An angel of shadow

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Dearest Vassannah, little did you know you would grow into one of the most important virtual characters of my life (a position shared with heros such as “Shepard”, out there among the stars, and your sister, the troubled paladin). Once upon a time you were nothing but an alt. Once upon a time you would have opened an inn, come level 20.

But heroes prevail.

You’ve come a long way since those first careful steps out of a pod on Azuremyst. Little did neither you nor me know you would become – a hero. You grew on me, like moss on a stone. The class that I never could master. The class that always went OOM. The priest of darkness. The priest of despair. The shadow priest.

Then Deathwing came. In more ways than any of you can imagine.

Dearest Vassannah, it was, in truth, not just your ass or your waist or your boobs that turned me. Sometimes what’s inside is more important than the sex appeal.

You were an object, once. Eyecandy. A paperdoll of pixels. A wet dream. But then you grew on me. You ventured far beyond Ashenvale (where most of my priests start their careers as innkeepers). You turned my head.

You came alive.

As the Mists of Pandaria parted and the schlaraffenland of ghost iron and green tea leaves opened up to bloodthirsty orcs, curious gnomes and wayward draenei – YOU were my guide. As your sisters struggled through mercenary missions and terrible hardship – YOU prevailed. YOU achieved what not one else could achieve. YOU achieved what I will never achieve. YOU are the hero.

YOU. Are. Legendary (as of 30-04-14).

Me? Well, you know, Vass … I’m a failure, more or less. I’m raid trash. But you know what? YOU gave me this peculiar thought that maybe … I am wrong.

In a way you became a life saver. Therapy. If I could come this far with you, a bunch of pixels kept alive in my own imagination, then what can stop me but the Sha that lives within us all?

Dearest Vassannah, my troubled shadow priest with dubious morale. In a way, you are a reflection of myself. I can’t sport a legendary cape, far from it. So I let you carry the wings of an angel. And carry them well you do. You know what, Vass?

You saved my life.

Almost a year ago during one of my long walks I came to the conclusion I had failed the legendary quest of life. Maybe it was time to delete. Un-sub. I had failed at life. I had failed my partner. My family. My friends – those I have. I had failed almost everything. It’s a very melodramatic thing to say, I know, but … I had not failed you.

You are a patient draenei. Should you ever be a human you would likely by the partner I have (a wonderful lone wolf woman with a patience akin to that of the Old Gods). You and her – both of you. Both of you saved my life (though she still doesn’t know it), that terrible day as I watched the speeding cars and trucks and …

walked into traffic.

They missed. By Gods grace or an unsually lucky RNG – they missed. I reached the sidewalk on the other side of the road and that’s when it occured to me: You’re not done.

Strange that, isn’t it? A virtual spacegoat held more sway, at that very moment of despair, than the very real human I do love. Allthough it might not be obvious.

Dearest Vassannah. You have earned your wings.

Thank you.

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