Log #001

The journal is new and fresh: the old one never made is out of the ruins of the Silverguard Halls as they burned to the ground. This one does not have the same magical protection as the last–and Mazikeen doesn’t figure that she’d seek to get any such enchantment placed on this new book anyway (magic has not, as a whole, been her friend in the grand scheme of things). She doesn’t even place a small lock on it: for a rogue, very few of her things are actually kept held away. That, and placing a lock on something only strikes her as if it would be asking for trouble. Instead, she settles for storing the journal between a few stacks and scrolls of engineering schematics, and other stray items.

I don’t want to write. It didn’t help ‘fore, did it?

I don’t want to, but- but it seems like-

I hear a voice in my head now. After what happened when we saved Verrin. I hear this voice in my head and I can tell if it’s mine, of if it’s… not. If it’s his. Durgan’s.

I’ve just been under a lot of stress. Durgan’s gone. Gone. I watched it.

(But I felt what I felt, and gods, gods, why does it seem like for once the feeling seems more real than the seeing and the knowing? Since when have I ever needed to care ’bout what somethin’ felt like?)

He was in my head. The night they killed him, the Knights (while I was useless, my job done, always magic, always got to let the big boys and girls do what really matters, fuck magic) , the night it happened-

Right there in front of ‘em, I felt Durgan in my head, when he left Verrin for a short time. I was so… am so… weak. Why wasn’t I more prepared? Everything in my head felt so open. He dug further in, and Kar’lei was in my ear, telling me to hang on, but I couldn’t, I was losing ground the whole damned time.

The entire time.

Then Alkaiser was there, and I knew he’d protect me (and I knew it would hurt) and I don’t know if it was my hope or Durgan’s hate (or maybe it was both) but suddenly… suddenly I was lookin’ at him, almost like the night I killed him. Only… only I wasn’t any better. Was I any better? He was weak. I made him feel every inch of that weakness ‘fore I snuffed him out. And I liked it. Even then, while I knew I was kneeling down next do my own vomit, I could still feel that dizzy rush of power, of brutal, flesh and blood satisfaction.

And for a second, for a second, shit, for a second- I didn’t know who I was. Which one I was. Of us. We’d created each other. That’s the most terrifying part. I didn’t just create him, didn’t just set up this vengeful spirit that’d haunt me later… he created me. It’d never been like that before, ‘fore him. It’d never felt like that, and I never wanted it to feel like that again.

(And that was it: the Biggest Lie. I’ve always wanted it again. The way my skin felt so burning hot, but all my insides were cold, that sharpness, the clarity that wasn’t just the muddy frenzy of rage… I buried that deep in my head, the entire memory of him, until Aysera helped me drag it out–’cause I couldn’t take the wantin’ and the knowin’ what I want.)

And and- And Verrin-

What he did to Verrin-

I can’t-

He showed me what he did to Verrin. Didn’t just show me. I felt it. But not from. Not from what Verrin felt. (That’d be too easy.) I felt what Durgan felt. The grinning, hateful satisfaction. I didn’t just, it wasn’t. Durgan was in my head (you have to understand, someone please, SOMEONE has to understand) and it wasn’t just-

It wasn’t just that I knew Durgan was pleased with himself.

I felt pleased. Elated. Full of intoxicating power, and it tasted so justified, so right, so deserved so so I can’t, it wasn’t ME but I still-

I felt it.

I love Verrin. I love him and I have to live with. With the memory of what happened to him. From the… perspective of… And it’s not just the memory, it’s the FEELING, gods, gods-

I can’t even ask Ays for help. I could never ask anyone. They can’t know. They should never. Especially Ays. They should never have to see, feel it that way. To be hurt is… to be hurt is one thing. To be the one hurtin’ someone you love, hurting ‘em and directin’ it and feelin’ so damned great ’bout it- having that kind’ve memory… no one should have to feel that.

I feel shaky in my head. I know that I love Verrin, and I know I don’t wanna see him hurt, and I know sure’s anything that I’d never, ever be the one to hurt him like that. I know that. But havin’ that memory with Durgan’s feelin’ mixed into it, it’s… I find myself thinking ’bout hangin’. Or cuttin’ my own throat. And the only thoughts, fuck, the only thoughts that’ve been stoppin’ it-

I can’t let him win

and

Verrin needs me

and

I can’t

(I don’t know)

which one it is that really brings me back each time.

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.

Meditation?

I’m… I… things-

There are a few attempts at writing, which are heavily scratched out, before something coherent begins.

I’m s’posed to take up… meditating now, as part’ve a type’ve trainin’. I guess that writing what I think or feel wouldn’t hurt that any. Help me… help me get some’ve what’s maybe buzzin’ in my head too loud down unto paper, down in a book where I can shut it when I’m done.

