((This is a blog entry that dates back to about a month ago under a different name titled “My Name Is…”.  I’m pretty sure back then, that I had other intentions for this blog post.  But upon revisiting it, I was met with a blank page.  And before I realized it, one of my characters jumped at the chance at an internal monologue.  So here you go: the sneak thief troublemaker Amara rambling about names and identities.))

Maybe you’ve heard of me.  Maybe you ain’t.  Chances are that you did wit’out even realizin’ it.

Names.  Identities.  Them’s curious things, y’know?  ‘specially fer people like me.  See, some people can jes’ shed names an’ identities like a snake sheds its own skin.  We’re an adaptable lot, changin’ our colors t’suit our surroundin’s an’ situations.  We’re th’ type t’ carry masks on our person an’ change th’ face when we need to.

P’haps we’ve met on th’ docks of th’ goblin ports.  Booty Bay?  Ratchet ring any bells?  P’haps within city walls.  I sold goblin merchandise once y’know to th’ kind people o’ Stormwind.  Maybe you bought somethin’ from me.  Or maybe you were a client fer a jeweler who made a livin’ in Ironforge.  They sure do know good food an’ drink, those dwarves.  Better than those stuffy elves, tha’s fer sure.  Th’ wealthy nobles might’ve seen me, but probably in ways they didn’t even think ’bout.

People changin’ their names, their lives, like they were changin’ their clothes.  Maybe it’s a strange concept t’ye, but then again, I think people who can stick wit’ one name their whole life are nuts.  Doesn’t th’ idea of havin’ a brand new start seem appealin’?  ‘specially when you’ve gone an’ done somethin’ really bad?  Y’know… the type of screw-ups where people want ye dead over ’em?  I’m sure everyone’s had tha’ sort o’ situation happen to ’em b’fore; Azeroth’s tha’ sorta place.  There’s tha’ whole sayin’ ’bout livin’ wit’ yer mistakes, but ‘s bit hard to do tha’ when yer likely gonna wind up dead because of ’em.

An’ sometimes, it ain’t so much about screw-ups, as it’s a part of a job.  ‘Course, maybe you’ve never heard of th’ types.  If y’did, you were either in on it, or they weren’t good at hidin’ t’start.  Sure y’can make up a whole bunch o’ bull ’bout yerself, but it makes it all th’ more believable when y’craft a character in yer head fit fer th’ job.  Sure I could say I wen’ an’ studied magic in Dalaran, but anyone who looked at me would tell I was lyin’ through m’teeth.  No Amara Rosette ever passed through their towers, or whatever it is they study in.

On th’ other hand, were I create a name an’ a character t’fit, an’ maybe, jus’ maybe they wouldn’t be able t’tell truth from fiction.  Take a name from a dead noble family, an’ sudden they may not be as dead as people think.  I mean, who can check t’be sure when everyone else is dead, right?  From there, it’s all about tailorin’ th’ character.

An’ some people fall into tha’ third lot.  Some think it’s fun.  They like wearin’ masks an’ foolin’ people.  It’s fun an’ all, but Light it’s tirin’.  I dunno how some people can keep at it.  Maybe they like feelin’ clever.  Light knows.

Is it a bad habit?  Depends on who yer askin’.  I think havin’ a form o’ change tha’ you’ve got some form o’ control of is needed in life.  In tha’ sense, it makes you feel powerful in a way—like y’can change somethin’ in this messed up, crazy time we live in.  In a world o’ constant war to all sides, an’ where jes’ ’bout everthing tha’s breathin’ wants ye dead, sometimes puttin’ on tha’ mask can make it all go away.  At least fer a little while.


~ by compassstudies on August 18, 2010.

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