Alone

I said farewell to Sensei today. It is, with no exaggeration, the most difficult thing I have ever done. I have spent weeks fretting over how I would conduct myself on this day. On how I would stand beside her, what she might say to me and how I would respond when she said those words. I could not, however, prepare myself adequately for the proceedings of this morning.
 
This morning I descended from my room to find her standing outside of the inn, leaning against the fence of the pier. Gone was that familiar visage. I saw not the mask that is worn in the halls of Saptagiri, but the woman that she might be in her private moments. It ought to go without saying that even without the markings of the Dusk Mage upon her that Sensei had taken great pains to present her best self. Spotting her from a window, one might have thought they were staring at an immaculate painting. A sight I shall remember for the rest of my days, whose beauty and emotion were so intense so as to be unreal. But this was reality. A reality we were both required to face. With some trepidation, I forced myself to step from the inn and onto the streets.
 
When I had greeted her, the despondence which she bore upon her countenance was replaced with a familiar resilience. We exchanged some pleasantries, and stole a moment of levity from the otherwise gloomy morning. A moment of warmth on this cold day. Sensei informed me that she once traveled upon Aunt Hare herself a long time ago. Captain Siesko, Bishop Sophia, herself and some others had apparently made some very fond memories. The nostalgia was not plain upon her face, but I could see it in her eyes. She addressed me fondly, and in that moment I spied the wealth of emotions which she was taking pains to conceal. A mixture of feelings which I am no stranger to, a mask I too was wearing on this day, though it would be foolish to say that they were self same.
 
In that moment, I felt without question that Sensei and I had transcended the bonds which had described us in years prior. To what extent only time shall tell the tale. I would like to think that in the years since I returned from Artemesia we have become friends. I would like much more to think that this farewell is not a goodbye; that one day we shall share the same space again. These thoughts will surely be my ruin, however. I must maintain focus upon that which I have set out to do.
 
Sensei announced that she had a gift for me, and began drawing handkerchiefs from her sleeve. This trick, which I did not appreciate in my youth, moved me in that moment. I know not why. Once the final handkerchief was drawn, she folded them into a box and, to my surprise, it was a box that appeared in its place. Within, a shield. It bears the symbol of the Dusk Mage. It is beautiful. I shall cherish it dearly. It gives me some relief that even as the Argentian Ocean separates us, Sensei will be watching over me in a sense. It is a bit heavy, but I must confess that I am no athlete. She showed me how to don and doff it. As she did, she spoke of protecting those we care for, and the wisdom of being prepared.
 
She then told me a story about her time on Aunt Hare. A man from a good family proposed marriage to her. Though such a thing is a boon many common women can only wish for, Sensei turned the proposal down. Though he was well connected within the church and plenty wealthy, the life he wanted her to lead would not be her own. He wanted from Sensei an obedient and submissive wife who was intelligent enough to handle her duties without question. It ran counter to all that she had worked for and aspired towards. Though she sometimes wonders what might have been had she said yes, she told me that those thoughts are nothing more than a base desire for complacency.
 
She told me that she was proud to see that I had made a similar decision. To flee from the golden cage that I have been offered in search of my own path. I could feel the storm stir within me. The Nameless Beast whined. I could not allow them to sway me at this moment. I fear I may have allowed my sadness to bear itself upon my face, but that is preferable to losing control.
 
I allowed myself to tell Sensei how I owe all that I have to her, and I gave her my parting gift. My favorite pen and a lock of my hair. Sensei seemed surprised, but happy to receive them. Though I was prepared to be questioned, she did not say a word. She simply smiled. Though perhaps I ought to have been more vigilant in monitoring her response, I am content. I believe that she knows me well enough to know my intentions without misunderstanding. And if she is pleased by my gift, regardless of the reasons behind that happiness, I am quite happy myself.
 
Once we had exchanged gifts, we made our way to meet with Captain Siesko. Sensei held the box I had given her with the utmost care, as I did hers. Neither of us had any words left to say. As I walked by her side each step filled me with reminiscence. All of the morning lessons, the serene afternoon meetings,the quiet evenings, and the days that will never come. The words we shared after Third Catechism, the small moments that added up to such larger developments, the things that she told me in confidence and I to her, and all of the things left unsaid. Each memory was as a cut to my heart, until it felt it might burst. The storm raged within. The winds roared so loudly I could not hear the Nameless Beast howl beneath them. The thunder shook me to my core, as though it might escape from my lips and fill the docks with its primal rhythm.
 
But I maintained control. I reminded myself of the promise that I had made myself to save my tears for only myself. I know that she must know how it pains me to leave, just as I know that it pains her. However, unleashing those feelings upon one another would only make this parting more difficult, not to mention rather unseemly. I made it to the Aunt Hare without allowing the grief to consume me. Even so, I do not feel pride at this accomplishment.
 
I write this journal hours after these events have transpired. I have cried until the tears would no longer come, but the pain does not relent. I shall remember this day forever. In my moments of weakness, these things that I took for granted and then gave up shall remind me of why I must, under all circumstances, succeed in my endeavors. I shall not stand with Sensei again until my grasp upon The Weave is firm enough that I might use my own two hands to do it myself. One day this shall come to pass. My spirit will not rest until I can see the very potential Sensei saw in me from the beginning come to fruition. I will, and have, staked my life on it.