I don’t want to sound like things are worse than ‘fore, ’cause they really ain’t. I think I’m gonna get better, be strong, less runnin’ and more holdin’ ground. Least, that’s what I’m hopin’ for.

Verrin and me’ve decided to become brother’n sister, after a fashion. We understand each other, and we’ve both caused each other a world’ve hurt–maybe it’d be better to cut our losses and not have nothin’ to do with each other any more, but this’d just be one more thing I’d be runnin’ from. Sides, it’s my responsibility to stand with him where I can, after I… after I tore down everything else he had. I can’t abandon him and save myself.

The Silverlord’s taken up trainin’ me, and that’s also part’ve why I’m s’posed to be meditatin’ or whatnot. Want’s to teach me not to run, or somethin’–which is an awful nice thought, but I don’t think there’s no trainin’ you can offer that teaches a person that. They just gotta learn by example, and I figure maybe that’ll work out.  The personal attention by a superior any somethin’ I’m much used to, but the lessons are valuable ’nuff. It’s more responsibility, though, ‘nother person directly lookin’ over me and seein’ that I do go and mess things up.

Few nights ago, at the meetin’, I was promoted to Guardian. The first time I was offered promotion was a while back, when… when I’d first got a glimpse’ve a memory, got a glance at the vicious thing that lives under my skin somewhere. Was also when I’d turned Zaliron away, and felt like everythin’ was too close and that I didn’t have the distance to uphold that new rank. Now… now I’m gonna try, rather than runnin’. I wasn’t definitely ready then, and maybe I ain’t really ready now, but I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

This is… this is important ’cause’ve what else it meant. I…

I can’t be strong, can’t stop runnin’ if I’ve always got someone to run to. Someone that… that maybe I unfairly built my hopes ’round as bein’ not part’ve the rest’ve my life. And that ain’t fair. It ain’t fair to maybe attach your romantic feelin’s to someone on the grounds that you’re hopin’ you never got to worry ’bout it interferin’ with your ‘real’ life, your life’ve duty.

I think I regret that more’n anything, what I did to Kaste. If I had only… if I had only stopped and thought ’bout it, just taken a damn second to think- I could’ve stopped it from becomin’ what it did. ‘Course, I was convinced that I didn’t have the time, didn’t have the right frame’ve mind, that it wouldn’t have mattered. I wanted a gods-damned place to hide once the Verrin stuff was all taken care’ve, and it wasn’t till afterwards that I realized that that… it ain’t right to love someone just for what they represent, not what they are. I… I know I love Kaste right as a friend, that that’s for who he is, but my romantic feelings were too hung ’round escapism. Was the same gods-damned way with Zaliron, and that ain’t right.

Gonna try to learn from my mistakes though. Ain’t gettin’ romanticly involved with no one no time soon, far as I’m concerned.

Wasn’t it easier?

Talked with the Silverlord and Verrin last night.

I…

Everythin’ I touch bleeds and falls to pieces in my hands.

I’m so scared. I don’t want to be scared. It used to be… it used to be easier, didn’t it? Even when the world was darker, even ‘fore Silvermoon was rebuilt? Wasn’t it easier then? I came and went where I wanted, and I was helpin’ people. Right?

The Silverlord knows there’s someone else I’m taken with. All I can be grateful for is that he didn’t go ’bout asking who it was. I can’t… I don’t want to be…

He’s my leader. I don’t want him to feel tripped up and like he ain’t ’nuff ’cause’ve one stupid Rogue girl who tends to know the sharp side’ve her swords better’n her own feelings. When he finds out it’s Kaste…

Verrin thinks we should think’ve each other as brother’n sister. That if I can give him my love that way, that he’ll take it. That maybe it’ll help us be close without completely destroyin’ each other. I’m tired of hurtin’ each other. He’s probably right.

Confrontations in the Drag

I could kill Kaste.

We were talkin’ when Verrin showed up. Kaste left when I told him too… but kept within earshot.

We argued. Everytime I got close ’nuff to Verrin to get a good hold on him, he’d back away. Durgan was in control for the most part, and as angry as Durgan makes me… I can turn that anger into somethin’ useful. He said that… he said that he told Verrin ’bout me.

Verrin will know not to trust him, right? At least, not to… well, he’ll know that I had my reasons for what I’ve done. He has to know that. Killing Durgan hadn’t been ’bout just… just wantin’ to hurt someone, anyone–or at least if it had been, then he wasn’t exactly a bad choice–right?

No. I ain’t gonna feel guilty for what I did. I’m done with that. If Verrin wants to ask after it, when he’s got his own mind back… then I’ll tell him ’bout it. Can’t worry ’bout it now.

