I think I should be happy…

…but I ain’t all too positive that I am. Maybe I ain’t happy, ain’t content, but I’m gettin’ the feelin’ that… I dunno.

When I found Kaste, one-armed and still bleedin’, and saw the Silverlord heal him up (I got his heart goin’ with those jumper cables, but that didn’t take care’ve the major wounds), it was like…

How can I possibly write this? It sounds selfish and stupid. It was like seein’ something goin’ wrong. ‘Course I was glad for him to be alive and okay, but there was just that feelin’ that everythin’ was tumblin’ so far out’ve my control. Like my life wasn’t mine anymore.

I kissed Kaste on the cheek, and he asked me if I would’ve done more’n that, if the Silverlord hadn’t shown up, if he wasn’t gettin’ married, if-

Just like seein’ your life start goin’ wrong, and then it keeps on goin’, gettin’ more and more messed up.

Was the same the night I took Verrin to the battlefront. Lustin’ after him, after what we’ve done to each other, what I’ve done to him? Gods. Another time I just couldn’t help the feelin’ that I’d done something that I shouldn’t have. I don’t even believe in fate so much, but it was like the feelin’ that if I have a destiny, I was workin’ away from it rather than towards it.

Ysabelle stitched her soul with Kaste’s, or whatever it was, and didn’t even ask him ’bout it first. How can you do that to someone? How can you betray someone you say you love so damned deeply? A rogue’s life is built on privacy and bein’ maybe a bit solitary. Didn’t even ask. Gods. She must have… had good intentions, but…

I was so angry, but now… I’m just confused.

Kaste still has feelings for me. I wouldn’t tell him if I did or not. How can I? What he don’t know won’t hurt him, right? And if he never knows for sure, that’s better. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Ysabelle did the right thing. I mean, the idea’ve it just… it drives me crazy, makes me want to spit and scream on Kaste’s behalf, but maybe that’s why…

Maybe that’s why things are goin’ right, now. Maybe the reason I don’t get it–or the reason it makes me so mad–is the same reason that Ysabelle’s better for him. I mean, she sure’s hell wouldn’t go runnin’ from him. She don’t gotta worry ’bout usin’ him as part’ve a double life, or some such–he is her life.

I couldn’t give myself like that to no person. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t, too, which is maybe sadder. And people deserve to be loved like that, fully, not love that’s always got a foot out the gods-damned door.

Same with Chrysalis. I asked her if she loved Verrin, and she said yes, though in some different words. She said she hadn’t told him.

Chrysalis is a saint. This is somethin’ that should happen. When I broke Verrin, didn’t it tend to fall to her to pick up the pieces? And what has she got to show for all’ve it? Just standin’ there, bein’ a good Knight, holdin’ her love in even better than maybe I have. That ain’t right. She’s too good. She wants the best for Verrin. I would never, never come ‘tween that, not by choice.

Would never toy with Kaste or Verrin, when I know damn well they each got people that care ’bout them more wholly…

There is a large blot of ink, and then some scratched out words.

I’m broken anyway. But this feels like maybe things will go right. Gods, I hope they do.

Where Two Ain’t Two

Verrin spoke with me last night. He wants me to tell him, in honesty, that I’ll never love him. How can I know that? How can he ask me that? What gives him the right to ask anythin’ he asks me?! I keep my life neat and ordered ’nuff ‘fore all’ve this, and now I can’t even look into my head without gettin’ lost or feeling vertigo dizzyness, like down is up and two steps ain’t always two steps, sometimes its five or three or one or I ain’t movin’ at all–

And then there’re nightmares. The only way to keep ‘em away is to fall ’sleep so exhausted that nothing can move inside my head, though that don’t even work some nights.

Chrysalis is ‘pparently gonna try to ‘help’ Verrin, and when I found out that she might intend to kill him, I was… angry. If anyone gets to kill him, it’s me, and that ain’t even an option that I’ve given myself after… after the day on the beach. He betrayed me, not the rest of them, not anyone else. His blood’ll be on my hands, if that’s what it comes to–though I’ll work for every inch’ve me ‘gainst that too. I trust Chrysalis though. She told me she wouldn’t kill him.

The Silverlord wanted to speak with me, and though I tried to avoid him, he eventually came down to where Chrysalis and me were in Silvermoon ‘gainst my assurance that I’d be fine, and that he didn’t need to get his hands dirty with anymore’ve it than he’d already be expected to with the ‘trial’ comin’ up. He was understandin’, even when I told him that I would’ve killed Verrin when I found out.

