FemmeVampyre
Member
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{Page View}
It’s always awful starting a new journal, isn’t it? Never knowing exactly where to start, whether you should reference what was written in the previous one directly with no context, trying to make sure that you don’t make any egregious spelling errors and litter the opening pages with ugly scrawled-out mistakes. Of course you could just tear out the page and start again but that always feels wrong, wasting perfectly good paper like that, not to mention the potential damage to the book’s binding and the ever-present knowledge in the back of your brain that it’s forever incomplete. Though perhaps I should cease overthinking and just write.
I have moved, finally, to 4 Outer Court. I cannot lie that part of me regrets this choice, such a significant change often takes a great deal of time to acclimatize to. But I feel it was ultimately the right thing to do, too many memories at my previous residence. It’s a nice enough place, though the stairs may take some getting used to. I just hope my neighbours are pleasant, they should be. Hopefully.
I still need to find another job. I've been considering putting up posters in an attempt to find work, might be easier for me to receive offers in the mail than to go out and try my luck in person, gives me more time to prepare for such a thing. I’m still not confident about the wording I should use, though. Much as I loathe alchemy I should at least advertise my skills in it, I think, but what do I say about everything else? I suppose it’s best to say I am a former doctor, though that title feels very professional. But should I start with that or start with my history as a mortician’s assistant? The two are somewhat intertwined after all.
I am overthinking things again, aren’t I?
Regardless, things are pleasant enough for the time being, and though the loss of everyone still weighs on my heart I am surprisingly optimistic about the future. I should go now, my soup is getting cold.
It’s always awful starting a new journal, isn’t it? Never knowing exactly where to start, whether you should reference what was written in the previous one directly with no context, trying to make sure that you don’t make any egregious spelling errors and litter the opening pages with ugly scrawled-out mistakes. Of course you could just tear out the page and start again but that always feels wrong, wasting perfectly good paper like that, not to mention the potential damage to the book’s binding and the ever-present knowledge in the back of your brain that it’s forever incomplete. Though perhaps I should cease overthinking and just write.
I have moved, finally, to 4 Outer Court. I cannot lie that part of me regrets this choice, such a significant change often takes a great deal of time to acclimatize to. But I feel it was ultimately the right thing to do, too many memories at my previous residence. It’s a nice enough place, though the stairs may take some getting used to. I just hope my neighbours are pleasant, they should be. Hopefully.
I still need to find another job. I've been considering putting up posters in an attempt to find work, might be easier for me to receive offers in the mail than to go out and try my luck in person, gives me more time to prepare for such a thing. I’m still not confident about the wording I should use, though. Much as I loathe alchemy I should at least advertise my skills in it, I think, but what do I say about everything else? I suppose it’s best to say I am a former doctor, though that title feels very professional. But should I start with that or start with my history as a mortician’s assistant? The two are somewhat intertwined after all.
I am overthinking things again, aren’t I?
Regardless, things are pleasant enough for the time being, and though the loss of everyone still weighs on my heart I am surprisingly optimistic about the future. I should go now, my soup is getting cold.
{Page View}
My attempts at finding a job through my posters has thus far been a complete and total failure but in hindsight that doesn’t surprise me. People don’t want to hire a stranger who puts up a piece of paper, especially not for this kind of job. They want to meet someone, get a read on what they’re like, if they’re suited to the job and, most crucially, that they can be trusted. For all they know the person who put up those posters is just trying to steal alchemical ingredients, or is trying to murder the patients to cannibalize their cadavers, or something or other. Regardless, I can understand the desire to meet candidates in person first and foremost. And, well, that’s troublesome.
I don’t think they’d take me for some murderous cannibal, at least I would hope not, but, well, there was a reason I worked better with the dead than the living. I’m far from personable, and people often find me weird or strange, at least that’s when they don’t see me as inherently vulnerable. I don’t know, maybe I am overthinking this, too. I’ve never had to find a job before, luck just always provided one.
Regardless, I am making attempts at being more sociable. I went out to a tavern today, The Traveler’s Rest, thankfully it was early enough that it was more or less isolated with the exception of the barkeeper, a pleasant shifter woman. We spoke a bit as I ate some surprisingly pleasant pie and drank some cranberry juice, a beverage she seems to have an intense distaste for. She’s also an Enkindled, and has been researching Ignition events. She seemed to think I would be able to become an Enkindled, too, but I said to her that I’m quite certain I would’ve ignited by now, considering how my life has been thus far. Besides, I’d need to be lucky in order to be an Enkindled, and luck doesn’t favour me.
She at least was able to give me some advice on my search for a job, apparently there’s a clinic in the slums run by a lady known as ‘Lady Hestia’ and that they might be able to make use of my skills. She also seemed to distastefully mention a recent charity drive which I found to be quite peculiar. She definitely didn’t seem the type who would oppose charity inherently, she allowed me to have my meal for free and even mentioned being homeless not too long ago. Maybe she views herself as someone who managed to work their way out of such a position and thinks others should do the same? Perhaps, but unlikely. Maybe she’s more bothered by the facetiousness of the noble houses asking the common people for contributions when they’ve enough Imperium Crowns to fill the harbour to its brim. I suppose I shouldn’t pry.
She also briefly misspoke and seemed flustered by it, she caught herself before she was able to finish the word, though. I didn’t pry into it, both because it’s not my business and, well, I know what makes people act like that, it was probably a sex thing. And if so I’m more than content without the details. Overall though the encounter was pleasant, she seemed nice. I unfortunately neglected to get her name, at least as far as I can recall. Maybe I am simply forgetting, it wouldn’t surprise me.
Speaking of surprises, I am moving. Again. Well, this isn’t a surprise for me but it’s probably a surprise for the imaginary audience of this text. My current residence is beautiful. I felt like I was swept up into a romantic fairytale by the vibrant colours and the flowers, it seemed like the perfect getaway for a couple deep in the throes of romance to embrace and enjoy each other’s presence in.
But, well, that’s not my life. That won’t ever be my life. And once I was pulled free of the fantasy and started living there it became a nightmare. The vibrant colours were harsh and oppressive. It felt like the sneering face of a boisterous jester mocking my bleak existence. The large and spacious couch was impossible to fill alone, an ever-present reminder of my social isolation and inability to find and keep people whom I care about. Every small noise echoed up into the tall ceiling, and the hearth. The hearth was the worst. Roaring with vile flames through the jagged teeth of metal bars adorning it like the visage of Death itself, a monument to my trauma, my loss, my failure. When extinguished it left the room cold and dark amplifying my despair and loneliness, and the teeth remained, a wide grin blackened with soot as if mocking my suffering.
Also there’s an awkward kink in the stairs and I keep banging my shin on it and it’s really getting quite irksome.
I have found a more suitable residence a few houses down, Outer Court 7. It’s a studio above a more spacious house, a smaller home much more suited to my needs and life. I can even maintain a flower garden at the window. It seems like it’ll be far better suited to my needs and lifestyle.
So for now, things are, well, average I suppose. But once this move is done I will desperately need to find a job, my resources are going to be stretched thin.
