Awakening Again

Date - I have no idea

The healers tell me that writing is a good way to deal with the pain, both of body and of mind. They're stretched too thin to do more than preserve life and let the rest mend itself. Which is why I can no longer tell how close my pen is to this parchment until I spatter the ink. I may have to change my surname - how well can one use a sword with only one eye?

I suppose I'm luckier than most, at that. The rest of me is whole, and I'll heal in time. We Sylvari are a tenacious sort, as stubborn as ivy and harder to kill. I suppose I can always switch to daggers - at arm's reach it's hard to miss. It'll be a whole new fighting style to master, but I've always loved a challenge.

The healers are acting odd around me. They whisper, and look sidelong at me when they think I don't notice. They're nervous, and it's aught to do with my scars. It's like they're waiting for a bomb to go off, except I'm the bomb. I wish someone would talk to me. I tried to reach Mother, but she's still weak from that THING that attacked the Grove. And I can't see the whole hospital, but there aren't any other Sylvari in my tent. Actually, I've seen neither branch nor leaf of my kin since I awoke three days ago. And having put that in writing, I find it pressing odd. Half the defenders at Blue Oasis were Sylvari - surely I wasn't the only survivor? I know I wasn't the worst of the wounded.

Now I'm worried. I need some answers. I guess it's time I find out if I can get up from this cot.


~ Nieth Bladedancer