Dear journal ...

Do I want to start this in such a kitsch way? I believe I do, and it is my journal, so I shall.
I have to say it has been the best year ever. Once I got over the fact of never waking up to a dry pillow again, the fact that the dowry included a moose, the snoring, and the crumbs all over the sheets, I can see the appeal in this whole bonding thing. I suppose it also helps I am bonded to my best friend in the world.

Sadly, the raids have been coming thick and fast lately, so I suppose I shall have to get used to being an Order Widow, as I call it; but he has a job to do, and he will do it very well, if we all pull together and keep them updated. The Order can only work with the information they have, and they can only get that information if people keep them ... well ... informed. Regrettably ferries, healers, and guild halls seem to be the main attraction; and just last turn the doors of the temple in the Holy City got a good old gouging. So far, thank gods, our little haven has not been attacked yet, and our beloved guild home remains unscathed, thus far.

However, in the midst of all this, I woke up to what has to be, the best gift I have ever received (apart from that time I got to hit him over the head with a bouquet!). Three mornings ago, I woke up to a parchment on my pillow, telling me that I was now officially registered in the lands as Mrs. Fireblade. You would think I would be used to the name after all this time, but it still made my tummy turn somersaults, and I admit I jumped straight out of bed, killed the demons that were thoughtlessly roaring outside our gates, then set straight about practising my signature again. My F's still look really weird, but I'll get them there.

There's not a lot more to tell, really. The brief respite and peace we once all knew appears to be over, but nothing lasts forever. Besides, if we don't go through all the bad stuff life throws at us, both individually, and has a collective whole, how do we know what good things look like, or learn to appreciate them? I firmly believe you need to know dark times, to recognise the good ones. (Which will be so much easier to do if I never woke up to cookie crumbs, each turn!) Some things will never change ... and I, for one, couldn't be happier about it.

I love you, babe. Crumbs and all. Always!

(I really do need to work on my F's ...)

Nothing says "fun" like a killing spree! We have had a very busy few turns laying foundations, and starting guild hall renovations. Well, I say "we" but behind every good man is a woman telling what needs doing, and how to do it! In all seriousness, it is all coming along nicely, and I absolutely love the home that we are creating, both for ourselves as well as for our guild family. We have welcomed a few more people in lately, and it is lovely to hear voices around the place. It makes me happy that things are finally looking up for our little family.

On a personal level, date night; and nothing says 'romance' like a killing spree on the Battlements. I walked the perimeter at one point, and dragged him up to admire the view, which really is stunning if you get over the fact that, at any moment, a Reverent may get it into (what is left of) their head to push you off!

I will be the first to admit that I always thought zero skill was needed for those who chose the path of warrior. Just get used to clunking about a bit in a suit of armour, and be able to whack things with a very heavy sword, but I paused for a marc to watch him. (This is no longer creepy - shh!) It is like a dance of sorts. There are different stances for different situations. Different techniques with said pointy sword (or in his case, weapon) and shield. There is a grace and finesse about what they do that I had never really noticed before. I wouldn't, really. One can't go about staring at warriors in the middle of battle and giving marks out of ten for performance, technique, and survivability, can they? So I watched him parry and take his shots, while I sat, cross-legged, on that wall. It got me thinking about the other warriors I had stood beside either just out training, or during a raid or attack; and I suddenly had a newfound appreciation for them. I wish I could have told them then that I didn't really think they were all grunts and growls. That I appreciated and had a huge respect for what they did. For the marcs of dedication they put into honing their craft.

Mostly we talk though. We talk about everything, and nothing. (Although last night, we came home, took our armour off, and passed out!) I can't speak for him, but I learn something new every turn. I never really got what people meant by "growing together" and all that "entwining lives" nonsense, but I really do now. I have started to eat without feeling guilty. Okay, not completely without guilt, but certainly with a lesser urge to put my body through torture for every bite I take. I have even started eating in front of people. Granted, I am not about to attend a formal dinner party just yet, but I think I may be developing an alarming addiction to s'poofs!

