museworks: (Lucrezia)
My peacebloom plant is growing rapidly. Like a weed. Heh. The peculiar gardener did say it was a weed, after all. It seems to be thriving. I like looking at it. I hope the gardener is healing well of his broken fingers; I hope he received my letter on the tome page.

Lately I've been in Hyjal and the Firelands a lot; the fire-things have apparently redoubled their campaign to see the world burn, including the appearance of 'druids of the flame' or whatever they call themselves. Tried to destroy Thrall. It did not go as they probably would have wished. Pity. Really.

If nothing else, the Firelands reminds one of where they need more armor padding, at least if one's armor is metal. Ordinarily I value my plate armor, but I think I will need more sets of padding for underneath, as this will need to soak for a good while to get the smell out. I am almost fanatically clean, but after just a few tasks for the Cenarions I smelled like something that had been set on fire in Murder Row. It is not a smell of which I am fond. Sustained some burns, both from elementals and from heated armor where there was a gap or weakness in my padding. Fortunately, I acquired this swiftthistle salve from a Gilnean woman at the inn by Nordrassil. It was acknowledged that while this was a good temporary arrangement of goods and sales, it was not necessarily something that would last over time. Faction matters, after all. It is a reality of life even when faced with greater threats, it would seem. For now, though, I will continue to help the battle there. They pay decently, and I have some stirring of conscience.

For now, though, I think I will rest. My tent has been set up, bedroll laid out. It is within a Horde settlement where they permit travelers to camp; I will be safe there. At least, safe as Lucrezia; safety as simply another Horde fighter is a bit more relative, but none who seek me for myself should get to me.

My mote-jar to one side, peacebloom pot to the other. I have a potion that is said to drive away dreams. I hope to sleep deeply.
museworks: (Lucrezia)
((Warning for potentially disturbing content beneath the cut.))

I wrote of the way I sometimes still have nightmares of him. Of how sometimes when I wake in the dark I still imagine seeing his eyes over me. How I crave the sun. I do not know if I mentioned in a past entry-- I do not care to look-- about how I hate total darkness now. One thing I carry with me, wrapped carefully and hidden in one of my packs, is a jar. A glass jar, in which there are several motes captured from various places on Draenor. Bits of energy siphoned from gas clouds and the like, elemental energy, that glow.

I have a nightlight, like a child might.

I'm ashamed of this fact, and maybe someday I can overcome this problem with myself, but for now I cannot handle complete darkness. Even if it means wrapping myself in my bedroll so that no others can see it, if I am supposed to remain hidden in the dark, I have this with me. I am…afraid of the dark. At least some.

The only thing that haunts me more than that is an abuse of the Light. )

I have to keep reminding myself that this is my personal journal, even if I'm also now writing for my brother's eventual enlightenment. I fear that it is turning into just me recounting my husband's trespasses. I will try to write more of me in the present day. Perhaps of my hunt, and as I am successful in finding more than just Alamir.
museworks: (Alinor)
So there's this gnome who lives in Dalaran, who approached me with a commission request. Apparently he had been referred to me by the Engineering shop there; not a surprise, as I work with them often, but the nature of this gnome's request was a little bit…peculiar. It involved many sprung whirlygigs. Now, I've worked with whirlygigs before, of course. I've rewound them and repurposed them and whatever. I generally found them when salvaging mechanical gnomes in Northrend, generally those around Mimiron's Library.

However, this is the first time I think I've ever had someone ask for a piece of clothing made from whirlygigs. How does one even MAKE that? I can sew, but I'm no tailor, at least not one with skills like, say, Marbas. My skills are more in the area of repairing basic tears, replacing buttons, things like that. But Marbas at least let me browse his patterns and make a few sketches of my own, and was nice enough to not ask which ones I sketched. Odds are I wouldn't have heard the end of it.

Now, I don't judge people for odd requests that clearly aren't for the purpose of hurting others. (I don't always judge when it comes to ones meant to cause harm, either, it just tends to depend.) Live and let live, people have their oddities, what consenting adults of any race do behind closed doors is their own business. And this gnome was paying some seriously good gold.

However, I really, really wonder what the deal is with having a sprung whirlygig fetish. To the point of commissioning something that was not only an outfit-- based on female undergarments, mind you, for this male gnome and in his own measurements-- crafted of those, but a fully-functioning, erm, autoerotic stimulation device. And for a special one-of-a-kind commission this required asking some very personal questions. I'm pretty sure my face was bright pink, but Sir Whirlygig was cool as a frozen orb the entire time. I think I have a strange sort of admiration for him for that.

