page 195

I seem to make and lose friends and enemies as easy as the weather changes weatherscold right now will it change to warmthatd be nice
I am tired I have no energy I just want to sleep all the time, but I am so afraid to sleep
Grin got shot I got my head beat in My home is not safe I want to kill Seikilos HAH I KNOW YOUR NAME NOW YOU FUCKER ILLKILLYOUIMNOTFAT I got kicked out Grin drugged me. I'm drunk. Grin are you my buddy? I want my buddy where is he?
I have a new deader friend
She holds me all night so I could sleep I dont think I dreamed, or if I did, I didnt wake or cry this time I like her a lot she smiled at me and petted me i likeheriwsihshewashere
Miles is normal againI can't have Grin anymore, even if he offered to more fist-fights his thalassianisreally good that made me surprised
Auroran won't talk to me It hurts, thinking about him Procrastin is done with me He's washed his hands, if what he yelled at me before leaving is any indication ilovethemwhycan'tibegood enoughthat they will stay with me? i lovethem please don't leave me guys i don't want
someelf i think his name ismarry us maryus? marius? he wasreallyold older than me i think he looked tired too
my white knight i wshi hewas my knight maybe there is someone to be a knightwhite white wh
he gave me some stuff for tea for my head i dont trust him he knows i think he said funny things and i was really afraid what if he knows
he knows
everyone knows they knowtheyknowtheyknowtheyknow
Everyone is gone I feel so empty inside
Except I'm not hahaimnotalonebut thats not the same
Where is Tat Anna? I don't know how to find her.
Everyone has left me alone. Behind. Gone. Gone.
Im really drunk
itsreally cold out hereimafrfaidtogohome

page 194

I looked into the mirror today.

I never do that, especially not now. I do not know what ever possessed me to do so.

I looked in the mirror.

Time is running out. I am so afraid.

page 193

I thought I would be angry after everything is said and done. But instead I just feel old and tired and disgusting. Cadence, regardless of what she says, must think me a whore. Her words and actions lately are clearly spoken on the matter, especially after I made the mistake of inquiring out of simple, innocent curiosity if she had slept yet with that redheaded pet of hers that has taken to sleeping in her home. Unfair of me to assume? I am uncertain; all that I have to go on is my own experiences and the impulses or distractions or comfort I have or yield to or need.

It still smarts, stings. Hearing her condemn those that seek another's embrace, even if just for a little while to stave off the loneliness, was crushing. Regardless of our strained friendship--can I even call it that?--I have worried over her and her distance she keeps from everyone around her. To think that she views me, holds me in as much or less regard as a slut in any manner of speaking makes something wither inside of me. Am I really so reprehensible? This only fosters more feelings of inadequacy, of loathing this dependance I have found myself in to those around me.

People keep telling me it is okay to need other people, to rely on them, to go to them instead of keep to myself, instead of holding back and keeping others at a distance. Yet then I am confronted with giving in to what I actually want out of life is immoral, is inappropriate, is 'not what good people do;' well, how do I react to that, how do I even begin to feel anything but worthless?

I wish I understood her and her motivations.

I guess she is no longer mad at me anymore, at least. I would prefer her cold shoulder to thinking me a whore, but it is a step? She tried once again to divert my opinion of the Kamil and the 'family' claiming that they hold her effectively hostage as payment to her brother's debt. It does not really matter if I believe it or not, but I kept my mouth shut for once. Cadence does not understand my priorities. I doubt she ever will.

We hugged at some point, and I offended her all over in expressing my confusion over her claiming she is 'not good with' that kind of thing. Unsurprising I suppose, given her tendencies to do as much pushing away as I have done, but still. She is a girl. Girls are good at that kind of thing. They are made for comfort.

I actually thought for a moment that Cadence might slap me when I said as much.

Conversation with her is so filled with morals and confusing directions.

It reminds me of the strange elf that sat down next to me--this seems to be a trend, as not days later another stranger, elven as well, did the same--to talk. At least this one was less annoying than the second elf and his talk of trees.

Selim looked a little charming with that little goatee of his and the ugly hat, but his smile. Oh, that smile was so familiar that it made my chest tight and my throat close. How very much some of the things he talked with me about reminded me of those I care for. I told him this, practicing that honesty thing some more, and then briefly toyed with the idea of actually asking him to accompany me to Auroran. Realization was quick, however: with all the sleeping that Auro has done lately, he would likely be resting now, too.

