page 171

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.

---

((Lyrics to No Prayer for the Dying: http://www.metrolyrics.com/no-prayer-for-the-dying-lyrics-iron-maiden.html ))

page 170

Procrastin woke me up in the middle of the night to yell at me. I had no idea how he found me or knew, not until he shoved my letter to Auroran in my face and then burned it after. I do not remember much of our argument; much of the sleep potion still sucked my eyelids down and weighted my body. It is pehaps why he worked so hard to wake me in the first place, or I suspect so, at least.

Much of that day was a blur, after. I spent time with Procrastin in Nagrand, helping to tend to some of the Netherrays he keeps. It reminded me of the times I spent assisting Astarin in the Golden Dawn stables, and then, later, the stables at the Harbinger's base, as well. I could have done without the attempts to turn my ears into snacks, however.

Later in the afternoon, we returned to Stormwind, and although I was very tired, and feeling considerably ill again, I agreed to have drinks with Procrastin. I do like spending time with him, and a selfish part of me was hoping to see Auroran more. Lingering in Procrastin's presence surely would be a benefit in that regard. I wish I could stop using people. Friends do not use friends like this, for their own personal gain or agenda. I can only hope neither realizes just how terrible a friend I truly am.

It soon got exceedingly crowded and quite rowdy within, and by this time, he had consumed some kind of powdery substance that quite altered his behavior. I have seen others use drugs before, have done so myself back in Silvermoon. But I had never seen someone behave like this before. It was fascinating and perplexing at the same time.

He was extremely... touchy. Kept petting my hair and ears, and hugging me. I should have minded, I suppose. He is not mine, after all, and I know that he had no control over himself. But it was so nice to have someone pay that kind of attention to me that I let him and said nothing. Eventually he had other business to attend to and left me to my own devices. I wandered the city for some time, as desolate as usual. Not enough to drink to pass out in alcohol-sated unconsciousness, and nothing to keep my thoughts from circling inwards again.

My feet found me at the Lamb, and there was an elf perched on the ramp's ledge. I recognized him from before, the day I first met Procrastin; but I had never caught his name.

I spent some time with him, both for lack of anything to distract, and because he was kind, and seemed as lonely as I. He told me I should be bothered by someone as dead and cold as he, and I am certain I would have been, at one point in my life. But he reminded me so much of Astarin. Everything these days reminds me of him, I suppose. It hurt, but it was the kind of hurt you keep going back for more of, even when you know it causes so much pain.

And regardless, my time in Silvermoon was often spent in the company of many other deaders. I have more respect for them and the Dark Lady than I should likely let on to anyone here. I am sympathetic to them as a whole, and enjoy their company, their wealth of knowledge and the certainty that they will last as long as I, will last longer than I, that they know what eternity will be, and that ultimately we are all alone in our own heads.

I very much enjoyed Ravek's company, too, and he seemed pleased, delighted with the little durotar scorpid I keep for my weapon poisons. And although we talked little and the conversation was stilted and awkward, he understood every word that I did say. That is a rarity that is too precious to waste, and I wish that his sister had not shown. I would have liked to have his company for longer than I did.

She tried, or threatened, to touch my ears. To touch me. I did not want /her/ near me. I think Ravek grew upset at me, in his absent fashion, for warning that I would gut her should she try. She left in a huff, and eventually, he left, too. Eventually, everyone has something better to do, or places to go, that do not involve me. I suppose I have no one to blame but myself.

The night was very long without him. Without anyone around.

---

I figured maybe I should start linking the songs I use during writing.
For Arenvald/Brackenglade:
http://www.lyricsmania.com/lyrics/william_elliott_whitmore_lyrics_38075/other_lyrics_68858/cold_and_dead_lyrics_667962.html