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Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Sergal
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More from Arcdanis
The day has found me sitting on the high precipice, away from worldly affairs. Sheltered by the Shade that turns every gaze.
A perfect place to watch and reminisce. My Place.
I was tired.
Tired of dreamless nights and daydreaming days. Yet, so many share that burden, often heavier than mine... Unremarkable.
What was my story... Perhaps in it I could find something to latch my mind onto. Something of note.
Sometimes it is hard to remember. Sometimes I even forget who I really am.
I only know who I was.
There were times when I've been called promising. The days of unparalleled curiosity and thirst for knowledge.
The youthful days when I was out there to learn... And learn I did.
The days when I competed... And found my few victories, the laurels gifted by talents of Chance, rather than fruit of arduous Diligence.
For I was too humble for ambition, yet too proud for failure.
Curiosity was my fuel, Pride was my compass.
Once there were days where many pronounced me charming. A hard-fought battle against my nature armed me with Wit, tempered with Kindness.
Those times I remember as the ones that shaped my visage, as it was then when I truly learned to speak.
I donned the attire of casual elegance, put on a smile and tucked my Fears under many masks.
For it was time to face the world and Pride forbade me from running away, so I fashioned myself ready for the confrontation.
It was that Pride that clashed with the spectres of Anxiety... And it came out victorious.
Many a time, I have been lauded as wise. Was it the remnants of knowledge that I once so ravenously consumed... Or the bloom of my Erudition, verbal craft tempered by moments of clarity to carve an image of an intellectual, even long after the flame of Learning has waned to a dim flicker. In earnest, I do not know.
Perhaps it was the conviction with which I laid out the visions produced by my Intuition that made my words sound sage. For I was a seeker of patterns and a preacher of Logic, even when my journeys took me to places devoid of books and scholarly mentors.
I ought to admit, my devotion to Reason gave me Pride in those days. For I have seen Reason as superior to Emotion, as the once glorious and just Ruler and Maker of Order. The rightful Ruler of the Mind, usurped by Passion whose chaotic ways led the world astray.
The Pride as a follower of the abandoned Ways gave me strength to endure, something to cling to once I became acquainted with the taste of failure.
My shield to weather the inevitable.
I remember even the times when I've been named a friend by a few I met on my way. The companions of some of my journeys. It was oftentimes genuinely quality companionship.
The trek was lighter in those days, with some spring in my step. To have an understanding ear and a shoulder to lean on... It is truly a Gift. Especially for a solitary wanderer like me.
I was grateful. For a time, I even felt like... I cared. Care. Such a foreign concept, and yet...
It always felt like a bond made to last. A spark between two souls. When overjoyed, I shed my Masks. Felt loved and even, for a time, capable of loving.
Yet there was something ugly underneath, lurking. The Great Mystery.
And in every path, there comes a fork. When I'm weary of the journey, there comes that foreboding moment.
The moment when I feel like I said everything that I had to say. The day of no more words.
The day I walk my own way.
I've been looking for that blemish of mine, yet one's true Self is the most elusive to perceive. I felt fated to fail in that endeavor.
For I refused to believe that it was decreed by Fate, that such is the way of things.
And led by my Pride, I never took a step back on my path.
I could not have been seen as one in need, as the weight was mine to pull.
I owed nothing and was owed nothing in return.
My eyes point only forward, yet they see naught but the boundless void, no Future. Only the few steps ahead. Such is the road I tread.
The road where I am spectator of many events, those that shape history and the petty ones alike.
The Spectator. The Foreigner.
I finally remember who I am.
Perhaps it is me who comes and goes, for no place is my Home. None but the precipice in the obscuring Shade.
I look at my clothes, fancy, but not opulent. A wanderer of modest wealth and modest wisdom, not wanting for much.
There is no Despair in my eyes, for I am not destitute. Just tired, lost in thought.
I do not fear being shunned nor forgotten. For I am the Kind Stranger, remembered by my smile, steadfast posture and sage remark. An acquaintance of many, few of whom have known me.
That memory will live on, hopefully. If only they knew the bizarre revelation I came across...
Perhaps that is why my Pride admonishes me for looking behind. Maybe I should listen... It brought me where I am.
Yet I catch myself pondering on the thought...
That this Pride may be my downfall one day.
For I refused to be anything else. And where my choices led me...
The rare sergal version of Arcdanis made a return after longer absence, in style.
morsylvia's gorgeous style, to be exact, in collaboration with 
polunoch. I feel like I could have hardly chosen any better for an elegant, somber piece like this. The outfit ended up being just a perfect match, fulfilling my vision of how it would look like. It is certainly a portrayal that is close to my heart.
And the bit of inspired rambling that goes with it... A memento of the people and dreams I lost, as well as thoughts on what I have left of myself.
Enjoy some music to go with it, if you will.
Sunlight Ascending - Old Friends Part Ways
The wondrous piece of art has been made by morsylvia in collaboration with polunoch. Do check them out, they are amazing for this kind of style and mood.
Artist's Submission: N/A
Sergals are a creation of
mick39.
The character pictured is mine.
Wasn't it ever amusing that people wear their most pristine finery on their very own funeral? The end of one's very own world compels them to dress sharply, it seems.
