museworks: (Lucrezia)
I cannot decide if I want to write of that party, because Chesric was there and thus I would not need to recount it to him, or if I wish to refrain. I will think on it more.

I agreed to meet Lazirus at the small pond just outside Silvermoon's main gate; it would not be the journey that going to Fairbreeze is-- and would not pose as much danger from Scourge stragglers or forest cats should he get lost-- but it is not yet in the city proper. I chose it as much for his sake as for my own. I still am not entirely certain as to why I extended that invitation, but...it is what it is. I feel a peculiar protectiveness when speaking with him, especially after the dream I had the other night.

Ches told me a bit of Sir Thorndawn (Lazirus' guardian, from what I understand), and none of it struck me as particularly alarming. Some he already knew, though he does not personally know the man, other information he dug up for me. Then again, what is there alarming that an unknowing outsider would discover of Jovan, really? Assessment of Jovan would indicate someone who tends to either seek the path of Retribution or, when necessary, provide healing. As illogical as that latter is, to me-- but I do not believe most others saw what I saw of him.

Small steps toward 'reclaiming' my home city, I suppose. I said before I would not keep running; I have stopped running. Now, I think, I will not only stand my ground, but regain what I had lost.

Vorrick asked what I did before I was a mercenary. I wanted to tell him, but I could not. As it was, I told him more than I have said to anyone-- that I was minor nobility. He does not need to know more, I don't believe. What use would he have for such sordid details? There is enough on his plate, and I have yet to actually see him anyhow. I would not know him in a crowd, nor he me. But I still wanted to tell, because I think there is a part of me that just wants to scream and rage and shout to get it out of my head, off my chest. It is why I write, and why I will at least let Chesric read.

For now, though, the Firelands. My shoulder has healed sufficiently, and I have applied more of the Gilnean woman's salve. I think the next time I meet with her for the exchange I will bring something else. Tea, perhaps. She is a very cordial lady, something unexpected. And one with whom, I think, the language barrier does not matter; there are no words needed over tea.
museworks: (Lucrezia)
I have come to the conclusion that when the time comes for me to allow my brother to read this journal, he may get a headache from the different manners of writing I seem to have used. Sometimes I know I slip into a formal voice; for some reason when I write memories, that voice makes it easier for the words to come out. Proper phrasing, no contractions, and so forth. I don't know why, but if it makes it less difficult to face them enough to write down, and write down plainly, so be it. As it is I can't make myself write too many close together. I think the Tome helps there; even though those two individuals with whom I seem to regularly speak are...quite peculiar in their own separate ways, and the "public" pages are themselves full of peculiar individuals, it still is an outlet. And I surprise myself sometimes when writing, as I had last night.

After closing the Tome last night I dreamt of Lazirus-- the aforementioned "slow fellow". I am not so certain he is slow as much as perhaps naive. I would not count him among the smartest individuals, no, but he seems perhaps...underdeveloped, mentally and maybe emotionally. In the manner of one not yet grown. I have been assuming he is grown, but I suppose-- anyhow. I had conversations with him and with Vorrick-- the peculiar gardener. Separate ones on separate private pages.

With Vorrick, I was glad to see he was as well as he seems capable of being; I know few details about his personal problems beyond there being some unpleasantries between him and 'SnowMoth' from the Tome. And by 'unpleasantries' I mean the latter had the former's hands broken, it would seem. But still wants to...keep track of him, even sent him a new tome after Vorrick had burnt his. It's odd to an outside observer who has only seen the vaguest details.

With Lazirus, I just would like to see him not hurt. He said he was supposed to have started work yesterday, but that he was rebuffed quite rudely when presenting his papers (why did they keep his papers?) and doing what that guardian figure of his said. It seems to be a strange situation and I don't know that I should inquire further, but I also don't wish to see him hurt.

Note to self: Look up information on Sir Andovar Thorndawn of the Blood Knights. Ask Chesric if he is familiar with the name and/or man, as a paladin himself.

My thoughts are very disjointed this morning, I notice, when reading over what I have written thus far. And I had written of a dream. Nightmare, really, though not quite to the cold-sweat, heart-pounding, almost-kill-your-concerned-brother-for-frightening-you extent of previous ones. More of the heart-wrenching variety.

