166 - A God, Liberated

Lin

Last night's boon destroying seems to have really helped me.

Though there is one thing - I feel very overwhelmed with how much I know I can do now.

I suppose I'll have to treat myself gently as I go into this.

Part of me dreads the sheer frenetic energy that rushes through my veins, but somehow I know that this is part of my existence as a God - this energy is a part of the job, and I am capable of wielding it.

Maybe I need to learn how to temper this energy so that I don't overdo it, though.

Now would be a great time to have a godly teacher to help guide me through all this.

At least the hot flushes seem to have disappeared.

But I probably shouldn't speak too soon.

POhWER contacted me today. (Finally.)

They emailed asking for my details, so I gave them over. If things go well, I should have a proper advocate soon.

Whilst the future does feel daunting, it also feels prosperous for me.

Despite the overwhelm that almost turns me to stone, my heart now feels the openness, the freedom of having a choice again. I know now that on the horizon, there are prospects for me to be able to recover - and that the only roadblocks I have left are from people who can no longer reach me, and therefore have no power here.

Honestly, it's weird to think that I've lived here for over three years.

I should have left a long time ago. I will, eventually.

Candidly, I do rather enjoy London.

Yet this metropolis is full of danger and cult worshippers, and I am only one God in a sea of ravenous pigeons. To put it quite simply...

I refuse to be bird feed.

Seriously. I won't get into that situation again.

No, I don't feel the need to elaborate. At least, not yet, anyway.

And you'll never have to.

Da strolls into the room, taking a seat beside me.

I miss you. Physically, I miss you.

He sighs, his exhale carrying the weight of billions of years of sorrow.

I know, Tavi.

The tears in my eyes sear at my vision, my mind, my heart as he pulls me into an embrace that I am in serious need of. It's most likely that he is, too.

I sniff.

Trugarez.

He rubs my back, his face buried in my shoulder, yet uttering clearly.

I'll find you.

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