Empty Houses

[Sethinus]

I have never been one to keep a journal. My mind was always enough to keep track of what needed doing. Silvermoon City is proving to be more … complicated than the Nether though, at least as far as personal interactions go. Overwhelming, even. So I shall write my thoughts here in hopes to sort them, as leisure time is so abundant when not in class.

It has been a little over a week since I returned to the City. I had been secretly nursing a hope of a homecoming to fêtes and celebration, in a small corner of my mind, ever since stepping into Draenor. How naïve. Instead, I return to see my nation dying, the countryside in decay, and my House a distant memory to those still living. I wandered down the coast to where my family has dwelled for centuries. Nothing is left, only piles of rubble and dead forest. I would have wept, but being away for so long has distanced my heart from their memory. It is only a dull ache, a sort of nostalgia.

My questions concerning Silvermoon brought me in contact with one of the professors at the University. A strange woman, Lovely is, as I would learn in time, but kind hearted all the same. She convinced me to enroll, and seeing as I have nothing other than a wine bottle to escape into, I agreed. This was perhaps the jolt I required. A little light in the dark. Since classes began, I have met a number of engaging students. The faculty have proven to be most helpful. Several digs into Karazhan have opened up a world of knowledge to which I had scarcely dreamt.

I am running out of time, Un’Goro Crater Geology class is soon. I will try to pen another entry later today.

[Sethinus]

This damn cough is getting worse. It feels strange though, like a cold void inside my chest. I really need to see a healer like I promised Whispersoft.

Whisper ...

I fear that I've complicated her life, but I cannot help myself. I adore the woman, short of time that I have known her and foolish as it may seem. She respects me, and I believe she genuinely cares for me. I have spoken words to her that I have never uttered to another being, and was dumb-struck to hear them returned with the same sincerity. Whisper has kindled a flame in my cold heart - a reason to awaken every sunrise. Part of me lives for her now, the same piece that respects her and will die with her. Which is ironic, considering her supposed longevity.

This reminds me of the Nex'Cruors. My involvement with Whisper may cause her grief among them, but that is not my wish. I met with Mistress Clys the other day, hoping to calm the storm. It may have worked, I do not know, but the Mistress will likely summon me again soon. I will bear whatever trials necessary. That new piece of me demands it. So long as this cough doesn't kill me first.

[Whispersoft]

((omg its captain tripps!))

[Sethinus]

Much has happened since my last entry.

The cough was merely a symptom of a strange illness. Professor Lovely helped diagnose it - withdrawl from the fel energy of the Twisting Nether. Apparently spending so long there infected my blood .. soul .. something. The shadows are one with me now, and it there is nowhere to run. I was fortunate to have a friend in Lovely. She is familiar with this type of addiction and was able to adapt a treatment for my type.

Yet I hate it. Take in the blood of my loved ones? I cannot stand hurting them. Freely though Whispersoft gives it, this treatment is not far removed from the torture of the withdrawl. And the side effects are disturbing to say the least. Worse than that, I fear I am growing to like the rush of shadow that the injections give me. A torrent of fire in my veins, mountains of ice colliding in my mind, my senses expanding over a huge range. The power is horrifying and seductively delicious at the same time.

I find myself drawn more to the Nether again. At least there I do not require these treatments. At least there I can wrap myself in a blanket of shadow. I am simply unsure of how long I can hide.