Conscience Sanguine

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I have not been this infuriated in months.

So, Evanthe killed Malorii. Wonderful. Now she needs to get over it. Stupid woman! No one who has taken the Oath will stay dead. They can call for her - they WILL call for her - when it matters.

And Skafloc...

When you trivialize blood being shed in defense of the city when it comes under attack, be prepared for the venom that will be spat at you and take it like a man. You wasted everyone's time trying to provoke Leoren, and you disappointed me by daring to bring up Qabian for your little provocations as well. I thought perhaps your attention to how much time I spend, where, and with whom might have stopped the moment I left you. Apparently, it has not. I was never unfaithful to you, Leoren and I are fine, and I am not fucking the mage. Even if I were, I would not curl up with a hot cup of tea and tell you all about it. You would lob around insinuations, pick at Leoren with Qabian's name like it might matter to him, and then have the audacity to attempt to be genuine with me, to get me to open up, to show concern for Leoren and I? What world do you live in?

And if Hellista told you that she thought I am what I have become, why did you not just come to me and talk to me about it? Why did you have to waste even more of our time dragging it out of me in the streets of Silvermoon, of all places? That you thought she was insane is not a good enough reason to expose me like that. Your apology will not remove the words from the minds of anyone listening to us.

Some things will never change, will they, Skafloc?

I am sorry, Sabachthan. Evanthe says she will help, but she also appeared to be in some suspended state of disbelief for ending Malorii's disturbing little life. She was given no plan. She says the mirrors are gone. She could barely do more than warm a bench, let alone form a whole thought.

What, then? What do I do now?

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((psst, that's a link to the video!))

Hark! Hear the Bells, Sad Silver Bells,

In Lordaeron, but they are gone.

Arthas he came, man of great fame,

To the old throne, all made of stone.

“Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!”

That is our song.

No more ringing,

And so we sing.

Killed father dear, thus no more cheer,

Details are vague, but brought the plague.

Wish they would sound, bells on the ground,

Through the city, quite a pity.

Dead sleeping deep, and so we weep.

No more ringing, and so we sing:

“There is no joy in the veil of winter.

There is no joy in the veil of winter.”

On, on they send, to our dark end.

Chimes from the past are fading fast.

Hark! Hear the bells, sad silver bells.

All seem to say, “Thou we betray.”

On, on they send, to our dark end.

Chimes from the past are fading fast.


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Let's see, it is... um...

12 Kodos Jumping - won't that throw Azeroth out of orbit?

11 "I win" Buttons - I always find the broken ones.

10 Orcs a-Sleeping - BOOTERANG 'EM!

9 Murlocs Dancing - I want one! A baby one!

8 Former Horses - Why???

7 Dwarves a-Drowning - this is why they don't bathe?

6 Geeks a-Ganking - angry circus freaks?

5 Gold Nose-Rings! - must learn to make these.

4 Smelly Ogres - As their queen, I should have them wash themselves.

3 Red Snappah! - ...

2 Night Elf Ears - find Leithlen.

And a Gnome's Head on a Pine Tree! - Profit!

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Winter's Veil was ... beautiful. Silent. Well, except for Destructor, my new rocket bot. It destroyed the bots of Leoren and Diomades like they were some small alliance towns, making me, perhaps, the most proud I have ever been of a constructed device. I am still covered in scorch marks.

The holiday seems to have spread everyone out. Things feel almost lonely, it has been so quiet. Maybe lonely is not the right word. And I feel the need to draw a distinction between Silence and Quiet. I do not like Quiet. I had a few days of peace, but it left me restless. Perhaps it is because I know nothing has been resolved, because I know nothing has been renewed, nothing has changed, nothing has started over, and I have done nothing as well.

Well, nothing obvious. Aside from the fact that an orc I have never met can tell me that I smell like a witch, trying to conceal any truth spoken out loud in Silvermoon is like trying to hide a Tauren at a gnome convention, and so I stopped concerning myself with keeping my studies too much of a secret. Much to my surprise, I found out that Bir has been doing the exact same thing. There is something very unsettling about the thought of him having the power to call an Infernal to his side.

I ended up taking advantage of the quiet to progress my studies. Sabachthan said I was not yet strong enough. Perhaps less so then than now. I have learned an excessive amount in the past two days, which took me back to Felwood at one point.

There was talk at the Sanctuary of a disturbance at the Constellas. Even the demons seemed scared. I did not go look, and I will not go alone.

It has to be him.

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< a note is neatly folded and tucked in between this page and the back of the previous >

Broxigan apologized through a letter today, but he did not kill her... no more than I took his eyes. He apologized for what I may have heard, he apologized for his selfishness, he apologized for not knowing about Vythica. I do not know what I should do. Do I respond? Do I approach him? He should at least know I received his letter, that I accept the apology.

Gods, it made me miss her so much. But this is not over.

