Conscience Sanguine

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Everyone needs one... if not as a guide, then at least for reference. Mistakes are so easily made when we forget ourselves and what we have done, no matter how brilliant or dark.

I seem to have run out of pages inside of myself for everything I need to remember.


Where are you? Please, help me find you. Please

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Right before Aeacus accidentally caved in his chest, the little gnome finally had enough sense to tell me a name -


Too bad it did not live long enough to tell me anything else remotely useful.

I am starting to think it was not an accident at all, crushing the unfortunate little creature. If Aeacus intends to eat everyone I interrogate, I may need to think up a new strategy.

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1.) track down Lovely

2.) reply to Silanthras


4.) Get this over with.

Why do I still feel as though I am forgetting something?

<There is a gap in the page here where sentences seem to start and stop, scribbled out with some haste. Gem designs are lightly sketched around the borders, one in particular looking like the makings of a sun.>

Hallow's End will be here, soon. Once it has passed, my vacation will be over as well. It has been a very quiet month off... I wonder what that means. If I wanted to avoid conflict for the rest of my life, could I? Or, is this all just some grand coincidence? I feel it, though... as if there is something on the tide -- still far out to sea, still growing, but there... The moon will be full soon.

The tides are always highest then, and the predators come out...

Perhaps I should cut my vacation short.

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I still have his words in my head, the insinuation that I used him and left him when I had gotten what I needed from him. I wondered for a while how he managed to sleep at night, knowing of his betrayal. Now, I understand. He is delusional.

I left him because he was weak, but, even after everything, I still cannot bring myself to tell him this to his face. Even after everything, I still have some shred of pity for the man. Or, is it tact? Or, is it because it would be too easy?

Used him... if he feels used for fulfilling his promise to my family, I will be sure to start sending him payments for his selfless philanthropy. And why not? It is so twisted that it should fit in perfectly with his reasoning. He did save me once, just to condemn me later. We are far from even. If anything, he owes me, but all I want from him is for him to disappear from my life. Forever. He will never know what I went through to try to protect him from that woman, and he will never need to know. However, if it will buy me further out of his life, he will receive his payments.

Everywhere I turn, it seems, he is still there... still this disgusting reminder of the frailty of heart. Was it heart? What was it, Skafloc, that made you betray me? I trusted you with my life... and when I refused to fill that perceived hole in yours, so wrought and barren with a loneliness that you let master you, you became a monster. As if holding Evanthe over my head was not insult enough - you betray me to her, and, in turn, Alyiane.

Do you have any idea what it is like to see you and not be able to trust you? To have to hide every aspect of my life from you? To hate you as much as I do... I loved you. There was never any deception. In return, you failed me greater than I ever could have imagined.

I hear there is a special place in depths of Hellfire reserved for those who betray their Brethren; or am I thinking of the Black Temple? Either way, I am to you, now, as a wall of ice.

There are many definitions of betrayal and so few for loyalty.

I need to speak with Sabachthan.

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I have never seen so many in the city as last night. The next time the place is under attack, the guards really should yell for a party instead of help, and maybe then we will see numbers responding to rival those that rush to defend Thrall or Sylvanas so readily.

For the Horde?

My ass.

All things aside, though, Faelen put on a wonderful party and it was good to see such support for it. I even managed to wash all the blood off of my hands in time to show up and smile for everyone.

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How often I feel so far from home, though Silvermoon is never more than a whisper away. It seems I am always busy - something or someone needs me. Silvermoon is not my home, it is my duty. The Horde is my duty. But, there is more to it than that. I have never been much a part of my family, even less now without Her. What used to be a wound that ached incessantly, now only bleeds with a dull pain from time to time whenever certain memories are conjured. I have tried to put her out of my head, to put everything out of my head, for the sake of sanity. But as much as I like to pretend otherwise, everything is still there, like some creature waiting in the shadows for me to let down my guard.

It is as if I have never stopped running from that place, from the monster they gave me to.

Running, I have replaced my family with things, other people, spilled blood... anything to fill that hole. I have managed to destroy so many things in the process. I thought for the longest time that was all my fault, the destruction of these things, but no... Most of them were careless and blind in their willingness to ignore my warnings. Weak. None of them were innocent. Why bother with me, then? What is it they see when the see me?