Perhaps some other time, if I see the boy again. I think that it might truly cheer him up, to see evidence of a young elf being raised with a father who is 'sometimes his mother, and sometimes his father.'

Auroran, I wish you would talk to me.

A small addition is made in the margins and curls around the page, as if he chose the first page that the journal happened to open upon in his haste to scribble down thoughts.

Windila found me. I was talking with Cadence again, right out in the open.

I have become far too complacent.

Do I leave? Keep running?

I do not know what to do.

Hearing Procrastin's words echoed from her about returning, about talking to him

I cannot do that. I just cannot.

I wish they would all leave me alone

What would I say?
What would he say?

page 192

Seems ages ago that Auroran 'won' me at that Brightmoon Faire auction. Today was supposed to be 'our' date as a result, but I am privately glad that Procrastin joined us. He looked really handsome all cleaned up with his silvery-white hair matching the white and black robes so nicely

I helped Auro with getting dressed beforehand and with applying a little makeup to highlight his features, and the results were breathtaking. He calls them facepaints. It is rather endearing. I keep forgetting how young he truly is, even for an elf. I suppose that is a bit of a pat on the back. I definitely felt some sense of smug, self-satisfied pride in how well they looked together even as an emptiness gnawed away at me all the same for how much I do not fit when it only takes two to hold hands.

We went to see some play... carol... thing. Held out in the middle of a frozen-over lake. In Dun Morogh, of all places. I hate snow. I hate cold. I really hate ice. And the play was moronic, sophomoric even. I hardly understood what it was about, other than 'holidays are fantastic' and 'be kind to everyone or ghosts will kick your ass and torment you with visions of terrible things' and 'this was heavily endorsed by Smokeywood Pastures.' Figures. Goblins.

Procrastin seemed of like mind, at least; we spent most of the play snickering and heckling at the audience and cast, until Auroran glowered at us and shushed us loudly. That was kind of embarrassing and a bit of a let down. We were just having a little fun. I would have rather been elsewhere thinking up ways for us all to keep warm in the snow.

Forced to remain quiet during the drivel presented to us, and forever unable to truly act on impulse, I draped myself behind them, an arm around each to pretend I fit naturally with them when I did not, and contented myself with idly running my fingers through Procrastin's ponytail and Auroran's wind-tousled hair. Until Auroran glowered at me for growing further bored and attempting to plait his hair. The snow dumped down Pro's robe netted me a smack to the head--he got lucky, given I was hidden from sight in shadows the entire play.

I think at some point I grew tired even of attempting my own entertainment, and fell asleep against them in the cold.
All in all, it was a pretty rotten 'date.' I do not think I will try one of those again any time soon.

Procrastin invited me back to their home--why is it that lately, Auroran is so very distant and seems to withdraw from me more and more, and it is Procrastin who extends a friendly hand or a morsel of affection?--and despite knowing better with the cats they keep and my allergies, I accepted.

Should have known better.

Auroran decided to cook dinner. Something called a meat pie--cannot say it sounded particularly appetizing, but Procrastin seemed enthused, like a little boy, which was charming, so I lingered even longer. Briefly Auroran seemed in better spirits than he has been in a long time, as he kidded quite a bit with Procrastin about sausage. The double meanings had me in stitches, especially so given that the bewildered human took entirely too long to 'cotton on' as they say.

Sad to me that that brief few minutes of laughter with them in the warmth of their home has been the highlight of the entire rotten day.

The mere scent of Auroran's 'pie' ended up sending me green to the gills, so to say, and I said as much, thinking it was safe to do so given the present company. Auroran grew sullen, and sniped at me. I could not take it further; I was so tired and so confused about his behavior lately, that I got up and walked out.

And again it was not Auroran who followed and caught me just outside to ask if I was alright, but Procrastin. I lingered then, too. I wonder if he noticed how much I wanted to kiss him again for his actions.

As I am prone to when unhappy and with no one to stave it off by companionship, I wandered. Took a boat, and found myself on Grin's doorstep.