How do I tell him that this nightmare is not over yet?

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The Scholomance left me disturbed. So many books, no time to look through them. Leoren, Rosalynd, Tillna and I had to keep moving, but the viewing room is what got to me. I stopped long enough to talk to one of the students. He wanted to know if I had brought him any textbooks.

For a moment, I felt like I belonged there.

NOT to raise and manipulate the dead, but because it was a place of learning and he was a student surrounded by other students. All he wanted from me was to learn more. That is all I want, too. All I have ever had is books, my parents, and then my bow and then death and a war and burning things down. Hate. Shame. Anger. More hate.

Why didn't they send me to Dalaran? I would have been a Magistrix some day, as arcane as Father. That is what they wanted for me, if I remember right, before they bartered me away to a monster. Priest or a Mage. Anaralah will make an excellent priestess some day, if they can break her spirit enough to accept that.

None of us were sent to Dalaran for schooling, though, and perhaps that is why we are all still alive. I know many, now, who once walked the halls of Dalaran. Most died quite literally, while others... died on different levels.

I wonder how Zelaine is doing.

Something is missing.

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Kiara wants me to pass onto Leoren that she is sorry for what has come to pass. She is also the one who alerted me about Zelaine to begin with. Zelaine may as well be family, but it is not my place to make things right. Having to see Zelaine like that, as well, only really worked at pissing me off. Not being able to ease the pain even a small amount was frustrating. I should not have been a part of any of that.

Very simply, if you cannot handle the fall out of your actions on your own without having to work through others to help ease your guilt or ripping your own heart out, do not do it to begin with. Maybe it is my age, my inexperience, my felling sheltered upbringing, but is it really that impossible to care for someone, to want to save them, without sleeping with them? Without making things unnecessarily more complicated than they already are? Without hurting others to do it?

Zelaine should have known better. Kiara should know better. Why do none of them know any better?

I am bewildered. Yes, bewildered. By all of them.

Even Qabian. Maybe Qabian the most. The others cannot help it. He, however, knows better. If asking questions is only going to earn me more little threats, why does he bother baiting me? Is the game even still going? Was the waterfall, the pool, humoring me... was that all apart of it? For a moment, I think I managed to forget he was Qabian at all and we are Grim. Whatever it was, I hope he enjoyed it at least a little before he decided to swim to the bottom of the pool, robes and all, and stay there.

Truly, what was the point of that? He knew he would be fine. I didn't. It was not until after we returned to the rock formation jutting out over the waterfall, high above the pool below, did he inform me how he knew he would not drown. He had tried to do it once.

Why tell me that?

He answered small questions, nothing too in detail. He made it clear that he would not answer the big question. Instead, he wanted to know what I concluded about his possible motives for such a thing. He must have forgotten that I told him once that I do not consider him. He has made that increasingly more difficult to do, but, despite his claims that I know too much and the threats it has earned me, I really know nothing of him or who he was before I met him. The Qabian I know loves himself too much to do something like that... or, at least enough to make it to where others are inspired to kill him so he does not have to do it himself.

I did not have an answer for him. Hours later and it still makes no sense to me, and I realize it's left me with little choice but to consider these things about him and everything I do actually know.

He asked me if I had regrets. He mentioned flaws, failures. If you want a murderess and not a friend, do not talk to me about those things. Do not make me think about you. Do not jump from waterfalls with me.

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Deathshadow must suffer. I will make him suffer. If I cannot rip his rotting limbs off on my own, I will find some other more subtle, more painful way to destroy him... or whatever it is that possessed him to do what he did. If I happen to destroy everything about him in the process, well, that is just unfortunate.

I begged.


I tried to plead with him... with them both... but he knew exactly what to say to Leoren. He looked into his mind and saw exactly what he needed to threaten - Me.

I cannot be that thing! I cannot be that weakness! I will not be a tool for bargaining away his life! The moment he gave into the priest's goading was the moment I became those things.

And then I watched him fall.

I think Lascivious said it would be dealt with, but I hardly remember now. All I know is that is not good enough for me. The bastard would have violated the Mandate to get what he wanted, if Leoren had not given into him first, but I have little doubt Lascivious' interest in any of this extends only as far as her darling Kiara's beautifully sculpted ass... and it was Kiara who attacked Deathshadow after Leoren fell, which would make her the one in violation of the Mandate, I believe.

But I think it was Deathshadow who said to hell with the Mandate. And I am left wanting to agree... for what is the Mandate, Lascivious, or The Grim, if Deathshadow will be allowed to hide behind it for what he has done?

And did Malethia miss it? Did she not see me beg for Deathshadow to stop? Did she not see me crying, screaming, on my knees?? ((I think she missed it, but that's beside the point ICly!)) Either of them...

For them to sit there in the garden later and say the things they did, talking about Qabian like he's some object for a schoolgirl crush, was salt in the wound. I think they mistook insult for guilt. I think they mistook me for them.

