I haven't wanted to open these pages to write in a long while...partially because I'd forgotten, and partially afterwords because I was...embaressed. Embaressed, when I re-read these words to try and remember, and saw how....foolish, and selfish my life has been led. Yes, there is pain and despair, and yes...I've had my fair share of it. How selfish to try and forget everything, and cause everyone yet another sadness, for my own comfort...and yet...

I think I needed it. Because I don't...hurt so much inside anymore. Because it was a balm that let me live again, instead of exist in a gray world. Because it gave me time where I didn't have to think, just react. I even got to talk to new people, when I haven't truly broken out of my shell since I'd joined the OSS. It hurts to remember...but, I have the shell, and the blanket...and tons of happy memories to outweigh the sad ones. And, I have a new life to make, and choices to decide...which, I have to look at now as a chance, and not as overwhelming frustration.

Hopefully, the Wolf will be able to take me to the temple today. I must admit, he's been...frustrating me, by forcing me to wait, and asking all these questions that I sometimes don't understand. Things about the darkness, and a rogues duty to others...his philosophy, and I suppose one I'll have to adopt too, as his sponsee. But, it doesn't bother me...he's the closest rogue I know..one of my closest friends. I really wouldn't want another, despite the many offers-most of which surprised me, honestly. Wolf says I always was one of the best rogues he knew, but I hate hearin that, and he knows it....Kias also said he found my humility 'astounding'. It probably just sounds like false humility to even bring it up here, but...those things really do bother me. They bother me, because I'm amazed that other peoples opinion of me doesn't match my own. I KNOW that I make a mediocre rogue...and though Wolf says it has to do with the heart and not the strength, I still know it. I mean, in my stupidity and foolishness, I lost my profession, to try and forget, now only to try and regain it back. What kind of rogue is that? I'm going to try to be better this time around, though.

This is where I try to start anew....Where I'm going to give up the past, in order to have a future. Where I forget...and start over because I'm afraid thats all I can do.

Another day passes, and I find it easier to think of, at times at least. Sometimes there is still that shock..utter and complete where I don't feel like I could even move. But other times, I just...sit and smile, and maybe cry too, to think of some of the things we did together, some of the things we accomplished, and some of the insanely strange ideas we had. Its still an empty spot, a very sore empty spot, but at least I ain't trying to cover it over with a tarp and pretend like it was never there.

Another two guild offers, no less...I must say that at first I was appalled, and angry, by the questions. Some honestly were meant in a comforting fashion, though ill-timed. Others...were not so kind, and were rather blunt and...crass. Those are the ones that angered me. Could they not respect my wishes, that I left the guild for a reason? Anger is quickly cooled though; fraid I have quite a quick wick, but it burns short thankfully. And then, the offers that I just...I don't know what to do about. The Vanguard. The Hammers. The Amazons. Even the Kindred Spirits. I can't help but think and consider...and yet, it would feel wrong. It all does. So for now, I let it sit and lie as it is, and wait for the world to change.




Do we truly think of death all that much, where we live? This has nothing really to do with..Shawna and Yojji, but more with a discussion in Dundee Inn. We live with the knowledge that, though we may be temporarily withheld from fighting, we are reformed at death at the monuments. Without those wonders, though...what would life be like? And, what about those who stray from here and do face the permanent death? Thinking about it truly doesn't help anything, and yet...I can't help but think about it more, as I come in contact with it more and more often. And I can't help but fear...will I know when its coming for me?

There is a limit to how much one can talk. Each ones is different, you can't put no labeled time on it, like any amount of time for such is the same from person to person. I really appreciate everyone...for making me feel less empty. For letting me know I ain't alone, at least not all the time. But, as much as I want to talk...how can I? That would mean knowing what I was gonna say. I mean, I tried to just sit and just...do whatever. But nothing about it comes out. I can't force it, and yet I can't just let it flow out either. What can I say? They're dead....