Now, I've made devices like that before. I've never tested them, but I've made them. (Though I must confess; I had never before been that tempted to test any of them, until I started tending to Lohendrin when he was shirtless and wearing tight pants. Oh, my goodness. My goodness. I've resisted, but…my goodness.) There's a store in Dalaran and a couple in Silvermoon City dedicated to selling such things, among other 'intimacy enhancement wares'. From what I understand there's another in Orgrimmar, though I think I'm happy keeping my business limited to Dalaran and Silvermoon. I think there used to be one in Shattrath City but I'm fairly sure it was closed at Aldor request. They're actually pretty interesting to make, and I can usually work with any suggestion offered. I think I may be losing out a touch on not being as…intimate with my knowledge of such devices and their purposes, but I do well enough that I earn a nice bit of gold for myself. Especially from people like Sir Whirlygig.

I must also confess, dear journal, that I did make one device of which I kept one for myself. And that part of me would kind of like to try out someday: a set of restraints, for wrist or ankle, designed to occasionally administer an arcane shock at varying intensity, determined by the one with the control, at the press of a button. They're powered by enchanted gemstones, like batteries. I find them terribly intriguing. And, of course, they're carefully hidden.

Someday, I hope…

*Scribbled at the bottom of the page* I am so silly, I'm now bright pink after writing this, and it's just for my own reading! Bah!
museworks: (Lucrezia)
It would be pointless to say he repeated, and often, that cycle of starving/feeding just like the still-going cycle of darkness/light. Not simply starving of food, but sometimes of magic; I do not know what magic-wielder he employed but there had to have been one who would set and lift wards on command. At that point I was fairly certain I was going mad; the only reason I didn't consider myself mad quite yet was that I still had some self-awareness, and I couldn't just mental retreat from any of it. I'd read of others who face traumatic events or simply 'highly undesirable situations in which they are helpless' and manage to withdraw into their minds, into their own private worlds that either block it out or turn it into something else. I wish I could have done that, but I was raised to be acutely self-aware, and it seemed that I could not turn that off even in this case.

When it was during one of the dark times, I would stare into the blackness. A darkness so complete that I could even see my own hand when I held it to my face, apart from what was the tiniest, faintest sickly glow from my eyes. I stared into it until I could 'see' things. Not images, no pictures, but just those odd little patterns and faint specks that one might see when closing one's eyes. Like after-images except I could not see anything in the first place, so I don't know where they were from. Perhaps my mind. I would try to follow these 'patterns'. I tried to imagine what they might be from, or what they might go with. Some were recurring, such as patches of faint stripes. Vertical stripes, like bars. Appropriate.

Sometimes I imagined there being someone else behind those patterns, and to her I was the imagined person in her own darkness.

I couldn't stare into the darkness forever, though. Not even when it seemed unending. I had the layout of my chambers memorized at that point so I no longer stumbled. It was a small mercy that it had not occurred to Jovan to have the furniture rearranged. Sometimes instead of staring into the dark I would continue my exercises, as I had done since first brought there. I did not wish to be sickly. Rather, some stubborn part of me wanted to resist the slow wasting-away that was inevitable in those conditions. After the exercises the 'sparks' that I saw in the total darkness were more prominent. Another reason for doing them, I suppose.

Sparks and stripes. Feast and famine. Light and dark.

Darkness until I would wake and see his eyes over me.

Is it any wonder I crave the sun now?

Plants.

Jun. 28th, 2011 09:28 pm
museworks: (Lucrezia)
The peculiar gardener from the tome sent me peacebloom seeds, a bag of dirt, and a metal pot. I honestly wasn't expecting it so soon. I also only expected seeds. I am not complaining, though; I wrote him a private note of thanks in the tome. I appreciate all of it. His letter was odd and rambling but I understood it. I didn't mind the extra information anyhow. I enjoyed reading it. I never thought about the soil from Draenor being that different in composition but I suppose it makes sense. The ore I'd mined was certainly different.

I will try to find a decent place to grow them and be sure they're tended. Perhaps I should establish a home of some kind. I shouldn't run anyhow. I told the gardener that a moving target is harder to hit and it is true, but maybe I want him-- them-- to try.