What else is there? I genuinely cannot think of anything because I usually use this little book to clear my head, but honestly, it doesn't need clearing right now. It is like the bubble has burst, and yeah it sucked for a while, but I feel it has just made everything stronger and more lovely. There are no more secrets or surprises. I think we have survived more in a few short cycles than most ever have thrown at them in a lifetime, and I know that we can keep on surviving, because we talk. We are open, we are honest, and yeah, sometimes we don't like what the other has to say very much. Sometimes it hurts, and sometimes it ends in blazing rows where one is hiding from the (literal!) thunder the other one hurls at them. That's life, and that's relationships though, isn't it? That's any relationship: be it between friends, family, or lovers. It can't all be sunshine, roses, and happiness. Life simply doesn't work like that.

So, for now, I will take the good turns and run with them. Make every marc the best it can be, and concentrate on forming new memories. I will survive the bad, because I know underneath the shouting, growling, and wanton destruction of possessions, there is love there. There is commitment and care. All storms pass. I will learn to play and discover the child within when the opportunities arise. I will appreciate the turns we just stay at home, watching the world go by as we talk, and plan for the future.

None of us know when our time is up. We just always assume, I think, that we will wake at the monument - a little worse for wear - and that the gods will always grant us a new lease of life. As we have seen all too well in the past, the gods sometimes don't bestow that on people, and I don't want a life wasted. I don't want a life like I had after 'it' and before him.

I used to believe that girls like me don't deserve happy and free. Much easier to keep people away, then no-one got hurt. Why don't I deserve it though? There is no reason, and he shows me that every turn. I just really hope I get to give him a little back in return, because he is the most amazing and resilient person I have ever had the pleasure to meet in this life. I hope beyond hope I can give him just a quarter of the 'magic' he gives me, and that I can make him understand that I will never take him for granted. That he is safe with me. I just want him to feel as safe and happy as I feel with him.

So, for now we will throw our snowballs (literally so much fun - I love snow!) and tickle our fish (not a euphemism, I swear!). I will suck as much joy as I can out of every marc, because I know the difference between living and existing.

Now I want to live.

I want to live free.

I want to live free with him.

Always.

I am writing this, having just spent a night sleeping on the most beautiful beach I have ever seen in my life -- not that I have much experience with beaches. Or that I have ever slept outdoors before! He is still snoring away, so I may as well do something constructive, and quite a lot has happened since I last "wrote things down to get them out of my head" so ... here goes nothing.

Winter's Warming came and went, and with it another plethora of firsts for me. We sledded down a mountain, and spent a lovely evening tickling fish in the gardens of Dundee. We have just spent time planning, organising, getting to know each other and ... it happened!

Three turns ago, I, Dabria Kamali (nee Twelve) said "always" and really meant it with every fibre of my being, breath in my body, and beat of my heart. (Note to self: If this bit makes you throw up - should you ever read it again - not over the journal please!) He trusted me, and I gave him the best bonding gift I could think of. I saw the look in his eye and I think he liked it. He said the rogue always said he "wanted to see him turn up at the bonding he wanted to be at" and ... that was the best way I could think of to make that happen for him.

It nearly didn't happen. I got terribly nervous and am not entirely sure why. Bo was lovely though and allowed me to ensconce myself in her guild's sauna ... I so need to do that again. It was divine! Then me (yes me!) actually wore a dress and instruments of tor ... sorry. Stilettoes ... and stood in the glade. It was very us. Quiet. Private. Just Raffe and Blank but I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I have his vows still, and the only thing missing was 'Little Blue' in all honesty. She would have told him something like "glad to see you got your stubborn spikey act together" and it would have been nice to have a story while I was getting ready. She always knew just the story for any occasion and they always calmed me right down. Made me forget everything for a little while.

So it was that I we promised ourselves each other for the rest of our lives -- which reminds me, I really must congratulate Cordelia on her choice of tailor. That Ceremonial Outfit of theirs ... oh gods, does that do things for a woman the way it clings to thighs, calves ... hips ...

Okay, I know. I am going off on a tangent!

I keep looking at my rings. My promise ring was amazing, all dark mirrored metal and green flecks. He said he remembered the place I go to when I need to get away from it all, and wanted me to know that he was still there with me. The actual bonding ring, well it turns out we both had the same idea. White gold, pure white marble stone inlay ... inscribed on the inside band with the words only we use.

Raffe did an amazing job, and we are very grateful that he took the time out of his busy schedule of being Commanderly, and staring in a mirror, to officiate for us. We wouldn't have wanted anyone else. After the service, we paused to remember those not so lucky all those seasons ago. We worked on turning yet another negative into a positive.

