Guests of the Glacier #6: The Poet

            Like the meanings of his poems the Poet’s background was layered and convoluted. Born out of darkness it always held a special place in his heart, eating away at his soul. Early on it protected him, but its aura was chaotic and uncontrollable. He knew if he didn’t restrain it that it would turn him into a monster. And so he suppressed it in the best way he knew how, channeling it through his poetry and letting it flow out onto paper instead of into the streets. There was no way of escaping it outright, but this way he was able to at least retain his humanity.

             Traveling abroad he searched out inspiration for his poetry, hoping it would at least bring his heart contempt if inner peace were out of the question. What sort of reprieve or solace he found though during these travels is hard to say. Many years in the Poet’s past are untraceable, leaving several gaps in his story. What is known is that he made his way to the Frozen Abyss and has spent more time wandering about the desolate region than any other guest at Jazmin’s Tavern. If there was anywhere in the world where he could draw the inspiration for the dark presence inside it was here.

            Since beginning his stay at the inn he has spent most of his time talking to the Librarian and the Innkeeper. Though neither could relate to the Poet’s inner conflict specifically, the Librarian’s obsession at least made him feel a bit more belonging. It was nice to see that he was not the only one dealing with some sort of internal torment. Other than the regular conversations with the two of them he spent his time writing and occasionally gazing at the Pestilence. She had a dark yet enamoring aura about her, yet it did not feel as cold or as intricate as his own. Even with it she appeared to be one of the more pleasant people staying at the inn. And outside his boy-like face she looked to be the youngest as well, though he knew just how distrustful looks could be when it came to age. Nevertheless she caught his eye, but what he failed to see was the impeding darkness surrounding not only her but the entire town of Kaltbury. The Frozen Abyss had a way of concealing it, hiding it from the untrained eye. Though it was true that the Poet had spent more time in this desolate place than any other guest staying at the inn, it did not mean that he was the first to call the tundra home. After all, the dark presence inside him was not the only of its kind lurking in the shadows of the north…