In the meantime I will try to grow this peacebloom. I hope it survives.
museworks: (Lucrezia)
When I was a little girl I tried to grow flowers. I didn't ask anyone for help, and I didn't do any research on how to grow them. I picked them and put them in my own flowerpots to try and grow. It didn't occur to me the first time that it might have been better to be sure I picked them with roots intact, and my flowers quickly wilted away. The next ones I picked I did keep the roots intact, but they still died off because I still didn't know how to properly care for them. And I still didn't ask, because I knew my parents would tell me little girls didn't play in the dirt unless they were commoners, and I could not ask a servant for help because that too was "something commoners did."

The more I think about it now the more the thought of such a thing is still appealing. I am uncertain as to the logistics of maintaining a garden when I move about as I do and don't maintain a steady home, but perhaps I could find assistance somehow. There is a peculiar-- though he seems nice enough-- man in the tome who gardens for a living, and is sending me seeds for some hardier varieties of flower. I believed there was no harm in having him send them to me in Orgrimmar, a general delivery to my name.

I like the idea of spending time in the sun to grow something. If I were a more poetic soul perhaps I would think of reasons for it being appropriate. Symbolic or some other such. Maybe. I don't know.

Maybe I want to keep a small part of me for something other than vengeance or killing, now that I've seen my brother again.
museworks: (Alinor)
It's been a few days since I wrote my thoughts down! Those few days have been very nice. I spent a day with Lohendrin at his home; we didn't really do much beyond our own projects, his with his jewelcrafting and I had brought a couple of my own smaller projects with me to tinker on a spare table there. It was really nice. We didn't talk much, just enjoyed each other's presence while doing our own thing. Didn't need to talk; I don't know exactly how he was feeling, but for me it was enough to just know he was there nearby. Comfortable silence, one would call it. Sometimes I'd look over at him while he was bent over his desk with his jewelcrafter glasses-- I love how he looks in those! But I love how he looks in anything, except maybe bloodied bandages and bruises-- and I could feel myself smiling a little.

I also now know Lohen is very ticklish. Heheh.

Anyway, yes. We spend a lot of time together, but most of the time I do go home at night. We like our time apart as well, right now. And I don't want to intrude on Lohen and Marbas having their own brotherly bonding time, because I do know they're still getting to know each other better. I'm glad Marbas seems to like me, though; family approval is a bit important. To a point. I know Leania will like Lohendrin, there's no question there. I think Father will. And I'm mostly unconcerned about Mother, and I certainly don't care about Malinde beyond being prepared for her to try and charm him.

HAHA. Like it'd work. I wouldn't be with Lohen if I didn't trust him.

That's kind of a weird and scary thought, though. I trust him, but it's like...crossing a dubious bridge over a deep chasm. You aren't entirely sure if the bridge will hold, and you haven't seen what's on the other side so you're moving blindly into the future, and you don't know what's at the bottom if the bridge breaks. Rocks, or crocolisks, or deep water. But you cross it because you want to see what's on the other side, and you want to go forward despite being scared because the risk is worth it.

Lohen's worth it, and I like to believe he thinks I am.

Today he's gone, Skruffy issued a call to arms for his guild. They're going to the Firelands...the Cenarion Circle (I assume it's them) are pushing forward in an assault on Ragnaros' domain. I knew worrying would be a natural part of becoming involved with him, but I worry for him. I'm going to distract myself with Mim, because Lohen left the keys for me. Marbas is probably coming along for a spin in Mim, told him I can do tricks with it that Lohen can't. Heh. But still, there's that worry that he won't come home.

I know he's a good medic. He's a talented healer, and from what I understand his particular regiment is very capable. So, I'm going to trust that he'll keep his promise to return.
museworks: (Lucrezia)
There is a woman in the tome who is apparently being kept under lock and key by a warden of some kind. Presumably "for her own good," and she likes it.

I don't understand it. Fortunately I learned early that it's best to steel myself before opening the tome to read, so that I'm prepared for things like that. It's still difficult to read, and difficult to tell myself that it is possible she's truly happy, but at least I was ready.

I have not participated in much conversation there, but I'm trying. It's harder some days than others. But I'm trying.

Hunger.

Jun. 27th, 2011 10:48 am
museworks: (Lucrezia)
((LJ cut later on in the entry, but just giving a warning for disturbing/possibly triggering content here too.))

