Dear diary, has it really been a week? I do apologise for neglecting you so. It could be worse. I have left you a year before. A man has had much business to take care of. Contracts to fulfill, babies to clean up after. And girls to avoid. There are some new recruits in the Dawn. One of them particularly obnoxious. I said nothing. He will learn how the game works or he will be gone. But I am also conscious of something anew all of a sudden. I have superior officers these days. Fancy that. Though they treat me with the utmost of respect and do not order me around like cattle. I am starting to become fonder of Skelcar. He is polite and straight down to business and a knowledgeable fellow. I can't see it ever coming down to me refusing an order.
Well, I can follow orders within reason as independent as I am. As long as they do not attempt to constrain my freedom outside of a professional relationship and tie me to them further I think I may have just found my home. I no longer feel guilty about the sigil being locked in my chest though perhaps I will at least carry it on me to save face even if I do not wear it. I feel my particular talents may be of more use when hunting enemies if I do not wear my allegiances so openly. A man knowing he has a price upon his head will always be edgy. But if he does not see his opponent coming, then all the better. The first thing a man looks for in war or times of strife is the banner with which when one belongs to. Ambiguity has served me well over the years.
Taala, now Taala is a funny one. I can tell she is puzzled by my behaviour. Now I like her man but there is something about watching her with Eroforth that makes me feel uneasy. I do not think it is jealousy. I am not hurt that she chose him over me whereas she was so insistent that she would never have chosen anyone. I dissappeared. Once I had made certain she was well. I left. No, I have never been the jealous sort. Not since Cressa made a mockery of me. You cannot be jealous unless you become attached in the first place. I do care for her, but not in that way. But to see her laugh and love so freely. Perhaps I think I am missing something. Perhaps I am concerned that what she has will not last and I am ready. Simply waiting to pick up the pieces. The most cynical of outcomes do not neccessarily become reality. I hope for her sake that I am wrong. I want to protect her.
But of course, you are waiting to read about Cirywen. The girl who has made my every waking thought unsettling. Coaxing me into revealing parts of myself. And despite being so aware of what she was doing, I let her. No, she does not unsettle me anymore. Not in the same way. She is a girl who likes to play games and who wears many faces. But one of them as I've always found must be the real one, and I do not believe she is foul. When Eacanwyn was unmasked she was the vilest creature imaginable, I have studied this girl and her mannerisms and she is not worthy of my blade. She has a soft underbelly that is most sweet to witness. Yet I also detect a high level of uncertainty in her. She does not trust me because of my words. I did point out the irony in her accusing me of being afraid. The face she wore changed again. This time speaking of a man in sexual terms where she had been dismissive of him before. For what purpose, I imagine? Her walls were back up. She is protecting herself. Seeing if I will speak up against it, trying to discern my reaction In truth, I am protecting myself as well. As I have always done. No, I have no concern. She is an independent and free woman. But I get the sense that if she does find herself with a man. The experience will either make her or break her. I pray it is the former. So much for not speaking with her today. I feel the deepest empathy for this girl. I suppose I can feel after all. She has pain, and I want to take it away. I cannot. But this is why I must keep my distance.
There is so much going on, The matter of Kríea's abuser. And Aemalia. I keep thinking of Neyaa but I know I should not. These fantasies of what might have been are not helpful. Insofar as I will not even acknowledge them here. It is all very puzzling. And Kríea, well. Kríea has not yet passed from this world to the next. I expected she would have by now. I have written so much down in this book already it's almost become a pastime since my son came into my life. Maybe I will leave you for a year, Dear diary.
