These past weeks have been strange at best.
I have made my decision concerning Marinette and Davick and have laid my plans accordingly. Marinette shall recieve the aid that she requires in the form of various potions that may be useful to her. After much deliberation, I have settled on a mild sedative for her to lace her blade with. It should slow him enough to give her a slight edge. If that fails, she will have a mixture of venoms designed to cause temporary paralysis and, just because it amuses me to do so, some powders to irritate his skin, cause him to sneeze and something to bolster her own endurance and resistance to pain.
To balance this act, and because I have no desire to see my erstwhile guardian truly injured or harmed, I have made certain to give Tillie an antidote to administer after the confrontation has taken place.
I cannot say that any of this sits well with me. However, with one friend requesting aid and the other requesting that I grant this aid, I cannot say no. It is a difficult situation and I can only hope that this is resolved with as little bloodshed as possible. Of course, knowing them both as I do, I doubt that the resolution will be a peaceable one.
Meanwhile, I have been spending some time in the company of Drevorin. Something about him has changed; he appears to be more introspective than I remember him, but perhaps this is naught more than another of his acts. I cannot see why that may be so, he has nothing to gain from this association with me. My bond with Wolf is no longer strong, nor has it been for a long while, thus he cannot seek to use me against my saviour, nor can he use me against the others for, insofar as I am aware, no new rivalries have begun between him and those I call friends. Perhaps, then, he simply seeks conversation with someone who does not wish his head on a silver platter, but then this is Drevorin. Is anything ever so innocent with him?
Vaenthal left Bree-land to be amongst his own people some time ago. I miss my talks with him and the strange sense of trust he engenders in me. Still, he did not leave me without much to think on. The proposal he made is a tempting one, yet I remain unsure as to whether I should accept. It is irrational to think that it will change me, and yet I cannot help but fear that it will.
Renif, the amusing is somewhat gruff and blustering dwarf, has been taking great delight in taunting me during Vaenthal's absence. He would seem to be under the impression that the elf and I are in love or, at least, that I am in love with the elf. I have tried to explain that we are friends only, that nothing more could ever be even did we both wish it, but he will not listen to reason. We stand too close together, he says. We look at one another in a certain telling fashion. This is nonsense of course. Vaenthal is an elf and I am not.
