Timestamp: 28th of Spring, 522 A.V.
How does one fill hollowness inside? Tazrae didn’t know how someone whose body was filled up with all its organs, blood, breath, and spirit could feel so empty. But that’s how she felt. She was utterly disconnected from everything she’d built her life into. All that was left to her was her djed… that deep well inside of herself that she half hated because it was something bred into her bloodline and made her incredibly vulnerable to fate playing cruel jokes.
As the season progressed, Tazrae found the hollowness inside her more and more consuming. She had no friends. She had no family. She had no place to truly call her own. Taz had even gone so far as to move out of her room at the Inn to provide one more guest a housing situation and had set up her tent out on the land behind the Protea. It was there she spent most of her evenings in front of a small fire.
Alone.
The word had new meaning to her. When she’d learned that everyone had symptoms at the Tenday Gathering, the fact should have made her feel better. It didn’t, though. People were generally in pain, seeing the dead or haunted by things that weren’t real. One person forgot his language, another’s form was rotting off their skeleton. One poor girl was aging rapidly only to find herself an infant again.
It was insane.
Taz didn’t know what to think and she certainly didn’t know how to feel. And because everyone forgot her, the ability for her to help was extremely limited. And she wanted to help. She was desperate to help. But it was nearly impossible. She’d meditated about it. She’d prayed about it. She’d asked the Wilds. And still she had no answers.
Taz would have moved on, roamed, but the Guardian Mark on the bottom of her left wrist - the one Mathias had recognized - kept her here. She'd sworn an duty to the settlement, to the people, and to the Goddess. She couldn't leave them, not fully. So she roamed like a ghost, like a shadow, watching other people interact and watching other people's lives as her own passed her by.
And the truth that had presented itself to her was that each person had to figure out for themselves what was going on. It was then, and only then, that people could fix things.
The afflictions people had been consumed by were deeply personal, and Tazrae’s was no different. To her, it felt exactly like dying. No one… exactly no one, remembered her name. She might as well be dead. She just ghosted through her life invisible. Every day she felt like she felt when she had stepped off The Veronica the first time. She was scared, alone, and unworthy of love, trust, and even friendship.
A part of her was terrified that this curse would last forever. Because that’s what she decided it was… a curse. So, she wandered Syka invisible, people she’d known for years staring right through her like she was a tourist or greeting her with the casualness of someone shopping at a bazaar nodding at passersby.
She’d even gone to The Outpost a few times; hoping beyond hope the curse just affected those in Syka. But the truth was Alric didn’t remember her, neither did anyone she’d carefully built relationships with at The Outpost. So, she had no real reason to head back to the T&T. She loved a man that lived there who would never let himself visualize a future with her anyhow. Was this a sign that she was misguided in even hoping, dreaming, and wishing things were different? If anything, this was a chance to live without everyone… to live wild.
Taz was all about taking chances.
But that didn’t fix the bleeding inside. That didn’t fix the emptiness she felt without her new family, without Alric, and without actually being someone. That was the hardest. When she was like this – forgotten – she was no one to anyone. And the worst of it was that she didn’t know why. Had she… had they done something to deserve it?
Maybe that was the worst part after all... not knowing. No one had jumped out and pointed an ugly finger at her and blamed her for a million horrific things and then told her the reason that's why she was feeling the way she was and forgotten. It would have been infinitely better to be a direct punishment than maybe what it was? An accident? Someone touching an artifact they shouldn't have? Her Danger Intuition hadn't so much as chirped a warning over this one.
There were no physical blows... but it was tearing her soul apart.
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