I have another reason for writing here. Not just for me, but I want him to see. I want my brother to understand it. I don't know why I do but I do. It seems important. Perhaps because right now I feel Chesric is all I have but I have to know that he understands it all, before I can-- I don't even know what words I'm looking for. It just seems necessary at this point, since I might see him more often. It might help me through reliving this, even if I do so only in recorded words and in memories.

After that strange dinner with Jovan, and his nighttime visit, it was darkness again. I don't know for how long, precisely. At least, not for certain; I kept tally of the meals I had. There were thirty in all. I believe it was back to once a day, because my courses came and went, and going by an estimate of how long they usually last for me, there were six meals during that time. I was grateful for the washroom, for it meant I could maintain some semblance of cleanliness, unlike that initial period of time.

I was grateful to not be with child, either. Though I did wonder at the time if that would have seen my life improve. I don't know whether it would have or not, and I was not given the chance; I later learned that I was deliberately fed herbs and potions to prevent such a thing.

I think it'd be redundant to go over the entire cycle of light, dark, abandonment, and company. Needless to say it happened many more times, and each time I knew I was a little weaker than the last. It was wearing me down. Just when I thought I would go mad in the darkness, he allowed the light back in once more. All the while I never left my chambers. All the while I remained barren, though for that last I was still grateful. I didn't know if anyone outside still cared for me, even my brother. I didn't know if I cared, even; life had become dull, the world around me growing slightly dimmer by the day. By the hour.

Then for another period of time, darkness again-- but without food. Again I was uncertain as to how much time had passed, but long enough that I was growing weak and disoriented. I drank water, as my washroom was still open to me, but it could only do so much. It was not food, and it couldn't calm the gnawing feeling that grew. It didn't do anything about the weakness.

And it was still dark. That blasted darkness.

He finally returned. He had food. I could smell it, and it made me nearly pass out. Or maybe I did pass out; I do not remember. What I do remember is one moment it was dark and I heard him, and smelled the food, and the next it was blindingly bright and painful and there were other voices. Even now I can feel my cheeks burning and stomach twisting at the very thought of recording this memory, and especially because I know I must let another read it, as much as I want to shrink from doing so. But I cannot write this in First Person perspective; I have to switch to Third.

Disturbing/possibly triggering content here. )

I cannot bring myself to write any more of that, or anything else, right now. All I want to do is hide in my tent, curl up in my bedroll, and cry. But I will not let myself do that. I will do something better.

There are always things that need killing.
museworks: (Lucrezia)
After various bits of irregular correspondence I saw Chesric last night. It feels like it's been longer than it really has. It was also slightly awkward. I don't know how to behave around my brother anymore. I know it's me, not him; at least he was kind enough to not wear his normal armor, that he wears as a paladin. He wore old practice armor, that would not look out of place in Orgrimmar or some such. I was caught slightly off-guard by that simple act of consideration, even if I know my reaction to paladins now is something I simply need to make myself get past.

The last time I saw Ches in person he had left me in the care of some of his Scryer acquaintances in Shattrath City, in Outlands. I know he didn't just abandon me, of course. He cared-- cares-- and did what seemed best. He'd taken a risk in helping me. I don't know if Jovan knows it was him.

But I saw Ches again and he looked normal. He asked how I was doing. I said okay. I told him about Alamir. He said he'd heard Alamir had met his end but hadn't known it was at my hand. Said it was no great loss.

"You look good, Lucy," he said, looking at me strangely. I don't know what was behind that look, but he used my childhood nickname. It made my chest tighten. "You look…more like the sister I know than I think you've ever looked."

I don't know what he meant. When he saw me last I was pale, unwell, physically and emotionally drained and scarred. Now I'm tanned, my hair is chopped shorter, I'm stronger, more capable...

Actually, I do think I know what he meant.

It feels so strange to smile.
museworks: (Alinor)
So, what I wrote before was pretty much negated. At least, part of it. This time Lohen did deliberately say "I love you," without it being indirect or hurried on his way out or some such. And I said it back.

I am still fretting, though, because while on one hand I know I mean it, on the other I'm worried that doing so somehow jinxed everything, and the next time he goes into combat with his guild will be his last. Or that I don't know what romantic love is and am mistaken, even if logically I know that is a silly notion on my part. I don't know!