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What the hell was all of that garbage?

All of it. Every single thing he said. Garbage. If he was trying to piss me off, it worked. If he was serious about all that, though, I worry for him. I can actually believe, now, that he was telling the truth when he said all women end up wanting to kill him eventually. No one with that much ignorance about how women work should survive long around them. No one. He can spew logic at us until his hair falls out, and it will only dig him in deeper rather than save him.

You do not -- DO NOT -- send girls who have crushes on you to other women to set them straight on how unpleasant you are or whatever I would be expected to say in warning to save their poor little hearts, minds, and lives. I will not act as a bouncer to his pants and endure the wrath of whatever girls are sent my way. How insulting. What a painfully stupid idea. If I were Malorii, it might be different, and it could be fun. If he were Leoren, it might be different, but even with him I barely feel the need to scare other women away - it is not usually in my nature. And, Malethia and Kiara probably already see things skewed enough without me being involved in any way with scaring girls from our dear Magister who've just made the mistake of telling him how they feel.

Seriously. What is that? What was he thinking? Laughing at her until she cries is a much better idea, Grim or not. Using The Grim as a reason to not be a complete prick seems... somehow backwards. If he had said he feared the vengeance of the henhouse, I might have understood.

The sad thing, though - in retrospect, I do not think he meant it as an insult. I might have noticed that sooner if I hadn't thought he was trying to see if he could illicit some sort of possessively catty reaction from me.

Tonight was necessary, though. It helped me remember some things that I had lost sight of. He was right to question my interest. I don't even remember anymore what I told him. I should not have been so confused. I should not have been so affected. Now that I have everything back in order in my own head, and even though he was kind enough to save me from that troll, I still reserve the right to gawk at how monumentally bad that idea was.

I should also see if the game is over.

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I keep waiting for this feeling to go away, but it hasn't. Not since Winter's Veil.

I love Leoren with all my heart. He is all that is good about me. He is all that is good in this world, really. All I want is what I have said - I want that island far away from everything else and dozens of babies. I want the Silence he gives me. I want the world I should have had.

I want things I will never see in my lifetime. This is no world to bring a child into. Children either grow up quickly or they die. I should still be at home. I should not have to care about any of this. I am still a child. As long as the world is tearing itself apart as it is now, as long as there is still the threat of the Legion, the Lich King, any illusion we have of safety when we curl into our beds is a dangerous illusion to keep and daring to keep anything valuable will only lead to pain.

He is right. I say "yet" for a reason. It breaks through the illusions I try to keep. I keep them because I need them as much as he does, but I cannot help it. I know what can happen. I destroy lives daily... in the name of Peace.

There are no dreams. There is no time for dreaming. All dreaming died when Silvermoon fell. Mine is not a people who will survive if they lose sight of their goals by dreaming. That city is more of a graveyard than Lordaeron, the people mere ghosts of a life and time that no longer exist, the headstones spread through its streets constructed of the jagged pieces of broken dreams, ripping at the flesh of anyone there. That is why they have their blood thistle, their parties, their drinks... to forget. To pretend. To make the pain go away.

And what have I become?

I have come far in one year, but down what path? If a man strikes me now, it is because he knows he is about to die and not because I did not tell him that I loved him quickly enough. I found my freedom. But I revel in their fear, their hate. I enjoy the look in their eyes. Is this what it felt like for him as he looked down on me... every time he came near... the look in my eyes? Or was it the knowing what he could make me do?

I have never made them beg. But then, that does take time I usually do not have. Is that why?

Does Leoren know this about me? Does anyone? I have not often let him see that. That Nymare exists only in certain places of my life, places I thought I kept for only myself, but that is not true. Why can I not let him in, then? I am afraid he will leave if he sees them, but I am afraid to stay if I keep them from him. I am afraid if I let him see them, I will stop seeing him the same way as well. And some things... some things I just want to myself. I want a place to escape to. I want a place where I will not be judged, a place that is entirely mine and if I let others in, I can throw them back out without fear of it hurting.

So what is this feeling? Fear of what makes me happy. Fear of the restlessness I felt during the Quiet of the season. Fear of myself.

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My creatures fear me, too. I have had to resort to riding that felsteed around when I dabble with demons. I named it "Ahf". I am sure it does not care. However, it is slow. So...

I am now officially a horse thief. I hear some cultures still hang horse thieves, which makes me wonder what a Dread Lord would do... or what he would have done had there not been four others waiting with me. I had help from the most unexpected of places.

More Grim know about me now, know about what I have been doing in my spare time. I expected worse from Qabian. He has never hidden revulsion and, to my knowledge, only does things when it suits him. Even moreso, Leoren was there. His presence wasn't needed for me to take Setrema along, and oh how hypocritical it would be if he were there to make sure she were adequately protected. Not that it mattered, in the end. I believe she was finally overwhelmed by that flood of imps and felguards, despite him being there. Even his insult over my lack of appropriate pants was tame.