There, I finally wrote it. I haven't been able to say that, I haven't been able to write it, but there. They are, and gods help me for being weak, but I can't help but cry as I write this. Cause I'm sitting in the garden, trying to make my peace here. Because I'm trying to make it ok for me to feel like I can come back, and not feel...foreign. I belong here, cause I helped make it. But I can't be a part of it anymore, because it isn't the same. Things...evolve. People evolve, not in the sense physically, though some do. But mentally. And I did. Shawna...she made it a home for me, and she gave me a place in her heart, just like I gave her a place in mine. That imp of a cleric, too. I can remember when Shawna would find me when I was down, and just be there...I hope she knows what a comfort she was. I can remember when I found a lightening canister, and me and the Cleric went to go kill bunnies. Priceless moments, that I'll never want to forget. But I have to sit here, and let that realization hit me, that no more of those will ever happen. That...that part of my life, is gone and done.

I think, my biggest problem is not simply in grieving...but in moving on. Because this oh-so-irrational mind of mine just doens't stop ticking. Is it right to move on? Can I do any honor to their memory, by forging on ahead? I'll never forget, and everyone says they'd want me to be happy. I think I'm afraid that if I move on though, that I would forget. Replace them, even.

Ermin...bless the chanters soul, I think she wants to try and fix me. Problem is, nothing is broken. Something is just missing. I don't want to pull her, or anyone for that matter too close. I'm afraid they would disappear too. I'd never been much for caring about a family, til I came here. Long ago, family to me meant the other street kids in your gang. It meant the people you knew wouldn't kill you, but might fight you for a piece of bread. Here, it meant something different. But here, leaves the opportunity for so much more hurt. She offered me a place in her guild..one of the few truly sincere offers I believe. I talked to Agua about it, just on a whim to see if it was true...and it was. I know they're hurting over the recent loss of Whit as well, but...I don't want to be a replacement.
Speaking of Whit, I've seen Jael around lately...such a soul I've never honestly seen. I think she'd try to take the whole worlds troubles, to spare someone an ounce of pain. Though I feel terribly guilty; I shouldn't have poured out to her that way, when I know shes prolly hurt over Whit just as much as I am over my terrible two. I think she'd try to take the splinter out of a childs hand without noticing the own dagger in her heart. I'd like to talk to her, though....I think she honestly understands. Because, thats whats needed most. Understanding that transcends words....

I still feel like...like its the black mists and they swallow me, cause I just don't want to leave them. Shadows can hide secrets, pain, stories...I like to keep myself there with them, so that I don't have to return to a world of reality that leaves me wishing for more that just will never happen.

That chanter...I swear, shes the only one who's made sense so far. People telling me to just let it go, when I can't let it go cause I still...can't hardly believe it. When I wander around aimlessly cause I have no purpose and nothing to do. And nothing to talk about. How many came to me asking, saying they'd be there if I needed to talk. Why talk, when I have no words to say? There is a limit to how long one can wear a mask of nicities. And no one really wants to sit and hear a rogue rant about b a eing..empty. At first I just wanted her to stop it, like everyone else. If you dont' reach out, you can't get burned. She makes some sense though, for being a darned confusing chanter. People speakin in riddles...gah. But, she made me remember...and cry.

Why hadn't I cried? I couldn't...if I cried, that meant it was really real, that I honestly had something sorrowful to lament about. But I needed too...I hate that I made her cry too, but..maybe she needed it as well?

There are those who wear a heart on their sleeve, and I'm sorry to say I used to. And there are those who bottle it up and pretend, like I'd tried....I'm not sure, quite yet, but maybe...and just maybe, mind you! Maybe neither one works...I'm just afraid...no, confused...gah, I don't know. But at least....least I don't feel so much like leaving for good now...

I ain't got nothing left to even say. I don't know what to do, I don't know where to look...I don't even know if you could call this living. Am I living? I feel like a shadow; I have to isolate myself or I'll just feel that hurt. I miss them. But I can't miss them. Cause if I really do, I think I'll crack.

Everyone talks about how I need to move on and be happy, to 'honor their memory'. Why would it honor their memory? They're gone, so it don't matter, right? Besides, I don't really know what that means anymore. I'm lost, in this fog of gray, and the problem...is that I want to stay here. Its easier to push away now, than to let them hurt me later.

What ifs...what ifs, and how they haunt.

Had I been around, maybe I could have helped. Who knows. But, this I know. I give up. I really don't know what to say, or what to do. Sympathies are falling on deaf ears, as I try and present that smiling facade. Shes gone, Green's gone, and the guild...ah, what a laugh. I know its gonna fail. I've known it would since long ago. How foolish to hope and dream, even though thats what my departed sister did.

