Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-31845764-20170627013502/@comment-28718853-20170926021425

I do some backpedaling, unsure of what her intentions were, but with a great hall as packed as this, I didn't really have that many options. The Wight reached me, a gentle smile crossing her face. She didn't appear to be planning anything sinister, but that was only on the outside. My friend notices my predicament and strolls into the sea of party guests as if to say, "You're on your own man."

The Wight receives an awkward smile from me as I quietly curse my friend for leaving me to fend for myself like that. Well, since I was feeling trapped in this situation, I decided to roll with it. "Can I help you ma'am?" I ask the undead noble. "Quite the event isn't it, first time?" she asks me. "First time in the luxurious part of the masquerade actually," I respond. There is a concealed giggle in the Wight and she asks me, "You usually spend it in the streets?"

"I don't normally get invitations to celebrate in a glamorous place like this," I reply to her. "Well, it must be great to be here now isn't it, experiencing life like an upper-class gentleman?" she asks me. "Oh yeah, it's very wonderful, the only thing that would make this event better is if they were serving apple juice," I tell her.

The woman's pale white face seems to get a little rocky under her fancy blue eye mask, though she still retains that sweet smile. "Oh right, I forgot that you don't drink alcohol...Jagos." she mutters. My body just goes numb, my world seems to just stop. Did...did she just say my name?

"H...how did you know my..." I utter, but she places a soft finger on my lips and says, "I remember you, I remember you very well. You were trapped under that rubble, and I pulled you out."

I shoved her away before she could speak any further. Tears welled up in my eyes and I could feel my guilt from years past riding back at the speed of a horse. "No...no!" I sobbed as I pushed through the crowd to get as much distance between myself and her as I could. A staircase was ascended and I soon found myself standing on an empty balcony that was overlooking the streets clogged with masked partygoers like myself.

Tears slid down my cheeks as I asked myself repeatedly why she had to return. I couldn't bear it in her presence, none of it. All I could do was hope against hope that she didn't attempt to follow me here.

That hope was crushed under the overwhelming weight of sorrow as I heard the unmistakable sound of high heels approach me and her voice, "What happened back then..."

I turned around and blurted out, "I screwed up, okay! I had no idea that that package was a bomb!  If I had never accepted that delivery job, then those Order punks wouldn't have attacked and you'd still be..."

My immense amount of guilt renders me unable to finish the rant, as I had buried my face in my hands and began an even more rampant round of sobbing.

I could feel the lady wrap an arm around my shoulder and walk me over to a chair where she took a seat and had me kneel down beside her. She stroked me across my back and whispered, "Shhhhh....shhhhhh...shhhhh..."

She started to pat my back and mutters, "You had no idea. They were likely to strike the village even if you didn't accept the job."

"But look at the disaster that occurred because of me! I got chased out by my own people after all of it!" I scream into my hands. I feel the Wight's hand move up to the back of my neck and rub it. "I never would have joined them in ousting you. You were simply doing your job like the rest of us back then.  The past cannot be changed, and it never will be," she replies. My neck massage grows more relaxing and she whispers, "Please do not let me be the object of your guilt. I was the one who sent you that invitation.  Everytime I saw you, you seemed stressed about that incident.  I want you to put it to rest, here and now."

My wild, but muffled sobs are reduced to deep breaths. I expose my tear-stained face to the Wight and ask more calmly, "How am I supposed to do that?"

The hand that was on the back of my neck now changes position to the top of my head. "Think, think of the future. What you want to do, who you want to be.  The past serves to be nothing more than the memories of both good and bad," she suggests. I stare at her. My mind was telling me that it was going to be difficult, but I decided to try it anyway.

I closed my eyes, and got to work on sparking up my imagination for the future.

Walls adorned with beautiful handmade paintings. Works of fiction that would be imprinted in history for years to come. Yes, yes it was working. The more I dwelled on a bright and possible future, the more that destructive memory began to fade away. I needed to push harder. An artist in his room, casually expressing himself through his work. Papers stacked on desks that were as tall as a toddler containing loads of words that translated into innovative stories. I could feel the incident of long ago quickly losing its grip.

Soon enough, positive thoughts dominated my mind, the tragedy nothing more than a tiny smudge in my memory. A heartwarming smile appeared on my face, and the Wight took notice asking, "Are you alright now, Jagos?"

My eyes open up to her and I answer, "Yes...thank you Merida."

Merida smiles and gets up from her chair, pulling me to my feet. She turns to the doorway and says, "Now, let us go and enjoy the rest of the festival."

"Indeed, we have spent long enough on this lonely balcony, let's not dwell any further," I agree.

Hand-in-hand, we both head back down to the grand hall, happier than normal and ready to relish in whatever fun activities were available for the rest of the night.