museworks: (Alinor)
The deal is done; the deed to the house near Duskwither is now ours. Well, technically it's Lohendrin's, but in spirit belongs to all three of us. The next step will be to begin the renovations; I plan to go out to the property to do some drawings and take measurements so that I can begin some planning. Lohen says I get this starry look in my eyes when I talk about such things; I don't quite know what he means, but I AM excited about this! I have IDEAS, and not of the Kaja'cola variety.

The whole process was, for the most part, as smooth as I had told Lohen it would be; I think he was remembering his grandfather's ways-- which were, apparently, VERY strict-- and maybe even seeing Court before the Scourge invasion. "Court" is no more than a glimmer of what it had once been; mind you, I was never a part up close, but I saw from a distance on occasion when Mother would try to parade us (rather, parade Malinde and Leania, I followed along as "the clever one"; but I digress). I told him to let me handle business and talking and such; he just had to stand there and look pretty Serious. We had his aunt's diaries, some papers, and a signet ring of House Scarletsky to prove his bloodline. There was some initial hesitation, which I found out was mostly because the House had been presumed to be among the now-defunct ones-- those with no surviving members and no record of inheritance or wills. As such, a goodly amount of Scarletsky's assets had already been divided and distributed where "appropriate" (read: among those who happened to please those in power).

It was fortunate that the house and property near Duskwither were as yet unclaimed; perhaps it was the location-- most city-bred folk, especially those who would try for such assets, would not want to live not only outside city walls but in a place potentially near Undesirable Creatures. Perhaps it was the state of disrepair into which the buildings had fallen, or seemed to have fallen; Lohendrin's inspections concluded that they looked worse than they were, and with some structural enhancement, cleaning, and fresh paint things will be much better. But I digress again! The property was still unclaimed, the deed still belonging to House Scarletsky in the Records Office.

I made it clear that the heir to House Scarletsky was really only interested in that particular property and that as such it was his birthright; though he was illegitimate issue, he was still acknowledged as part of the bloodline by the now-deceased patriarch. I knew there was still some hesitation, which was when I played the "War Hero" card. Lohendrin, though young, is indeed a legitimate war hero of the Horde, as well as the Sin'dorei, with his actions at the front lines of the battles of Northrend and lately, the Molten Front. He would, as Lord Scarletsky, reflect well upon Quel'thalas and the Sin'dorei (and by extension, themselves-- even the ones who don't set foot outside of the City).

I'm quite proud of Lohendrin for keeping himself from wincing or reacting in other similar ways when I did the "Lord Scarletsky" thing. I did manage to soften that particular blow later, in private, by pointing out that in accepting the title of Lord Scarletsky he was getting a little bit of revenge against his grandfather for how the man treated his (Loh's) mother and aunt. The aunt was actually his great-aunt, the sister of his grandfather; after reading her journals, with Lohen's permission, I am quite glad to get a nice bit of revenge against that horrid old man. What a miserable-behaving person he was. I would have liked to have met Lohendrin's aunt, though; she'd had hopes for his becoming a mage, but perhaps she would have found it acceptable that he fell in love with a mage instead, despite not pursuing that path himself.

I keep going on tangents. I suppose it's too much to hope for that I keep on topic, but still. In summary: I put on my Magistrix Pants, we went to the Magistry, claimed Lohendrin's birthright as Lord Scarletsky, promised all we really wanted was the property and its contents near Duskwither and that all other assets of House Scarletsky could be ceded to the government. Surprisingly, there was also apparently a safe-deposit box in the House's name with the Magistry. We haven't looked at it yet, but we possess the mundane and arcane keys to unlock it. I felt it best to not overwhelm poor Loh too much right away. We agreed that Lohendrin would appear at the occasional Court function for formality's sake.

And like that, paperwork was signed, exchanged hands, and Lohendrin became both a homeowner and nobility. The former he likes, the latter makes him grimace. He's still Lohendrin Neverdusk, he'll only assume the mantle of Lord Scarletsky on those few occasions where he is expected to be present. But I promised him I would be there to help him out when needed, and that we wouldn't lord it about. Terrible pun completely intended.

I can't wait to write to my mother about this, because I know Malinde reads over her shoulder.
museworks: (Alinor)
Interesting development on the house-buying front!