Tythis talked for a while, and I think I lost some’ve my temper. It’s strange, but it’s harder to keep myself from edgin’ closer to disaster when I’m speakin’ with him. I guess ’cause he ain’t part’ve my past–and ’cause he’s a lot smarter than Durgan, for sure. Makes me more nervous than the Dalaran trash.

Kaste came back, wanted to help.

Gods, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry ’bout any’ve it. Kaste… insulted Verrin’s pants, of all things.  I love Kaste. I want him to be with me on this. I want someone there to say stupid things and act like it’s nothin’ more’n a playground fight, but who’s got the spine to fight even if it’s a lot more dangerous than that.

I said some hurtful things to Kaste. I was angry. I still am angry. I made him promise to keep out’ve it, and somehow I’m still lettin’ him find a way in. Told him I didn’t want to see him again till all’ve this mess was sorted out.  He chased after Verrin, but Verrin got away.

I think Chrysalis might be in trouble. She told me that I couldn’t blame myself for not bein’ everywhere at once, but- it’s just- I’m playin’ defense, and it don’t suit me, and I think that shows. I’m tired of havin’ to response, of bein’ the one that’s gotta work on someone else’s terms. All the same, I’ve got to wait, and wait, and wait. Got to let things line up. I can’t mess anythin’ up by rushin’ headlong in a situation that I ain’t gonna be able to control.

Something Durgan said was right, though. I hurt my friends. The people I’m s’posed to care ’bout, who love me, I end up hurtin’ them, whether I mean to or not. I shouldn’t let nothin’ he says affect me, but…

But if it’s true, then I’m bein’ selfish if I think that I should be with Kaste. Gods… tellin’ him he can’t protect me, ’cause I’m ‘fraid he’ll end up gettin’ hurt in the process? It stings somethin’ awful to be a hypocrite, but if the alternative is seein’ him… get hurt…

I hurt the people I care ’bout.

Somethings wrong with me.

The Nature of Hypocrisy

Just got finishd talkin’ with Chrysalis. She… killed Verrin. I had her word that she wouldn’t, but by accident, she did. I was furious for ’bout a second: “How can you accidently kill someone-”, I had been startin’ to rage, but…

Heh.

At the last meetin’ I spoke up for opening the Guards doors to every race of the Horde–for wantin’ people to qualify on what they’d done with the life given to ‘em, not what they were born as. I mean, either way it won’t bother me too much, though I do think that if we open past Sin’dorei, we need to be openin’ to everyone. S’only acceptable.

Ysabelle… well, I think she thinks that I only feel the way I do ’cause’ve Kaste, and that ain’t the reason. The Silverlord said somethin’ similar. Is that what it seems like, then? That I’m under a spell’ve Kaste’s, or somethin’? That we’re in love? Ugh.

We did… go on a date, though. Not a romantic date. A friendly date… with the objective of killin’ a certain Forsaken that had mind-controlled Kaste and sicced him on me like an attack dog. I…

I killed Kaste. It was a stupid accident.

I told Chrysalis that tonight. She’s the first one outside’ve Kaste that knows. She thought I’d condemn her for killin’ Verrin, and all I wanted to let her know that that I had no place judgin’ her. I killed a man I love. She killed Verrin. She broke an oath. I nearly broke myself. She could bring him back. I… I was left stunned, dazed… couldn’t call him back from the Nether on my own.

S’funny, how you think you’ll be upset to hear somethin’, until you realize that you’ve been in a similar spot.

So, I guess it is true. I do love Kaste. He sent me a letter, a while back, sayin’ the same–that he loves me. None’ve this is in the romantic way, though, ‘course. But I’d die for him. I’d die rather than hurt him. I want to see him happy. Bein’ with him makes me feel happy, like I can forget ’bout all’ve the weight that just bein’ in the Guard puts on my shoulders. He doesn’t expect nothin’ of me.

I love him like a brother, I s’pose. I mean, ‘course, I’ve never had any siblings. But like a brother… just a much taller, bluer one. One more time for the record, we ain’t together.

Verrin told me that he still loved me. Even after takin’ time and thinking ’bout he, he said that even knowin’ my darker side, that he loved me all the more. He’s offerin’ me unconditional acceptance, and I guess there’s a part’ve me that wants to run headlong into that and hide there. He asked me if I thought I could ever love him the same.

I… well, I don’t know. I make a point’ve not thinkin’ when I probably should. What I do know, is that right now I don’t want to fall for anyone. I know I’ve tended to talk big ’bout falling in love–that if it happened, it happened, if it didn’t, it didn’t–but now I just wanna avoid it. It’s too messy.

Mountainsides and Explosives

I destroyed his home, the place where he spent a thousand years becomin’ what he is. I blew it up–gods know I made ’nuff dynamite. There were pictures all over the walls, both terrifyin’ ones and sweet ones, a thousand some years of work. Of art? Growing, something. Gods.