Sabachthan once said he saw something great in me. I could be truly powerful one day. He knew just the right thing to say to a Sin'Dorei, didn't he? Then again, the House does not let just any creature into it's walls, and I was never treated like just another body to feed to their war. I believe him, now, but that greatness will never be achieved by waiting.

And, there are other conflicts of interest...

Nevertheless, I am still bound to them by my Oath and they will have their Dread Ranger one day, molded by their hand or not, plucked from the grave itself if needs be. I am free to live my life as I please, he said, but always with the reminder that I do still yet have a promise to fulfill... a bridge I will cross when I come to it.

It really was a quiet parting. My arrows will always be at their command.

And yet, everyone assumes something horrible had to have come to pass. Somehow, the simplest answer just is not dramatic enough for them. Lovely, for instance, has turned it into some deluded crusade of self-righteousness.

I no longer wear the banner of the Ghants, and suddenly she has the audacity to claim she fears she and I are frighteningly alike? In the time I have known her, I have changed banners twice... once, technically, as I do not think she existed in this body during my brief tryst in the Fête. And I have loved, or thought I loved, only two men. In that time, I have all but lost track of those she let herself become a willing slave to and what organizations she pledged her more useful skills to. So, I find myself torn between insult and laughter. She is disappointed in me? And she has washed her well-used hands of my wedding. I swear, with the harshness with which I have been dealt, you would think I called her fat or something.

The truth is, I am disappointed in myself, but for different reasons. The countless hours I have wasted consoling her, treating her like the sisters I dearly miss, listening to her fears, her triumphs, the sordid details of her innumerable tumblings into hopeless situations, and tried my damnedest to save her from herself and give her comfort whenever and however I could -- Just last week in the forest, she pulled me aside to tell me about how she did not want to go along with Clys' plans, how she feared going home, how Skafloc would not listen to her -- Never once have I refused to stand at her side... just to have her judge me now with the same skewed perception of reality so characteristic in her ever-growing buffoon of a brother?

I am disappointed in myself because I really should have known that you can take the whore out of the human, but you cannot take the human out of the whore.

I did not have nice things to say to her. What can I say? I was actually hurt... Just as disappointing.

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The simple and inane.

Evanthe must be so used to being surrounded by it that it has finally worn off on her. I seem to remember her being more clever than "I like your hair cut". It came off as more of a desperate cry for my attention than anything close to upsetting. Did she expect me to break down in tears? Ride off in a huff? React like any of the number she keeps company with? Or maybe, just maybe, give her a real challenge?

It is hair. It grows back. She is stuck with them, however, and the knowledge that the only reason she has her precious Skafloc at all is because I let him go. More happiness to them, though more is the pity. I have no hope for him, but Evanthe could have been something great. We lash out at what we see as threats. The moment I realized her little words had no sway over me was the moment I saw her for what she has allowed herself to become: Queen over a tiny nation of puppets, imbeciles, and pet demons; a dabbler in small circles of intrigue and even smaller words. I gave her far too much credit, and I lost my hair for it. Very unfortunate.

It was interesting to talk to Qabian, though, without bits of alliance exploding around us. I could listen to him for hours, I think, just to hear his opinion on things. I do wonder if he got the wrong impression, however. Asking me, infront of Leoren, why I would come to him first and not my fiancee to ask about The Grim... I should have thought the answer would be painfully obvious - Leoren is not a part of The Grim. Beyond his sister, he has... to my knowledge... no dealings with them. How would that have been at all informative? He really should have asked, then, why I did not go to Zelaine, first. But, no... instead, he pit himself against Leoren. I wonder how intentional that was.

Men. At least they were somewhat polite about their veiled tolerance for each other, but it became increasingly more apparent that conversation as it had been was no longer possible. I will have to pick it up again some other time. I should also make it a point to speak with Zelaine.

Only a few more days until my "vacation" is over. Nasuj seemed to question how, with my ability to rile the skirts of the alliance, I would manage to survive now without a "legion of undead" to fall back on. He must have mistaken me for Sylvanas.

