258 - A God, Regenerating

Lin

My day, yet again, has mainly been spent sleeping.

The rat king programming is pretty much gone now, which is a relief.

Part of me is still a tad paranoid, but I suppose that's to be expected.

Especially given my experiences with other animals associated with the cult, but we'll go into that once I feel ready to.

Besides that, today has been peaceful.

Almost no one has been in for most of the day, so it's been blissfully quiet.

Whilst I do enjoy the hustle and bustle sometimes, in my current state, it's totally understandable as to why I don't.

Despite my extroversion, being a highly sensitive person means that I need time to recharge quite often, as protecting my energy is something I'm still relatively new to - which, at times, has made me like a sponge.

Ya, I know that it can be a blessing for an actor like me to be able to tap into emotions easily.

However, I need to be able to balance emotions and energy in order to be able to cope with that - which, again, I haven't completely learned yet. And whilst I know that this hermit period of my life is ending, I also know that cultivating my own space is incredibly important.

From what I know, today's most likely going to be the last day I spend at Manny's, before we go to Uncle Des' place.

Rhumsaa (Ramsey) sounds good right about now.

Our cousin Douglas is going to be there too, which is nice.

Come to think of it, a lot of my relatives from Mann (aside from Manny's wife, Fand, and their daughter, Niamh, who I haven't seen for a while) are men. I ought to ask about that.

Slender hands hold my face for a minute, before giving me a gentle poke. I open one eye. Speak of the God...

Fastyr mie, Niamh.

She grins, auburn hair flopping over her face for a minute, which she quickly brushes behind her ear.

Nice to see ye again, cousin.

It's been a long time.

Ta. Twelfth century, maybe?

Yup. It's been a long time.

Potentially longer.

She nods.

That was long after the invasion of Brittany.

For a minute, I stare at her.

I have a weird request.

She casts me a questioning look.

Can I draw you?

This may seem sudden, but Niamh is really pretty, and her kind of beauty, especially her mix of features, is pretty rare, even in Britain. Brown eyes, russet hair, pearly teeth and freckles that only enhance her beauty... 

I could say the same for you, ye know.

I laugh.

I could! There's a lot to love about ye. But if you wish to draw me, sure! By all means.

Sifting through the belongings I took with me to both Breizh and Ellan Vannin, I emerge with both sketching and colouring pencils, along with my personal sketchbook, reserved for me, my system and other things besides my novel writing.

Rolling her shoulders, Niamh sits up, relaxed yet poised.

I begin to sketch a side profile, piecing together her facial proportions and hair, trying to ignore voldy jnr's projection in my mind telling me that I'm rubbish at drawing.

Niamh can clearly hear this, because she looks just about to throw hands.

You've always been a brilliant artist, so whatever the fuck that bitch is saying, ye can ignore it.

Also, I think it's rich that she dares insult the skills of someone's drawings that she stole most of that so called 'artistic talent of hers' from.

I suck in a breath. She's right. 

The only reason voldy jnr even had that talent was because she spiritually stole it from me - and all of those jabs at me, whether it was to do with my weight, my talents, my appearance, even at my person in and of itself - was all out of envy.

Because none of the talent that she has been 'cultivating' has ever truly been hers. Nor will it ever be.

Can I ask you for another favour?

Sure.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath.

Could you help me get my abilities back?

Which ones?

I pause. There are so many I want back...

What do I start with?

Whatever ye want back, we can do. Just say the word.

I nod, my eyes filling with tears. My guitar skills, my ambidexterity, my art skills, my piano skills, my harp skills, woodwind skills, combat skills, metal screaming, acting, eloquence, even, I dare think but not say, my godly powers...

All taken out of jealousy. The only thing that was left to me was my singing voice, aside from my spiritual abilities, which they could never take from me anyway.

I feel talentless, yet I know that's not true. I was just never given the chance to develop my talents because that bitch decided they should be stolen, because she thought she deserved them more than me, thinking me inferior.

I want everything. I want to be the God Of All, God Of None again.

She takes my hands in hers, clasping them firmly.

And ye are, lad. Hold onto that truth, and we'll get yer powers back. Kiart dy liooar?

I nod.

Kiart dy liooar.

Your system's version of me is going to look through and see what was stolen, and then we'll get everything back. Ta?

Ta.

She lets go, before turning my sketchbook towards her, to see my drawing on the page. Her face lights up.

It's wonderful!

You're planning to colour it, aren't ye?

How could I not? Your features are rare, as I said. It would be insulting not to.

She grins, pulling me into a bear hug.

Always remember how talented ye are, lad.

Ye promise me?

My heart grows warm, and my eyes mist over.

I promise, cousin.