I sometimes think my natural state of being is fretting. Oh well. I regret nothing!
museworks: (Lucrezia)
The Tauren was right. It helps to write this down and see my own words. It lets me examine what had happened, my life before I escaped, in a more detached way. I think she felt it would 'free' me. Maybe it does. But it also helps me organize my thoughts and plans.

He acted as if everything were normal. )
museworks: (Jaylie)
(A letter, written in a spidery, uneven hand in contrast with the almost childlike script otherwise in the journal, is pasted to a page.)

Dearest Jaylie,

First, let me apologize. For everything.

I am sorry I never seemed to care in life; that you always were second, or third, or worse to everything else holding my attention. I am sorry that I used to believe I never wanted a daughter in the first place. I am sorry for mistreating you some of the few times you saw me, and for damaging the hope I knew you had that each visit might be different.

I am sorry for disappointing you; or perhaps myself. I know you accepted me as I am now, but I am sorry it could not have been as I was.

I am sorry it took dying, and the horrors afterward, for me to eventually realize one of the greatest losses I had. I know it was not entirely my own doing, but I am sorry for all I missed in your life, and for not caring about what I did see.

Most of all, I am sorry for what is another disappointment for you: for leaving you again. I do not want you to see what I truly am. I know you accepted me in my current state of being as a death knight. You accepted me despite how I had been in life, and the atrocities you knew I committed before being freed of the Lich King's hold. You did not ignore them, but you said it was in the past and that it was silly to believe one could change the past because what happened had happened, and even dragons cannot completely control that. You believe yourself to be simple and unintelligent, but perhaps you are wiser than you realize.

I do not want you to see what I am, as I said. I try to redirect this…compulsion…in my mind, that lingers despite being given free will once more, but even that is difficult. I want you to remember me from our all-too-brief time together after my death; I want you to remember the first time we truly fought side-by-side, and how you taught me to better wield my blade. Remember that-- you taught me, because you are an incredibly skilled and accomplished warrior. You spoke of wanting to be a Sentinel someday; to me you are better than they are, even, and I believe you deserve more from life than to spend your days guarding cities and towns. Remember the way you embraced me after I first told you of that compulsion, or at least the surface details of it. You gave me a hug, even though my very being surely chilled you to the bone physically, and told me you believed I could turn it to better use, that I could take a bad thing and make good things come of it.

Please remember me like that, and forgive me for leaving you. For being yet another one who vanishes from your life. None of it is your fault, and I hope you never believe it to be. You are my daughter, and I love you.

- Athiras


----

So hes gone too now. I dont understand why everyone leaves me. I wish I knew why and what I do to drive people away. Im lonely. Im afraid to find Mother because what if she leaves too?
museworks: (Alinor)
Lohen said those "three little words" tonight, just easily slipped them into conversation; he said them before closing his own Tome because his guild needed his presence tonight for another combat assignment. Almost casual, like one might say to one's longtime spouse or some such-- "No time to talk, I love you, I'll see you later."

Naturally, being the sort I am, I started to think about it, and think, and think. Lohendrin and I really haven't known each other that long; maybe few weeks, even if we've had many conversations and have been around each other a lot when duties don't call us elsewhere. That's still a short period of time, even if some folks out there declare love within hours of meeting someone. People are different, though, and I'm still very new to this. I don't know how I feel exactly. I don't know if he's hurt that I haven't said it back-- I hope not! I don't think he is, because he said I'm worth waiting for, so maybe he's fine with giving me more time to think.

I've never been in love before, and I tend to overanalyze things. I don't know how one knows for certain one is in love, because sometimes even a rational mind can't entirely tell what's real and what's overly-romanticized in fiction. There's no feeling of earth moving beneath my feet (apart from things a shaman would tend to), there's no painful yearning, none of that sort of thing (that seems like nonsense anyhow). But I do like being around him more than being alone, and for me that's really quite peculiar. I still look forward to his words in the Book every day. I like cooking for him, and rubbing healing stuff on his bruises (as they aren't bad enough, really, to warrant use of Holy energy to heal).

I think the best option right now is to wait and see how things progress. How I feel as time goes on. He said he's willing to wait for me, so I do hope that includes saying those words, not just waiting for the right time to decide we want to go to bed together. (Not at that point, either. Not that I haven't thought about it, especially with the aforementioned tending of his bruises.)

