page 185

Usually my days start out fairly mundane (sometimes pleasant when I am particularly lucky) and then nosedive to unpleasant (and sometimes gut-wrenching when I am unlucky). Today turned to being the reverse of that:  I and those from the enforcement division were summoned to the Lamb. I admit I was rather pleased to be included despite enforcement not being my division, strictly speaking; I suspect the Bear and Grin had something to do with it, although I am uncertain why.

Speaking of the Bear, I am quite pleasantly (there's that word again) surprised to find just how much I have misjudged him. He's exceedingly talented at subterfuge, or maybe I am simply getting too old. I keep missing little details until they smack me in the face. Like the fact that he switches the patterns of his speech, just like Astarin. I thought him a rather simple, crude barbarian of a human--certainly he looks the part, so scarred and brawny with that stony expression of his. I should have known better after so many years spent with the old man, not to judge by appearances; and given my own habits of slipping into personas to gain trust or to coax others to let their guard down, I should have realized sooner the hows and whys of this human's actions.

A lot of 'should haves' and it unsettles me.

Now that the day is through and I have more time to reflect while writing, I feel overwhelmed by the events that occurred and the people I surround myself with.

No one is really who they seem to be, and no one is as nice nor as cruel as they act. It has given me new appreciation for the depths of secrecy this 'family' of mine has and their devotion to lack of trust. I will work hard to gain that trust, though, because the alternatives without these people, even those like Aleyna, frighten me. There is no going home, no returning to Astarin, or the old man. There are no options for me but blindly slogging forward.

It frightens me a little that I am latching onto some of the Kamil like some kind of horrible, selfish leech. Disgusts me that I have been reduced to being so desperate, so needy, that I seek companionship and comfort where-ever I can find it, even if it is simply to receive a small pat on the shoulder. How did I come to this? Where did my confidence go, my independence?
Sometimes I think I lost it to the nightmares that plague me everytime my eyelids begin to droop. I would kill that mage if I could only find her.

Sometimes I think I became this way when I let the old man slip away into the arms of that bastard fel elf, that rotten tomato. I would cut the redskin's dick off and make him choke on it if I thought it would bring the old man back to me.

Sometimes I think that I grew soft in my friendship with Astarin, with taking him to bed.

I miss how he felt in my arms and I never thought I could enjoy something that feels a little like death warmed over in my embrace.

Sometimes I think, too, that this child of his is going to kill me before I kill it.

I cannot live like this, yet the other alternatives are not something I have discovered I can live with, either.

Of all people, too, the Bear is proving to be an admirable, albeit still quite unsettling ally to me. He is as interesting now and as complex as the darkskin he seems infatuated with--he must be infatuated, because I have heard several things from him muttered so softly he thinks I cannot hear that have certainly caught my thoughts and sent them working.
Arenvald. I believe that is his name, but it sounds so elegant, courtly. An elf name, not a human one. That feels strange to write, but it is true; he seems more like an elf, a warrior, than a human now that I have observed him more. I prefer Bear. Do humans even have courts, or nobles? My knowledge of history with them is lacking, it has never interested me. If Astarin were here I could ask him, he seems to know everything about anything.

He kept me company for a time, too, this evening, after the dust settled and everything was said and done and over with. The way he speaks when alone only further cements my impressions of his duality and duplicity. How fascinating.
There is a small list of ingredients he gifted me with, as well, on a loose scrap of parchment which I must make sure not to lose. This was gifted after I admitted my nausea was tied to my lack of eating and how underfed I am slowly becoming. His apparent concern makes me nervous, distrustful of him, but the promise that I might keep down this concoction of his is something to hope for. Auroran might actually be pleased with me for this.

Where was I? The mission today, I meant to write on this, yes. It was a kind of pointless effort and expense of energy I think, but I am not the one giving the orders. We traveled all over the city--somehow the Bear ended up partnered with me and he seemed disgruntled with my impatience and my anxiety of him. I tracked our quarry nearly effortlessly, however, in time to catch Veronni with him. I slid into shadow, bided time until the john left, signaling to the Bear. He was surprisingly easy to work with; I find I enjoyed it.

I enjoyed the hunt later, as well, when our mark bolted like a rabbit from underbrush. I almost had him, too, almost tore out his throat then and there, but Veronni found us, and the strange walking suit of armor, too. Marton, I found his name out later. Strange fellow, not altogether unpleasant, and also rather simple to work with. We agree on many points, and I find his taste in how to mete out retribution quite admirable and efficient. Practical. All of this talking we were 'told' (implied, really) to do, and then dragging him all the way back to Ley seemed as much a waste of time as having to track this john all over the city.

I let Marton get a few hits in before we dumped the john with Ley, and after, before the pig-keeper when we dumped him there.

Strange. I never thought I might enjoy the company of a gnome.

Hearing the crack of the john's spine, however, was as delicious as feeling his neck under my fingertips.

Mother Moon, what kind of parent will I be?

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