Venice Craven

Demons, kha, incantations, runes and grounding. Of all of these I have written, but never of love.

I do not think it is within the realms of my grasp, though sometimes I swear I feel it brush the edge of my finger tips. Taunting. Giving me just the barest glimpse of what I am missing. I see it in the eyes of others. The tailor, the Captain who people proclaim as mine.

But not for me. It is not something Ylessa has yet sought to bless me with, no mortal man holds my heart- or for that matter as it is a modern world; woman.

But then, it is not something I have been overly concerned with. No devotions have I ever offered in the name of it, though of course I pay my respects to Ylessa as I do to any of the Gods. Though none more so than Melchoir.

Normally it is not something that I find myself missing. I have other, more important things to dwell, but recent events have given rise to thoughts outside of the norm. Perhaps tomorrow, I will visit Ylessa's temple and ask for her blessing. There were some pretty wild flowers blooming in the clearing that I think she might like in offering.

Perhaps it is not meant for me as I am of the chosen. And the only one of my kind. Born Dryth from birth. By Melchoir's own words. Special even amongst the Choosen. Bound by my Love to all Dryth. As it is dicated in many of the Arcane Houses. Not all, but most offer similar take on it. A couple of the houses dictate that those within it do not marry, as no partnership could surpass that between one Dryth and another. Others advocate celebacy. These things need to be decided amongst us for what House we will rise from the ashes of the Darkness. It is well past the time we meet to decide.