I'm not really a patient sort, but I think I have to make myself be patient here instead of jumping in with both feet. He's worth it, too. Besides, I want Calleo to lose money on his bet, whatever it is. Heh heh.
museworks: (Alinor)
Sometimes I think I'm a little jealous of Lohendrin. One wouldn't necessarily know it if one just met him-- because of his usual demeanor and such-- but he's seen a lot of combat. More than I have, and many more of the most recent threats. Though he has seen much more, period...he has the things to prove it. Trinkets and armor and things like Mim. Part of me wants to be there too, to see all of that, to feel I made a difference.

But I know not everyone can be at the front; who would be in the back, then, helping make sure those at the front could do their job? Would those who finally helped Fordring bring down the Lich King have been able to do so without the help of support troops who cleared out a lot of Icecrown Citadel, who were there with supplies and to battle any reinforcements that might have been called in? I know Lohen understands that too-- even if he's at the front, in his particular regiment he provides support. He's a healer, a medic; he makes sure others have the means to battle their enemies.

Every role is important, even down to the peons who help build towers, but sometimes...sometimes I wish I knew what it was like to be lauded as a hero. To have just a moment in the sun. But that's okay. As I said, not everyone can be at the front, and I'm practical enough to understand that those at the front wouldn't be there if not for the work of those at the back. Even those of us who tend to be seen as cannon fodder at times-- people like me who deal damage but are unable to do things like heal beyond basic bandaging, things like that-- have our part.

Maybe that's why I'm so devoted to my pursuit of Engineering, especially in my studies and experiments in regard to combining my engineering with my magecraft. Being a 'technomage' as some call it. I know it's not an area in which extensive research has been done, and maybe I want to feel a little special sometimes.

I couldn't tell Lohen any of this, though; I don't want him to feel bad because he thinks his stories of combat make me feel bad, when they don't. I love listening to them, even though I will admit what I really love listening to is just him. I like the far-off look in his eyes when he's telling me these tales; I like the little smile he gets when he speaks of Skruffy and Ruckus, the genuine fondness and respect when he speaks of working alongside Dura. The pride in his voice when he speaks of their victory in battle. I can tell they make him happy. I hope, when he speaks of me to them, they see a similar happiness in his demeanor. I want to believe I help make him happy, he deserves it.

Honeymoon.

Jun. 22nd, 2011 10:35 am
museworks: (Lucrezia)
((Warning for possibly triggering, though not explicit, content under LJ-cut.))

The first time I saw Jovan after he brought me to his home-- it was never our home, it was his-- was when I woke up and saw a pair of glowing green eyes in the darkness above me. I was so used to the dark at that point that they were virtually blinding; I couldn't see anything else, even when I looked away I saw the after-image of his eyes. Almost funny that of everything he did, that's what chills me the most in nightmares-- the after-image of his eyes in the darkness. Perhaps because I still feel like I see it after I wake.

Delayed wedding night. )
museworks: (Lucrezia)
I did stay out in the sun, uncovered, until I burned. I'm sore now, and even with this cooling salve on it I have to be careful about putting my helm on, but I don't mind. I like the sun; it's why I stay in Durotar, even if I do miss the comparative luxury of Silvermoon. The sun in Quel'thalas, even now, seems almost filtered-- bright, but not intense. Pleasant. In Durotar it is intense, unforgiving. The sort of sunlight that forces one to go indoors because sometimes mere shade just isn't enough. I close my eyes, remember that first week of marriage-- and assorted blocks of time afterward-- and spread my arms as if I could embrace the light.

Haven't seen Eoghann in a while. I wouldn't say I miss him, exactly, but at least with him I know someone I can trust in a strange way. He is himself. He's useful, and in combat I do actually trust him at my back. I don't miss that damned scorpid of his, and I don't understand why he likes those things so much, but maybe I should track him down sometime. He's been keeping himself absent as much as I have, and I feel slightly bad for it in regard to the guild. I'm still not sure what to make of Merciless; it's unsettling because there are elements I hadn't really wanted to interact with beyond "Hey, kill ____". Twilight dragons and talk of old gods here and there and such. Things that make my skin prickle. But there's a strange comfort in the group as well, and there does seem to be a feeling of 'watching out for one's own' there.