That was shortlived, as well. We talked, and smoked, but it was just more bullshit, in the end. He asked me if broken faith could mend, and I laughed for it. And smoked some more. What was there to say? I told him truth, because he is inexplicably my friend, too, but I wish I had lied, because he needs as much hope to cling to as his wife his husband his man does. It haunts me when I close my eyes: that sincere, utter look of relief crossing Grin's face that he tried so hard to hide after I told him I had come seeking his company rather than adding myself to the number parading outside their home to give wellwishes to the Scarlet to Campion to Miles.


Eventually he went back inside and I stayed on the roof like some fucked up ornament--happy holidays I guess, guys--and stared at the dark sky above. And smoked more.


I fell asleep again at some point, but the creak of a door after being unlocked startled me awake. At first, I figured it might be Grin, and I was hopeful, stupidly so, because maybe the blonde thug would invite me in, and I could stay with them, and maybe sleep in a bed that is not empty.

It was just him, instead. No Grin.


I am getting sentimental in my old age. I tried telling him exactly how I felt, but he was so dead inside and out, and there was so much pain. All I could remember was how that had felt, and how very much I had wanted to die and could not.
Fuck.

I held him. Elune's tits, I sang to him; like An'da did for me as a child when people told me I was not a boy and I would run to him in tears. I almost told Campion everything Then Veronni came, and smacked some reality back into me with her presence.

I left, to go sleep alone again on the roof.

Today was a waste of time.

page 190

Where to start? It always seems that I sit here for hours, staring down at blank parchment while ink dries on my quill or blots the page. I should like, just once, to know exactly what to pen down, and for it to come swiftly, cleanly from my thoughts onto this journal.

There is no change with the Scarlet with Campion ^{with Miles.} I hear there remains a steady influx of those willing to visit him, to sit and suffer with him while he slowly dies inside from broken faith. I refuse to go. Perhaps I will go at a later time, when there is no one around. Just to visit Grin, of course. Certainly, I could use the company, and I doubt much anyone is traipsing through jungle to the Bay to sit with him when his personal grey stormcloud is puddling all over the rug in their home.

I keep thinking about this morning. This morning should be a mistake yet as guilty as I feel, it is guilt for all the wrong reasons, I am quite certain. My ears grow warm even thinking on it, yet I cannot dredge up a single ounce of regret the way I should. The ordeals of Icecrown finished yet not over, Procrastin, Auroran, and I trooped back to the office and 'my' loft. It was surprisingly thoughtful of Procrastin, offering for us--us, as in the three of us, not the two of them!--to rest a while where I could be with them instead of sleeping off my injuries again  alone. I was happy. Is that so wrong of me? Admist all of this tragedy and admist my self-loathing and guilt for so many numerous transgressions, that simple offer after he and I made up was such a relief that it filled a tiny bit of the gaping hole I feel inside all the time. I was happy.

I think he and I talked for a time; I was exhausted, and so was he, so it was not really much of import. I remember feeling shame for my injuries, for yet again being so moon-damned dependant on another, yet he did not bat an eye when I finally admitted some of my breathing problems did not just come from my cracked ribs but the leather corset pressing them in so tightly. He scooted over on my tiny mattress where we were all huddled on, and undid the lacings for me. Paltry relief, there, too. It was also he who needled me dragged me convinced me that it would be alright to lay down with the two of them.

Two elves over seven feet tall and a human of decent size on one human-sized mattress? There was not exactly a lot of room. Yet I did not mind sharing what little space there was with them, and somehow we managed; Auroran kept his back to the wall and 'our' human pressed to his front, while I lay draped against Procrastin's back.

His body nestled against me while the three of us napped was a warm weight in my arms and surprisingly very pleasant. Exhausted yet unable to find sleep with my ribs aching so fiercely and the ever-present fear in the back of my mind of inevitable nightmares, my mind naturally drifted. I started thinking about all the small things Procrastin has done for me, the kindness he has shown despite how much of a dick he really can be. And then I was thinking of the way he looks as he smirks, the tone he takes when he's finding himself particularly witty for some sarcastic remark he has just made. How it felt when so many weeks ago, he held me and stroked my back and did not say anything as I cried into his shoulder.

Mother Moon. I think I am in love with them both. Is that even possible?