For starters, we found a house that we like. It's a decent size, really; it works for the three of us, plus a little extra room even with our various crafting workspaces set up and whatnot. It's located in northeastern Quel'thalas, a bit past Duskwither, with a nice view of the sea. Beyond where any remnant mana beasties might go. The house seemed to have been abandoned, and even after all this time has not been reclaimed. While the wilderness hasn't reclaimed it either, it is in a bit of disrepair. Nothing that can't be fixed and improved upon without losing the 'feel' of the house itself! There is even a small spire for a possible nighttime observatory; I think the three of us would like that as well. There is only one outside building, but we can build another to house the mechanical mounts.

As such, I handled the matter of inquiring about this house, because it may be one of the few areas in which I actually use that Magistrix rank I earned. I hate politics, and while there was some involved in getting to that rank, it increased exponentially upon actually HAVING I pulled back. Not too many feathers were ruffled by that move, admittedly; I was gaining a reputation for being fairly direct about how I felt about matters (and people), and that had the potential to not only step on toes but reveal things some might prefer remain hidden, especially where expenses were concerned. Eliminating me was not a desirable option because like it or not, the Sunspark family has contributed generously to Magistry coffers on occasion because of its dear middle daughter. In the end, it was sort of a mutual agreement that I be more of a 'field Magistrix'. I would reflect well upon them when about in other Horde places and even in combat, and in return I would be able to occasionally call upon some of the privileges of that the possible acquisition of abandoned properties for personal and/or professional use.

It's so odd to write all that out. I know it, but it just seems best to write out should future generations see this.

So, I made in inquiry into the property near Duskwither...and received quite an interesting surprise. The house and its surrounding property-- many acres square-- apparently belongs to House Scarletsky of Silvermoon. This is a house that is nearly defunct; all but two of its bloodline is deceased following the Scourge invasion. The remaining two, only one of whom was ever formally acknowledged by the now-deceased patriarch? Lohendrin Neverdusk and Marbas Blackspark. Lohen's the one who was acknowledged because he was actually raised by his aunt, who was a scion of that House. So this house we found actually does belong to Lohen. Funny how things work out.

We still have to go through the requisite paperwork, of course; Lohendrin has never tried to claim anything of his birthright, for personal reasons, and Marbas' existence was never acknowledged (or possibly known by any but Lohen's aunt and biological parents). He has suffcient evidence and identification of himself as the remaining heir of House Scarletsky; I told him that it won't have to involve politicking on his part, that he could be like the several 'inactive' nobility, and his excuse is actually reasonable. He helps on the battlefield, and has numerous accomplishments to his name in regard to such; rather than some of the nobles who simply hide behind closed doors in lives of pitiful indolence and indulgence. His presence is only necessary tomorrow because it is technically his holding, now, even if I'm handling the paperwork and any red tape.

He gets to see me in Magistrix Mode, oh boy. Hopefully by this time tomorrow evening the deed to the house and surrounding property will be in our hands. Hurrah!
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, 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: (Alinor)
Lohen's sleeping really soundly, and I cuddled up next to him a bit but he didn't wake-- I was just cuddling to cuddle, anyway!-- so I decided to scribble a few things down. I think he got up for a bit last night but I don't precisely remember; I just sort of dimly registered it then went back to sleep.

I'm still a complete novice when it comes to this relationship stuff. Lohendrin's my first relationship ever, and while I like to think I'm an intelligent, rational elf, it's still a new area to me and he does throw me off balance, but in a good way. He came out of a very bad situation, I know, and I also know he hadn't been expecting-- or wanting-- to get into a relationship even several months later. I can understand. I mean, if you devote a block of time-- a year and a half? two? I don't know-- to someone, even if they're a bad person that's still a part of your time given to them and from what I understand, it takes time to get past that. At least, for most reasonable people, and Lohendrin is a normal, reasonable person. But things happened as they happened with us, and I tried to not make him feel pressured or whatever-- I'd even tried to give him an easy way of turning me down if he wasn't interested, without worrying about hurting my feelings. (Not like it would have been the first time I was turned down by someone.)