Right, so here comes the ranty bit ... I would apologise but it seems a bit strange me apologising to me for what me is thinking!

Some people talk a lot of crap really. We all have pasts. We all make mistakes. People have reasons for doing what they do, and some people never get a choice. Some people take great pleasure into trying to ruin other people's lives, and isn't jealousy an ugly thing? To the latter I say this: play your games. Use your words. It means nothing. Not anymore. I have had better people try to break me, and fail. Better people pass judgement on me and sentence me, only to fail.

For once, I am happy.
I have a temper. I admit that.
I can act and speak without thinking. I admit that.
When I act that way I can hurt people so, so much. I admit that.
Yet he still wants me for me, and I promised him so much. We spoke for many marcs the day before we bonded.
Nothing ever worth having is easy.
This is going to be hard, and this may very well hurt, but I know what I want, and I know it is him. It is true that sometimes love isn't always enough, but I will die trying, because I want him for him. Wholly. No sharing. No changing him, or wanting the perceived status touching the hem of his cloak will give me.
Him, as he is, is enough for me.
It is all I will ever need, and all I will ever want.

Always.

(Curse that cleric again(!). This is helping!)

"Try writing things down and getting them out your head" the cleric said. "It helps" he said.

I mean, okay, I am paraphrasing but, the point is, now I am actually sitting at the desk, quill poised, I have absolutely no idea where to begin, and chances are this will be rather long, rather rambling, and make no blasted sense at all ... then again, I suppose there is only me needs to understand it so -- here goes nothing!

I know who I am. At least I know my name. I didn't for the longest time. I have been "Twelve" far longer than I have been "Dabria" but that will all change in the fullness of time, I suppose. Hmm ... what else? Childhood: non-existent. Not being dramatic -- seriously. If I had one I don't recall it. The more I talk to people, the more I feel like this huge failure. Like there are massive gaps in my education somehow on the subject of 'how to person'. I mean the other night I had a nervous breakdown over a top sheet and blanket, but again, I digress.

I am not entirely sure this is what he meant ...

Okay. So I have been around this parts for ages now. Cycles upon cycles upon cycles upon ... you get the idea. Seen lots of things happen such as Balthazar finally getting bumped off, the seals breaking, deaths of two of the best clerics ever to come from Branishor, along with Quarrus, the kidnapping and rescuing of our Queen, Siegeguard, and watching Fartown burn; all topped off with a lovely bout of Sickness or two -- not to mention the memories of some delightful 'fun' it had along the way. ('Fun' used ironically, of course.)

I've had lots of things happen as well. Seen many people come and go, all missed dearly. None so much as Sorynn, Pappa S, and Little Blue. Oh, and that damnable Xanthias who, after a rather lubricated game of dice, is the very reason I am in robes. Sort of. I may have had a tiny bit to do with that too. I suppose the main thing I took away from that is think before you dice, and never dice on an ale-lined stomach. Especially if that ale comes from Jeffrey! (Again not important.)

The point to all this, I suppose, is to try and get my head in some sort of order. (Stranger things have happened!) Lots has happened to get me to this point, but the main reason for all this is to get me to realise I am not "Twelve" anymore. That is a tiny bit trickier. When I came here, some had lots of pre-conceived notions about me. I suppose I should be flattered. I mean if I can give meaning and purpose to their lives, they are leaving someone else alone while they're talking about me. It got to the point I was pushing people away. I decided it was easier to be what they wanted me to be, instead of the real me. Of course, to be the real me I would first need to know who the real me is. She is very much a work in progress, and I am slowly unpicking at the armour to get to her. (Gods, this really isn't making any sense, is it? Maybe I will be able to clarify much more as the turns and cycles go on.) Where was I? Right. Happenings. So I pushed, and I pushed, until eventually there were very few left who cared to persist at all.

Little Blue used to make me stand with her in Dundee; transforming swords, and giving boots to initiates. She said she was teaching me 'how to people'. I think she had some idea about where I came from, but she used to say that didn't matter. It was who I chose to be now that did. The problem with that being I had never had to make a choice in my life, so again, easier said than done. (That seems to be a theme with me.) When I became an enchanter she would sing for blues for me, as I hunted my portals, and take me with her, whenever she could, to stare at all the mundane things Knights got to stare at, such as killer cabbages (don't ask!). She genuinely, friended me to death. (Gods I miss her!)