At some point I finally fell asleep, comforted by their steady breathing. One extremely vivid dream later I woke after to discover another surprise; Procrastin had turned in his sleep, head tucked under my chin. His arm was around my waist, too, but what should have alerted me and only encouraged me instead, was the way my hands had apparently wandered and found their way under his robes. He was very warm under my fingers.

His slurred, sleep-drunk words were mostly incoherent and my pulse was rabbiting away in my ears too much for me to pay much attention. I was then instantaneously and quite abruptly awake at the yell that blasted in my ears. I am ashamed to say that Auroran caught me, quite literally, 'fondling the merchandise.'

Procrastin was finally awake then and scrambling to sit up, too. Everything devolved from there.

Why can I not feel guilt for hurting Auroran like that? I only feel guilt for getting caught, and this knowledge of myself disgusts me. I am a horrible friend. I would have gladly put my hands to use for him, too. For both of them.
I gave some bullshit excuse about feeling debt to Procrastin after all his talk of ingratitude. I do not think either bought it. It is partially truth, actually--there is so very little that I could give to either of them in gift or payment that is not my body; but what I said about it is no where near what I really meant by my actions.

There's a significant amount of space before the entry resumes, and the quality of the ink is a little different. Likely this was penned at a later time.

Procrastin kissed me.

There was more to it than that, of course. It was not a peck to the cheek and although at the time it felt like it came from out of the blue, I imagine like many things Procrastin does, it was not entirely simple impulse.

We were in Nagrand, on one of the floating chunks of broken earth he is so fond of. He did most of the talking, for once. Wanted me to admit the truth behind the previous day and my actions then, and he dragged me to this secluded spot to strongarm me convince me of the importance of speaking with Astarin the father, too.

I was admittedly not very interested in any of that, nor do I have designs to follow that little bit of 'sage' advice from him, much less about hiring a prostitute. Asshole.

I can hardly think of anything else.

The way his mouth felt against mine I was afraid he would be repulsed or my tongue would suddenly stop working.

He kissed me and I liked it.

Elune above.

What would it be like to kiss Auroran?

page 189

The Scarlet is home.

Little has changed.

We broke him.

Elune above.

We broke him.

This is not any better than before. Because he is dead inside, everyone else is dead inside. Except Procrastin. Except me. And I do not feel so alive, either.

I helped kill a man today but there was no joy in it like there usually is.

I am a murderer of faith.

Happy fucking Winterveil.

page 188

I have spent the last day incapacitated, too bruised and battered to lift a hand, much less a quill, to pen down recent events.

Tomorrow will be even worse, yet I both welcome and dread it.

Somehow--I am uncertain on detail, as everything is so hazy from whatever it is that Grin had me take--I made it to the Bay without dying from either bloodloss or my injuries. I suppose despite their amount and their severity, none of my injuries were as fatal as that bastard may have liked or hoped.

I do know that before I made it to the Bay, some human woman resuscitated me on the banks of the Stormwind docks, but her repeated insistance I see a healer was too much for me and as a result I fear I was unaccountably rude to her.
Such was my dual terror, though: both of someone stripping me down to tend to the multitude of grievous injuries I suffered (only then to see the truth I wrap up under lies and armor), and that should I linger anywhere near a healer's place, much less the Cathedral itself, Astarin might chance upon me.

His good nature is too much, my luck too poor, and Mother Moon's sense of humor too rotten, not to have any or all of these things occur should I have dared go.

My thoughts are so disorganized, even compared to their usual chaos.

I recall at least the reason why I was successfully ambushed in the first place. I went to the docks to think, to breathe, to try and meditate. At the very least, to hope the cold air would still my nausea.

Instead, what I get is an unannounced nap from exhaustion and said nausea forcing me to pass out for a time, and the discovery upon startling awake that the rat rifled through my journal, stole pages from it--I swear by Mother Moon's beauty he did!--and then mocked me for it! Threw in my face what he'd glimpsed.

Thinking it was enough to simply sit down out of sight and rest against the stone of the pier, I then loosened the thick cords lacing the leather corset I have taken to wearing over my tunic. It is so hard to breathe wearing it and hampens some of my movements, but this way everything is hidden, at least for a little longer.

He must have been so close, even then, and I never noticed. There is no one to blame but myself for my lack of vigilance. I may as well have invited him to strip me himself.

We fought after that, I remember that part clearly. He with his swords and I with my fists, unarmed save teeth and nails and any decent kick I could feint in what precious few openings he left for me.

