. Kel'tira Sunblaze chuckled sadly as smoothed the crumpled piece of paper against her leg. It had not happened, which was not too much of a surprise to the paladin. A few sentences, maybe her thoughts got across to the others. Nicias, at least, seemed to understand, and Karamia, but Tyrael and Ikthael? To them, it seemed, her words where somewhat of a joke.
The young Blood Elf looked around her, the Undercity crawling with Forsaken did little to ease her mind. Wearily, she rubbed the bandages on her side, the skin underneath the cloth still fragile and sore.
The memorial had started with an argument about the direction the Fellowship would take.
"We will become a war machine to be feared," Tyrael had said.
"There is more to life than blood and death," she had replied, "Love and life have a place, too, Tyrael."
"Kara wouldn't have wanted us to argue," Karamia had added, and Nicias had agreed.
Tyrael had spoken of Kara in a way that made her seem weak. It was not simple, for Kel at least, to accept his words, although hidden within there may have been some truth. Kara was brave, foolhardy, mayhaps, but brave.
"Words..." Kel sighed, "Just words... But words have strength."
Rubbing her hand over the badge pinned to her tabard at her right shoulder, she pondered the funeral service. Tyrael, with his usual suddenness, had soothed ruffled egos, both hers and others. Her own badge, depicting a dove and a rose, meant something to her that others would likely not see. It was as much a symbol of acceptance into the Fellowship she had helped create as it was a reminder of what she owed.
After the funeral, Kel, Nicias, and Quillathe had traveled back to Hillsbrad together, seeking revenge for Kara's death.
Damn Yetimus. Kel would be somewhere else entirely if not for that beast.
The trio had spoken briefly on the plains before the Yeti Lord's dwelling, and dedicated their fight to their late friend. The fight was brutal. Once again, Kel had set her own self-preservation instincts aside to protect others, and had payed the price.
Yeti horns are hard. Sharp and strong, too. Horns the size of a Blood Elf are painful, and typically deadly.
And so, after a grueling journey, Kel'tira ended up in Undercity, forcing herself to walk as Nic hovered and helped and worried. It was touching, really. And then, after they reached a priest, he left regretfully to care for himself, and his business. Kel had stood there, watching the spot he had occupied for a long moment, thinking. That night, she had slept only fitfully, and now sat on a bench in the city of the dead, feeling sorry for herself.
Kel smiled slightly, recalling the other Blood Elf's eyes, and the worry and genuine emotion in them. She had been alone for so long, and without a family to facilitate courtship, she wondered idly about the steps of that process.
((1/2))
In death, Kara has become a symbol of the hope for the future, and the light in the darkness that is the world.
Yes! We grieve, it would do her memory a great dishonor not to! But we do not drown in our sorrows, for Kara would not want us to waste what she has set into motion. The Rising Sun Fellowship honors her actions and words, and we will carry her memory with us always.
We honor Kara's courage, her dedication, she fought for us, and just as she fought, so will we. No one can question her bravery or strength. We remember her healing nature, and warm smile. We recall her role as a guide, and a leader. As a friend, and a compatriot.
We honor Kara Vaelia, may the Light shine on her.
That is what she had written, what she had wanted to say in honor of her friend and leader. Kel'tira Sunblaze chuckled sadly as smoothed the crumpled piece of paper against her leg. It had not happened, which was not too much of a surprise to the paladin. A few sentences, maybe her thoughts got across to the others. Nicias, at least, seemed to understand, and Karamia, but Tyrael and Ikthael? To them, it seemed, her words where somewhat of a joke.
The young Blood Elf looked around her, the Undercity crawling with Forsaken did little to ease her mind. Wearily, she rubbed the bandages on her side, the skin underneath the cloth still fragile and sore.
The memorial had started with an argument about the direction the Fellowship would take.
"We will become a war machine to be feared," Tyrael had said.
"There is more to life than blood and death," she had replied, "Love and life have a place, too, Tyrael."
"Kara wouldn't have wanted us to argue," Karamia had added, and Nicias had agreed.
Tyrael had spoken of Kara in a way that made her seem weak. It was not simple, for Kel at least, to accept his words, although hidden within there may have been some truth. Kara was brave, foolhardy, mayhaps, but brave.
"Words..." Kel sighed, "Just words... But words have strength."
Rubbing her hand over the badge pinned to her tabard at her right shoulder, she pondered the funeral service. Tyrael, with his usual suddenness, had soothed ruffled egos, both hers and others. Her own badge, depicting a dove and a rose, meant something to her that others would likely not see. It was as much a symbol of acceptance into the Fellowship she had helped create as it was a reminder of what she owed.
After the funeral, Kel, Nicias, and Quillathe had traveled back to Hillsbrad together, seeking revenge for Kara's death.
Damn Yetimus. Kel would be somewhere else entirely if not for that beast.
The trio had spoken briefly on the plains before the Yeti Lord's dwelling, and dedicated their fight to their late friend. The fight was brutal. Once again, Kel had set her own self-preservation instincts aside to protect others, and had payed the price.
Yeti horns are hard. Sharp and strong, too. Horns the size of a Blood Elf are painful, and typically deadly.
And so, after a grueling journey, Kel'tira ended up in Undercity, forcing herself to walk as Nic hovered and helped and worried. It was touching, really. And then, after they reached a priest, he left regretfully to care for himself, and his business. Kel had stood there, watching the spot he had occupied for a long moment, thinking. That night, she had slept only fitfully, and now sat on a bench in the city of the dead, feeling sorry for herself.
Kel smiled slightly, recalling the other Blood Elf's eyes, and the worry and genuine emotion in them. She had been alone for so long, and without a family to facilitate courtship, she wondered idly about the steps of that process.
((1/2))
Edited by Kellatira on 4/16/2012 11:28 AM PDT