My attempts at finding a job through my posters has thus far been a complete and total failure but in hindsight that doesn’t surprise me. People don’t want to hire a stranger who puts up a piece of paper, especially not for this kind of job. They want to meet someone, get a read on what they’re like, if they’re suited to the job and, most crucially, that they can be trusted. For all they know the person who put up those posters is just trying to steal alchemical ingredients, or is trying to murder the patients to cannibalize their cadavers, or something or other. Regardless, I can understand the desire to meet candidates in person first and foremost. And, well, that’s troublesome.
I don’t think they’d take me for some murderous cannibal, at least I would hope not, but, well, there was a reason I worked better with the dead than the living. I’m far from personable, and people often find me weird or strange, at least that’s when they don’t see me as inherently vulnerable. I don’t know, maybe I am overthinking this, too. I’ve never had to find a job before, luck just always provided one.
Regardless, I am making attempts at being more sociable. I went out to a tavern today, The Traveler’s Rest, thankfully it was early enough that it was more or less isolated with the exception of the barkeeper, a pleasant shifter woman. We spoke a bit as I ate some surprisingly pleasant pie and drank some cranberry juice, a beverage she seems to have an intense distaste for. She’s also an Enkindled, and has been researching Ignition events. She seemed to think I would be able to become an Enkindled, too, but I said to her that I’m quite certain I would’ve ignited by now, considering how my life has been thus far. Besides, I’d need to be lucky in order to be an Enkindled, and luck doesn’t favour me.
She at least was able to give me some advice on my search for a job, apparently there’s a clinic in the slums run by a lady known as ‘Lady Hestia’ and that they might be able to make use of my skills. She also seemed to distastefully mention a recent charity drive which I found to be quite peculiar. She definitely didn’t seem the type who would oppose charity inherently, she allowed me to have my meal for free and even mentioned being homeless not too long ago. Maybe she views herself as someone who managed to work their way out of such a position and thinks others should do the same? Perhaps, but unlikely. Maybe she’s more bothered by the facetiousness of the noble houses asking the common people for contributions when they’ve enough Imperium Crowns to fill the harbour to its brim. I suppose I shouldn’t pry.
She also briefly misspoke and seemed flustered by it, she caught herself before she was able to finish the word, though. I didn’t pry into it, both because it’s not my business and, well, I know what makes people act like that, it was probably a sex thing. And if so I’m more than content without the details. Overall though the encounter was pleasant, she seemed nice. I unfortunately neglected to get her name, at least as far as I can recall. Maybe I am simply forgetting, it wouldn’t surprise me.
Speaking of surprises, I am moving. Again. Well, this isn’t a surprise for me but it’s probably a surprise for the imaginary audience of this text. My current residence is beautiful. I felt like I was swept up into a romantic fairytale by the vibrant colours and the flowers, it seemed like the perfect getaway for a couple deep in the throes of romance to embrace and enjoy each other’s presence in.
But, well, that’s not my life. That won’t ever be my life. And once I was pulled free of the fantasy and started living there it became a nightmare. The vibrant colours were harsh and oppressive. It felt like the sneering face of a boisterous jester mocking my bleak existence. The large and spacious couch was impossible to fill alone, an ever-present reminder of my social isolation and inability to find and keep people whom I care about. Every small noise echoed up into the tall ceiling, and the hearth. The hearth was the worst. Roaring with vile flames through the jagged teeth of metal bars adorning it like the visage of Death itself, a monument to my trauma, my loss, my failure. When extinguished it left the room cold and dark amplifying my despair and loneliness, and the teeth remained, a wide grin blackened with soot as if mocking my suffering.
Also there’s an awkward kink in the stairs and I keep banging my shin on it and it’s really getting quite irksome.
I have found a more suitable residence a few houses down, Outer Court 7. It’s a studio above a more spacious house, a smaller home much more suited to my needs and life. I can even maintain a flower garden at the window. It seems like it’ll be far better suited to my needs and lifestyle.
So for now, things are, well, average I suppose. But once this move is done I will desperately need to find a job, my resources are going to be stretched thin.
{Page View}
The strangest of things has happened.
I had a dream. Well, that part is admittedly not particularly strange, but this dream, it felt different.
I was at the chapel, not an uncommon thing for me but I wasn’t me. I was someone else. I was waiting for someone, a close friend, she needed to tell me something desperately, something about an illness in the slums, evidence of some kind.
This friend seemed to know someone, someone I, or the individual I embodied in the dream, was wary of. Perhaps a lover of some kind? Or an associate? Annoyingly it wasn’t clear and the only information I have about this enigmatic figure was that he was referred to as ‘him’ in this individual’s thoughts. Apparently this friend had recently gone missing, at least I think they had. The guard did nothing and said she had run away. I or the individual who I embodied in the dream knew this wasn’t true.
While walking back to the slums this individual took the long way through the farms which is where they heard screaming. Her screaming. They ran towards it as she shouted their name, “Daire”, and the individual I was embodying responded with a call of hers, “Saoirse”. They continued running before they fell and noticed her lifeless body. I do not wish to dwell further on the sight, the emotions I felt, though not my own, were very real. And far too reminiscent of my past. If I hope for nothing else in my life it’s that I will never need to cradle the body of a friend ever again.
Anyway, I digress. The dream continued, though it changed scenes as if it was a performance at a theatre. I was running through the alleys of the slums, a stinging pain in my side. I was injured, I was bleeding. I was being chased by someone, someone who spoke, they talked. They called me ‘little spark’, said that I had been warned, as had Saoirse. They said what they were doing was a mercy, that no one would believe me, no one would see me, even if they decided to let this go.
I yelled in response that I wouldn’t let them erase her. There was something in my hand, a note, or some other form of paper. I couldn’t let him have it. I saw a loose stone in front of me as I fell to the ground. They said that they never intended to erase her. I don’t think I understood. At least, I don’t recall understanding, it’s difficult to sort out my thoughts in the moment, though. Their hand clasped around my throat as they demanded the paper, I was defiant, and then the gri
I do not wish to dwell on this any further. But I felt a strong urge to investigate. Possibly this dream was nonsense, I knew that, but I still felt a strong urge to investigate.
Since awaking I have been plagued with a strange ailment, sneezes, though they were frightening to me for some reason. It’s different from my usual habits of being startled, it’s an intense, primal fear. At least, I think it is? Maybe I am overthinking this. Regardless, I set out to investigate in spite of my ailment.
I found myself in the slums investigating this potential illness. My initial prospects were misguided, I believe, but I discovered something in the clinic. I didn’t steal anything, of course, but I did search. I hope that’s okay. Regardless, I found an old document from about twenty years back about an old illness which spread through the slums, a “Fever Epidemic”. The symptoms included a cough, bloody nose, fever, and death. I suspect this is the illness mentioned, though I cannot definitely prove it.
I also saw something, or someone. An apparition, a young man with dark hair and green eyes which appeared to have streaks of blood running from them. He had a strange aura around him, though he seemed to notice my book and seemed relieved by it. I suspect this was the individual I was embodying in the dream, Daire. Though, again, I cannot prove this.
