Indecision.
Jul. 23rd, 2011 12:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
museworksI 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.
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.