I still won't share my personal goals or problems with them, though. Not what I did to Alamir, not what I plan to do to the others, including Jovan. That is for me. Having others do my work is what Jovan would do. Hiding behind those more powerful while using them is his way, and I won't insult myself or any of Merciless with that.

So far the Book I found has been proving to be fairly useless. No one of great interest in there, nothing that I could use to keep track of any of them. I suppose it was too much to ask, and perhaps too easy; anything easily gotten is suspect, and I must remain patient. In the meantime, I have to try to not let it consume me. I'm still alive, and there is more out there than just me or my immediate concerns.
museworks: (Lucrezia)
This is part of that 'therapy', as the Tauren called it, writing what I remember. Even if I don't want to remember it or relive it. She said it's the only way to find peace. I disagree, the only way to find peace is revenge, but I didn't tell her that. I knew she would disagree, and spout something about life and fate and overcoming things and so forth. The usual priestly claptrap meant to soothe the ignorant when faced with the unexplainable.

I suppose there is a certain strange comfort in putting the words on a page, then reading. Even the worst things seem more detached.

In the beginning. )
museworks: (Alinor)
((OOC note: This is technically posted the morning after the event, and is timestamped accordingly. But I already had it written, so I decided to post.))

Lohendrin invited me over for dinner last night; he seemed to feel he owed me a dinner, when he really didn't, but I wasn't going to argue. Good food not prepared by me? Yes please! He also said he'd wear The Pants. (To be fair, he said they're comfortable pants-- I didn't want him to wear them only for my benefit, but as long as he likes them, yes please to those too.) He had a very nice dinner whipped up, too. Not to mention before that he let me take a look around their workroom.

I didn't disturb Marbas' things; not only for common sense reasons-- one doesn't disturb a warlock's work area without knowing if there are certain 'precautions' taken to protect said work-- but just for courtesy. I like Marbas, I don't want to disturb his things without his permission. But I got to look a bit at where Lohen does his gemcutting and even his alchemy; potions and elixirs and flasks, oh my! A bit fascinating, that. But supper was waiting, so the inspection had to be cut short.

But wait, there's more! )

In the end, it was a very good night despite the interruption, and Loh has a surprisingly comfortable lap. He needs more furniture, though. At least a couch.
museworks: (Alinor)
I had my date with Lohendrin-- well, I say 'date' but it was more like 'invited him over for dinner I prepared, in an awkwardly-cleared part of my workshop'. But he came over, looking more handsome than he has a right to (oh, those leather pants he wore...!), and brought me flowers. I am not one given to girlish squee-ing, and I did not squee girlishly, but I had perhaps a similar internal reaction. Something akin to, "He brought me flowers! I LOVE FLOWERS! EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NEVER LOVED THEM BEFORE NOW."

Really, part of me is sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Seriously. He's a good-natured, handsome, fairly intelligent fellow who seems to find me interesting and cute and all that. Surely that means sometime within the next week I'll be approached by some lady with five kids in tow saying he's actually her husband. Or I'll return home and get a hammer to the face from his ex. Something. I am happy, there is something wrong with the world and balance must be restored somehow.

Oh well. That kiss was worth it.

Anyhow, speaking of home, I've relocated back to Silvermoon City. Figured it might be prudent to move some things out of my place in Dalaran before I found myself completely unable to leave (or return), period. Or before I found myself infected with that weird plague going around. Not that the cities are without it, but the quarantine areas seem to mainly be Dalaran-oriented for the sake of being studied. Or some such. I haven't caught it, nor has Lohen. Nor his twin.

I may actually finish moving my things here; I have slightly less space, but I could probably stand to get rid of some things, and do I really need a separate sitting area? The rent is a bit less expensive in SMC, believe it or not. The City of Mages is a bit spendy, even if I'm paying for some minor dimensional overlay. And the fact that Loh and Marbas live in Silvermoon is not at all a factor. Okay, maybe a tiny one. But it's not like I can't automatically travel between the two cities if I wanted to; being a mage has its advantages. Still, I think I may resettle in my home city. People say mean things about it, but when all's said and done, the bad really does seem to be just focused in a few areas; overall it's still a beautiful place, even if it'd be nice to see the ruins reclaimed, or just destroyed altogether to allow the woods to take over. They could probably put the stones and metal to good use. Perhaps pave over some of the Dead Scar. Fortify the remaining part of Silvermoon City. Something like that.

Something to consider, anyway. I myself am just still in a really good mood.
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