Holy Order™ - RF Online Philippines

Mother,

Do you remember the day that I told you I was leaving? I remember it well. Often when I’m alone, I think of that time and I replay the scene over and over in my head. I remember being so fed up, and you quiet and emotionless. I remember how you just stared at me when I said I was going to enlist. I remember how I yelled at you, how I was crying. I wondered if you even cared that I was leaving. I remember you turning, and you telling me to leave. I was on my own, you said. I was no longer your daughter.

So much has happened since then, since I ran away from you and everyone else and hid here on Novus, such a strange and silly place to hide. It’s been a few years since then. I’ve risen through the ranks, earned my place, earned my keep. I’ve made so many friends and enemies, fought so many battles, withstood so many wounds and injuries and somehow survived. It’s hard to believe I’ve come this far.

I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know how to feel, sometimes. My anger from back then has faded. Now, I just feel conflicted. I know you had your own reasons for your actions, for how you raised me. I just wish I knew what they were. I had my reasons for deciding to leave; I was young and angry at you, for limiting me, tying me down, for making me feel like a prisoner. You never yelled at me, or hit me, but then you didn’t do anything else either. I was like any other employee of yours; you rarely talked to me outside of business matters. It was as if the business was more important to you than I was, your own daughter. It was painful. I wanted to go out, to experience things, to explore, to live. I knew that if I was to stay with you, I would never achieve that. So I left. I hope you understand that.

Time has done a lot for me. I feel foolish for the space I created between us, I feel immature and impulsive, but I do not regret leaving. What I do regret is the time we’ve wasted by not speaking to each other, the time we’ve wasted by turning our backs on one another, erasing each other from our lives. Now, it has become time that I’ll never be able to replace, or make up for. We’ve left so many things unsaid, so many feelings unexplained, questions unanswered.

I’ve always wondered if you were proud of what I have become. Were you ever proud of me? How will I ever know?

Despite everything, I miss you, mother. Isn’t it ironic that it’s only now that I seek reconciliation? I will see you again, someday. And when that day comes, I hope we can fix things between us. I hope we can just sit down and talk, and explain, and hug and cry, because no matter what happens; name changes or planets apart, you are still my mother, and I am still your daughter.

Your loving daughter,

Astraea

Astraea tucked the letter she had written into the long white envelope she held in her hand, licking the flap and sealing it with her finger. It felt rushed, but she hadn’t expected all of her feelings to pour forth when she decided to sit down and write it.

It was particularly windy that day, and Astraea was not used to it, despite the warning of the cliff’s name, Windy Bluff, gave her. She pushed back the hair that blew into her face with her hand as she watched leaves and small pieces of dust fly off the cliff and into the crashing sea below. The sun hung low in the sky, beginning its descent as the night crept over behind her. It shone bright, but the wind was cool and moist.

“Hey Asty. What’re you doing here?”

Astraea leaned back and turned to see who it was who had snuck up on her in her solitude.

It was Kahlil.

She smiled, then turned back to the sea.

“Nothing really. Just thinking. Enjoying the sea breeze.”

Kahlil stood where he was, unsure if he was intruding. He looked over to the horizon and stayed silent, before noticing the envelope still clutched in Astraea’s hand.

“Wow, is that a letter?” He asked, curious.

“Yeah.” She chuckled a bit to herself as she looked at the envelope. “I wrote it.”

“Oooh.” Kahlil sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“…is it for me?”

Astraea laughed, and held the envelope in front of her, away from his prying hands.

“No!”

She fell silent. “…It’s for my mother, silly.”

“Oh.”

They sat silent, the wind blowing harder than ever, cold and salty against their faces. Without a word, Astraea held her hand out, her letter perched precariously between the sides of her fingers. A gust of wind blew and in a flurry of dust and leaves snatched the letter from her. She watched as it tumbled through the air, floating then falling then floating again over the restless sea.

Kahlil held her close to his side and kissed her cheek.

“I’m sure she knows.”

Astraea, trembling, brought her hands to her face and began to cry.

“I hope so.”