Raevenhart

My word... This...day was exceptionally long. And difficult... Long in general.

It started out... Well, I wouldn't say a normal every day thing. It started out as slightly troubling. This one man that looked like Raven, but older, stepped into the inn. He was going off about something like Raven was missing. Truth be told, I honestly didn't think too much of it. I mean, seeing as how the last time we spoke, it didn't go smoothly.

Hah... Guess I am sort of alone now other than having Ghost around with me. Here's what happened.

Of course, earlier, there was this sort of near-fight happening that I got involved with. Supposedly, this one masked man was being stupid of trying to pick a fight with a Watcher, who soon introduced himself to me as Adalbart as soon as things cleared up. But let me get to the part where I say that I am alone.

((Funny enough, that song was titled as such that I have heard playing at a certain part of this post. XD))

"Running makes it look very bad...," said Brywulf, watching her. "You need to just explain the situation."

"The hobbit...," said Bambidal, shaking her head. "They will never believe me!"

"The hobbit..?" repeated Rizan to himself.

Ah, right... Chrissy...

(This page of Ithelion's diary is worn but not as much as some of the others. His writing is clearer and much more readable. A spig of dried lavender is pressed onto the page.)

(OOC note: This is in the future a bit compared to many of the Rps I have done. Chrysanthe travels to Gondor with Raevenhart and during the battle of Pelennor fields she happens to fight along Halros, her father of sorts from her days in the Shire. She is excited to see him but in a turn of events he gives up his live to save Horn. This a real in game event that's outcome depends on weather or not you sent Halros with the Grey Company)

Yesterday was blessedly peaceful and quiet, free of trouble and tragedy. If only more days could be so. 

(The page is scattered with small, intricate drawings of flower's and people's faces, the doctor's cramped, loopy writing squished in around these doodles)
I am not exactly a man for these written nuances, but I thought it be wise to pour my thoughts and desires into a journal afore I do something foolish. Though I mourn ever so slightly that my sketchbook is becoming a journal and a sketchbook now, ah well, such is life.

I swear the old adage is true. If my head weren't securely attached, it'd be lost and rolled into a ditch somewhere.

I wanted to talk a bit about the doctor, Raven. I've so enjoyed the conversations we've shared recently. He's been so open with me, and shared so much of his past and his present struggles, and the faith he's placed in me to hear such things has really warmed my heart. I still will not share the details, not even here in my journal, out of an abundance of caution on his behalf. 

Yesterday was largely pleasant, though a few moments were as ugly and harsh as anything I’ve ever known. Strangely, I don’t feel the same insecurity, the same regret, as I have on previous occasions. Could it be that I’m finally coming into my own identity, as Fate rakes me over the coals more and more? Am I finally finding my own voice? Losing my fear of offending others?