Tame - for him, at least. Obedient - must have suited him. Quiet - mostly. Even helpful.

How... boring? His complication lies in his mindset. He may be as simple as he says, but his reality is not quite the reality everyone else seems to share. Things look different to him, so he, in turn, appears different to us. We might see his simplicity if we understood what we were looking at. That is what makes him interesting. Tonight was far from interesting. Or, perhaps, it is his way of distancing himself from what it is I can do now. How unfortunate that would be. I realize how little sense that makes, since he was there voluntarily and without any real complaint beyond whispering a few snide things.

I do have my very own stolen Dreadsteed now, though, and with their help. The thing is revolting, and in place of fear is a seething rage. Summoning it to me was complicated and dangerous. Leoren, Setrema, and I think Jabiba, all admired that twisting void above that demon's prison. Some texts have described portals which look like that, portals from the Nether. Or to it. Something like what one might see if one died, ready to pull our souls away forever if we let it.

The entire time, I was thinking of Sabachthan. If he truly has become demonic in nature, if he was able to find me because of my "resonance" in the Nether, shouldn't I be able to use that same line back to him? Shouldn't I be able to summon him?

Could I control him?

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There is no light at the end. For all these revelations, I find no solace because the truth is just another ghost in the graveyard. I saw what was happening. I knew what needed to be done. I had the strength to do what needed to be done. It was left up to me, and then it was ripped out of my hands.

Yes, it hurt. All of it hurt.

I took it out on the wrong person.

But that is what I do, isn't it? If I am in the business of severing things, the trust of others should be right in there with it... even if it was a trust that I did not expect to actually have existed. I overestimated him and everything he has ever said.

So yes, all of it hurt.

At least now I deserve everything I get, and maybe even some of what I have gotten.

But I will still have to live with my ghosts... the ones I have made and the ones that were made for me. Those hurt the most. Those ghosts failed me. Sold me. Raped me. Killed others I cared about. They did not die when Silvermoon fell, but they still became ghosts. Nothing was the same. For anyone.

It would be easier if they were in the ground.

I think I may have to sever you as well, little book. I do not think I will be needing a conscience anymore.

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The story is not yet over, little book, but I do believe your chapters are coming to an end soon.

Leoren has been arrested. I originally thought he had come to his senses and left me while I slept, but he must have been apprehended that same day. The fliers accuse him of cowardice and oathbreaking. Bullshit. They also mention desertion. Had he left to resign and was going to come back? But that cannot be the equivalent of deserting... unless they told him no and he fought them? But if that were the case, why has no one come for me yet to question me?

It must be something else. None of this is right.

Skafloc and Zelaine have both asked me about it, but I know almost as little as they do. I do not think I told either what our original plans were. If this fallacy really does have nothing to do with that, it would be in his best interests to keep that bit out entirely.

I cannot leave him like that. I loved him. I love him. I have to know what happened. I have to know the truth. I have to at least try to stop this. He deserves better. I just... I have no idea how. I saw both Diomades and Thoraggar defending Silvermoon the other night. Neither of them spoke a word to me about this.

Do they know? Do they care?

Gods I miss him. I keep expecting to roll over into his arms, or feel him next to me when I wake... to feel him breathing so peacefully, his heart beating so strongly, the warmth of his skin. But the dreams are the most painful. In them, I keep running away, and we make it to our island - just for me to wake up to nothing again... to not know where I am, even. Each time it is like feeling myself die, feeling all the blood in my heart drain out until I am cold and empty. Is that how I manage to push it all away, how I manage to be what I need to be? I missed him so much tonight and no one will ever know. If they do not know, they cannot hurt me.

The truly perverted thing of it, though, was that what Qabian was dressed in reminded me of the suit Leoren wore when he took me to the castle. Maybe that is why I asked him to dance. That was an amazing night. The ballroom was spectacular and all ours. I did not bother to dance the same way with Qabian on our little patch of stones, I did not have the heart. And though it felt temporarily delightful to inflict some of my pain onto someone else, and the looks on everyone's face was priceless, I was relieved to end it when I did.

I will attempt to speak with some of the Farstriders tomorrow. If anyone would know why a Blood Knight is in trouble, a Farstrider might and would be more than happy to talk about it. The walls those two factions share have the same ears. Maybe I can find some way to see him...

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WHO does she think SHE IS that I would even CARE if SHE is disappointed in ME?

OH BOOK! OH OH OH BOOK! Soooo funny....

Some girl with a crush who practically cried over not knowing how to help people and oh her precious human teachers - can't kill those ------- nope! I mean, it's not like we taught them what they know and then they abused it, betrayed us, made bad things or whatever. Take the knowledge back and then kill them! It was yours to begin with! But noooo oh nooooo.