I spent the rest of the night showing wayward Alliance just how much better I am at living than they were.

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Why did Qabian have to make it real? I am not sure how long I sat there in shock after hearing our Prince's voice declare for all of Shattrath to hear that we... he... is allied with Kil'Jaeden. I had had my suspicions, I'd seen enough from the manaforges to put a few things together, a few things that could not go ignored, but I had just had the sense knocked out of me by some Cartel, it would have been so easy for me to think I was knocked too far out of my senses into delirium.

How do we continue to bump into each other? In all Azeroth and the Outland, he was right there next to me, and I hadn't even noticed until I heard his voice - so low, so conspiritorial, so like my conscience refusing to let me slip into denial... "Did you see him?" Him. Our Prince. Our Betrayer.

Our Salvation?

Turning to the Legion is madness. Are We truly so desperate? Do They possess the hands which craft our 'promised land'?

I... have no idea what to think.

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That Kaldorei kissed me. He REALLY kissed me. I was so stupid that I did not see it coming. I did not see it coming and then I stood there afterwards looking stupidly off into space, refusing to believe it just happened, while he left with all his skin attached. He does not need his skin to keep up his half of the deal... though it is probably great incentive.

As well... it would seem I am out of my potions. Thankfully, I was still myself when I met him. I am also low on apothecaries I can trust to brew them for me. If I keep switching alchemists, someone is surely to ask sooner or later what they are for. Can't have that dirty little secret out in the open.


But, he will not return from his trials until... Tomorrow, I think. I've saved my last vial for him to inspect and duplicate.

Until I can get some more, this should make certain things more... interesting.

((grah, I left this part out. EDIT to add it))

There must be some way to use this thing to my advantage.... to control it instead of have it control me, but only warlocks would have that skill. Something to look into.

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<the contents of this page are scattered, the handwriting as disjointed as the lumping of thoughts contained within>

By the Sun. It is worse this time... so much worse. I can barely keep up. It is exhausting. Pretending I am just fine is more than exhausting. But I cannot sleep. It won't let me sleep. It just wants more. More more more more more... and I just want to go home where Father can tell me it will be all right and I can be his little girl and I will tell him I was wrong for ever leaving. But I wasn't wrong. He fed me to a beast for money... like I belonged to him. I love Father but I do not belong to him. What the fuck sense does that make? I set myself free. I still love him. We are still family. I am free.

I can barely write. I need to do something. Can't sleep and I should let him rest. Leoren is so beautiful when he sleeps. Sometimes he looks haunted. Most of the time, he looks peaceful. That is all I want for him. He does not deserve to be in any pain. He deserves a chance at peace. I want to give him that, but I do not know if I can... I keep failing him. I hated the way he looked at me. I hated knowing that I let him down with that hunter. I hate what I saw in his face when I returned from the meeting... like he had lost a part of me. He seemed afraid of where I was going...

No no no no no... I will NOT let it happen again. I am not going anywhere! I was already there when we met... they just make there much more real.

I need my felling potions or I am going to make a wreck of myself if I leave this place. I should go out into the city. Let's see how long that lasts.

<there are some quick notes scribbled down>

Sinaku - wolf / Farstrider Retreat.

Jazziks - boar / city / sister

Jeshua - boar / ???

Pack of wolves - 7 total? Dark? Not indigenous to area. Coming into city for some reason, obviously not for food or from encroachment Getting in past the guards - How?

How did I forget my own birthday?

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This potion is different entirely from what I was taking before. I need to give it 24 hours, but I can't wait. It really is something, walking around as if I don't want everything in the world, to experience it all, and destroy it all at once... and just bathe in the molten pain before it blinks away. I do not know if it is exhaustion from that feeling that has pacified me or resignation. I got close to Xenaken and felt nothing. Well, almost nothing. But that is what I thought would happen. For as much as this thing amplifies feelings and feeds off the exaggeration, there needs to be a seed there... something to grow from. Xenaken is not an object to me, but an idea. Magic. Maybe that is it. I have kept everyone and everything else remotely tangible far, far away, though, and am covered head to toe in armor... that helps. This thing is like a built-up static charge. I am afraid if I touch anything, or it touches me, one or the other will not survive. Just... poof. Except for Leoren. He must be made of indestructible things, and I am sure he enjoys some of the more unique aspects of this, but he has got to be hurting. I am.