Until I can even think rationally, I give up. Everyone has a breaking point. Way to go, demons...you win.

I give up.

Ever have a rare moment of madness, where you just can't stop writing and the words just seem to pour out? Well, I did...I don't even rightly know what it means, but I had to write it. It just...fits.

Said the daughter to her father;
"Why does the caged bird sing?

And said he to the little one;
"Because he can't take wing.
He sits and bemoans every little thing
From the flowers and the trees,
To the river and the breeze.
That, my dear sweet thing, is why the caged bird sings."

Replied she:
"Then why cage the lovely bird?"
And so saying not another word
Did set the winged one free.
Who, from crying lips
and fathers grasping tips
of fingers did he flee.

Cried aloud sadly to his daughter;
"What freedom is truly free?
Is it any life
to live in strife
of fear of what could be?
To fear the sun, the men, the earth
To never again know the warmth of a hearth
In life so cruel, you see?
Why did you set him free?!"

Said she in a voice most gentle;
"Father, is it the bird or is it me?
That you seek to protect
From the fears that reflect
In your voice upon your plea?
Like day and night,
Or the tides of the sea,
For all your might,
Can't you see the key?
You, who has never been free?"

Said he, with tears in his eyes
"Daughter, the bird is you and me.
Locked up tight
From fear and fright
of a world so big you see.
Can we dare take flight
when dangers abound?
With darkness of night
Are we safe from hells hound
what would seek to end our plight?

Daughter, freedom is a bittersweet thing
that would seek to ensnare your heart.
Is it a wonder I should fear you to part,
fear for you to taste how tart
instead of let you sit and sing?
You from this nest I could never fling!"

Said she;
"Father, I know I ask you much,
But this home has become a lair
of a beast, though seeming fair
has caught me, love the snare.
And in this way, captured such
I sing the song of sorrow and despair
And in this way, I am your crutch
A wretched duo, this pair.

Father, I beseech you, cannot you let me go?
Cannot you let me see myself, the pain you seem to know?
Lifes lessons are the hardest,
And yet I've come to see
Those make you the smartest
So that you can finally
realize I need to be
the bird that I set free."

He simply stared and said;
"So it comes to this day
So filled with gray
that I sought to never see.
I never thought this day would come
When you would leave from me
Go on and take your life,
let me live mine by the sea.
Where memories will haunt me
Of a daughter with a knife
made of words to end the strife
between the father and between she."

And so she turned and left,
her father to be bereft
of the one thing he held dear.
In trying to guard
In trying so hard
Protecting out of fear.
Only to find, that he was wrong
As most men seem to be
Only to find, his heart wasn't strong
enough to last without she
and so came to be this song.

I was too late.

Selfish man, who wanted to gain only power, thinking only of pride. By the time I was in place, to finish my contract, I was too late. He'd already let the demons into the city. I'd known, he had planned it...but, I'd not thought it was so soon. Another mistake on my part then, and the people paid dearly for it. How I wish I'd paid better attention, had searched out for more information...

He let the demons in, with arms outstretched in welcome. And they came in swarms, pillaging the city as they went, killing, grinning and leering evilly. What could I have done to stop it? Nothing, and yet the guilt is still as black as night. It was only sheer luck that I'd decided on whim to take the demon shield with me, for I think that is the only way I was able to hide as long as I did. Still, I look like no demon, and I had a contract to fill, whether it was my ending or no. I tried to make my way as slowly as possible toward the center where he stood, gloating like some sick thing over a foolish prize. But, the demons where there on the way to him, and I could only stay hidden for so long. Eventually, they turned to me, noticing the slight form and the slip of the shield that revealed my face. I stabbed a few, took a few slices, bruises myself, and looked up, to find that twisted thing that they called a man...to see him ripped, limb from limb by the very creatures he had sought to rule over himself.

Foolish, selfish man...to seek to rise through the ranks of Bathazars minions, to seek to deal with demons. He only had it coming to him. I wish I'd been the one to deal the final blow, and that makes me sickened as well. But, suffice that the final blow was dealt, if at a high price to those who were once his neighbors. And, to I, the memory of it as I limped away in the aftermath, and began my journey back, resting, here, to write this before I'd forgotten, or til it was too late...