Oh what to do? "Qabian makes me doubt myself" "I don't know if I will be in the Grim much longer" "I don't know... I don't know... I don't know..." Pathetic. Weak! Why does he waste his time on her? Did she really think she could command him to dance and it would work? It would have been impressive, but she obviously has no idea who she is dealing with or has way too much faith in her power over him. So she asked Aest to dance instead.

And me.

To make him jealous? To feel like she had power over something?

She thinks I am impressive? HAHA Thought, I guess. THOUGHT. Not anymore, because I tried what Bir gave me. ooooooooooh

Yeah, I played her game, but I don't swing that way. Even if I did, I do not think I would be as forgiving as Qabian. HOW FUNNY! She didn't think it was funny when I played her game back at her, either.

Because because I watch her constantly flail in her helplessness. And she was disappointed in me? She was leading Andlat on, too. She likes open doors.

Me? Tonight, I just wanted to sleep. It's not like I didn't know what Bir gave me. I just didn't know what it would do before it did what I wanted it to. I'd never tried it before. It's funny writing like this. This table smells like flowers. Flowers everywhere. Its so pretty.

They expect too much from me and not enough from everyone else. I'm allowed to be... just... you know... normal... once in a while. Right? I can wear tiny pants, because my ass looks good in them, damnit! Bir said so. He said he was used to hag ass.

OH THAT WAS HILARIOUS. She like... screamed....

Why does she even care what Bir thinks of her ass? Qabian's not going a good job at alllllllllll with her. Nope.

So I can wear tiny pants. Yep. Even if my thighs are cold. They help me set things on fire... which warms my thighs up!! And I can have this bloodthistle and not care about anything. And I could drink if I wanted. That's what people do when their world falls apart, right? They drink. They cry. They hide. They act like robots. They get angry and want to set everything on fire. They break.

I didn't break. Maybe a little, but I got better real fast. Not like Malethia, or Cessily, or everyone else. Because I know better. Because they're like vultures if I'm showing too much skin or if I actually enjoy myself when there isn't a pile of corpse all over the place. I don't even want to know what they would do if they knew I was hurting.... I have to be strong or they will eat me. And I still feel everything... most of the time... I still care. I didn't cry when he brought up my sister or tell him to shut up. I am stronger than he is. That is why I will win. Always and forever. I can hurt him. I don't want to. But I do, I think. I don't mean to. I don't understand why he still hurts. I don't understand why I don't hurt REALLY hurt... most of the time.

I just wanted to sleep....

I'm going to now. With the flowers.

But I don't want to.

I miss him so much.

I don't want to dr--- <the writing here falls off into a long, languid nothingness, the ink blurred by either breath, tears, or drool. It lacks the distinct red tinge of bloodthistle, however.>

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((Let me take this moment to express my undying hate for all of you. <3 <moment here> Thank you! On with the journal!))

I awoke in a coffin in their... inn? Plush, definitely. New, thankfully. I was surrounded by flowers, petals mostly. Mageroyal, roses, and some sprinkles of something gold. A crown of peacebloom was placed on my head with tiny tears of arthas netted through my hair.

Forsaken humor?

That is what I get for thinking it was a good idea to sleep on the Herbalist's shop table, I guess. I do not want to know how much I am going to have to pay for this.

It has been too long. I am going to the Constellas without him... without any of them... as soon as I finish speaking with a few of the Rangers in Silvermoon. Skafloc wrote me a disturbing letter. I fear the worst for Leoren.

If what this says is even close to true, he fought them... he must have.

Belore, Leoren. Why??

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Magtheridon fell before us. I performed... beautifully.

And though I was surrounded by Grim, I still felt hollow in our victory.

I am not broken. I am empty.

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All warlocks are insane?

It is more a matter of perspective. What is one person's insanity is another person's normalcy, and who or what gives shape and lines to which is what and what is the other? If it is a moral majority that helps define the boundaries of sanity, then, anyone doing anything dangerous is insane - warlocks most of all.

Insane. Arrogant. Stupid. Who in their right mind would play with the Legion? Who would think they could ever truly control it as it should be controlled? It should be blocked out. Eradicated. Stopped forever. Warlocks should be hated for the risks they take, for the things they can do. How much of it is ever good? But we can all do bad things. All magic is dangerous. All magic has potential for abuse, for unforeseen results, for destruction. It is easier to fear the Legion, because we have seen what it can do. Why treat a regular mage badly when we have no idea what he can do... or what happens when they try to help - like Magister Duskwither. I still hate warlocks. I still do not trust them. I do, however, see some things differently now. I do not think I am insane.

I think Bir may have been insane long before he started throwing bolts of shadow around, though. Insane or on something? I think I always assumed he was on something, and that leaves me with hope that he will be all right some day.

Not that any of us will be...

