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Sadly the God shook his bearded head. That Cirrus was so horrifically misguided - that she felt she bore the company of death constantly - saddened him greatly. It was both naive and self-centered in the most heart-crushing of ways. Death followed those whose time on this planet had run out. That Cirrus thought her relationships or proximity to others somehow influenced their death was foolish, and yet he could see how she truly believed it to be so, and how it waxed and weighed on her. As she spoke of her Father, the God exhaled softly, nodding his giant head. At her mention of Sitka, a weary chill shook the God's frame. The girl really had encountered so much loss, that her reactions were not entirely unexpected. And yet ... yet she had given in to this weakness of mind. This self-determined hatred of herself, pinpointing her existence as the cause of so much pain. Perhaps Sitka's death was on her shoulders, but her Father's was not, nor her mother's disappearance. Nor anything else. Yet, the ever diligent warrior, she bore their names and their fates.
"Cirrus, death follows us all, but it takes only those whose time is up. It has nothing to do with you. You do not bear its mark, because it is not your time. Death is not vindictive. It does not punish. Only you punish yourself for the progression of time." He offered kindly once her speech had paused momentarily. The God was an unmovable as a mountain, and yet he did appear soft somehow, despite the hard ridges and muscular contours of his body.
"Do not mistake the ability to heal, with being a healer, Cirrus. That is why you were given this quest - so that you would see that the ability to heal does not necessarily come from magic, but from patience, companionship, and the strength to watch the life bleed out of another's body and to remain with them during that time. Allowing that process to take the time that it needs requires strength. A strength which your background as a warrior should have afforded you. Hurrying it ... unless done for the mercy of the animals, rather than your own desires and weaknesses, is not healing. It is murder."
The God sighed and shook his horned skull, weary of being angry with Cirrus. Now, all he felt was pity and sadness. "I am always here Cirrus - you need only have asked of me what to do, and I would have clarified. The token from their lifeless body was only to demonstrate that you indeed stayed with them until their lives were gone. It was not an instruction to take their life. Never would I ever - even on the darkest days of Helovia - ask for such a thing. But - " Another sigh, "-your heart was not full of malice." A gentle and warm breeze stirred around them. The smell of lilac and moss filled the air as the magical currents held within the breeze slowly infused themselves into Cirrus soul.
"You can now heal, Cirrus. But that does not make you a healer. Being a healer is a state of being, an outlook. Until you dispel the illusion that the death you find all around you is your fault, you will never be a healer."
Congratulations! Cirrus has been granted her magic. Please post in the records updates.
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[O] breaking me, completing me
