On the Wind: A Journal with Accompanying Letter

I never thought I would enjoy a vacation. Could I even call it such? There's no luxury or excess gold to be thrown about, but it's pleasant none the less. When we're not traveling, we're resting.

I've been reading some and writing more. It's nothing good, nothing worth publishing. It's romantic garbage, but she likes it when I read it out when we're laying next to the fire. She's such a sap, deep down.

I suppose I could call this romance, but it feels too comfortable for that. Once, I could buy her the world, but I doubt she would want it. Once, I could send ships and armies to her-- I could afford it. Blood money, drug money, it didn't matter.

You could call our living 'honest'. I hardly steal and when I do, it's only when I need to. I hardly kill and when I do, it's only when I need to. I used to avoid such humble lifestyles, and now I'm the happiest in one. Maybe it's not the living, but who I'm living with. I can be convinced of that.

I sometimes hear of Stormwind. It's in pieces, usually spoken in Darnassian. I don't think Kyrita notices when I'm listening. I hear of a familiar drug, of rumors of the dead rising again, and I worry. I don't want to return to put the Kamil down again. It's none of my business. It's all of my business.

I often wonder what Lazaar would do. I wonder if I'm doing what Lazaar did.

One day, I think I'll finally be gone. They won't hear a breath from me. They'll never know if I'm dead or alive or watching them from the shadows and breathing them in.

I'd be okay with it as long as she came with me.

A letter arrives, postmarked from various stops across Kalimdor.

Wil,

I smell it on the breeze. Continents away and I feel it throb in my chest and on my knees. I would scrape off my marks and pin them to your body, a happy little badge for you to carry on, but they're part of my history. You can carry the corpse and drag the weight, but I worry for you. Can your shoulders bear it? Will your spine crack and fold?

Leave the dead underground and I'll dredge out the ashes for your coffers. There's no need to scavenge when I'm always happy to whisper in your ear.

With love,
Ley