I next investigated the old chapel. I didn’t find anything there, but there was a deeply oppressing sensation emanating from the old building. I don’t know why, but I decided to speak to whatever was there. I told them that I would do my best to solve this, though I admitted I didn’t know if I could. The presence for lack of a better term eased after this, and the sensation was replaced with a peaceful one, though that may have just been my own interpersonal feelings.
This has obviously left me with many questions, and also many thoughts. A part of me is terrified I’m going to fail this, that these individuals will never find peace. But I will try to make sure that doesn’t happen, that I can do whatever I can to help them. I admit I never thought my ambition to help others would extend to those beyond the grave, at least not in such a literal sense. But, well, I will do my best. It’s the least I can do.
The strangest of things has happened.
I had a dream. Well, that part is admittedly not particularly strange, but this dream, it felt different.
I was at the chapel, not an uncommon thing for me but I wasn’t me. I was someone else. I was waiting for someone, a close friend, she needed to tell me something desperately, something about an illness in the slums, evidence of some kind.
This friend seemed to know someone, someone I, or the individual I embodied in the dream, was wary of. Perhaps a lover of some kind? Or an associate? Annoyingly it wasn’t clear and the only information I have about this enigmatic figure was that he was referred to as ‘him’ in this individual’s thoughts. Apparently this friend had recently gone missing, at least I think they had. The guard did nothing and said she had run away. I or the individual who I embodied in the dream knew this wasn’t true.
While walking back to the slums this individual took the long way through the farms which is where they heard screaming. Her screaming. They ran towards it as she shouted their name, “Daire”, and the individual I was embodying responded with a call of hers, “Saoirse”. They continued running before they fell and noticed her lifeless body. I do not wish to dwell further on the sight, the emotions I felt, though not my own, were very real. And far too reminiscent of my past. If I hope for nothing else in my life it’s that I will never need to cradle the body of a friend ever again.
Anyway, I digress. The dream continued, though it changed scenes as if it was a performance at a theatre. I was running through the alleys of the slums, a stinging pain in my side. I was injured, I was bleeding. I was being chased by someone, someone who spoke, they talked. They called me ‘little spark’, said that I had been warned, as had Saoirse. They said what they were doing was a mercy, that no one would believe me, no one would see me, even if they decided to let this go.
I yelled in response that I wouldn’t let them erase her. There was something in my hand, a note, or some other form of paper. I couldn’t let him have it. I saw a loose stone in front of me as I fell to the ground. They said that they never intended to erase her. I don’t think I understood. At least, I don’t recall understanding, it’s difficult to sort out my thoughts in the moment, though. Their hand clasped around my throat as they demanded the paper, I was defiant, and then the gri
I do not wish to dwell on this any further. But I felt a strong urge to investigate. Possibly this dream was nonsense, I knew that, but I still felt a strong urge to investigate.
Since awaking I have been plagued with a strange ailment, sneezes, though they were frightening to me for some reason. It’s different from my usual habits of being startled, it’s an intense, primal fear. At least, I think it is? Maybe I am overthinking this. Regardless, I set out to investigate in spite of my ailment.
I found myself in the slums investigating this potential illness. My initial prospects were misguided, I believe, but I discovered something in the clinic. I didn’t steal anything, of course, but I did search. I hope that’s okay. Regardless, I found an old document from about twenty years back about an old illness which spread through the slums, a “Fever Epidemic”. The symptoms included a cough, bloody nose, fever, and death. I suspect this is the illness mentioned, though I cannot definitely prove it.
I also saw something, or someone. An apparition, a young man with dark hair and green eyes which appeared to have streaks of blood running from them. He had a strange aura around him, though he seemed to notice my book and seemed relieved by it. I suspect this was the individual I was embodying in the dream, Daire. Though, again, I cannot prove this.
I next investigated the old chapel. I didn’t find anything there, but there was a deeply oppressing sensation emanating from the old building. I don’t know why, but I decided to speak to whatever was there. I told them that I would do my best to solve this, though I admitted I didn’t know if I could. The presence for lack of a better term eased after this, and the sensation was replaced with a peaceful one, though that may have just been my own interpersonal feelings.
This has obviously left me with many questions, and also many thoughts. A part of me is terrified I’m going to fail this, that these individuals will never find peace. But I will try to make sure that doesn’t happen, that I can do whatever I can to help them. I admit I never thought my ambition to help others would extend to those beyond the grave, at least not in such a literal sense. But, well, I will do my best. It’s the least I can do.
{Page View}
I need to rest.
It almost pains me more to admit it than it pains me to need it.
An illness has broken out in the slums, undoubtedly it’s linked to the dream I had. I tried investigating it some more but I had little luck, though I did meet a strange pair who assisted me a small bit. I admit I needed the help, my inability to help an ill man almost broke me. I managed to pull myself together afterwards, but my wits were dulled and my mind incapable of properly finding any solid leads once left to my own devices. I only recall the name of one of my accomplices, a man using the alias Blue, I think I overheard another name at some point but it escapes me.
He is a skilled medic though, I can tell that much.
He also spoke of these dreams, different from my own but linked, others have also spoken of them and seem to be off investigating themselves. It is because of this that I begrudgingly accept my limitations and acquiesce to my body’s need for rest. Other people more skilled than myself are working on it, I have faith and confidence that it will be resolved and Daire and Saoirse will finally be able to rest peacefully. I’ve no ambitions of glory or recognition, all I care about is that this is solved, I have no need to be the one who solves it.
Though this doesn’t make my limitations any less frustrating. Not out of a need to be seen as some kind of hero, but simply due to my inability to help others in a time of desperate need. Still, Avatine is right, I’m of no help if I do not allow my body to rest. Avatine is that bartender I mentioned previously, I finally was able to catch her name.
She’s been rather helpful, honestly, and I’ve found myself quickly growing fond of her. She’s an understanding and wise individual, and I find her detestation towards the state of the slums and the care for its people to be admirable.
Speaking of, I had the ill-pleasure of meeting a noble yesterday, a girl by the name of Eira, little more than a child. Surprisingly she was a shifter, but I was informed by Avatine that she was adopted by nobles, which makes more sense. It seems she took well to her new social standing, she openly spoke of how she viewed the residents of the slums as undesirable, little more than animals. Avatine was having none of that and promptly kicked her out of the tavern, a choice I was quite grateful for. I find myself rarely getting angry at others but the way she spoke was so hostile and dismissive of the downtrodden and poor that, I admit, rage did briefly enter my heart and mind.
She’s still young, though, maybe she can be taught differently. Though likely not if she continues being influenced by her family. Still, I like to think that there’s hope for most people.
I soon after learned of something troubling regarding the clinic in the slums, the one I am hoping to find a job at. Avatine told me of a charity drive held by Hestia, the lady who runs the clinic, and it was troubling, to say the least. She, in Avatine’s words, “voluntold” a handful of people to give themselves up for auction, promising that it would just be for a dance. When the auction came, however, they were being auctioned off for a “date of the buyer’s choosing”, which is troubling. To make matters worse two of the “participants” were Shifters, something which was of particular disgust to Avatine, a reaction that I sympathise and agree with. I suppose I discovered why she spoke of the charity event for the clinic with such distaste, now.
