museworks: (Lucrezia)
[personal profile] museworks
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.

In this dream I had agreed to meet him so that he could show me some of his inventions. I note that I do not currently know what he looks like, and as such his features were at first undefined in that way dreams have, in which you know who someone is without actually seeing them. He was dressed in the black and red armor of the blood knights, but I knew who it was though his back was to me. I called out to "Lazirus", greeting him as I approached; he turned to face me, and it was Jovan instead. Behind me came others: Alamir, without his helm and an angry red scar around his neck where I had decapitated him, though his head was intact once more. Pryderi, whose eyes were closed. And the other two of that core group, who are still alive for now, the twins Mereth and Meridas Firemorn. The setting around me became like the home of that idiot Saltheril in Eversong, and one of his insipid parties; laughter and fireworks, crystals and mana dust, assorted faceless partygoers.

I could not move, and the music and laughter of the party seemed to dim when Jovan came closer. He cupped my cheek as he had in reality when I woke that time and was told I had been ill; his expression held the same loving concern. "Thank you for coming back to me, dear wife," he said. "The boy was very useful in leading us to you." Behind him I suddenly noticed a cage, and in that cage, though I couldn't distinguish definite features, was Lazirus. There were people around the cage, poking and prodding at the poor boy, laughing and mocking him. I could feel his confusion and hurt and fear as if it were my own.

"He said you told him to consider you a sister," this dream-Jovan continued. "I don't know why you would, because you'll only lose this brother as well." It was then that I noticed Jovan wearing Chesric's shield with our family crest, something he would only have taken from my brother's dead body. "You should know by now that you'll lose everyone but me, and it's your own fault. You could've stayed hidden in Orgrimmar, you could've kept your distance from your brother, who might still be alive. From the boy, who might still be free.

"Why do you make me do this to you, Lucrezia? I wanted to love you, but you made me do all of this to you. You made me angry, but I can still love you, if you just stay with me, and do what I ask of you. They'll be safe again. Isn't that what you want?"

I heard the dream-Lazirus' voice from the cage; rather, I didn't hear his voice but I know what he said. "I don't understand, I just want to build things and make things and I thought you were good and kind and my sister-- I'm sorry if I did anything wrong I just want to go home--"

"Come home with me, Lucrezia. No one has to suffer for you. They'll be fine again, isn't that a small price to pay on your part to keep them safe?" The mocking laughter behind him, toward the boy in the cage, grew deafening in my ears, and I saw 'Lazirus' curled into a ball on the floor in the middle of it; he may have been crying, but I knew he was hurt and afraid. I looked back at Jovan and I felt my heart clench and throat close up--

And at that point I woke. I could still feel the tightness in my chest and I knew my cheeks were wet. My head ached as it does when I've been crying. I heard Chesric's steady breathing in the next bed over, indicating he still slept deeply. I don't know how long I lay there awake, but I did for some time, wondering if I had made a mistake in these tentative friendships with both the boy and the gardener. Wondering if somehow they'd end up being used against me. Vorrick has enough problems with his own enemies, it seems, and Lazirus...I worry about him.

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July 2011

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