But no, he was interested too, just snowballed from there. I, against all sense of reason that I otherwise prize, fell in love. At first I was afraid that maybe I was just too enthusiastic about the first fellow who seemed to be genuinely interested in me as a person, and who himself was a genuinely good person too, but I came to realize that it was really more than that. I don't want to think too far into the future, because it's entirely possible we won't be together even a year from now, much less many; I'm not going to make silly declarations about his being my soulmate or any such nonsense, because I think that generally just ends poorly.

I love him, and I don't want to share every aspect of my life or my being with him. We're still two separate individuals. Some interests overlap, like books, and others supplement each other-- not that he needs it, but if he wanted he could sift through some of the ore I collect for uncut stones and such, for instance-- but we are still two different people. And I love that too. We don't complete each other; we complement each other. Even in looking for a new place to live for the three of us (me, Lohen, and Marbas), we'll have our separate spaces. And I like that. I don't want Lohen to depend on me for anything, and I don't want to depend on him.

So I don't plan ahead too much-- not beyond the basic concrete matters of life such as living space and battle situations and so forth. Other matters are one day at a time, and I'm happy.

OOC: ((The inspiration for this entry. )
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)
Diving back into memories, because it is still necessary. I find myself wanting to return to Silvermoon City, to just sort of dare any to take action against me who might recognize me. Would they, though? I was pale and, though still built almost more like someone of peasant stock, tried to be 'properly dainty'; I had my long, beautiful hair, I had delicate cosmetics expertly applied, I had rich clothing. Now my hair is cut, to my shoulders with fringe on my brow; now I wear heavy armor and carry two large swords at my back; now my skin is more tanned, and I can detect tiny lines at the corners of my eyes and such from spending such time outside. I do not wear cosmetics anymore, I know I carry myself differently.

If I pulled my hair back, kept that expression that Ches has described as 'habitually dour', went about in armor and perhaps even a helm...I imagine I could walk through Silvermoon once again. I have heard slightly distressing things about its more recent decline, and I want to believe it is limited to certain places that were unsavory anyhow, but I also want to see for myself. Besides, owing to my parents' lower social status (then and, quite possibly, now), and Jovan keeping me in isolation...even among the nobility there should be few who would so much as notice me (why would they notice someone seeming to be a mere sellsword?) much less recognize me.

I do not think Chesric would care for this idea, so perhaps I will keep it to myself.

The game continued. )
museworks: (Alinor)
*There is just a smiley face on the page.*
museworks: (Lucrezia)
I had another nightmare last night. Thankfully they stopped being every night, and not only because of occasional use of the dreamless potion; I prefer to not take that every night if possible, only when I feel I truly need uninterrupted sleep and am somewhere I feel relatively secure. This time my brother did not stand over my bed to wake me. In fact, he did not disturb me at all and let me wake on my own, but when I awoke again this morning he was leaning on my bed asleep. Apparently he had brought a chair up from downstairs to sit beside me. I wish I knew what goes on in his mind, in dealing with me; I do not ask, but I wish I knew. I have a strange-- I would not say 'morbid' as death is not involved, but perhaps 'dark'?-- fascination with how he sees me now. From when he smuggled me out of the Redbrook estate, to now when we sleep in our beds at night in this house we now share. I know he keeps a journal of his own, but I have not asked about it, nor he of mine.

Ches brought me a postcard, sent by Longshadow. I will pen a response soon, but I find I am quite curious about the man's circumstances. He is a very peculiar man-- as noted before-- and one whose business I believe it is best to keep at a distance, as concerned as I find myself growing. Though I also am curious about the...interactions between him and the one calling himself 'SnowMoth' in the Tome. Broken fingers, burnt tomes, and so forth. I told the death knight, in the Tome, that the gardener had burnt his; he (the death knight) mused on sending Longshadow another. I do not know that it would be useful and I certainly doubt it would be well-received, but I do not think I would inquire further. Their issues are their own. I think being a vague outside observer is perfectly fine. I imagine that sword/moth symbol on the crate I'd broken up and burnt, at Longshadow's request, belongs to that death knight. Curious.

I sent the slow fellow in the Tome an inquiry as to his well-being; just a brief one, but I find myself oddly concerned for him. Perhaps because he seems so...trusting. Nice. And I do not like the idea of that being ruined, even if it might simply be a part of life with which he will have to become accustomed someday. I suppose, even though I rarely take up my shield anymore, there is a vague sort of protectiveness lingering still. I do hope this "Sir Thorndawn" is not training him to be a blood knight.