This has me conflicted. Avatine seems to believe to an extent that Hestia wasn’t being malicious with this, that she somehow got caught up in the theatrics of the event and made an error in her judgment, this seemingly being something in-character for her. It’s possible, I don’t know the woman myself, but I find myself unsettled by this. Quite frankly, I’m not sure I want to work for someone who deceived people in that way, I consider such flippant dishonesty to be at odds with the clinic’s goals of helping others. I spoke of my feelings with Avatine but I’m still not confident on what I should do, although she advised I still take the job.
Can I feel comfortable working with someone like that? Do I have much of a choice? I suppose I could attempt to find a job at the Hospital in the city but that’s not only well-staffed but is far from the slums and, therefore, far from those who need the help the most. I could attempt to open my own practice but, no, I’ve not the funds, skills, nor resources for such a thing. I could try to find another job, of course, but, well, I want to help people as much as I am capable, and the clinic in the slums seems to be the best option for that.
Of course I also need to consider what Hestia’s motivations may have been. Even if intentionally deceptive there are reasons she could have made the choice she made, such as her being privileged and not understanding the substantial difference between a public dance and a private date, or even her believing that the violation of these people’s consent and trust was worth it for the greater good of getting funds for the clinic. I vehemently disagree with this, of course, but people rarely act out of pure malice, they have their reasons and justifications for their actions even if they act egregiously.
Of course, even considering all of this, I can’t change the past. Should I choose to not work under Hestia, that doesn’t erase her deception. Choosing not to take a job where I have a real opportunity to help others due to my own moral gripes with Hestia’s actions is a selfish choice.
When looking at it in such a way it would seem my choice is far more binary than it initially seemed. I can either do good. Or I can do nothing.
I suppose that settles it, then.
I need to rest.
It almost pains me more to admit it than it pains me to need it.
An illness has broken out in the slums, undoubtedly it’s linked to the dream I had. I tried investigating it some more but I had little luck, though I did meet a strange pair who assisted me a small bit. I admit I needed the help, my inability to help an ill man almost broke me. I managed to pull myself together afterwards, but my wits were dulled and my mind incapable of properly finding any solid leads once left to my own devices. I only recall the name of one of my accomplices, a man using the alias Blue, I think I overheard another name at some point but it escapes me.
He is a skilled medic though, I can tell that much.
He also spoke of these dreams, different from my own but linked, others have also spoken of them and seem to be off investigating themselves. It is because of this that I begrudgingly accept my limitations and acquiesce to my body’s need for rest. Other people more skilled than myself are working on it, I have faith and confidence that it will be resolved and Daire and Saoirse will finally be able to rest peacefully. I’ve no ambitions of glory or recognition, all I care about is that this is solved, I have no need to be the one who solves it.
Though this doesn’t make my limitations any less frustrating. Not out of a need to be seen as some kind of hero, but simply due to my inability to help others in a time of desperate need. Still, Avatine is right, I’m of no help if I do not allow my body to rest. Avatine is that bartender I mentioned previously, I finally was able to catch her name.
She’s been rather helpful, honestly, and I’ve found myself quickly growing fond of her. She’s an understanding and wise individual, and I find her detestation towards the state of the slums and the care for its people to be admirable.
Speaking of, I had the ill-pleasure of meeting a noble yesterday, a girl by the name of Eira, little more than a child. Surprisingly she was a shifter, but I was informed by Avatine that she was adopted by nobles, which makes more sense. It seems she took well to her new social standing, she openly spoke of how she viewed the residents of the slums as undesirable, little more than animals. Avatine was having none of that and promptly kicked her out of the tavern, a choice I was quite grateful for. I find myself rarely getting angry at others but the way she spoke was so hostile and dismissive of the downtrodden and poor that, I admit, rage did briefly enter my heart and mind.
She’s still young, though, maybe she can be taught differently. Though likely not if she continues being influenced by her family. Still, I like to think that there’s hope for most people.
I soon after learned of something troubling regarding the clinic in the slums, the one I am hoping to find a job at. Avatine told me of a charity drive held by Hestia, the lady who runs the clinic, and it was troubling, to say the least. She, in Avatine’s words, “voluntold” a handful of people to give themselves up for auction, promising that it would just be for a dance. When the auction came, however, they were being auctioned off for a “date of the buyer’s choosing”, which is troubling. To make matters worse two of the “participants” were Shifters, something which was of particular disgust to Avatine, a reaction that I sympathise and agree with. I suppose I discovered why she spoke of the charity event for the clinic with such distaste, now.
This has me conflicted. Avatine seems to believe to an extent that Hestia wasn’t being malicious with this, that she somehow got caught up in the theatrics of the event and made an error in her judgment, this seemingly being something in-character for her. It’s possible, I don’t know the woman myself, but I find myself unsettled by this. Quite frankly, I’m not sure I want to work for someone who deceived people in that way, I consider such flippant dishonesty to be at odds with the clinic’s goals of helping others. I spoke of my feelings with Avatine but I’m still not confident on what I should do, although she advised I still take the job.
Can I feel comfortable working with someone like that? Do I have much of a choice? I suppose I could attempt to find a job at the Hospital in the city but that’s not only well-staffed but is far from the slums and, therefore, far from those who need the help the most. I could attempt to open my own practice but, no, I’ve not the funds, skills, nor resources for such a thing. I could try to find another job, of course, but, well, I want to help people as much as I am capable, and the clinic in the slums seems to be the best option for that.
Of course I also need to consider what Hestia’s motivations may have been. Even if intentionally deceptive there are reasons she could have made the choice she made, such as her being privileged and not understanding the substantial difference between a public dance and a private date, or even her believing that the violation of these people’s consent and trust was worth it for the greater good of getting funds for the clinic. I vehemently disagree with this, of course, but people rarely act out of pure malice, they have their reasons and justifications for their actions even if they act egregiously.
Of course, even considering all of this, I can’t change the past. Should I choose to not work under Hestia, that doesn’t erase her deception. Choosing not to take a job where I have a real opportunity to help others due to my own moral gripes with Hestia’s actions is a selfish choice.
When looking at it in such a way it would seem my choice is far more binary than it initially seemed. I can either do good. Or I can do nothing.
I suppose that settles it, then.
[!] This Entry contains discussion of self harm and suicide, please view with caution <3 [!]
{Page View}
“Do you want to die, Altis?”
The question refuses to leave my mind.
I suppose I should provide some context.
A few days ago I was involved with what was supposed to be another investigation into the recent outbreak of illness. Despite originally planning to investigate the water we somehow ended up at the chapel again where we met Daire once more.
Things went poorly despite my attempts to keep Daire calm, the rest of my group seemed unsure of how to handle the situation and as a result Daire became very angry. Of course I can’t blame him for this, I suspect it is his endless rage at the injustice of what happened twenty years ago which gives him the strength he possesses as a spirit. But, regardless of this, things went poorly. Daire also told me he was tired of me making empty promises that I would help him. That… hurt.
