bad memories

Odynae frowned a little as she peered around, blinking the dazedness from her earnest blue eyes. The line of tension tightened along her jaw, and nervous, pale, calloused hand fluttered to adjust the blue cowl which covered a disheveled, poorly tended mane of copper hair.

Awful tired.

This here, was real crazy. She was sure of it.

The presence of notes damned her. Madwoman, talking to herself. But she didn't know another way out. She was swinging at the end of her rope with a long fall below her.

She stared a long time at the first note on the page, ( February 8, evening. Visited Peregrinne and Aleyna. Confused now and Before. Left. Hurt no one.) before writing another neatly across the parchment:

Long day long day. Or was it two? three? Doesn't matter.

Brought bodies back to the emergency clinic. I mean wounded. Live bodies. Least when I was carrying em. Knew I was getting weird, went to Undercity. Funny place to go.

Got distracted well enough. Argued. Talked on a bridge. Talked on another bridge. Can't dissuade anyone from their fun. Shouldn't try.

I'm not okay.

grinne says i have to remember so i'm writing it down.

i beat that elf until his face was broken and blood was everywhere and i dont remember doing it but that doesnt change anything. thought he was dead because he wasnt moving but grinne said he wasnt. near enough and he would have been beacuse i left him on his back and the blood bleeds from the face and down the throat and you drown in it and its a slow awful fucking death he says

he says he has to remember how it makes me feel so i'm writing it down.

Mornherald gave me an orange.

I met him twice. Three times. First in Shattrath, watching(?) guarding(?) around Meros, who was there, looking very ill. But he has doctors, now it seems, and a whole gaggle of elves playing nursemaid, and so I won't worry. When I can get back to Silvermoon I'll send the books along. He probably doesn't even need them.

Ruepert scared the pants off of him I think. Mornherald. I really should sit him down and explain how you shouldn't act around Undead. I know he means well but...

How dare he. HOW DARE HE. How dare he spit in my face, laugh at my mourning, insist that I just 'snap out of it' and that he's sick of seeing it. I was FINE until he had to go and bring it up. He wouldn't HAVE to see it if he didn't hang about me, literally and physically, lurking about my home, worming in with my friends, my family, trying to win my SPOUSE'S affection.

Well, had another fight again.

It's all my fault.

I don't think it was as bad as most but

I'm starting to really feel something isn't right with me.

The shakes came back and he saw it. I thought I was going to die, and I should have gone somewhere more quiet where he wouldn't have looked.

I've been having nightmares again lately. Mostly ones about the closet. I keep having dreams about the old man locking me in there again and not letting me out. I keep waking up gasping for air and it gives Grinne a terrible scare every time. I don't tell him what it is; I just say they're bad dreams and leave it at that.

Scarlet blew fire today! One of the chickens snuck up behind her and pecked at her tail. I guess she spouted it out of surprise. Only the leg of the table caught and I was able to smother it out quick. Just a little blackened is all. And some flowers sprouted on it? Is that something red dragons do? Strange, that. I kept the blossoms that resulted; may dry them and see if they have any useful alchemic properties, given that they're apparently the results of dragonbreath and all. You never know.

Been busy I guess. Some of it is work and some of it was dumb adventures. And remembering stuff I didn't want to remember.

Work has been same old same old. Saw Natharai recently looking beat up because Fathead beat him up. Healed him and managed to track down Aleyna for him so he could get some drugs for a customer. (Why I don't do this is a mystery, guess they already have enough help?) Acuenthas wasn't at the cathedral by the way. I should beat him up later.

"When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in batallions."

Where had she heard that before? Tezzy frowned, trimming a bit of rough leather at her wrist with her eyetooth, paging through her literary memory. She had handed her last coins to the surly goblin with the letter, and she felt lighter for it.

He's sitting on his favorite bridge in Stormwind, legs dangling over the side, fishing. It's what he does, even though the fish are small here and don't bite often and he's as likely to catch debris as anything edible or sporting. It's a favorite habit, to sit here in his home city and just fish. It's a calming exercise. A meditation on patience. An activity that, given the sad stock in the canals, he never has to think very hard about -- and thus one during which he can simply let his mind wander without feeling guilty for doing it.

Nix'rael sits burrowed up in a pile of blankets, face and hands the only think visible in the mass of fabric. She sits pressed to the corner of her bed and a wall of the Inn room she has booked in The Legeremain. Balanced on her knees is a journal resting open faces with blank sheets. Resting closed at her hooves is another journal, this one is far grimier and well-worn. The woman idly strokes the velvety ears of a rabbit that has taken to draping himself about her neck as she chews on her quill and ponders where to begin.