Dreaming. (Also, possible triggery warning.) )
museworks: (Lucrezia)
[A letter folded inside an envelope, addressed to one "V. Longshadow" in Thunder Bluff. Upon opening said envelope the reader will find a few pressed and dried peacebloom petals included alongside the envelope.]

Mr. Dubs,

I hope this letter finds you in a timely manner; you mentioned "the Bluff", which I assumed meant Thunder Bluff. Thank you for the postcard. Point taken in regard to the gold; I will not send more of my own volition. However, I do extend the offer of some assistance should you be in truly dire straits financially. I will not support you, of course, nor do I believe you would ask such of me; but I am willing to help a little if needed, here and there.

The hibiscus has not worsened, but it has not improved overmuch. I retrieved mud from Zangarmarsh-- I had gone there before you mentioned it, as when I think of mud from Draenor that is the region which first comes to mind-- and it seems to be clinging tenaciously to life. The fungus giants do not attack me unless I am very close; there is some sentience there, I do believe, and perhaps it tells them that the armored elven lady with two large swords may end them if they try anything. Or perhaps I am full of fancies. I seem to be lately.

My brother, while no devoted gardener, has some knowledge of plants; this came as a surprise to me when I learned of it, but he says he prefers to find interesting ones in the wild rather than cultivate them himself. Still, he has provided some bits of advice, though I think I will still ask you any questions I may have. I have begun to set up a garden of sorts at my home. Simply flowers, for now, and though I know it is a weed, I have one bed devoted to peacebloom. I find that I like that particular sort of plant. The activity is relaxing, even if the Quel'thalas sun is not quite as invigorating as that of Durotar. Nor as warm, obviously.

I have been fortunate to escape major injury thus far in the Firelands; plate armor is certainly not comfortable in that climate, but it is bearable and I do not feel comfortable fighting in anything less. It is, perhaps, one of the areas in which being a touch sturdier of build than other women of my race has been an asset rather than a detriment.

The death knight in the tome has sent you a new tome, incidentally. I told him you may burn that one also, but he sent one anyway. Please be careful; I realize, from you both, that your words...perhaps got you into trouble. Whether deserved or no, I would consider you coming to harm-- and especially being killed-- to be breaking the deal as well. I have enjoyed our correspondence to date and would be unhappy to see it end. As those tend to be the words of either a friend or one to whom money is owed, and you are not the latter, I am amenable to being considered the former.

Be safe,
L.G.

A letter.

Jul. 12th, 2011 09:27 am
museworks: (Lucrezia)
((Because I am bored this morning, the correspondence turn-around is Supah Fast! >.>))

Lucrezia looked at the small package she held; very inconspicuous, plain brown paper around oilcloth, tied with sturdy string and addressed to one Vorrick Longshadow in Orgrimmar. The identity of "Dubs the Peculiar Gardener," as she had considered him up until that point. Interesting. She wondered if Ches would try to look up information on the odd man, or if he would even find anything if he did.

Within the package was a small box; simple, unfinished wood, nothing special. Its contents were well-cushioned to neither shift nor make noise, as its sender did not particularly care for it to be lost or stolen. Upon opening said box the recipient would find a small linen pouch containing 20 gold coins, and a ring.

Her business in the village was brief; she put the package, with appropriate postage, in the mail. She did not wish to remain there any longer than absolutely necessary; send a package, pick up a few essentials, then leave. She was already nervous enough having given a proper name to someone unknown, but a peculiar sense of fairness dictated such. Besides, should it fall into undesirable hands, it might still be turned to her advantage. She would see.

A letter for Vorrick Longshadow. )
museworks: (Lucrezia)
[The handwriting is oddly elegant and graceful, versus the tome's previous more 'generic' script.]

I heard in the tome that you were injured. I'm sorry to hear that. I don't know the situation, but I thought I would send my wishes for your quick healing, as I also was led to understand your injuries would hinder your gardening as well.

I planted the peacebloom seeds in the pot you provided. If need be I'll get a bigger pot, and soil per your recommendation. The kind gesture is still appreciated. I would ask if there is anything I can do to help, but I also am led to believe your writing is somewhat hindered currently. Perhaps you could find an enchant for your tome that records spoken word, if you have no such thing already.

Be well,
L.G.

((Added note: Meant to add-- she doesn't know where he lives, of course, and I assume he didn't put a return address on his letter; consider this to be on a private page in the tome.))

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