A perfect place to watch and reminisce. My Place.
I was tired.
Tired of dreamless nights and daydreaming days. Yet, so many share that burden, often heavier than mine... Unremarkable.
What was my story... Perhaps in it I could find something to latch my mind onto. Something of note.
Sometimes it is hard to remember. Sometimes I even forget who I really am.
I only know who I was.
There were times when I've been called promising. The days of unparalleled curiosity and thirst for knowledge.
The youthful days when I was out there to learn... And learn I did.
The days when I competed... And found my few victories, the laurels gifted by talents of Chance, rather than fruit of arduous Diligence.
For I was too humble for ambition, yet too proud for failure.
Curiosity was my fuel, Pride was my compass.
Once there were days where many pronounced me charming. A hard-fought battle against my nature armed me with Wit, tempered with Kindness.
Those times I remember as the ones that shaped my visage, as it was then when I truly learned to speak.
I donned the attire of casual elegance, put on a smile and tucked my Fears under many masks.
For it was time to face the world and Pride forbade me from running away, so I fashioned myself ready for the confrontation.
It was that Pride that clashed with the spectres of Anxiety... And it came out victorious.
Many a time, I have been lauded as wise. Was it the remnants of knowledge that I once so ravenously consumed... Or the bloom of my Erudition, verbal craft tempered by moments of clarity to carve an image of an intellectual, even long after the flame of Learning has waned to a dim flicker. In earnest, I do not know.
Perhaps it was the conviction with which I laid out the visions produced by my Intuition that made my words sound sage. For I was a seeker of patterns and a preacher of Logic, even when my journeys took me to places devoid of books and scholarly mentors.
I ought to admit, my devotion to Reason gave me Pride in those days. For I have seen Reason as superior to Emotion, as the once glorious and just Ruler and Maker of Order. The rightful Ruler of the Mind, usurped by Passion whose chaotic ways led the world astray.
The Pride as a follower of the abandoned Ways gave me strength to endure, something to cling to once I became acquainted with the taste of failure.
My shield to weather the inevitable.
I remember even the times when I've been named a friend by a few I met on my way. The companions of some of my journeys. It was oftentimes genuinely quality companionship.
The trek was lighter in those days, with some spring in my step. To have an understanding ear and a shoulder to lean on... It is truly a Gift. Especially for a solitary wanderer like me.
I was grateful. For a time, I even felt like... I cared. Care. Such a foreign concept, and yet...
It always felt like a bond made to last. A spark between two souls. When overjoyed, I shed my Masks. Felt loved and even, for a time, capable of loving.
Yet there was something ugly underneath, lurking. The Great Mystery.
And in every path, there comes a fork. When I'm weary of the journey, there comes that foreboding moment.
The moment when I feel like I said everything that I had to say. The day of no more words.
The day I walk my own way.
I've been looking for that blemish of mine, yet one's true Self is the most elusive to perceive. I felt fated to fail in that endeavor.
For I refused to believe that it was decreed by Fate, that such is the way of things.
And led by my Pride, I never took a step back on my path.
I could not have been seen as one in need, as the weight was mine to pull.
I owed nothing and was owed nothing in return.
My eyes point only forward, yet they see naught but the boundless void, no Future. Only the few steps ahead. Such is the road I tread.
The road where I am spectator of many events, those that shape history and the petty ones alike.
The Spectator. The Foreigner.
I finally remember who I am.
Perhaps it is me who comes and goes, for no place is my Home. None but the precipice in the obscuring Shade.
I look at my clothes, fancy, but not opulent. A wanderer of modest wealth and modest wisdom, not wanting for much.
There is no Despair in my eyes, for I am not destitute. Just tired, lost in thought.
I do not fear being shunned nor forgotten. For I am the Kind Stranger, remembered by my smile, steadfast posture and sage remark. An acquaintance of many, few of whom have known me.
That memory will live on, hopefully. If only they knew the bizarre revelation I came across...
There is pain to be found in the fondest memories.Perhaps that is why my Pride admonishes me for looking behind. Maybe I should listen... It brought me where I am.
Yet I catch myself pondering on the thought...
That this Pride may be my downfall one day.
For I refused to be anything else. And where my choices led me...
I am naught but the Watcher and only Dignity remains.The rare sergal version of Arcdanis made a return after longer absence, in style.
morsylvia's gorgeous style, to be exact, in collaboration with 
polunoch. I feel like I could have hardly chosen any better for an elegant, somber piece like this. The outfit ended up being just a perfect match, fulfilling my vision of how it would look like. It is certainly a portrayal that is close to my heart.And the bit of inspired rambling that goes with it... A memento of the people and dreams I lost, as well as thoughts on what I have left of myself.
Enjoy some music to go with it, if you will.
Sunlight Ascending - Old Friends Part Ways
The wondrous piece of art has been made by
morsylvia in collaboration with polunoch. Do check them out, they are amazing for this kind of style and mood.Artist's Submission: N/A
Sergals are a creation of
mick39.The character pictured is mine.
Wasn't it ever amusing that people wear their most pristine finery on their very own funeral? The end of one's very own world compels them to dress sharply, it seems.
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Sergal
Size 1440 x 2126px
File Size 4.1 MB
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