I should venture out today, and take care of some tasks. Earn some more gold. Otherwise I fear I will become a shut-in, simply because this home has a strange sort of peacefulness to it that I do not wish to leave. Not leaving, though, would likely lead to complacence, which I cannot afford at the moment. As much as I want to block out everything outside this house and the few surrounding acres, and focus only on myself, my middling attempts at gardening, and my brother, I should not.
museworks: (Alinor)
That bastard won't be plaguing my Lohendrin anymore.
museworks: (Lucrezia)
One day I woke and it was light. There was a face above me, but it was full of gentle concern; it was Jovan's face, and it was his hand cupping my cheek. I know my reaction was instant and instinctive at that point-- fear. I had come to be afraid-- terrified, even-- when I saw Jovan's face, or just his eyes in the dark. I would have scrambled away like a frightened rabbit, as much as it shames me now to admit, but his touch kept me pinned in place with no effort on his part.

"Shh, it's alright," he said, in a voice more tender and loving than I had ever heard from him. "You've been ill, hallucinating what must have been terrible things. But we think you will be well now."

I did not understand. Hallucinating? Ill? I had experienced all of the previous months' (or was it years at that point?) torment. I know I had. I could feel the aching on my back, on my backside and thighs, the various stinging welts and cuts that had been Alamir's work. I know I shook my head at Jovan, wanting nothing more than to shove him away from me and run, but I could not. I was dimly aware of actually wearing an item of clothing for the first time in I don't know how long. I closed my eyes but felt his hand move over my cheek then gently stroke my hair.

The insidious little thought inserted itself into my mind, I recall: What if he were right? What if it had been a hallucination, or a nightmare, or both? But why do I hurt so? I opened my eyes again to see some casualties of this 'hallucination'-- the remaining frame and stand of a shattered floor-mirror, a large curio cabinet similarly broken, things that could very well be responsible for my injuries. And Jovan-- he was being so concerned, so kind. I so desperately wanted to believe his words that I let myself do so. I apologized to him-- I apologized to him-- for everything, for being ill, anything done in the throes of hallucination, breaking anything. I was so desperate to believe that it had all been an extended nightmare or hallucination as claimed, so I clung to that. I clung to the kindness he seemed to be showing me and was already convincing myself of the truth of his words, and feeling ashamed that I had believed what was surely false. I did not want him to believe me mad, either, even though I myself was starting to wonder about such.

I do not think it was unreasonable to want to believe such, or even weak of me; it was so much easier to believe what was more pleasant at that time because everything else was in itself unbelievable.

All kinds.

Jul. 17th, 2011 12:53 am
museworks: (Lucrezia)
I was writing my latest 'installment', as it were, of my memories of my marriage. It was interrupted by the Tome; rather, I suppose I should say I took a break from writing as I find I need to do sometimes. Especially when here alone, as I am now.

It is a most peculiar thing, that Tome; there seems to be neither rhyme nor reason as to who gets ahold of one. Perhaps various coincidences and circumstances, some like mine in which it is taken from a dead man, some...who knows. I am not entirely certain how this one particular individual found one. He does not strike me as overly intelligent, and I would say it may be best that he live with his mother. I think I almost pity him; I hope she is a good guardian, as he seems to be one who might be easily parted from his possessions if found by more unscrupulous sorts. As I write this we are carrying on something of a conversation in the Tome, and I still am not certain as to what to make of him. He does not seem bright enough to be involved with the Blood Knight order, at least.

I must give the poor soul some credit, though: he has lightened my mood a touch.
museworks: (Alinor)
Lohendrin said, "I know that look in your eyes. You're thinking of science."

Just because, in discussing a potential new place to live, I mentioned us needing a place to house our mechanical vehicles plus room in said place for me to tinker with them...

Not like thinking of science is a BAD thing!


Jul. 13th, 2011 09:19 am
museworks: (Lucrezia)
My sleep was not as peaceful as I had hoped, and when I woke in the middle of the night there were glowing eyes above me in the dark. It is fortunate for Ches that I was not sleeping with a dagger under my pillow, as I have been most of the time otherwise; the eyes were his, and he had woken up because of me and had only been showing concern. I had moved instinctively when seeing his eyes, as if I had that dagger in my hand-- it would have gone across his throat. He realized this, as did I; I think it was a combination of the nightmare, that strange time of night when one's thoughts seem amplified, the dark, and his presence above it all, but I ended up crying myself to sleep on his shoulder.

