page 168-169

A lot of things have happened between now and the last time I had paper to write on and I did not want to use the back of Auroran's letter. I save the letters people give me. They're so nice, and they make me feel a little less lonely when I take them out to read. I added his to the rest after smoothing out the wrinkles I caused by holding it too tightly for too long.

Parchment is costly Everything is costly when you have nothing to buy it with. Campion, of all people, gave me some coin a little bit ago. Supposed to use it to buy a room in one of the inns downtown, but I would rather have something to write on. Too many thoughts pressing in on my head, even now; if I pen them down, maybe I will sleep better, since the potion he gave me to help sleep is taking too long or not working. My body feels like lead. Too exhausted to move from the corner I have curled up in out of the worst of the cold and wind. I am still so afraid to go to sleep. What if his potion does not work? What if he gave me something that is just syrup water or the like? I will dream again, like I nearly always do.

Where to start? Putting the chaos in my head into words is always difficult enough as it is. Writing is not much better.

Still pr Throwing up all the time Still sick Eating is still difficult. I have not had this much issue with getting anything down since the time right after they took out my tongue. That was hard This is almost as bad. Even the scent of most food seems to make my stomach heave, but it is so unpredictable on when that I have just stopped trying, for the most part. Auroran asked so nicely in his letter, though. So I tried again. I managed to eat some of the cheese and fruit earlier today from the things he left for me at his office. Water seems to help a little, but clean water is costly, too, and I drank everything he left with the food already. I wish I could have stayed there. It is really cold here.

Suppose I should recount the things between my last entry and this one, since it does not make much sense even to me what I am writing about. Why can gold stack so neatly but words and thoughts refuse to be ordered?

Met a lot of people over the past few days. For better or worse, I seem to have stumbled on a sect on a cult? on a mafia ring onto something behind the welcoming face Stormwind shows to visitors. Everyone seems connected to everyone else. News traveled pretty quickly after my first disastrous encounter with Campion, and all of a sudden I began bumping into people on the streets, in shops, downtown, uptown.

I feel watched, monitored. For a few days I thought maybe they were connected to They seem to have little to do with my running away leaving the Harbinger crew, but I still feel extremely nervous. And I found out also during my talk this morning with Campion that that guy, Grinne, the one who Auroran says is a brawler kind of like I have been one of those he works with is a collector. Of 'dues.' Mother Moon. I am treading very dangerous waters. I need to be careful. There is so much I have to be conscious of, wary of. Lies wrapped up in lies wrapped up in more fucking lies. Maybe stress is all it is that is making me sick.

I kind of like Procrastin. He is gruff and sour, like Campion, but without all the hate directed at me. He buys me drinks, as well, and conversation with him is actually a little stimulating, even for talking with a human.

His relationship with Auroran, from what I can gather, is extremely complicated and twisted all around back on itself. And somehow involving Campion? Everything seems to involve that fucking Scarlet After talking with Procrastin several times, I fail to understand why he thinks so many hate him or have a horrid opinion of him, but I have to also remind myself I do not know the situation well, nor the people involved. I can only use what I have observed, which admittedly, is not enough.

Still... he was good company while it lasted. So were the others. Need to stay away. Do not want to cause more pain or hurt.

There was this human woman that shared a few cookies with me. She did not talk much, but then, it was kind of relaxing for once not having to expect to uphold conversation. I wish I could have tasted the cookies. They smelled good.

I have not seen Cadence since she left after my nausea from hell a few days ago, except briefly before I had my talk with Auroran. She still has not found her brother; she seemed very upset, but I was too nauseated and tired to find out why when it would take prying to do so.

My talking with Auroran... For at least a day, I had some peace. A kind of quiet in my head. His presence reminds me, somehow, of a melding of the old man, Astarin, and that grimy bastard Krokul with his foul-mouth that I seem to have picked up somehow myself.

I. Somehow I ended up telling him damned near everything. I never spoke so much of myself to anyone before, not miss Annaliese, not to the old man, not to Elynia. Astarin has been the only other person I ever felt like I could speak to about anything And I fucked that up

He knows, though. I told him the truth. Everything, even though I omitted a few parts about why I was hiding in Stormwind. It scares me, him knowing so much. I guess, though, of anyone I could have chosen, having a priest around, who is a tailor no less, suits my purposes. That was unkind. I keep telling myself I told him so that I could use him, but that is not how it happened.

It started out as panic, unable to keep myself closed off in our linked minds like the old man had automatically done for me when we had been connected through his prayerbeads. I had no control, like I had gone through with gutting myself and my insides were just spilling out through my clenched fingers. The tighter I stuffed or held onto it all, the looser everything became. A few words here and there, a trickle that soon turned to a stream, then a waterfall, and Auroran sat there next to me, asking questions but never pushing.

Hours passed while I 'talked' and he 'talked' in turn. Early morning turned to afternoon, and I was so tired. He helped me to a spare room he had. An office he called it. Gave me bedding. So warm there. The quilt was soft. I dislike Ironforge but it was okay because he sat with me and prayed. I could hear his voice softly while I drifted in and out of that space between consciousness and sleep. All of my fear sort of lifted away.

There were no dreams.

Whatever else I could have done, at least Auroran knows now that I never meant to offend him with the things I kept saying thinking. But the concept he might be like me was so tantalizing, I guess, that I risked the fallout. I do not think he knows what he wants, but I told him he was beautiful anyway. Which is truth. Truth from a chronic liar is not worth much, I guess, but he blushed anyway and we eventually came to the conclusion he would help me and I would help him. Clothes, for both of us. A place to sleep, for me. Company. No more loneliness.

Fuck you Campion. Why did you have to tell me I might hurt him somehow? I NEVER WOULD.

It is really cold. I am so tired. Need to finish writing it all down. The thoughts need to stay ordered or I might dream. Do not want to sleep. Afraid of

Ink stains the page heavily after this, hinting that the potion finally crept up and stole away consciousness.