But he has children now? Three. All new born. Their mother is dead.

I really shouldn't care. I remember hating him. I remember being hated. What happened? I should not care. I should offer to incinerate the bastards. But they are not the Bir I wanted to rip the lips off of. They are not the Alliance. They are just babies... Children have no place in this world, and maybe that is why I care so damned much. I have offered to help, and he thinks they could use a "woman's touch", but they are much safer far away from me.

Maybe I can make them clothes, help find them a decent place to stay. Some place better than an orphanage, some place safer than with Bir. Everyone wants to help babies, though. They won't be babies forever. They will need more, they will do things to piss others off, things that only a parent could forgive. They need love. Where will they get that?

Leoren and I would have -- <the rest of the line is marked through to the point of nearly tearing through the page>

That's enough. I can't save them anymore than I could have saved him.

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I was not kind to Malethia. Gods, I tried. I was watching the naaru, wrapped up in its hideous screaming, and I had no idea how long she had been sitting against the wall next to me where I stood. I had heard from almost everyone what they thought happened, but not from her. I took the opportunity to find out for myself.

"Its complicated."


The more I listened, the more it just... angered me. It did not make much sense to me, but I will blame that on exactly how "complicated" things are. It should not be complicated, though. At first, I was not angry because of what happened to Leoren, but the more she talked, the more she apologized about him, the more I wanted to throw her into a wall and beat the ignorance out of her.

I know exactly who and what I sounded like before I forced myself to walk away.

I told her she should be beholden to nothing other than the Mandate, that her pride, or "principles" as she put it, the Order, and her "mother" would get her nowhere -- that if she has complications, she should get rid of them.

She has her freedom, her life, she has a chance to do something and she is letting herself be buried by circumstance. Does she not see how lucky she is? How wasteful she is being? How weak? She should have gone to one of the priests in The Grim about her "connection" with Cessily. If the Order would have her executed for treason for taking up the title of Knight again, she should have come to us, taken up the title of Blood Knight just to mock them and then laughed at those shells of the Knighthood in Silvermoon. She should have submitted to the suggestion of the Inquisitor. How is anyone supposed to believe she is reliable or even remotely Grim if she cannot just do what needs to be done?

If it truly is so difficult, perhaps she is better off elsewhere with all her precious complications, her principles, her "mother" and her fear. And maybe she could finally be truly happy and at peace. We all belong somewhere, and the more we struggle against it, the more others will suffer for it.

I have my dreams, my memories, my regrets - but I am where I am supposed to be, and at least now... now he is safe.

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Safe? There is no "safe". I am sure he was not remotely serious. No one forgets that quickly. If so, it was a stupid dance between talking and pushing. No, never mind, it was stupid regardless but, though I am sure he did not mean to, he entertained me anyway. It was not what I was aiming for, either.

But damnit again - again I did something like her. How do I do that? It actually annoys me. She and I were nothing alike, but we still ended up in the same places, moved through the same people at different times, doing the same things, but doing them differently. The difference is that I am not insane. I am nobody's tool. I answer to no one. It still bothers me.

And I am still alive.

Maybe some day, when I understand how I do it, how it happens, things will change. For now, I have only the past year to look back on and see a pattern. No one is safe.

Over the year, I have left a trail of ghosts.

Two are dead. One, I watched die. The other raped me over his corpse. Unfortunately, when or if that one's death finally came, it was not at my hands. In retrospect, I should have done it myself when I was going to. I made the stupid mistake of believing that I needed to be saved from it - not him, but it... the act of killing someone. How ironic. It is amazing what one year will do to a person.

Four have disappeared. Three men, one woman. Two Knights, a thief, and a Ranger. Three of them went quietly. One of those three went with regret and a mission. The fourth went insane.

Two men were changed for the worse. Or, perhaps they were always like that and I was too blind to see it? No... desperation is not easily overlooked. Ugliness. Madness. My only consolation is that at least one of them deserved it, and it does make our little run-ins all the more interesting. I am almost proud of what I have done to him. It is hard to keep myself from picking at it, making it worse, but I keep telling myself he will do that well enough on his own.

I had told myself I would not let it happen again. I kept Leoren at bay for that reason. I gave, though. I let him in. I trusted him. I warned him! And, for a while, I thought he was invincible. And then I started to see him change. I did what I thought I needed to do to save him, but I had no idea it would come to this --

Leoren. Vythica. If they were not safe, no one deserves to be. Even the Heirs have all but disappeared. Sabachthan...

No one is safe.

Really, all I wanted was a damned story. It did not have to be about him. But no, everything has to be about him.

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Children have no place in this world.

I suppose I should not be surprised someone else would think what I think, would vocalize it as I have written it, as I say it to myself. It is more than common that two people who believe in the same thing, believe in it for different reasons, but it still felt so alien to identify... to hear my thoughts come out of his mouth for even one moment.