Speaking of physical pain, in less than five hours, I have been assured this potion will cause the worst pain of my life. I am unsure if he truly understands the nature of my condition, but he says I should not need another potion. Or maybe it is just to last until Sabachthan is ready to -- Is he even still willing to help me any longer? We have not spoken since the night I excused myself from the House. As I highly doubt I am under their protection and probably no longer worth the potential risk to him, I wonder. I still have not met with that Shadow Elf about the runes... Lucky me, no warlock has spontaneously started bleeding near me... One of the joys of doing my job at a good range.

Skafloc approached Leoren and I last night. He is convinced someone is trying to set me up. Seems someone went out of the way to try to hire the Cartel to attack Clys in retribution for the courtesy shown to "us"? The outcome was oddly useful, though. According to Skafloc, the Cartel will now no longer entertain hits made against either the Nex'Cruors or Leoren and I. I still would very much like to see THAT in writing. But now that the Cartel may be out of the picture...

I received a strange letter today, warning me of my new place in The Grim - who I talk to, who I can trust, due to who is newly keeping Lascivious warm at night. So now I need to look out for my own guildmates? I am so sorely tired of petty intrigue. All I want to do what I am good at - destroying things - without having to concern myself over who is sleeping with whom this week. It really is difficult to aim true when I am constantly watching my back. Who knows what I might accidentally shoot.

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I had strange dreams last night. Just dreams. Strange ones. Not nightmares of him. Not blackness, either. Xenaken's potion is working?

There was a black widow on the wall, weaving a web not it's own - it lacked that box shape with the little nest in the middle. It was out in the open, it's threads spanning from the nearby doorway to the adjacent wall and into the corner. Somehow, it got into my hair, so I reached up and crushed it in my fingertips. It was disgusting... that crunch and then the expulsion of pus-like insides mixed with shell - I had a hard time getting the mess out of my hair. At the time, though, I did not care. I did not feel a thing at all about it.

Three scorpids under a rock. They were small. They all could have fit together in the palm of my hand. They looked pale and weak, as if they had not seen the sun. I know better than to think that had much of anything to do with their appearance, but in the dream it seemed relevant. I tried crushing them, but they were so much more difficult than the spider. Their little exoskeletons would not break, no matter how I mashed down on them. They were the perfect size, the perfect resiliency. I remember thinking, "the smaller they are, the more concentrated the poison." Is that why I felt the need to kill them? At least they stayed out of my hair.

About the wolves in the city, I vaguely recall once having to escort a Deathguard in Silverpine Forest who had been stranded in a cabin by a bunch of ravenous wolves... big black ones. Why a wolf would want to eat a Forsaken, even in a place like Silverpine, is beyond my understanding... or, it was at the time. With Arugal's influence spread throughout that area, I should have made the connection.

I don't think they wanted to eat him at all.

I think I will make a visit to Pyrewood Village. As well, I know there was a Dalaranian mage called Ur who had a collection of writings on Worgen. Keeper Bel'Durgur should still have his Book in the Apothecarium.

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There had been another attack, a Blood Knight in the woods... I believe the name Sinaku gave me was Masonari. The Knight had been torn apart, not eaten. Coincidence? I found myself back at square one - wolves with a fixation on Blood Knights. Why?

And how are wolves getting into the city unbutchered by the guards? They are either coming in with their masters, or they are not entering the city as wolves at all. The people of Pyrewood, for instance... By day, they are simply humans, and by night they are Worgen. Yusegar had an interesting theory about shamanic draenei hunting Blood Knights down - for obvious reasons - but the wolves involved do not fit the typical spirit wolf description. They look like Sinaku's companion, a variety of wolf from Dire Maul... though the Mottled Worg in Silverpine are similar... if not too small.

I am surprised the magisters let me just sleep on my pile of books like that. Jabiba must have left the blanket with me before he decided to go on his way. In the end, I learned far more about Worgen than I'd ever cared to, just to wake up a couple of hours later with the sense that this is all so utterly pointless. However, no one bothered to say a word or even look at me like I were some sort of lunatic for completely immersing myself in such a disturbing mixture of fact and folklore, which was a surprising relief. Although insight, if even in the form of an insult, would have been more than welcome.