A woman approached a group, someone by the name of Aeliana, she was also friendly towards Daire, she was able to calm him down by offering a hug. It worked, which was good, but seeing that. I don’t know. Something inside me sort of. Broke. For lack of a better word.
It wasn’t the hug that bothered me in and of itself, in fact I am glad that the hug happened and Daire was able to find some comfort from it. But in that moment it was a painful reminder of what I am.
I want to help others, I want to bring them peace and comfort, but how can I do that when I can’t even connect with others in the most basic of mortal ways? I can’t hug others, I can’t hold their hand comfortingly, I can’t even make basic eye contact. I’ve worked with and cut open rotting corpses without a second of hesitation and yet I can’t even touch another living being. What kind of freak am I?
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t like to think about it, but I am different. Painfully different. I don’t know if this is some curse or if it’s a malady of my mind. I don’t know. And that makes it worse.
Apologies, I seem to be digressing. We each went our separate ways not long after that, it was late by the time I returned to my apartment and attempts to keep my composure fell apart as they often tend to. I briefly lost control and wound up hurting myself, nothing concerning or anything, just bit my hands a small bit, a few minor lacerations and contusions formed, again, nothing concerning, but they were visible. Normally I’d have treated and covered my wounds, I don’t know why I didn’t, I think I may have felt like I didn’t deserve the medical supplies being used on me instead of someone else who would need them but, honestly, that’s just speculation. I do not recall the details of my thought process at that point.
Time passed, I don’t recall how much, a day? Two days? Something roughly around that estimate or so. I found myself in a flower shop owned by Aeliana, I don’t recall why I was there, I think I was trying to find something pretty which would make me feel less… bleak.
Another woman was there, Veronica, I believe. She was also present during the aforementioned botched investigation which her brash mannerisms certainly did not help. She noticed the wounds on my hands and began questioning me about them and I tried to dismiss her concerns, I claimed I had cut myself on a broken drinking glass if I recall correctly, in hindsight this was an unconvincing lie given the wounds I possessed but I was not expecting to be questioned on it.
She obviously caught onto this and identified my wounds as bite marks. She began asking who caused them, even blaming Daire, I don’t recall the specific details of what happened but I attempted to leave the store but Veronica cast some form of spell on me preventing that. The questions continued until I… broke, for lack of a better term.
I admitted I caused them, I believe I yelled if I recall correctly, not intentionally it just sort of… happened. She then asked the question I started this entry with, if I wanted to die.
The bluntness of it shocked me, but it was perhaps due to this shock I was able to gather my thoughts enough to answer.
I believe I answered truthfully, that I did not. I mentioned it to her and I will mention it here. I've seen plenty of death, I know there’s no comfort in it, and had I wished to accomplish it I believe I have enough anatomical knowledge to do so successfully. But even then, the body can be incredibly resilient, and I suppose the risk of doing irreparable harm and crippling myself is another contributing factor in my lack of a desire for death.
Of course, there is an appeal in the idea of death, or at the very least the cessation of one’s suffering. But even if I had a way to undeniably succeed in taking my life and I wasn’t deterred from the grim realities of death I’ve seen, I don’t believe this is a valid reason to attempt such a thing. I’m far from a spiritualist, but there’s plenty of stories of spirits becoming restless due to the pain they bore in life, and my only real spiritual experience, that being Daire, only corroborates this. Obviously this nullifies any notion of a peaceful rest to escape the burdens of life, in fact it would likely prolong my suffering indefinitely. Obviously this does not solve any of my issues.
I suppose the only way to avoid that is to keep living and hope my life ends up improving somewhat.
And then I can end my life.
Dark joke, apologies.
Still, there is perhaps a part of me deep down that does wish for death, but it is kept deep within and contained by the aforementioned realities of the situation. Perhaps I hurt myself as a way to release pressure from this to keep it from boiling over, so to speak. I don’t honestly know, I don’t like to think about such things.
Regardless, for now I am resting now after my outburst at the flower shop, a few days, maybe a week? I will see how I feel. Evidently I am pushing too hard again. I still need to figure out what to do for a job. I got a role at the clinic under Lady Hestia but I am afraid it’s only a volunteer position. In fairness I was offered pay, but the idea of taking money which could otherwise be used to save a patient’s life, well, I don’t feel comfortable with it.
I’ve time. Just not an abundance of it. My savings should at least last until the end of Autumn if I am careful.
{Page View}
“Do you want to die, Altis?”
The question refuses to leave my mind.
I suppose I should provide some context.
A few days ago I was involved with what was supposed to be another investigation into the recent outbreak of illness. Despite originally planning to investigate the water we somehow ended up at the chapel again where we met Daire once more.
Things went poorly despite my attempts to keep Daire calm, the rest of my group seemed unsure of how to handle the situation and as a result Daire became very angry. Of course I can’t blame him for this, I suspect it is his endless rage at the injustice of what happened twenty years ago which gives him the strength he possesses as a spirit. But, regardless of this, things went poorly. Daire also told me he was tired of me making empty promises that I would help him. That… hurt.
A woman approached a group, someone by the name of Aeliana, she was also friendly towards Daire, she was able to calm him down by offering a hug. It worked, which was good, but seeing that. I don’t know. Something inside me sort of. Broke. For lack of a better word.
It wasn’t the hug that bothered me in and of itself, in fact I am glad that the hug happened and Daire was able to find some comfort from it. But in that moment it was a painful reminder of what I am.
I want to help others, I want to bring them peace and comfort, but how can I do that when I can’t even connect with others in the most basic of mortal ways? I can’t hug others, I can’t hold their hand comfortingly, I can’t even make basic eye contact. I’ve worked with and cut open rotting corpses without a second of hesitation and yet I can’t even touch another living being. What kind of freak am I?
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t like to think about it, but I am different. Painfully different. I don’t know if this is some curse or if it’s a malady of my mind. I don’t know. And that makes it worse.
Apologies, I seem to be digressing. We each went our separate ways not long after that, it was late by the time I returned to my apartment and attempts to keep my composure fell apart as they often tend to. I briefly lost control and wound up hurting myself, nothing concerning or anything, just bit my hands a small bit, a few minor lacerations and contusions formed, again, nothing concerning, but they were visible. Normally I’d have treated and covered my wounds, I don’t know why I didn’t, I think I may have felt like I didn’t deserve the medical supplies being used on me instead of someone else who would need them but, honestly, that’s just speculation. I do not recall the details of my thought process at that point.
Time passed, I don’t recall how much, a day? Two days? Something roughly around that estimate or so. I found myself in a flower shop owned by Aeliana, I don’t recall why I was there, I think I was trying to find something pretty which would make me feel less… bleak.
Another woman was there, Veronica, I believe. She was also present during the aforementioned botched investigation which her brash mannerisms certainly did not help. She noticed the wounds on my hands and began questioning me about them and I tried to dismiss her concerns, I claimed I had cut myself on a broken drinking glass if I recall correctly, in hindsight this was an unconvincing lie given the wounds I possessed but I was not expecting to be questioned on it.
She obviously caught onto this and identified my wounds as bite marks. She began asking who caused them, even blaming Daire, I don’t recall the specific details of what happened but I attempted to leave the store but Veronica cast some form of spell on me preventing that. The questions continued until I… broke, for lack of a better term.