The reasons really were not so different.

Is it a mercy to kill them? Perhaps. Spare them the pain of the world as it is, spare them from the hate or even shame. Save them from growing up into me, or him, or Bir. I do not think I would, though. I do not think I could -- not a Sin'Dorei, at least, regardless of who sired them. Not everyone grows into their parents. I didn't. Not everyone grows into a hateful maniac, either.

Kill them, to drown out my own lamentations for the life they should have but never will in this worse than imperfect world, then? Kill them for all the things I, too, will never again have.

If we have learned nothing in the past six years about how to better protect ourselves so that we can nurture our race back from the brink, then we deserve what we get. But if we kill them...? If we outright murder the future of our race?

But I do not think it was so general to him. No. They deserve to die because Bir fathered them. And because children have no place in this world.

And then, just like that, I learned about manaberries. He showed me a ley area. It was... I haven't felt anything so great in weeks. He was talking about ley lines, Azeroth, world sunderings, and for some stupid reason, I kept thinking of Malethia and the Light. Draenei. Naaru.

I cannot believe what she claimed. Even if it were true, how or WHY would the Light ever serve The Grim? That is not how it works, not from what I have read, what I have heard. The Light, very simply, will not stay in places with anger, rage... "darkness". If she is The Light, we can let that poor naaru go. I am sure it would be easier for the magisters to maintain a Sin'Dorei chained in the basement, and that damned shattering scream can finally go away. Teach the Blood Knights to manipulate and use Malethia instead.

No. There is a reason we have the naaru.

It took months, but they found me tonight in Nagrand. Between Alyiane's fucking pet and Fynne, there was not much I could do but endure her little game longer than I would have liked before I was able to banish her winged whore and summon my dreadsteed to me. I think they took my desire to leave personally.

I wonder, when he cut into me this time, if he noticed the difference.

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Serpent Shrine Caverns.

Plenty of high places to jump from and I am almost always guaranteed a fresh shellfish dinner. A pity the water is either scalding or churning with ravenous fish... Oh, and that it is full of naga who insist on opposing us. I enjoy it there, though. It should be ours. It will be some day. Vashj's men are already falling.

In seeking to improve myself, I apparently uncovered a mistake. Muatah assured me the "situation" is being resolved. The rest is up to how quickly Abric can take care of the paper work.

There is paperwork involved? I am not sure why, but that thought makes me giggle. I shouldn't, though. The mistake was disappointing. And, on the subject of improvement, I will have to wait for that, too. Apparently, suggestions for improvement will come loudly often following a mistake on my part. I will take that to mean that, at the moment, I am just fine and doing as well as I thought I was.

I would rather not settle on just fine.

Oh so tired, little book. I think I will go back to sleep.

I should conquer Redridge. High places. Nice water. No ravenous fish.

<Neatly tucked into the bindings are a few etches of the event>




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I miss him most when I wake up. This morning was a cold gray. The sky hung so low, I swear I could have reached up and touched it... thick and heavy with rain. It has rained so much lately, everywhere I go. Why is waking up so painful?

I lay there with my eyes closed, the cool mist making everything in the room stick in one place like a black and white etching of a memory. I could hear my own breathing, my own heartbeat, the mournful movement of gray clouds across the sky in the misty morning outside... I could almost feel his arms securely around me, the warmth of his skin pressed against mine. His breath was an unspoken prayer, each release a blessing of redemption whispering my name... whispering love. I miss the salty taste of his lips when we are both out of breath. And.... the way... the way he'd look at me... like nothing else mattered. Nothing else did matter.

And now nothing matters.

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I really needed that.

I could crawl through the darkest places of Azeroth and Draenor and bring down the powers that lurk within, but in the end there is not much that compares to the sweet release, the personal satisfaction, of leveling the playing field. It was lacking, to a degree, though. Theramore, Menethil, and Auberdine may as well have been dead before we got there. They will attack an under guarded outpost, throw themselves to Orgrimmar's guards, but they will not defend their lands? Perhaps they couldn't.

After that Forsaken woman sat on the lifeless gnome's face, I probably would have stayed dead, too, the rest of the Alliance's hold on Azeroth be damned. That just... is not right.

It was the attack on the crossroads, the indomitable bravery of that little gnome and his equally courageous friends, that inspired me to venture out and return the favor. Filth. It had been the first time in a while, and I had no idea how much I missed it. And Qabian always makes things a little more interesting, whether or not he intends to.

He would not finish what he was saying. I didn't feel like pushing, and I kept getting sidetracked. He was making some point about stories, I think, and then nearly missed Maestra's Post on our way to Astranaar. We should find new places to destroy. It almost takes away from it all, knowing that we are re-enacting countless memories, passing through them like furious ghosts having polite conversation. Polite conversation. I am not so ready to --- I think I've been stopping myself from picking at his wounds. Or whatever they are. For now.