And we talked a little earlier, and the Silverlord… made some confusin’ remarks. I think I’d be angry if I wasn’t still more shocked than not. Angry ’cause for some damned reason it’s gotta be when a girl’s fallin’ apart that she gets so much attention. S’when you’re feelin’ vulnerable and broken that everyone wants to dig their claws into you. Maybe people wanna feel like heroes or saviors, and maybe they can smell vulnerability like sharks can smell blood in open water. I just want to be left in peace to lick my own damn wounds.

Kaste kissed me… more than once in the past few days. The first time ’cause he wanted to make the point that we both don’t feel nothin’ for each other, least not romantically. ‘Course we don’t–but I could’ve practically coughed up my own beatin’ heart when he surprised me with it. And then he had me help him with some other damn version of an ‘anti-love potion’, which backfired (thankfully not to the same scale, ’cause I was prepared for it). I knocked him out, and he seemed to come out’ve it well ’nuff; he’s tellin’ me that his friends… or the people he talks to, don’t know if they’re necessarily his friends, keep tellin’ him that we should be together.

‘Cause clearly, two people can’t enjoy each other’s company less they’re really only lookin’ to knock boots–even moreso ’cause he’s a troll and I’m an elf, and certainly there’s even less room for friendship there, right? I ain’t sayin’ I’m a mysterious woman, or that I’m hard to figure out, but I’m tired of people speakin’ on my behalf. Don’t matter if it’s Verrin (who’s master, Kiros, ‘pparently thought he could make a slave out’ve me) or Kaste. If I don’t know what’s goin’ on in my own damn skull, how in the Nether do other people seem to think they do? Even if they’ve got the best intentions (not that they all do), can’t I just get left ‘lone?

Verrin says he’ll try to stop askin’ me questions, and I don’t know if that’s really gonna help or not. It’s what I want, but what if be givin’ myself time to cool down and let things settle in my head, I just mess things up worse? What if it’s like a mess’ve broken bones, that if they ain’t set right to begin with, grow funny and crippled till you gotta break ‘em all over? I get upset and tell him that he’s got to grow from his pain, while I hide from analyzin’ anything inside myself. Hypocrisy ain’t my aim, but I’ll be damned if it ain’t the path I’m walkin’.

Love Potion?

There are times when I think Achates gets run down a little too much, that he’s well meaning enough, even if it backfires.

Other times I think I’d like to string him up and light a fire under his feet.

I’m not even so angry as I am just… kind’ve shamed. It ain’t gonna be pretty explaining things to Zaliron. ‘Oh yes, you see, while you were hurtin’ and alone at the Inn, I was in your house… making rather obscene advances on Kaste. Sorry ’bout that, no harm done?’

I don’t see it goin’ over well, love potion excuses or not.

Sea Songs and More

Couple days ago we attacked some of the Dwarf territories. Felt good to be working as a group, seeing everyone fighting at once. Not sure if Aysera was too pleased with it all, but she didn’t say nothing to me about it. I can get why some folks don’t like the fighting; more’n more I get the feeling that even I’m a shade less violent than some of the Guard. Or that I ain’t got the taste for it in the same way.

At the meetin’ after, back in Silvermoon, Sophiel sung us a couple’ve songs. The one that sticks in my head the most was ’bout the sea. I ain’t got any special attraction to the sea, but ain’t it true that all songs ’bout the sea are really ’bout something else anyway? For a sailor lust for the sea is the same as  a greedy person’s lust for money, or the lust of power for those that gotta mind towards it.

What’s my sea then? Some people’re easy to figure out: glory, fame, means. I sure won’t say that none of those ‘ppeal to me, but they ain’t what drives me. So what does? What’s the thing that I could spenda lifetime chasin’ knowing hopelessly that I ain’t ever gonna catch it?

Dunno. Don’t wanna try to find out anytime soon, neither. Questions like that just stir up hurtin’, and what I learned ’bout my past is still too damned fresh in mind. Probably ain’t much difference in running from it than running towards it anyway. I’m no philosopher, but something in me says that those’re just two roads leading to the same clearin’ at the end of the day anyway.