None of this makes any sense - it is elves and wolves, not humans and Worgen. History has proven that certain things effect our systems far differently. So what, then? Were-elves? How? Why?? It is just too far-fetched, and so I have decided to put the books away for now. Besides, the sister did not seem to appreciate her brother trying to help me too much during the attack on the Retreat last night. Help me or hide me, I am not sure which, but at least he did something more than just watch... unlike her. Either way, I think I have more than learned that look in a woman's eye - something far more real than any bedtime story about violent other-dimensional wolfmen. I wonder if the rumors about them are true.

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<stained with a torrent of rare tears and the familiarity of her own dried blood, the jagged lettering that fills this page is wholly illegible>

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Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle.

Tu vois, je n'ai pas oublié...

Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle,

Les souvenirs et les regrets aussi

Et le vent du nord les emporte dans la nuit froide de l'oubli.

Tu vois, je n'ai pas oublié la chanson que tu me chantais.

It has to be from Sabachthan - there is just something about the script. His was always so spidery. I made this copy and gave Faelen the original to decipher. It seems like some bastardization of the human common tongue... some words seem familiar while others seem like nothing more than gibberish. He was able to make some headway with it, though.

He says it is a poem.

Dead sheets? leaves? petals? gather on the shovel?

You see, I do not forget.

Dead leaves are gathering on the shovel

These? memories and regrets also?.

And the wind of the north? carries off the cold night forgotten?

You see, I do not forget the song that you are singing to me.


I spent most of my morning researching obscure languages, and that is the best I can come up with? Now that I have some words, I still cannot figure out what the fel it even means or why it was even sent to me.

And now I am late for my training. Damnit.

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C’est une chanson qui nous resemble moi, je t’amais; et tu m’amais.

Nouse vivions tous, les deux ensemblent moi qui t’amais; toi qui m’aimais

Mais la vie sépare

Ceux qui s’aiment

Tout doucement, sans faire du bruit

Et la mer efface sur la sable

Les pas des amants désunis

This is a song which resembles to us I loved you; and You, you loved me

And we lived, both together me who loved you; you who loved me

But the life separate

those which love themselves,

All softly, without making noise

And the sea erases on the sand

The steps of divided lovers.

I am being sent pieces of a sad love song?

((Les Feuilles Mortes for music and better lyrics translation.))

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<Where there was a paragraph written, there is now only a very large scribble through it, making it indecipherable. Below, there is a simple list instead.>

Talked to Draco, came up with this -

The Wolves of the Woods

want to eradicate Blood Knights

wants to use them to find out how Knights work?

No twins or wolves in a while, no wolves until last night. A wolf for Draco, a warning for Leoren.

They were (are?) tampering with magic

arcane/highborne runic. -more runes??-

Xaraphyne/Videlle/Skafloc all might know more - Xaraphyne seems to think I know enough to refer Leoren to me for an explanation when she told him to leave the city.

How the fel does she even know what I was looking into at all? Draco suggests that she cannot be trusted. Draco does not trust anything, though. Big surprise. So, I wonder if she was telling Leoren to leave the city to get away from the danger or walk right into it.

It was a quiet night.

All the blood in Hillsbrad could not make me feel better. It is so much more intimate when we are outnumbered.

I am sick of candy corn.

No more letters from Sabachthan. Xenaken had a thoughful explanation about why he would send me a sad love song.

I feel awful.

I should get back to studying.

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Even given my affiliations, he really did not have to tell me anything at all... the summation of which being: "you may or may not be in danger, most likely not, but just in case…" and helping to clarify what part he wants me to know that he and certain other elements are playing in all of this potential nothingness. If nothing happens, nothing happens. If something happens, he is not responsible for me and would not be terribly responsible for it – and if he had never bothered to tell me, I am sure no one important would know he had this knowledge to begin with. I am one of many pieces on one particular board. I think it is safe to say that game would survive without me. Although, I am sure he would be thrilled to know that he may at least be saving Leoren some heartache with this little heads-up.

