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He drew closer and closer to the Grove; the place which had declared to no longer welcome him. The Keeper, the aspects, Snow Hawk - they all probably waited there, unaware as to what came closer to their midst, step by painful step. He was shaking, quivering even, unable to resist the anxiety and panic that flooded over his body and mind alike, as thoughts of all sorts flooded his head like a pulse of blood through veins too narrow. The tears had not yet been released onto his cheeks, cold to the touch; though he could feel them gathering behind his eyes. As the terrain became more and more gentle and serene, Karthus knew he was close to home. His old home. A home that had grown distant, until it was something else entirely; something foreign.
"They won't accept me. They won't understand. I don't understand!"
His legs began to falter, his knees shaking upon each step.
"Forsaken, abandoned, disregarded..."
The familiar smell of the Grove assaulted his senses, the tears begining to overwhelm his eyes.
"What will Hano do? After all I've done. After all he's been put through. And Sehron? Yashia? Nulinus? There were others, too... there must have been."
The first tear rolled down his cheek, unobstructed by the stale air.
"I had goals, I had intentions. But I am not enough. I am just a boy; hardly a man. I am a mess. I am broken."
As he finished his final thought, he realized that many eyes had fallen upon him. His silent reflection had brought him to his distination, and Karthus then stood in the midst of so many familiar faces - some forgiving, some accusing; some spiteful, and others entirely unaware.
"...Help me."
The tears behind his eyes became too much to detain, the shaking in his knees became too much to bear, and the constant mental anguish of his ever-shifting perspectives became too much to conquer. Karthus collapsed before the Keeper, on his knees, and for the first time in a long time, found himself. As he cried at the feet of the one man who could help put the many faces of Karthus to rest, he felt peace at last.
He would come to accept his fate.
"They won't accept me. They won't understand. I don't understand!"
His legs began to falter, his knees shaking upon each step.
"Forsaken, abandoned, disregarded..."
The familiar smell of the Grove assaulted his senses, the tears begining to overwhelm his eyes.
"What will Hano do? After all I've done. After all he's been put through. And Sehron? Yashia? Nulinus? There were others, too... there must have been."
The first tear rolled down his cheek, unobstructed by the stale air.
"I had goals, I had intentions. But I am not enough. I am just a boy; hardly a man. I am a mess. I am broken."
As he finished his final thought, he realized that many eyes had fallen upon him. His silent reflection had brought him to his distination, and Karthus then stood in the midst of so many familiar faces - some forgiving, some accusing; some spiteful, and others entirely unaware.
"...Help me."
The tears behind his eyes became too much to detain, the shaking in his knees became too much to bear, and the constant mental anguish of his ever-shifting perspectives became too much to conquer. Karthus collapsed before the Keeper, on his knees, and for the first time in a long time, found himself. As he cried at the feet of the one man who could help put the many faces of Karthus to rest, he felt peace at last.
He would come to accept his fate.