I woke again this morning with him holding me as he had sometimes when we were children. He did not ask me about my nightmare, and I did not tell him. I know he was curious, though. I will have to continue writing some memories and let him read. As it was, I asked him only to please never stand over me like that again.

I am fortunate he does not ask questions. He has them, I can see it in his eyes, but he does not ask. I regret feeling as though he did not care, or only vaguely cared, at one point; I know now that he has, but was restrained by circumstance and misinformation (or simply lack of information).


Jul. 13th, 2011 12:43 am
museworks: (Lucrezia)
Outside is quiet, just the sound of crickets, water on the shore, rustling leaves. Inside is the sound of Ches' shallow, steady breathing in the next bed over. The sound of my pen on the page of this personal journal. It is relaxing; I forgot to pick up the materials for another dreamless potion, or even the potion itself, so I hope the night's relaxing quality will help me sleep without incident. I have been making use of the potion the past few nights, because I do not wish to worry my brother.

Hopefully this night will be fine as well, because it's so peaceful and it's just us here.


Jul. 10th, 2011 09:56 am
museworks: (Lucrezia)
I have a home.

I would have gone for a room in Orgrimmar, given the choice on my own. Orgrimmar feels safer to me; the Durotar sun is bright and harsh like the land. I have slept in hammocks, on furs and hides, in my own simple bedroll. I am accustomed to life in Orgrimmar, even the endless dubious looks, sometimes bordering on hostile, that I've gotten for being an elf.

But this new home is in Quel'thalas. I would not have chosen it. It was my brother's doing. It is our home, I should say; he intends on sharing it with me. That is the only reason I would even consent to live in Quel'thalas again until Jovan is dead, and at least it is not Silvermoon. Rather, it is located near the coastline, south of Sunsail Anchorage. Near the Scorched Grove. Within sight of the darker Ghostlands, and I think Ches would have possibly even opted for something there, but he knew I preferred sunnier locations. Even the filtered sunlight and temperate temperatures of non-Ghostlands Quel'thalas are preferable to the unnatural twilight of the Ghostlands.

It is small, of course; two rooms and a loft area. The rooms are the main room and the washroom; the cooking area is part of the main room. I would not call it a kitchen. The loft is for sleeping, and has two small beds beside each other, a lamp-table between, a dresser nearby. There is barely enough room for those plus a couple of stands for our armor and weaponry. Strange to think of it; of the two of us, Ches was always more for luxurious surroundings and endless amenities, but he opted for this small, previously abandoned home at the edges. I suppose it was for my sake rather than his own, but he insists on sharing it. He knows my misgivings about being in this land, but he insists it is the best way for me to overcome that because he says it is not right that I be kept from my home. I suppose he is right, and even as simple as this home is, it is within the land where we grew up. And, perhaps, I can attempt to cultivate a garden of sorts.

I asked Ches if he knew any spellcasters who might put wards on our home for us. He said he would see who he could find who might be trustworthy enough for such.

I have a home, and it has a potted plant on the windowsill.
museworks: (Alinor)
I've been going to the Firelands to help the general war effort there. I'm not on the front lines like Lohen and his guild, but they need help otherwise. Someone to help fight the swarm, help others who fall, etcetera. I'm a good support fighter. Not a shining hero but background support. I've grown to accept that fact, that I'll never get a parade or be hailed as a hero for anything. And I don't go into battle expecting it anyhow; it's one of those things that'd be nice but when all's said and done, I want to help because I want to help. I like knowing I helped things even a little for the greater good. And I don't really think I like the direction the Horde's going so I like helping neutral factions.

In which Our Heroine becomes a hottie. Literally. )
museworks: (Lucrezia)
Sometimes I look back on what I wrote previously; even on things that are difficult to read, still. I started writing in this at the recommendation of a Tauren priest, the only individual to have even a remote idea of things going through my mind. She said it would be therapeutic and that putting my thoughts down would help me organize them as well as come to terms with them and with my personal history. And my feelings. I believe I am repeating myself from writing before but they are my thoughts.