I admitted I caused them, I believe I yelled if I recall correctly, not intentionally it just sort of… happened. She then asked the question I started this entry with, if I wanted to die.
The bluntness of it shocked me, but it was perhaps due to this shock I was able to gather my thoughts enough to answer.
I believe I answered truthfully, that I did not. I mentioned it to her and I will mention it here. I've seen plenty of death, I know there’s no comfort in it, and had I wished to accomplish it I believe I have enough anatomical knowledge to do so successfully. But even then, the body can be incredibly resilient, and I suppose the risk of doing irreparable harm and crippling myself is another contributing factor in my lack of a desire for death.
Of course, there is an appeal in the idea of death, or at the very least the cessation of one’s suffering. But even if I had a way to undeniably succeed in taking my life and I wasn’t deterred from the grim realities of death I’ve seen, I don’t believe this is a valid reason to attempt such a thing. I’m far from a spiritualist, but there’s plenty of stories of spirits becoming restless due to the pain they bore in life, and my only real spiritual experience, that being Daire, only corroborates this. Obviously this nullifies any notion of a peaceful rest to escape the burdens of life, in fact it would likely prolong my suffering indefinitely. Obviously this does not solve any of my issues.
I suppose the only way to avoid that is to keep living and hope my life ends up improving somewhat.
And then I can end my life.
Dark joke, apologies.
Still, there is perhaps a part of me deep down that does wish for death, but it is kept deep within and contained by the aforementioned realities of the situation. Perhaps I hurt myself as a way to release pressure from this to keep it from boiling over, so to speak. I don’t honestly know, I don’t like to think about such things.
Regardless, for now I am resting now after my outburst at the flower shop, a few days, maybe a week? I will see how I feel. Evidently I am pushing too hard again. I still need to figure out what to do for a job. I got a role at the clinic under Lady Hestia but I am afraid it’s only a volunteer position. In fairness I was offered pay, but the idea of taking money which could otherwise be used to save a patient’s life, well, I don’t feel comfortable with it.
I’ve time. Just not an abundance of it. My savings should at least last until the end of Autumn if I am careful.
{Page View}
Much has happened, and I’ve found little time to write.
I’ve been busy working, aiding the community of the slums. I’ve managed to secure payment for my position at the clinic, it’s not much but enough to survive off of without the need to forage in the wilds for food. I didn’t want to take the money still, in honesty, but Avatine managed to convince me that if I were to be paid for my work at the clinic that it would allow me to devote more of my time to said work and allow me to help more people, so I decided to take the offered pay.
As for the recent investigations into the poisoning of the slums, I’ve made no progress since my last entry. The guard seems to be keeping a tight lid on their investigations and I’m afraid I’ve not the prestige nor social skills to secure myself a role in said investigation. And so I’ve decided to focus on treating those I can within the slums.
Though if an opportunity arises to become a part of said investigation again I intend to take it, I still intend on keeping my promise to Daire, as much as I am able.
Unfortunately, however, attempts to do my best to remedy this whole situation has me caught up between two different ideologies about how to go about manufacturing the antidote, and neither I feel I wholly agree or disagree with. I managed to get the recipe from Aeliana and I gave it to Hestia, but the ingredients have remained elusive to the best of my knowledge, Aeliana was intending on searching for them last we spoke, though, so it’s possible she has found them and is working on the cure.
I have also met another woman by the name of Ryn, she seems to be a figure of decent influence in the slums, and she’s a strong connection to it’s people. I first met her when helping her find her lost cat Mite, something that took a great deal of effort on my part, but it was worth it to be able to help.
She and I were speaking about the current state of affairs with the clinic. She had attended a recent charity event, a ball, I chose not to attend in spite of my fantastical adoration for such things, the reality of the crowds and noise would be unpleasant, to say the least. We agreed it was rather… patronizing, I suppose would be the word to use, that such an extravagant event was hosted in order to ask others for donations, Ryn estimated the cost of the whole event could’ve kept the people of the slums warm for months, and I agree with her on that.
She then proceeded to claim that Aeliana was making the cure herself, that she was keeping the cure to herself in order to gain both glory and wealth from it. The claim surprised me, and while I remained conflicted about the truthfulness of her claims I decided to share my copy of the ingredients with Ryn, I then left to rest and process my thoughts, and I realized I would gain the most from asking Aeliana about it directly.
And so I went to her store to discuss it with her. As I assumed, and honestly had hoped, Ryn had misunderstood her intentions. She thought it better to keep the recipe secret so as to not cause panic among the populace that they were being poisoned, that Daire was killed to keep it a secret and thus sharing it was dangerous. I disagreed with this, but she wasn’t receptive to it. I hadn’t noticed until then that she had been injured and had many bruises over her arms and torso. I asked about what happened, though she wouldn’t tell me, which I understood.
I hope she doesn’t take my disagreement of her method of action as personal, it’s not. Someone, I presume Ryn, put up posters around the slums detailing the recipe to the antidote, but they do have rather radical wording which I wouldn’t say I agree with either. I can understand the approach of both Ryn and Aeliana here, two people with the best intentions each believing their way is the best, it’s a tale as old as time itself really. But it’s never less unfortunate to see.
In truth. I find myself agreeing with Ryn more than Aeliana on this topic. Ryn cares deeply for her community, I can see that, and while I feel Aeliana’s the same I can’t help but feel she, like most, are disconnected from the struggles those in the slums face. Ryn might be brash and radical, yes, but I cannot help but take umbrage with the ideas Aeliana expressed.
She wishes to avoid the “chaos” which could give those behind this poisoning the power to harm more people while also believing that it’s best to keep the antidote a secret as to prevent them causing more deaths in an attempt to hide it. I can understand this, but I must ask what the state of affairs was before the antidote was published. Was she under the idea it was calm? That everyone felt fine with this course of events because, what, it was supposedly natural? That knowing someone intentionally did this would cause more panic than the path of death and misery this poisoning has already left within the community?
I’m sure it is in part due to her close proximity to the guard and its captain, but Aeliana is seemingly under the impression that the people of the slums ought to be incapable of trusting what they hear, what they see, and what they feel. So long as no one openly shares with them the details of the investigation or progress on the cure they all will just go about life as usual, they’ll ignore the echoes of coughing through the streets, the weeping mothers cradling their dead children, the empty pit in their hearts as they watch the ones they love being lowered into the ground. Because sure, they’re good little pawns for the city, they’ll go about things without a second thought if they’re not told about it because they’re not capable of even having a second thought, right? No, this is what they might believe but it is not the truth, the people of the Slums and Sanctuary as a whole are already scared and vulnerable, giving them hope and letting them know of an antidote will only serve to reduce the chaos which exists to be exploited by those responsible for all of this.
And this idea that the antidote should be a closely held secret because the last ones who discovered it were killed before they could release it, should everyone who learns of its details be watching their backs at all times expecting someone to be trying to plant a knife in them? No, of course not, the only way to certainly avoid such a fate is to not kill those who know the secret, but the secret itself! It should be shouted from the rooftops, written about in poems and sonnets, carved into stone! Only then will the threat against the people be quelled!