At some point I ended up on top of him. Tackled him, I think. My knuckles feel raw, are bandaged, too. I do not want to try and count how many times my fists connected with armor and flesh alike. It felt like it lasted hours. Mother Moon above and all Her stars, that miserable, common-blood rat of an elf, he Said I was a whore for straddling him when all I was doing was pinning him to the ground to keep escape an unlikely option.

Using my weight had been a sound tactic, I had thought; I had only wanted some time to breathe, to think, to find some way of ending it in my exhausted state, and he found the situation amusing enough even on the losing end to call me a whore! As if I were going to, any moment, shuck his armor off and mount him like some animal in heat! Arrogant! Vain! I remember my hands at his throat, digging in, and unable to finish it. My arms trembled with sheer exhaustion, my lungs could not find enough air with my armor squeezing my torso so tightly and the blows to my side he had given me when I turned to protect my front, to protect my chi

Why is it that his slurs hit me nearly as hard as his knowing everything, hit me as hard as knowing how careless I was to let my guard down when days went by without neither hint nor scent of him trailing behind?

And

He has

He knows.

Oh. Oh Mother Moon. All he could keep spitting at me was how I was no man. That Elune did not love either of us.

That I am a fraud.

That I am alone.

That my friends were nowhere nearby, that they would never come to my defense because he was going to tell and I would be left with nothing, no family, no dignity, no masculinity.

I wanted to shred his throat with my teeth, yet it was all I could do to keep the burning in my eyes and the choking in my own throat from becoming full-fledged tears. I choked on my own loathing and fear and then he bucked me off in the advantage he had caused.

Elune above. I could do little but believe his words, his declarations, because how dearly they rang of the truths I fear every moment whether I am awake or I sleep.

He knew. He was going to tell everyone. I could not, would not let it happen!

I remember drawing in shadow and forcing myself through to step behind him on the other side, and then, pain. Stars that exploded behind my eyes as his sword hilt connected with my skull. Blackness. And, somewhere deep inside, relief. As I slipped into unconsciousness, some part of me felt relief in knowing I could very well die in these last few moments.

That woman found me, dashed those hopes--how she roused me back from near-death I do not know.

I am afraid to say anything to Grin, to Auro, to Procrastin. It is my own shame in knowing I let myself into yet another bad situation through no one's fault but my own that stills my tongue from asking for advice. That stills my tongue in explaining to Grin when I showed unannounced on his doorstep and collapsed.

Waking in his bed with his scent on me--did he carry me or drag me, I wonder?--with bindings gone but wounds tended to as best one of us shadow-stalkers can, was less blessing and more discomfort than I may have wanted, but his willingness to keep me instead of dump me out the door is a small comfort.

Keep me? There will be no room here in this home for me after tomorrow, Grinne will be busy picking up pieces--I can easily see the path this will take--and the Scarlet despises me anyway.

I will miss this cozy home and the warm bed and the blonde thug that goes with it.

Whatever has allowed Merosiel to write with a steady hand and mostly-clear thoughts seems to have faded, the writing is looser, awkward, as if his hands shake terribly.

I am so cold.

I have to sleep.

I cannot.

I have to sleep.

I have to sleep.

Have to.

I cannot.

I hope he lets me stay a little longer I cannot bear the thoughts in my mind.

I am so cold.

Thoughts. Of the long trek back to Ironforge. Of possibly running into that common-blood cur again in my current state. Of sleeping alone again.

Tomorrow will be terrible.

Campion. You stupid Scarlet.

I am sorry ahead of time. You will never know it, but I am sorry.

Your faith must die. We are coming for you.

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?

----

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/chevelle/closure.html

page 184

There has been little time for me to sit and write since my last entry. I have had my first assignment which I will likely never pen down in detail, but it could have gone better than it did. I made a new friend. Got high with him, had a fist-fight on the Bay's cliffside, jumped off said cliff, went swimming. He knows because I am very stupid when high, apparently, even more so than when I am drunk. I stripped down completely and we had fist-fighting practice in the nude, so I imagine it is difficult for him to forget. I am certain he finds me crazy, but he says we are still friends, and I can stay whenever I like with him at 'Miles' and his house. The Scarlet has such a stupid name.