Zaliron got into a bit’ve trouble with the Silverlord, which I’m hoping blows over smooth ’nuff. I know it reflects back on me, and I guess that don’t sit too well with me. I don’t get mad with Zaliron for it, but it makes me angry at myself. I shouldn’t be so ‘fraid of what the rest’ve the Guard will think’ve us. I mean, it’s a poorly kept secret how we’ve been spending our evenings (and afternoons, and some mornings…), and no one’s made a fuss’ve it yet, so why do I feel guilty ’bout it?

Guilty conscience, maybe. And I guess that I can’t help but feel like I’ll be pitied, or some such. I remember full well how Kaste asked if Zaliron had poisoned me, the night of the party. S’funny maybe a few times, but you don’t live s’long as I have, the way I have, by being unobservant. People’ll think that I’m in line for gettin’ a broken heart (or some broken bones, ‘ccording to what Ysabelle said, heh). Act like I’m a poor little thing, like an animal that’s too dumbstruck to know it’s about to get clubbed in the head and served for dinner.

S’hard not to be bitter, ’specially because I don’t think Aysera approves. Least she ain’t treating me like something to be pitied. I confide in her more’n anyone else, and it stings to know that she ain’t happy with it. Can’t out and blame her for it, though.

Things’re better.

Things are better.

Of course, they were worse ‘fore they did get better, but there ain’t nothing new about that, is there?

I went and saw Aysera the day after the party. Can’t say the timin’ was probably the best, being mixed up as I was, but I don’t think I’d've been able to force myself to do it if I hadn’t been feelin’ pretty damn low already. The more time I had to think about Zaliron, the more’n I felt like I’d been a fool.

What’d the Silverlord tell me? Something like, “Even a fool can love more than he’s worth”, right? That ate me up something fierce. ‘Course Zaliron don’t love me or anything like that, but the more I stepped back, the more I saw that he believed what he said to me–the stuff about wanting to prove himself, that he did care for me.

That kind of power… ain’t nothing I’ve asked for. Tore a hole in me that I wasn’t expecting. I carried that on my shoulders when I went to see Aysera, and I’m sure I looked like I’d walked ‘cross the world and back. I let myself into her house which I shouldn’t've done, but I wasn’t thinking all too clearly.

I think what I saw about my past might’ve broken something in me. When I was younger, and I’m not exactly all that old in my nineties anyway, after the Sunwell exploded, I went lookin’ for my mother. I found a bad man on the way, and… well I hurt him, and then killed him. The killing isn’t anything new, but I can’t get the memory out’ve my head now. The hate that I felt was so strong that even now I can taste it, all metallic, like blood in my mouth.

The worst part is… it felt strong. I feel like part’ve me is crumbling, knowing that I ain’t a good person. I never thought I was, ya know, a saint or anything: but I’ve never really liked the idea of causing anything else pain. If I’ve liked fighting or even killing, that’s cause’ve the speed and the rush–not because I wanna cause any suffering.

That hate though, that desire to reach out and hurt someone that would’ve liked to hurt me, or someone I cared about? That’s got something innit that calls to me, and I think that frightens me a bit. I know what hate does, what festerin’ anger does–I’ve seen too damn many of my kind fall to it in the dark hours after the destruction of the Sunwell. It’ll rot you out and leave nothing behind.

The next day the Silverguard held a meeting, and after the Silverlord warned us to be detached, I was offered promotion to the rank of Guardian. I declined, though I felt stupid and ’shamed for it. But I ain’t no liar, and it would’ve been a lie to act like I was ready to be detached. Took all I had to keep from running away, hiding somewhere, though Lady Kar’lei told me that she didn’t think any less’ve me.

Afterwards Zaliron met me in the Inn–where I had planned on drinking myself dumb. He– I–

Well, we’re together now. That night I got better sleep than I think I’ve gotten in months. Even now part’ve me feels guilty. If I was a good person, how could I’ve slept under a roof that houses that machine? But I did (and more), and I would again. Will again.

I woke up early that first morning, and had nearly half my armor back on ‘fore I could get control over the panic that was all screaming in my bones. I was terrified–knowing where I was, who I had been with, what it might mean…

Then I looked over my shoulder, at Zaliron still sleeping (looking a fair deal less haughty and proud). Was the feeling like getting up your nerve to do something, only to have something go and dissolve the will in you. All quiet I took my armor back off and slipped back between his sheets. It was warmer than his big room and his big house, and I think I was sleepin’ again in the next minute. Maybe he was right about laying down responsibility for a bit. Maybe you can close your eyes to it.

Can’t tell for sure, but I’m wondering if this is what it feels like to be damned.