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I went and drowned myself today in E's keg again. She had it with her when she sat down next to me at the moonwell in Stormwind's park, and it is so difficult for me to say no to a brief promise of oblivion. We quarreled, but I only vaguely recall being angry about her twirling her fingers in the sacred waters and I am certain it had to do about Emmerich regretting letting her close to me and grateful I have kept so much from her after all. She twisted a lot of the things I did say before, and I was too incoherent to make proper argument in kind to be in any way convincing or to show any degree of confidence.

She assumes too much of me, of my situation. She does not comprehend my reasons for staying away and allowing Emmerich to chase after some literal tail. He is just a human boy, and I am old, tired, and not interested enough even without the complications that would go hand in hand with admitting to him I felt some sort of attraction.

Her assumptions piss me off. Around the time that I was cups-first into that keg of hers and squabbling as if we were children and my thoughts were circling as if being sucked down a drain, suddenly Auroran was in my head. I was so startled and relieved and happy that I lost all track of my irritation with E and likely ignored her more than I should have.

But I cannot bring myself to regret that part, because hearing him was so lovely wonderful comforting. To know he had not left me completely alone after all and to feel guilt for ever considering doing so to him after all the kindnesses he had done for me. He chided me to great extent after noting my incoherent rambling and disjointed thoughts, which again left me with the feeling that I was nothing but a small child. What do I care about the thing in Why should I care what drink does to my body or it He would not leave well enough alone about my drinking, and I could hardly focus to string thoughts together to speak with him, so much so that he decided then and there to come home early from his Northrend assignment--some emergency or other, which had been why he left so unexpectedly without notice in the first place.

By the time he arrived in the park, E had had enough, apparently, both of my anger with her and with Auroran's silent glowering upon finding her present in my company. I think I know he realizes who she is and what she did. I do not know how to feel about this; should I be in the middle at all? My priorities before have always been to look out for myself, first and foremost, and it was her choice, not mine. Why do I feel guilt knowing that the group I have somehow mixed myself into company with may decide to claim their pound of flesh for Campion's injuries?

My time spent with Auroran was not long enough, but I am grateful for what little time he gave. He seemed as exhausted as I, and he had actually earned his weariness out in Northrend, tending to those on the battlefields where I only spend my days as a shiftless vagabond, tail tucked and cowering in corners for fear of everything I have run from.

Procrastin found us, I can only assume at Auroran's beckoning, and the two of them escorted me home to Ironforge. Home. It feels strange to call a place my own, even if it is a borrowed, cramped office that belongs to someone else. Still, there is a space there for me, that is all mine, and it is warm and silent. I only wish that I did not have to spend it there alone. At least he and Pro stayed with me until I eventually and unwillingly passed out. I wish I knew how to ask for the nearess with them that I want so much, even a simple hug, without feeling like I give up my only remaining shreds of pride in doing so.

I had too much time to think even with their presence to distract; too much time to think about children. About myself. About

When I woke, both were gone, as expected, and I could not reach Auroran through the link he has given me for the time being. I can only assume that after his rest he trudged back out into the icy wastelands of Northrend to resume his duties. It feels useless coming from me but I find the words hovering on my lips all the same. I pray for Auroran and his safety.

And, yet again I find I pray for myself, too. Futility and habit, yet I cannot cease, diving headfirst into this repeated disappointment and sense of bitter failure.

Mother Moon, I wish You could hear me. Or do You? You seem to ignore me, or have abandoned me, or feel I am just fine as things are. Is it because I failed in being a priestess all those years ago in Your temples?

Is it because I chose to be who I really am rather than accept the falsehood that You chose for me at birth? It seems a foolish thought when these days You give Your blessing of priesthood to all, man or woman, but I cannot help but wonder. Whatever it is, all I seem capable of is sinking further in the mire of my own life, and the choices I have made. Where is Your guidance when I have needed it?

I rely on and trust in myself because that is all I have. Look where that has gotten me. I tried to rely on and trust in You, to keep faith in You. Look where that has led me.

I do not want this child. Ah, I wrote it at last, the thoughts that have been lurking in the shallows of my heart and mind for weeks. How my hand trembles! Was it not enough to give me this false body? I want to tear it out of me, to keep denying the truth You force on me at every turn, with every mirror, with every puddle, and now, with every waking breath. I want to deny what You have further cursed me with, and there is no answer.

Mother Moon, how could You? How can I

Where is my peace, Lady, where is the peace You are supposed to offer to all Your children?

I think that I hate You some days, almost as much as I hate myself, this body, and this child.

Multiple stains dot the page by this point, both from ink and what is likely tears. The entry resumes for a few sentences after, likely written far later. This is perhaps evident by a lack of further stains and by neater, more concise penmanship.

Children are peculiar. Some human girl gave me some milk she stuffed herbs into after stopping me on the bridge (that one between the trade district downtown and the mage quarters) and asking why I was not asleep at this hour. I should bloody well like to know the same with her, but I did not ask. She claimed to be a student of Procrastin's; if she is, and the idolizing way she speaks of him is any indication, he either has a rather awkward problem on his hands or he's a very dirty child himself. He claims to be nearly middle-aged, which I suppose might be true for a human, but thirty-plus years is an infant in my experience.

The milk is not helping. I feel rather ill.

I did not have the heart nor will of stomach to tell her that her claims of 'It's so tasty!' were kind of pointless in my regard, nor was I able to turn her heart-felt intentions away, but I regret drinking it all the same. I feel like I guzzled a jug full of oil, the way it oozes in my stomach in never-ending circles.

I much prefer Auroran's whispered voice and his prayers and the comfort of him in the back of my mind than this nauseating feeling. I do not think I will be drinking milk again, least of all when offered by a human.

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