It is not much of a homecoming, but then this is not really my home. Bree-land has never held that place in my heart even when it was the only realm that I knew. For all that it feels like I see the world with fresh eyes now, still this place remains dreary and soulless to me.
It is welcoming enough from the outside with its green rolling hills, tall ageless trees crowned in hues of umber and gold and the pleasantly curving hedge wall that surrounds the town like an emerald cloak. Inside, though, it is muddied cobbles and the prevalent stench of despair that permeates the thick and oppressive atmosphere like a disease. Even so, I return to this place because I have ties here - friends who make it worthwhile to come and spend some of my time in this boiling pot of ill-will.
I had not been back for long when Donhelm came to join me briefly. He brought with him a woman by the name of Cleo who seemed nice enough. There was also a rather rude elf who joined us. Regretably I did not conduct myself as well as I should have, being instead rather snappy and almost hostile. The elf spoke words that raised my ire, implying that females are by nature inferior and should exit a room when a male enters should he not invite her to remain regardless of whether or not she was already there. I found his attitude to be utterly disgusting and the manner in which he acted to be lacking in both manners and decorum.
Nevertheless, my conversation with the other two was interesting, if brief. It would seem that Donhelm has his eye on an unnamed woman, saying that it is a "blessing" when he does see her. That gives me hope that the womenfolk of Bree-land may one day be safe from his particular brand of sport.
It would seem that he brought Cleo along with him in an effort to gain a second opinion. Although they whispered when my back was turned and I was unable to hear the words spoken, I was neverthless able to read some of their lip movements from the reflection in the window. I care little what either of them thinks of me, but I do wonder why he deemed it necessary to do such.
My watching of the window, however, was for another purpose. Blodwynn told me that I used to see "them" within the reflections. After my failed attempt to gain understanding in Dellosad, I wondered if I might do so by seeing again what I am told that I have seen before. Thus far my efforts in that regard have proved fruitless but I will continue to try all the same. I need to know the truth of it all and not just through hearsay.
Much to my amusement, I later happened across Drevorin. He was, at the time, working his dubious charms on yet another woman and to prove his supposed evilness to her was crass enough to cite me as an example of how terrible he could be. Upon hearing his words it was all I could do not to laugh! His self-delusions, it seems, have escalated far beyond their prior levels. For a start, he still believes that his childish sniping can hurt my feelings. I wonder if he realises just how pathetic he is now?
I look upon his countenance now and I feel naught but pity for what he has become. I have long since come to the conclusion that it is not him that I loved but the memory of a man I once knew - a man who shone so briefly but so brightly. He is long dead, though, replaced by this pale imitation of life, this withered soul clawing at the depths of a pit of his own devising. I would cry for him if I had any tears left to spare for his folly, and if I had not already finished mourning the loss of the one he should have been but was never strong enough to become.
Enough of that, though. He is no longer a part of my life and I have no desire to change that. Davick, of course, is not either and this I find to be a great shame, but I cannot waste any more of my time wishing for what was. He has made his choice and I must respect that and move on. I bear him no ill-will - he will always be my Wolf - and in my heart I wish him all the joys he could ever hope to obtain as I set forth to finally seek some of my own.
The past is gone and it is to the future that I must look. Old sorrows lay within my breast as surely as old scars continue to grace my skin, but I will not let them overwhelm me again. Little by little I become more able to withstand them - not hardened or indifferent, but simply less susceptible to the ravaged wasteland of my life thus far. All of that is behind me and behind me it shall stay.
