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Her faults must be repaired, her injuries, both mental and physical, be healed. How, Tor remained both uncertain and hopeful. She longed to be able to return to herself, and yet, she was well aware of the difficulties that were to occur on this route. Was it her fault she was so indecisive, so torn? Had she truly grown selfish over the times, slowly withering and decaying to a disgusting parody of herself, filled with self-greed and corrupted ethics and morals? Tor wanted to turn back the time, slip back through a wormhole, so that she had never left. Was that possible? If she were to ask assistance of the gods, would they help her, when it was her wholesome fault all along? She didn't deserve their help.
She was a broken mortal.
Even if she were to travel to the Veins, would that be even more selfish and foolish than if she tried to work hard towards the goal of being trusted? Or would it be... better, to reverse the flow (if it was even possible) so that she had never left? Was it wrong, or was it good? No. These thoughts were so corrupted, so bizarre, she had to put them out of her head. If there was one thing that might, perhaps, be acceptable, it would be to allow others to see through her eyes, feel her emotions. Putting someone in her shoes, as the human saying goes. Wouldn't that just solve all the problems... at least, most of them, in her eyes. But she wouldn't just leave again. No matter how brief the journey, she would make sure to tell of her family that she left, and even those she did not know as well. No, not only that, she would invite Laila, and Luken, and Destrier, take them with her to see the Gods far to the south, on the narrow peninsula of rock jutting out over the sea, which she had returned to four times before. Would the Earth God be disappointed in her, ashamed of her heartbreak? Or would the powerful immortal understand the little whims and woes of her mind? No, Tor asserted herself, she would hope for the best and not allow any fears to stop her from achieving what must be done. That she believed with a sharp, keening passion.
It was mid afternoon, the sun bright and golden above the trees as she grazed, clipping grass down short, thoughtful, and curious, wondering of all the possibilities. There was no breeze to stir the autumn air, and the grass was not yet yellow, and the trees were only just turning their leaves red and gold. Autumn was a beautiful season, yet it was somehow cold and lonely as well.
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[P] what is wrong must be corrected, aaron