People come and people go, in life. Some make a huge impact. Some you barely notice slip away. Others you breathe a huge sigh of relief over, and hope the door does (not!) hit them on the way out. In my experience, it is the ones that matter who tend to go, while the ones who delight in causing trouble and harm to others remain. So I decided that I was better off living in the safety of my own self-created fortress, and only ever giving people what they expected. Nothing more and nothing less. (With one or two exceptions.) As for all that "finding someone" nonsense that seemed to consume people fully, well I knew what men could do. I knew what they expected. Not a chance in Ryn! Did anyone ever catch my eye? Sure. (I am but human, after all.) Still, people like me never got to deserve the happy ever afters, and someone like him would never look at me twice. So I sort of packed it all down, watched from afar, and was content to take whatever crumbs I was offered.

He was a constant, though. I just knew that if I got that grin from him, or got him to fuss at me for playing with his hair as we dashed by one another, that somehow, I could cling on a little longer. A bit like a duck -- all serene and 'demon-may-care' on the surface, while underneath I treaded the waters of life, frantically fighting to keep my head above the waves. (Shh, you! I can be dramatic, if I want!) I watched as he grew: Warrior ... Knight ... Protector ... Commander. (He said he always knew, but that was many cycles later.) I refused to take that leap of faith, and give it my best shot, though. I taint everything I touch, and the last thing I would ever want is to taint him, too.

He, however, had other ideas, and so I write this from our little home. About a cycle ago he popped up from nowhere, grinning that grin, and draping his arm around me (he got to keep the arm!). He knows me better than I know myself, and gods, he gets me. He gets where I came from, what I was left with after the vultures finished feeding; and he is slowly pulling me out of me. Unpacking me. Cutting me open, and just letting me bleed ... letting me be. Wanting to know me for me, and not me for what he can get. Helping me grow up ... think ... feel ... learn. I don't think he realises what he actually does for me.

Yes, I know this is very cliche and gushy, but I need to remember this. I need to remember his face, his crooked grin, the eyes that see right through, and right into, me; because no-one has ever bothered to try to do that with, and for, me before. We worked it out. We talked, and I mean really talked in a way I have never talked to anyone in my life, simply because talking meant you gave them ammunition to store up for use at a later date. Often people only want you for their own personal amusement, or what they can get from you, before chewing you up, and spitting you out. He understands that, too. He has this way of making me open up, and feel so very, very safe. He lets me just be me. I can't even begin to explain how amazing that is. He has opened up his life to me, and all he asks is that I trust him--as if there is any question of that! He gave me a home. He is giving me everything and, somehow, 'thank you' seems so insincere. It just doesn't seem to be enough. I have pushed. I have kicked. I have screamed. I have done it all, as usual, and most would have left by now because ' it was nice but I can't do this any more' yet he just stands there ... waiting. Fixing his eyes on me, and telling me I can do what I like because he is going nowhere. I need to give him everything ... no ... I want to give him everything, as he has given so much to me. I don't think he understands. I don't actually think I have the words to make him understand that he has me. That he is slowly bringing me back to life.

When he proposed in that place, I have never been more certain of an answer in my life. It was like, from the very first marc, we knew where this was heading without saying a word, and I put that down in no small part to us being friends first. I don't believe things can work with anyone unless there is friendship there ... and trust. He gave me the former unquestioningly, and the latter, so completely, so absolutely, that I cannot imagine a turn that I would want to wake up with anyone else. (Yes! Me! I will probably throw up at a later date for being this gushy, but I now totally get what people mean when they say 'there is someone for everyone' and 'when you know, you'll know'!)

He knows I don't need looking after. He knows that I don't need him because I need someone. I need him because it is him. He has his own long road to travel, the same as me; but the difference, at least to me, is that mine is no longer mine alone. It is ours. We both realise the damage we have done to ourselves over the years. We both know it won't be easy, but then nothing worth having ever is. He asked me to fight with him, as I asked him to do with me, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for him. For us. All he asks me for is to stay--as if I would ever want to be anywhere else.

I only hope I don't hurt him. I am very good at doing that to people. I am just not very good with them. He isn't just a person though. He's my Affas.

Gods, I only hope I can give him a very small fraction of what he gives me.

Always.

(That will do for now, and damn it! The cleric had a bloody point. I am not going to tell him that, though -- I will never hear the end of it!)