It has been a strange few days.
For the most part I have been alone, with the occasional conversation with Flannery to break up the solitude. I have seen neither hide nor hair of the others from my past, save two.
Eoryn readily forgave my transgressions, sweet girl that she is, and even gifted me with a picture she drew of the cat in the tavern. She seems to think that my "ilness" was caused by some kind of stomach flu. I thought it best not to correct her for I have no desire to try to explain to anyone why I was that way.
Welten came to me as I sat in the common room. I barely recall the man, but he seems to know me well enough. He apologised to me for his manners the last time we spoke. I, unfortunately, do not remember that at all and could only sit there bemused as he spoke those words.
Otherwise it has been a rather quiet time and I have gone more or less overlooked, which is fine as far as I am concerned. That holds true for the majority of the time with only a few notable exceptions.
One is a man whose name I did not enquire. He was a musician of sorts, it seems, and after I refused to allow him to buy me a drink he decided to serenade me instead. That was interesting, to say the least, especially when he then tried to convince me that it was only polite for him to buy me a meal after I had listened to his music. My grasp of social niceties may be woefuly lacking, but I am sure that it does not work that way. He was pleasant enough company in an amusingly excitable and easily distracted way.
Another has been Daigan. I did not recall much of the man save that we do not like one another. I have no idea why, but after a short conversation with him I begin to understand. He named me a liar with his second breath, claiming that I am enacting some ruse or other just like Drevorin once did. I am not entirely certain what he refers to or what he thinks I would gain from such a thing. Nevertheless, he came across as smug and self-satisfied and, after telling me the reason he hates me is because I dare to breathe, asked me why he should not just kill me there and then. I pointed out that his reason was spurious and to do so would relegate him to being a common murderer.
The last exception is a man named Donhelm. Twice I have met him now. The first time he just randomly came over and, after exchanging a few pleasantries, proceeded to tell me that I am very pretty. At the time, I wondered if he was blind, yet another of those men who do naught more than seek the next skirt, or simply being sarcastic. I had my anwer the next evening when he invited me to join him and his friends in a celebration of some sort. Being quite drunk, he rather gleefuly boasted about being chased out of womens bedchambers by angry husbands.
He seems like a nice man but, regardless of his stated wish that I feel safe in his company, I cannot help but be wary. I have little time for the fickle or faithless, be they man or woman, and his own words condemn him as such. Whilst I would not normally assume a man has an interest in me in that way, his repeated praise of my features leads me to consider the possibility that he seeks a new plaything and I drew the short straw. It is only fair that I give him the benefit of the doubt, and the opportunity to change my opinion of him but I do not expect that to come to pass.
