The Chronicles of Darkness: Everything You Love Will Die Before Your Eyes

I...I'm sick and tired of you treating me like a child. I look at the sky and I see the sun, not the storm clouds. When there are storm clouds, I see the silver lining. I am able to find joy in the worst of things. It is how I was able to stay alive, what stopped me from willing myself to die. The thought that I might see Uncle Quayle again someday sustained me. What is so wrong with seeing beauty, for taking a moment out of the day to find something glorious to my eye?

I wonder why you cannot steep yourself into your elvishness, to pause for a moment and revel in the beauty of the nature that you strive so hard to preserve. Is it because Khalid died? Is it because, as a Harper, you have seen too much ugliness and intrigue to ever find anything beautiful again? Is it because your parents were killed before you? I want to know, but you would not tell me, even if I asked. You would look at me with condecension and tell me that those are not questions for a child to ask.

I am not a child. I am a woman. I have woman's thoughts, woman's feelings, a woman's body, and woman's desires. I wish you would see me thus, as a woman. Quayle even noticed that I've grown. Why can't you? What is so painful within you that you can't bother to notice?

The loss of my wings is something only another winged creature could understand. I was avariel with my wings. Without them, I am just an elf. I lost some of my innocence, my freedom, and myself that day. How can I go back to my home, when I can't fly up to it? I'm doomed to stand at the bottom looking up at something I once reached and never can again, for eternity. There, everyone was the same as me. Now, among half-elves and humans, gnomes and dwarves, I have come to realize that I am doomed to stand and watch everything and everyone I love die. I've already noticed how much older Quayle looks, his beard more silvery by the day, his stance more and more stooped. He is all the family I have left.

I don't mention your beauty arbitrarily. Did you ever wonder why I seemed to watch how your hair looked in the sun, how you looked while steeped in the forest. I fear that you'll never be able to find love again, especially with me. You aren't elvish enough to consider love between women as normal. I don't think you could bear to be what humans call "lesbian". I'd love to marry and have children, but I know that I won't have any other but you.

You will never know how I feel, never know the truth. So, I'm destined to watch my love die.

I beg of you, though, please, treat me as a woman. And try to see the beauty in your life.