And he hasn't really baited me. Perhaps he learned something afterall. Perhaps he will be better for it.

But what fun is that?

I still enjoyed what we were able to do to every place we went, though, and we went so many places. I'd had trouble deciding between Theramore and Astranaar, originally. In the end, we had taken both and stops in between.

I picked up some new books, saw waterless fountains and fake fire, and I got to go swimming. I probably should not have killed the entire crew of that ship I found off the coast of Theramore. Much to my surprise, the Captain actually surrendered and begged for the life of his men... but he was already too badly wounded and his men were all dead by then as well. And then I realized I might just need them to steer the damned thing. Like I know how to work a full-sized boat. I don't even know what that kind of boat is called.

He asked if I were going somewhere. I wonder if he meant running away. I wonder if he still thinks I will. He maybe the only person who knows what happened that night.

The Faire will be in Shattrath soon. I passed by it earlier tonight with Kiara. It hurt. I want to go... but not there, not in Shattrath anymore. Can I? Or was it just the sight of the empty faire, the expectation that Leoren would come flying out of nowhere and we could start all over again?

I wonder if Setrema ever found someone to help her die. I sincerely hope it was not over a broken heart. Qabian seemed to joke about it. That girl on the dock - he broke her heart. That male rogue who would NOT leave him alone - he broke his heart. Qabian did not break her heart. It was not his fault she let herself get carried away. It is not his fault that she cannot cope with it.

Love, like any virus, kills the weak.

And no, they did not scream loud enough - not for my Silence and not for their Salvation. All they have now are ashes and corpses to remind them of their failure.

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Little book - you will never guess...

Apparently, I am cute - "for a girl."

I mourn for Silvermoon. I really do.

However, I thought being addressed as "Sex on an Antelope" was hilarious, even if it was meant to be more, but no. And my name is not good enough, either. The whore said his vice is to give nicknames, but "Sex on an Antelope" is too long and he could not think of another one for me. Of course not. He does not know me. Or what a talbuk is, apparently. But, I was not buying what he had to sell, and though he claimed he was not trying to proposition me, isn't that just another way to proposition me... that is, if he figured out I were not so easy. He would have to really make me want him.

I doubt there is anything out there that could do that to me again. Even just for sex. How far everything like that feels from me now. Love is not necessary. Sex is natural, even hard-wired as an instinct of survival. Our body came with certain parts and our body knows why, our blessed reason be damned. Oh and it just feels good. So, it is also a job to some. To others, it is an expression, an action, communication.

I have nothing to say to a whore, though... or anyone, really. Well, nothing that words or violence cannot express. It is a thin, line, though, between sex and violence.

I may not have anything to say to a whore, but he seemed interesting. I wanted to listen to him to see if it were all just a show. I want to know what he does to gain the trust of someone - to assure them that he'll fuck them and not mug or kill them. Does he have a way with people or does he just provide a warm place? He did not want me to think he was trying with me, but people are investments. Time. Money. Why waste breath on something that will not feed you... on whatever level it is that you might feel the need for nourishment?

But he has bills to pay, and I will not pay to listen to him any more than I'd pay for whatever he thought he might have that would be so special that I could not get it for free elsewhere if I truly wanted it.

I spent most of my time listening to Shadowspeak, instead. He seems... changed. Qabian thinks he is insane, but then he did not stay around to listen, question, or even laugh at what was being said, choosing instead to ask me questions - though he knew Shadowspeak is seeking entrance into The Grim. After listening to all Shadowspeak had to say, I asked him about his purpose, about peace and The Mandate and how it all fits in.

I think I understood what he was trying to tell me about what he had discovered, what he believes, but in this theory, "peace" would be the end of all life. Entropy. Struggle. Opposing sides. These are the essence of life - he is right. Tides. Destruction. Revenge. Compensation. Nature. When struggle stops, things are still. There is no action and therefor no reaction. A dead body, a body at peace... blood has stopped flowing. Everything that kept our body alive... pans out like the layers in the dirt we will be placed in. Sediment.

Is everything truly so connected? If he had moved his shoulder differently, would my response to him have changed? Am I truly a product of all actions?

I do not believe in that. I cannot. Nothing dictates what I am but myself. It is depth of conscience, awareness, that makes a being greater than those around it, greater than animals, greater than the unknown. To know better, is to be better. To control, reason, adjust things... see them for what they are.

But then, perhaps I am not as balanced as I thought. Do my aspects all have their foils, and this is what keeps me going, or am I a singular aspect? Am I fire? The wind that fans it? Does anything exist in me to compensate for what I do?

I -- I am not as balanced as I used to be, a balance I tried to force.

But I know what I do. I am destruction where it is needed... and where it is not. I am one side. I am Grim. And when the side which keeps me in check has been removed, I will find something else... something greater.

To stop at Victory is to die.

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