And I buried it all in mountainside, blew out the damned supports.

Will he be free now? Will I be free? Will it change anything?

‘Course, for me, it already has–I’ve forgiven him. Least, for what he did to me, the betrayin’, whatever. It’s hard knowin’ that you’ve got someone who’ll accept you, no matter what. I’ve got this wantin’ to push that, to see where the limits are, and I don’t like myself no more for it.

But I guess I have pushed. Just that the consequences will be delayed.

A thousand years of history. It’s hard to wrap my head ’round. It’s the same feelin’ like… like yesterday, when Kaste said something ’bout how that even when he’s an old man, I’ll still be young. It’s an ugly thought, the power of time. Kaste joked ’bout it easy ’nuff, but it’s somethin’ I know’ll keep me up some nights.

Any friends I make outside’ve my own kind, outside’ve elves–save maybe the Forsaken, but who even knows ’bout that, could be undeath has a limit too–in a few turns of the wheel, they’ll be gone. And I’ll still be here.

I’m so young; so pathetically young. I haven’t even had to think ’bout this ‘fore, and now I know I’ll be thinking ’bout it every time I laugh with someone that ain’t one’ve my own.  The Guard will persist, but how long do I really got ‘fore I have to watch things decay ’round me?

Maybe it ain’t the right way to look at it. After all, what’s a number in a book? Ain’t it obvious that anyone that throws herself into battle so readily and willingly probably don’t gotta worry ’bout too long’ve a life expectancy?

 Guess it don’t make the thought any easier to deal with.

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’.

What doesn’t kill you…

Roughly three pages are completely filled with what seems to be the same phrase, over and over again. The letters are disjointed, and standard punctuation and spacing appears to be used very infrequently. In one of the more legible cases, the phrase reads as: ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’. Eventually, more coherent writing emerges.

Or maybe that’s just what people gotta tell themselves, so they can feel like they’re movin’ forward ’stead of in circles all the time. I don’t feel stronger. I just feel kind’ve… broken.

I hate this, I hate all’ve this.

Trolls and demons.

Kaste and me’ve been talking recently, and I’m realizin’ that I like him a good deal. He seems like a solid ’nuff friend, doesn’t come ’round with mind games or manipulation. Maybe it’s just ’cause he ain’t an elf. Maybe I’m bitter. I’ll get on with that in a moment, s’pose.

Helped slap some bandages over his ribs, and he seemed almost shocked that I didn’t want no coin for it. S’funny, how people always seem to find it odd when a payment ain’t in silver or gold. A favor is worth more’n a sack of gold, least the way I see it.

Helped him and a few’ve the Guard with some’ve the Trolls in Zul’Furrak today. Got a little bloody towards the end, but otherwise went all right. I’m findin’ that I can joke ’round with Kaste, and that takes some’ve the sting and the shame off’ve the whole love potion mess.

Mostly I’m glad that I had somethin’ to do with my time, ’cause I’m not sure how well I could handle sitting ‘lone with my thoughts lately. ‘Course, find myself here doin’ just that now, heh.

Verrin…

Damn him. He told me he’s got feelings for me, and asked me to kill him–both in the same night. Hell, for him they weren’t even two different messages; one made him want the other. Told me… explained to me… how I couldn’t ever be like him, so I ain’t got anything to worry ’bout there. Because even if I’d maybe enjoy some dark things, I don’t indulge, and that’s what separates us. He seemed sure ’nuff, but to me it’s just ‘nother line drawn in imaginary sand.

He was right though. We know each other. Least, understand each other.

I don’t know why he thinks I’m any better’n any of the rest of the women in the Guard, but askin’ seems like it’s in such bad taste, and I don’t wanna put him through that. But there are women prettier, and smarter. More morally  upstanding, or morally ‘corrupt’. More righteous, if that’s what he’s lookin’ for. More deadly, too.

I hope he don’t think that I can ’save’ him. How can I? I’m not even as desperate or hopeless, but I still feel like even my own stupid problems are more than I can bear.

I should hate him, but I don’t. If I do, it’s because I never want to be like him–much as he tells me I don’t need to worry ’bout that. He said he wants to be a part of my life. I want him to be a part of my life, though maybe held away at arm’s length. I want to see him get better. I want to see him get hold of whatever it is he’s really chasin’, and I want it to do him some good.

I feel so naive, so disgustingly pathetic.

But if Verrin can overcome his demons, then everyone can. Then I can. Then maybe the world’s got some order to it, instead of just slippin’ further and further outta control.

‘Course, the kicker is that part’ve me likes the beauty of chaos, of things fallin’ apart. Somethin’ a little too animal in me wants to laugh in Verrin’s face ’bout all of this. I’m not a good person, I want to say, teeth bared and grinning and already tastin’ blood and heat.

And he’d understand.

Damn him.