Forgive me, I seemingly got lost in passion for a moment there. Perhaps I’ve more of a radical streak than I’d like to admit, maybe Mikael rubbed off on me more than I realise. Regardless, in spite of my beliefs I do not condemn Aeliana for hers. She’s trying to do the right thing the best way she believes to do so. As is Ryn. As am I.
Perhaps I have made an error in my judgement, it would not be the first time, but I believe my actions will bring about positive change. If nothing else we as a united community should be pooling our resources together to solve this, regardless of how the guard would rather conduct things.
Much has happened, and I’ve found little time to write.
I’ve been busy working, aiding the community of the slums. I’ve managed to secure payment for my position at the clinic, it’s not much but enough to survive off of without the need to forage in the wilds for food. I didn’t want to take the money still, in honesty, but Avatine managed to convince me that if I were to be paid for my work at the clinic that it would allow me to devote more of my time to said work and allow me to help more people, so I decided to take the offered pay.
As for the recent investigations into the poisoning of the slums, I’ve made no progress since my last entry. The guard seems to be keeping a tight lid on their investigations and I’m afraid I’ve not the prestige nor social skills to secure myself a role in said investigation. And so I’ve decided to focus on treating those I can within the slums.
Though if an opportunity arises to become a part of said investigation again I intend to take it, I still intend on keeping my promise to Daire, as much as I am able.
Unfortunately, however, attempts to do my best to remedy this whole situation has me caught up between two different ideologies about how to go about manufacturing the antidote, and neither I feel I wholly agree or disagree with. I managed to get the recipe from Aeliana and I gave it to Hestia, but the ingredients have remained elusive to the best of my knowledge, Aeliana was intending on searching for them last we spoke, though, so it’s possible she has found them and is working on the cure.
I have also met another woman by the name of Ryn, she seems to be a figure of decent influence in the slums, and she’s a strong connection to it’s people. I first met her when helping her find her lost cat Mite, something that took a great deal of effort on my part, but it was worth it to be able to help.
She and I were speaking about the current state of affairs with the clinic. She had attended a recent charity event, a ball, I chose not to attend in spite of my fantastical adoration for such things, the reality of the crowds and noise would be unpleasant, to say the least. We agreed it was rather… patronizing, I suppose would be the word to use, that such an extravagant event was hosted in order to ask others for donations, Ryn estimated the cost of the whole event could’ve kept the people of the slums warm for months, and I agree with her on that.
She then proceeded to claim that Aeliana was making the cure herself, that she was keeping the cure to herself in order to gain both glory and wealth from it. The claim surprised me, and while I remained conflicted about the truthfulness of her claims I decided to share my copy of the ingredients with Ryn, I then left to rest and process my thoughts, and I realized I would gain the most from asking Aeliana about it directly.
And so I went to her store to discuss it with her. As I assumed, and honestly had hoped, Ryn had misunderstood her intentions. She thought it better to keep the recipe secret so as to not cause panic among the populace that they were being poisoned, that Daire was killed to keep it a secret and thus sharing it was dangerous. I disagreed with this, but she wasn’t receptive to it. I hadn’t noticed until then that she had been injured and had many bruises over her arms and torso. I asked about what happened, though she wouldn’t tell me, which I understood.
I hope she doesn’t take my disagreement of her method of action as personal, it’s not. Someone, I presume Ryn, put up posters around the slums detailing the recipe to the antidote, but they do have rather radical wording which I wouldn’t say I agree with either. I can understand the approach of both Ryn and Aeliana here, two people with the best intentions each believing their way is the best, it’s a tale as old as time itself really. But it’s never less unfortunate to see.
In truth. I find myself agreeing with Ryn more than Aeliana on this topic. Ryn cares deeply for her community, I can see that, and while I feel Aeliana’s the same I can’t help but feel she, like most, are disconnected from the struggles those in the slums face. Ryn might be brash and radical, yes, but I cannot help but take umbrage with the ideas Aeliana expressed.
She wishes to avoid the “chaos” which could give those behind this poisoning the power to harm more people while also believing that it’s best to keep the antidote a secret as to prevent them causing more deaths in an attempt to hide it. I can understand this, but I must ask what the state of affairs was before the antidote was published. Was she under the idea it was calm? That everyone felt fine with this course of events because, what, it was supposedly natural? That knowing someone intentionally did this would cause more panic than the path of death and misery this poisoning has already left within the community?
I’m sure it is in part due to her close proximity to the guard and its captain, but Aeliana is seemingly under the impression that the people of the slums ought to be incapable of trusting what they hear, what they see, and what they feel. So long as no one openly shares with them the details of the investigation or progress on the cure they all will just go about life as usual, they’ll ignore the echoes of coughing through the streets, the weeping mothers cradling their dead children, the empty pit in their hearts as they watch the ones they love being lowered into the ground. Because sure, they’re good little pawns for the city, they’ll go about things without a second thought if they’re not told about it because they’re not capable of even having a second thought, right? No, this is what they might believe but it is not the truth, the people of the Slums and Sanctuary as a whole are already scared and vulnerable, giving them hope and letting them know of an antidote will only serve to reduce the chaos which exists to be exploited by those responsible for all of this.
And this idea that the antidote should be a closely held secret because the last ones who discovered it were killed before they could release it, should everyone who learns of its details be watching their backs at all times expecting someone to be trying to plant a knife in them? No, of course not, the only way to certainly avoid such a fate is to not kill those who know the secret, but the secret itself! It should be shouted from the rooftops, written about in poems and sonnets, carved into stone! Only then will the threat against the people be quelled!
Forgive me, I seemingly got lost in passion for a moment there. Perhaps I’ve more of a radical streak than I’d like to admit, maybe Mikael rubbed off on me more than I realise. Regardless, in spite of my beliefs I do not condemn Aeliana for hers. She’s trying to do the right thing the best way she believes to do so. As is Ryn. As am I.
Perhaps I have made an error in my judgement, it would not be the first time, but I believe my actions will bring about positive change. If nothing else we as a united community should be pooling our resources together to solve this, regardless of how the guard would rather conduct things.
The people of Sanctuary are, for the time being, safe once more.
Aeliana has distributed the antidote to the poisoning to those affected, and the operation itself has been, at the very least, permanently damaged and temporarily disrupted.
Daire’s gotten his justice, as bloody as it may be. He’s, well, happy would be an understatement. I can understand that, even if I might not share his jubilance. I take no joy or comfort in death, but I can find solace in the fact that the people are once again safe.
But he was not alone, his accomplice got away, and there’s likely more of them. They seem to identify each other with a crescent moon tattoo, something I was thankfully able to discern despite the local guard’s needless mutilation of the corpse.
They will recuperate, and they will strike again. We must remain prepared for such a thing.
But, for now, things are once again calm. There’s discussion about bringing Daire back to life, I would very much like to see such a thing happen, I feel he deserves it. I also feel he will be invaluable when this group does strike again, and his current existence as a calm spirit is seemingly less powerful, I fear he will eventually fade to the afterlife without the rage of the injustice he and Saoirse faced fuelling him.
