A Feeling (part 3)

I think something might be wrong with me.

Concentrating is becoming exponentially more arduous for me, and it's beginning to extend into other areas of life. My spells feel different, almost alien, now. When I attempt to cast a spell, it feels more unpredictable. Sometimes the spells are less powerful than I intend, other times, more powerful...once, two spells even sort of melded together into something else completely.

Maybe I should take it easy. Rest more, try not to utilize my spells as much for a few days? I suppose that will have to do for the time being, I'm sure that all I need is to spend a day or two in bed and a couple more days without any stressful activities and my concentration will be back to normal again.

I hope.


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Something is wrong. Something is definately wrong.

My spells...I...I'm afraid I can't control it. I feel more like...like it's controlling me. Spells casting of their own volition, regardless of whether or not I'm making any attempt to cast any spells at all. Spells I cast go completely haywire or out of control, no matter how hard I try to concentrate and keep it from becoming too hazardous.

I'm too dangerous to stay here. I will not endanger the lives of people around me. I can't. I just...I can't.

I need to leave here. Now.


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A moogle flutters into the room, looking around for his master. No sign of him is readily obvious--the room looks more disheveled than usual, several things knocked over onto the floor...he begins to become worried as he sees one of his master's plants is now crystalline, frozen with ice that doesn't seem to be melting at all, a scorch mark in the shape of a hand along the wall, and a letter amidst the chaos left in the wake of what seems to have almost been a fight.

The letter seems to be addressed to Kre'oss, and the moogle carries it off in search of the letter's addressee.



Kre'oss,

I'm sorry. I cannot stay here any longer. It's as I feared, I can't control it anymore, and I only wish I could see the signs sooner. Unfortunately, hind sight does no good now, does it? I'm afraid that I'm forced to keep this short, so I can't explain it. I can't stay in Windurst. Or any populated area right now. I'm going home. I can only pray that I'll be able to return...I love you, Kre'oss, and I'm sorry for any pain or trouble I've caused you. I hope you can forgive me for the trouble I've put you, and everyone else, through. Please don't follow me...please. I can't explain, but following me might put you, and anyone who comes with you, in danger. And I don't want that.

Goodbye.
-Caen'ir


(( Last one for now. ))

A Feeling (part 2)

I don't understand what's going on anymore. It's been getting more and more difficult for me to concentrate recently. I constantly find my mind wandering, and sometimes it feels like it's impossible to get it back under control once more. Maybe it's that odd feeling I've been having lately. I'm still unsure of what's causing it and what, exactly, it's about, but it hasn't gone away yet.

This can't keep going on. It's really starting to bother me...

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Something must be wrong with me.

When I woke up this morning, I wasn't in my bed. I wasn't on the floor, either. In fact...I wasn't on the ground at all. I was floating. That's right. Floating. I don't know how. What's happening to me? Maybe...maybe I just imagined it all? Laying on a bed of air and magic? Falling back onto my own bed? Perhaps it was all just a dream? Yes...just a dream.

That has to have been it. Just a weird, vivid, dream.

(( Sorry I keep posting short ones. I might combine them all into one big post when I'm done. ))

A Feeling (part 1)

I can barely hear myself think.

Incantations are spoken in hushed whispers throughout my mind. The words and letters blur, melding together indistinctly. I can't hush the voices or stop the intermingling of the words--I can only watch helplessly as they do so. I can feel it slipping, but I'm afraid I can't hold onto it. I...am not sure what "it" is, but when I imagine not having it, I can feel a knot of horror in the pit of my stomach.

It isn't a person. It isn't a phsyical object. I don't know how I know this, but whatever "it" is, I know it's not either of those. It's something I feel like I require, but what? I can't, for the life of me, figure it out.

What is "it"? Why am I so frightened by the possible loss of it? How and why am I losing it? Is there even an "it"? Or...am I just imagining things?

I need to know. Soon.