I am amazed, though, at how I seem to inspire baseless vengeance in lunatics. Just once, it might be nice to deserve the unwanted attention. Should be interesting to see how this develops. Or not.

I have heard nothing back from Faelen or Xenaken on where Sabachthan might be and in what state. I keep assuming they would tell me something that I can do to help or that they might have a clue where to start looking, but maybe I am putting too much faith in them. Sabachthan may have held the greatest part of the knowledge concerning how everything was supposed to work that evening, but they helped him research, they were subject to discussion of things. They should know something, right? Faelen suggested opening another portal. But, I am not exactly in a hurry to have a dagger plunged through my chest again, and all mail has to come from somewhere. Surely the postmaster could tell where the letters were sent from without me having to bleed death and back again. I would do it, if that is the only way. But after risking so much to set me free, would he really want that?

Something did not work, though... or maybe it just changed. The marks from the runes have all but completely faded away, but my eyes are still green.

And there have been other developments… I am almost positive he would melt my mind on the spot if he knew what I was doing to take care of them.

For the first time in days, I am feeling more like myself. I am almost finished with chapter twenty-seven. I cannot wait until twenty-eight. I get to learn all sorts of new things.

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If not for that, I am sure I would soon find out there are not enough arrows in existence to help remedy the pain of disappointment that so many leave me with. We all have our flaws, most of which can be overlooked or at least compensated for, but some people...

Leoren wonders how I manage to be so diplomatic (is it diplomatic?) in some situations and in the presence of certain others. In the end I wonder, too. I suppose it is a gift, to be able to look at someone without them knowing immediately that all I really want in the world at that very moment is for his or her skin to combust.


Highborne curse?? From before the war of the ancients.

mark on hand = "Eclipse" - referred to as rune, also as infection/plague CURSE - "time between night and day" but it's not - dusk/dawn. - What sort of eclipse? Lunar? Solar? Solar could mean night during the day. Same thing?

All the rangers in their organization have the mark - DO NOT TOUCH IT

Also Infected



Dylana ?

There is a supposed list of ones to infect.

- information here could have been embellished to ensure Leoren's participation - if I find out this is true, I will find some way to show that man just how much I despise being used as a tool for manipulating Leoren into killing someone.

What it does

Feeds on needs/desires -- MANA addiction?

- also mention of it changing entirely during the "Eclipse". Change them into Worgen?

xref Skaf - he does not know at all/will not say

Sinaku = possessed

Xaraphyne is protecting Jazziks

Something about Winterspring?

Most xref turned up pointless. I am sadly unsurprised by this.


Sabachthan is alive. But not well? I was told that he was in Tarren Mill, and then disappeared entirely. How is it that one of the few nights I am not defending the place, he mystically appears? Frustrating.

It has been so long since my dreams were my own that I had forgotten what a normal dream was like... if it is normal to have dreams like last night's. I have not gotten it out of my head all day. I can still feel everything about it. It wasn't right. Why did my first real dream in so long have to --

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It feels so wrong.


The dream. It makes my throat constrict every time I try talk ng to < there is a large wine stain blurring the rest of the sentence and most of the following one here > avoid that. Failed.

The Holy Cow. Mad Cow is more like it... was it talking about Zul'Aman? Does it matter? He was impervious to those around him, though, which was a shame. Perhaps I should have been the one asking the questions.

The Cartel dwarf apologizing to me. Negotiations? Protection? What IS this? Looks like I will be going to their faire, if only out of morbid curiosity before deciding if I should ask Leoren for a nice dwarf-skin rug after all.

Rannoch. He knew everything and he played dumb. Hopefully, everything will be made clear to me tomorrow evening.

The way that trolless looks at me. These random glances, giving me the distinct impression that she is wondering why I have not blinked out of existence yet, and I have barely spoken more than a few words to her. What IS it with other women and me? Every time I have ever found myself in danger or being threatened, it has been spawned from some other woman being petty or just felling insane. Every time! I cannot help but think that if most of them went back to the kitchen, where the only thing that can threaten them is how thick the gravy is, my everyday dealings in life would improve dramatically. I sincerely hope I am wrong about the troll, though, as it would seem I may have to work with her.