Grin is really warm and comfortable to sleep next to. I like the way he smells, even with that awful stuff he puts in his hair to slick it back.

Procrastin is still a dick, but Auroran and I made up, I think. He is talking to me again, at least, or we did before he left for Icecrown, too. I think he and the darkskin have plans of their own. I have been praying to Mother Moon for their safety and the success of their own mission even as Grin and I are heading forth to deliver letters to the Scarlet.

It will be a long journey, taking several days the way we have to be cautious and avoid leaving much of a trail. I will enjoy getting to know my new friend. I wish he believed me. It is strange, I never considered the possibility that telling the truth about myself could ever be considered unbelieveable. I always assumed the reaction would forever be one of disgust or loathing, not disbelief

Attached, as if haphazardly stuck between the pages when in a rush to close the book suddenly (the inkstains at the end of the preceeding, unfinished sentence hint at as much), is a letter, just as incredibly rushed and full of mistakes.

Dear Strangely Dressed Dwarf,

I do not really understand the point of this holiday, or you, but Grin thinks that letters solve problems and I do not have a whole lot to lose, asking a complete stranger for things. Aside from the cost of the ink, parchment, and time spent, I suppose.
Do not think that I expect you to actually do anything for me. Because I do not; I cannot be disappointed that way. Maybe you will appreciate my honesty? Everyone continues to harp at me about truth and honesty and feelings. A real load of horseshit if you ask me, but there you are.

Who are you anyway, claiming you can give good things to good people, and give them the things they want most? Still seems like a load

This is a terrible holiday, just like the rest, and your endorsement of it is rather poor taste, promising people their hopes and dreams. You are a con-artist, is what you are, and you should be ashamed. I bet you get away with it because you can claim they were not good enough 'this year' and then you do not look like a fraud.

Right, what do I want? This is another holiday to remind me of spending it alone. I have made some friends, but I keep screwing that up, so I think this year is still going to be the same as last year, and the one before, and the one before that, and so on.

Auroran likely thinks I am never alone now, and I know exactly why and he makes no sense if he thinks that. It is not like I can talk to it or hug it or have company or conversation with it either. I would not mind knowing which it is, though.

I would like company on Winter's Veil eve. Preferably not a woman, because I really do dislike the majority of them and they talk too much anyway. I wish I could spend it with Auroran

I miss my brother, Merosiel, and my An'da, the most. I should like markers at the local graveyard for them, so I have a place to pray and visit. I cannot go where they died, to do so, and the Ironforge dwarves do not really like me even though they let me buy a ram that one time. I am certain they dislike me, because they flat out refused to let me put up markers when I sent in a request. It might have something to do with the fact that I threw a snowball at their King last year on this stupid holiday. I was drunk.

I would like a doll, or some other kind of toy suitable for a child. Something unisex. Maybe some children's clothes. I am really very terrible at tailoring anything that is not animal hide. Also unisex.

Liquid courage, suitably in the form of good bourbon, so that I can go to him go home and let the few I left behind that I am alive, if not very well. If not bourbon, letting them know in my place would be nice. Supposedly you know everything (con-man, I am not a fool, but I will suspend my disbelief long enough to finish this exercise and mail this letter), so I should not have to write down names.

More ink, parchment, and other such supplies for writing would be nice. I do not go through nearly as much now that I have Ruepert's enchanted parchment and I can talk all on my own without writing, anyway, but ink is expensive, and I still need to write down the thoughts to keep them ordered and out of my head. And you are costing me some of my supplies as it is, so replacement for them for participating in this little farce of yours would be considerate of you.

A plant that will not die from lack of sunlight, that I can put in the loft at Ironforge.

Somehow convince Procrastin to stop being a di

Give Auroran more reasons to be happy. I think he is withdrawing from me, from everyone, even Procrastin.
Let the stupid Scarlet come home so everyone will stop moping about him. I do not really care, mind you, but if you could do it for Grin and for Auroran, it would be really nice. Grin deserves to feel better. They both do. While you are at it, fix Grin's hands.

And as long as I am asking a fraud for impossible wish fulfillment, give me a new body, one that I do not have to hide. One that Mother Moon will actually be proud of, so that I can be in Her graces again, and loved by Her.

Doubtfully yours,
Merosiel Riversung.