I’ve sent a letter to Icarus, a faithful of the Executioner , about it. I hope he will see reason in my arguments.
As for me, I’ve been spending the last handful of days moving once again. Residing in the slums will allow me to dedicate more of my time and energy to my work, even if the housing is somewhat cluttered.
And has a little bit of corpse juice seeped into the floor.
Regardless, I do hope to repay Ryn for securing me these lodgings. Maybe I can make a treatment for Mite’s fleas?
Oh, also, I met a man in the slums, a big man, by the name of Rune. I must remember to speak with them some more.
Aeliana has distributed the antidote to the poisoning to those affected, and the operation itself has been, at the very least, permanently damaged and temporarily disrupted.
Daire’s gotten his justice, as bloody as it may be. He’s, well, happy would be an understatement. I can understand that, even if I might not share his jubilance. I take no joy or comfort in death, but I can find solace in the fact that the people are once again safe.
But he was not alone, his accomplice got away, and there’s likely more of them. They seem to identify each other with a crescent moon tattoo, something I was thankfully able to discern despite the local guard’s needless mutilation of the corpse.
They will recuperate, and they will strike again. We must remain prepared for such a thing.
But, for now, things are once again calm. There’s discussion about bringing Daire back to life, I would very much like to see such a thing happen, I feel he deserves it. I also feel he will be invaluable when this group does strike again, and his current existence as a calm spirit is seemingly less powerful, I fear he will eventually fade to the afterlife without the rage of the injustice he and Saoirse faced fuelling him.
I’ve sent a letter to Icarus, a faithful of the Executioner , about it. I hope he will see reason in my arguments.
As for me, I’ve been spending the last handful of days moving once again. Residing in the slums will allow me to dedicate more of my time and energy to my work, even if the housing is somewhat cluttered.
And has a little bit of corpse juice seeped into the floor.
Regardless, I do hope to repay Ryn for securing me these lodgings. Maybe I can make a treatment for Mite’s fleas?
Oh, also, I met a man in the slums, a big man, by the name of Rune. I must remember to speak with them some more.
It has been some time since I have written, I have been struggling as of late, and motivation to write has been elusive. In truth I’ve accomplished little at all over the past week or so, I’ve opted to instead spend my time in isolation, mostly at home. I’ve been attempting to continue my work at the clinic at least, but that mostly includes patrols to ensure that no one seems to need help in the community. As for actual interactions with others, I’ve intentionally been keeping them minimal.
I struggle to explain the reason for this adequately, though I already know what it is. A week or so ago, perhaps slightly longer, I went to the tavern in search of Avatine to discuss recent events but instead I found Aeliana and a pair of twins who I had not yet met. The details of the conversation are admittedly lost on me now, but… well, I made a mistake.
The context eludes me but I mentioned having recently moved into a new residence which, unfortunately, happens to have a stain from where the previous occupant had passed away and went, well, some time before being discovered. Again I don’t know why I brought it up, but I did, and it seemed to deeply upset the twins. Of course it did, I mean, why would a random stranger suddenly appearing mid-conversation and going on to discuss stains from a rotting corpse not upset someone? I’d like to say I didn’t know any better, but I do, clearly I do, I don’t know why I said it.
To make matters worse I attempted to comfort them by sharing my perspective on mortality and how it’s inevitable and we eventually rot into nothing as we feed our bodies back to nature, obviously that went about as well as could be predicted. Again, I wish I could say I didn’t know any better but I do. I not only created the issue but I proceeded to make it worse, not only upsetting but clearly hurting these two people.
I… reacted poorly to this, largely shutting myself in and isolating myself from others. Besides a brief interaction with Veronica which went about as well as could be expected with her, I didn't talk to anyone for what must have been a week. Eventually I wished to spend some more time at the old chapel but I admittedly was fearful of another unpleasant interaction, so I employed some assistance.
Briefly before all of this I met someone new, a shifter by the name of Rune. He’s big. Like, physically big. Tall. Strong. And whatnot. I digress, I met him while doing my rounds around the slums, which I believe I wrote about in my last entry, and he offered to assist me if I ever needed it and, well, I needed it.
Surprisingly enough I felt better after spending time with him despite my initial intentions being to spend time alone in silence. Something about him is calming, I suppose. Perhaps it’s his height, or his canine fangs, or his muscles. If needed he could effortlessly sling me over his shoulder like a bag of grain and ferry me away.
To safety, of course.
Regardless, talking to him was helpful, I think, and made me feel more grounded. I still feel guilt over what happened with those twins, but I no longer feel the need to isolate because of it. Perhaps at some point I will be able to apologise, I intend to, but as for right now it might be best to give it some time.
I will continue my work at the clinic in the meantime, and continue practicing alchemy again.
As much as I loathe to do so.
I struggle to explain the reason for this adequately, though I already know what it is. A week or so ago, perhaps slightly longer, I went to the tavern in search of Avatine to discuss recent events but instead I found Aeliana and a pair of twins who I had not yet met. The details of the conversation are admittedly lost on me now, but… well, I made a mistake.
The context eludes me but I mentioned having recently moved into a new residence which, unfortunately, happens to have a stain from where the previous occupant had passed away and went, well, some time before being discovered. Again I don’t know why I brought it up, but I did, and it seemed to deeply upset the twins. Of course it did, I mean, why would a random stranger suddenly appearing mid-conversation and going on to discuss stains from a rotting corpse not upset someone? I’d like to say I didn’t know any better, but I do, clearly I do, I don’t know why I said it.
To make matters worse I attempted to comfort them by sharing my perspective on mortality and how it’s inevitable and we eventually rot into nothing as we feed our bodies back to nature, obviously that went about as well as could be predicted. Again, I wish I could say I didn’t know any better but I do. I not only created the issue but I proceeded to make it worse, not only upsetting but clearly hurting these two people.
I… reacted poorly to this, largely shutting myself in and isolating myself from others. Besides a brief interaction with Veronica which went about as well as could be expected with her, I didn't talk to anyone for what must have been a week. Eventually I wished to spend some more time at the old chapel but I admittedly was fearful of another unpleasant interaction, so I employed some assistance.
Briefly before all of this I met someone new, a shifter by the name of Rune. He’s big. Like, physically big. Tall. Strong. And whatnot. I digress, I met him while doing my rounds around the slums, which I believe I wrote about in my last entry, and he offered to assist me if I ever needed it and, well, I needed it.
Surprisingly enough I felt better after spending time with him despite my initial intentions being to spend time alone in silence. Something about him is calming, I suppose. Perhaps it’s his height, or his canine fangs, or his muscles. If needed he could effortlessly sling me over his shoulder like a bag of grain and ferry me away.
To safety, of course.
Regardless, talking to him was helpful, I think, and made me feel more grounded. I still feel guilt over what happened with those twins, but I no longer feel the need to isolate because of it. Perhaps at some point I will be able to apologise, I intend to, but as for right now it might be best to give it some time.
I will continue my work at the clinic in the meantime, and continue practicing alchemy again.
As much as I loathe to do so.
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