I started writing almost flippantly. I now think it was because I did not take her seriously, did not believe a rather minor act would really, truly help. Maybe it's different for someone who is a writer or artist or musician or some such but I could not understand how words and thoughts would feel any differently on paper as they did in my mind. So I started writing with the notion of perhaps changing, or at least making light of, my thoughts and experiences. It seemed to make sense at the time-- if I wrote things with the edges dulled they would not hurt as much and maybe I could convince myself of that so that they would loosen their hold. That I would not be as helpless in reality as I had felt then. Helpless and terrified. I despise those traits when they start to nudge back into my mind, and I do not-- did not-- want to think about them defining me before. So I tried to gloss over it somewhat.

I realized that was a mistaken approach, though. It did not make me feel better to try and fog the past a touch, and I started writing as I remembered. As plainly as I could. I do not understand why, but it truly does seem to help. There is a long way to go, but I feel like perhaps there is a light at the end of the path. And I still intend on showing these to my brother. I do not know when, whether I will wait until I have written through the time he helped me or shove the journal at him when I see him next, but I will. I do not even know what I will accomplish in doing so. I wonder if it would only make him feel awkward; but he did know some of what happened, else he would not have stepped in.

Even now I do not know how I feel about that. Grateful, yes; I do not think I could have escaped before losing my mind. Beneath it all, though, there is a strange feeling of something…I would not say resentment, but that is close. No resentment for Chesric, but toward myself. For being in that situation and being unable to get myself out. For being too afraid. I needed my brother and though I do love him, I hated needing someone. It meant weakness, and did I not kill Pryderi because he had been weak? What does that mean for me?

I tried drawing myself. I used to draw and paint; I was never an artist, but I had proper lessons as a young lady in ladylike things such as watercolors and music. I have a good singing voice but I have no reason to sing, so that has been dormant. But I tried to draw, to exercise my very limited skill, and what was to have been a self portrait somehow turned into a picture of Ches. We do look like each other, at least, though I would say he is more handsome than I am pretty. Or perhaps the qualities that make him above average are what make me average. I am not delicate, even if I am shorter than some. My weapon training and metalworking ensured that, even if before then-- even when wasting away in the dark-- I was not so dainty of build.

It has been so long since I've tried drawing something living, instead of sketching out armor plans. A child could do better. But it is something, and perhaps with practice… (A sketch is at the bottom of the page.)

((OOC: I tried sketching Lucy. It ended up looking too masculine. And I was too lazy to color or even clean it up and refine it. :) ))
museworks: (Lucrezia)
((Warning for possibly disturbing content under the cut.))

Oh, Pryderi Skyblaze. You had potential, once, I am certain. You could have been a genuinely decent man instead of a half-heartedly decent one. I do not consider you bad, nor did I truly even before you lay lifeless before me. Please understand that you still had to die, though. I could not allow you to live when I found you. But I did make certain your death was painless and without the humiliation I made Alamir endure. I think you understood.

You died because you were weak. )
museworks: (Alinor)
Why why WHY do I let her get under my skin like that. I grew up with her, I should know better. I know her, I started calling her "Mal" not because her name is Malinde but because she is malicious. But she somehow knows the exact thing to say to get to me, and she knows how to say it in the most perfectly defensible ways. She says it and Leania calls her on it but she pretends to have been only 'concerned'. At least she doesn't pretend to be concerned as a sister, just for the family name.

I still have a hard time ignoring what she says, and I usually fail at that. What might have been a nice dinner with my family was ended too soon because I couldn't handle it. Especially when I happened to see Lohendrin giving her a slight smile. Now I know what that was about, but at the time it hit the wrong note and just…I almost lost it.

I did lose it when we got home-- my home, anyhow. I didn't want Lohen to see me like that. I hate crying, and I especially hate crying in front of others; it was even worse in front of him, because he has a lot worse to worry about. He went through worse. I didn't really have the right to cry about just some words, but I couldn't help it.

I know I should be grateful that it was sheer dumb luck that put my family out at Sunstrider Isle when the Scourge attacked; I know I'm lucky to still have a family, when some have lost all they held dear. Lohen only has Marbas, and he's only known his twin for a short period of time. They don't really know where their father is. Other people lost everyone, but by the Sunwell, I wish my older sister did not exist, period. And I feel terrible for wishing that. But I do.

At least he was comforting.
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