First Impressions.

Mazikeen propped herself up in the Silvermoon Inn, feet crossed at the ankle set along a separate chair. It was approaching daybreak, but hadn’t quite reached that mark yet–the slowest hour of the day, by far. Most had gone to sleep, and even the early risers were generally not yet awake; if a few were, then they certainly weren’t out drinking yet, and she was enjoying a rare moment of near-solitude in the Inn. On the upper floor she was alone, save for another, older Sin’dorei who was so bent over his drink that she assumed he was sleeping. In any case, he wasn’t bothering her.

In her lap was an opened book–it was bound in leather and each page was blank, though slightly colored with age. Taking up the short quill that she had set down for herself, she dipped the tip in the nearby ink pot. With a short sigh, she began to write in a script that was small and angular.

Never was much of one for writing down my thoughts. After all, one only knows how many secrets someone like myself carries, right? Even secrets on the inside ain’t always safe, and they sure ain’t better off on parchment. Got this pretty thing off’ve a geezer-old sorcerer of sorts–fair and square, given to me back only a short time after the Sunwell… yeah. Helped him a turn, he paid me in what he could. Said ain’t nobody will be read it, save its owner. Then he gave it to me, and I thanked him. Had no idea what I’d do with it though. Actually thought I’d pawned it some time back.

But anyway, lately…

Feeling kind of mixed up inside, and that’s new. Even during the hard days after the Sunwell went, it wasn’t like this. I knew what I had to do, and that was help my kin where I could, and survive (not always in that order, you know, but something like it). I thought joining up with the Silverguard would sort all that out, and I guess that’s a cowards way out, ain’t it? You step back and try to let other people order you ’bout, cause you don’t want to figure it out for yourself.

That ain’t all fair though. I want to help us Blood Elves, and I know the Silverguard’s got that in mind. If I can be helping our people more’n hurting them, that’s damn fine.

I’ve only been with them roughly a week or so, but its been a busy week. The Ghostlands are still all torn up, and I feel like even if I fight till my arms are caked with that thick black ghoul-blood, there’s always just too many. Seems like we keeping throwing young Blood Elf bodies at the problem, and that ain’t solving anything worth batshit.

Last night I stood around while a new member of the Silverguard, warlock named Zaliron or some such, got branded. He was an interesting character, far as that goes. Figures himself as some kinda charmer, my guess. Seemed harmless enough, though I can’t say that everyone took him as lightly as I did. Eh, I’ll save my anger for someone a little more deserving.

And of course, there was the moment when I tried to make a joke, which failed somewhat, well, miserably. Leave it at that.

Also got a payment letter from House Erestir ’round that time. The sent it on one of those Blood Knights, and she didn’t seem to have a high opinion of me. No matter though, she wouldn’t be the first. Probably’ll have a few more run-ins with that House, account of they pay well enough and for honest enough work. Slightly less honest maybe than the work they give their Knights, but s’fine by me.

The old, sleeping Sin’dorei let out a loud snore, that cause Mazikeen’s eyes to look up sharply, though she didn’t change her reclining posture. When she listened hard enough, though the Inn was still quiet, she could here the beginnings of movement outside. The sun would be rising shortly.

Without bothering to offer a conclusion to her entry, Mazikeen twisted a top onto the small ink pot, and wiped the tip of the quill off on one of the cloth napkins available on the table next to her. She slid both items into her bags, and then carefully shut her journal. The Rogue stood, stretched high, arching her back, and then tucked the book under her arm. With that she quietly left the Inn, tossing a few copper down for the couple of drinks she had had, and made her way back to the Silverguard Halls.