I have such a headache right now.

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I feel as though I should have said something more than I did.

Even all this time later, though, no real path seems clear to me and I am not sure which caught me more off guard - hearing him tell me how he feels about me, or hearing him tell me what he sees when he looks at me. I sat there atop my talbuk stupidly wondering if Forsaken can even feel infatuation as I understand the word in all my inexperience with it. I tried to apply his use of the word to fit an ideal that I could understand in relation to what little I really know -what I have just always assumed- about Forsaken. I failed miserably.

In the end, I tried to be as graceful as I could, and accepted what he had to say as an infatuation with what I do and what he sees which makes me so different in his eyes, and not as a desire for my flesh. I did not ask for clarification.

As right or wrong as he may be about what lies beneath my little sunshine-filled smiles, the fact that he sees -something- was enough to unsettle me. He apologized for making me uncomfortable. But I was not truly so uncomfortable, not with him seeing it. I trust him. I was more at a loss than anything. Once the vulnerability of possible exposure passed, I felt... relieved?

The times at Tarren Mill that I savor most include being with one or more of a small, select group who, when we work together, often never have to say more than a few words to each other. Out there, I am more fully myself and I enjoy watching them work. Out there, they should all know how I feel about them without me ever having to say a word. That will have to be enough.

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Someone warned me not to trust a rogue.

No... really?

So, I have been told that Solinarus has plans of his own. Not that it should matter much, since I have no reason or desire to go meet with that Paladin woman just because she requests it. Whoever this Chabi is offered decent advice, if I let my curiosity get the better of me; although, no matter where I choose for a meeting, if First Legion is behind her, I am summarily fucked. I swear, their leader looks like a militant Greatfather Winter... if he were taller and ate souls. As endlessly heartwarming as that is, I prefer not running into him any more than necessary.

What to do about Solinarus, though? Surely there is some way to give him what I owe him without him having to come anywhere near my back or mouth. Infact, I think he took quite enough already. I doubt he will see things my way, if he wants to murder his mother so badly.

Ah well. Let the games begin.

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<the page is splotched with dried blood, the handwriting wavering in many places, falling off in others. If one did not know any better, one might suspect whoever had written this page was drunk>

What the fel was Draco thinking??????

I do not need him to defend me from words. Oh no! Big, scary Qabian words! They were pretty short, if you ask me, and made sense... cause yeah I was drunk in public! But FUNNY FUNY FUNNY THING! I was not making as much of an ass out of myself as those two.

<there is a crude drawing here of a Sin'Dorei mage with a big, bright mantle, and a floating bubble over his head which reads "NO YOU!" Across from him is another Sin'Dorei, a bit bulkier and dressed in what looks like plate armor. The bubble over his head also says "NO YOU!">


Draco was following him around like an angry woman wanting to fight, so I told him I would so shoot him in the face if he tried anything. Then I walked him out of the city. I did not want to shoot him, but I would have. He had something tell me but I forget what. I WAS SOOOOOO MAD! I tried to warn him. I even asked nicely. Out of the two of them, I cannot believe it was Draco who put me in that position. Yeah, I threatened him right back because, even though Qabian could easily set him on fire and does not need some drunk little girl shooting people in the face for him, he is Grim. But he is more than that, too. Like a total prick. No, he is not a total prick... just a very large percentage is prickish. The rest is probably empty space where he keeps the things most people would never want to see, and just enough self control to get things done. I think he sees a lot of things that others do not. He watches from somewhere else. He sees it and he has the ability to understand it and use it. This is what makes him brilliant, to me. I could be very wrong. He thinks I'M strange, so how smart can he really be?

Smart enough to creep me out. Oh that was totally my fault for asking about the dreams thing. True or not, he just has to know I am going to wonder. If anyone could do that -- no. no no no. People cannot just insert themselves into your dreams. Not him. Not anybody. My dream was my fault. That is all.

<here there is a slightly better drawing of a female Sin'Dorei with crossbow drawn and what looks like a human in plate armor running from her in an alley where earthen walls rise high in the background - most likely Orgrimmar.>

You know what I need, my pretty piece of paper? I need more to drink. I can feel my face again.


<3 Nym

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