Saint's Journal - 07/11/20

07/11/20

We’ve been working together for a few weeks now.; longer than I would’ve like. My line of work is not inclined to work in groups, even when we share the same order. But this group has nothing to do with blood hunters. Clowns, maybe. After the Carnival incident,  there’s no doubt we will keep getting into trouble because of their misjudgement. We were chased by the Fae, yet they had to go inside the carnival, and be foolish. But how was I supposed to say no to Gwen. All she wanted was to have one normal night. After all, we had faced a ghost queen, met a troll, left a whole kingdom a wreck, and now we’re chased by the Fae. That kind of misfortune can get the best out of someone. And Gwen grew up living a simple life with a loving family. I can imagine her need for normalcy. But that carnival was a mistake.

We got trapped in the Hall of Mirrors. I had to face old memories. I guess we all did. Those memories felt so real. The ceremonial athame, how cold the blade felt as it cut my flesh, and the warmth of my blood dripping down my arms... One thing was different; I was the one on the altar to be sacrificed. I used to be the one to hold the rituals, but maybe the Fae felt my guilt, and put me in the place of my past victims. I was to be killed for my faith, or at least a corrupted version of it. Somehow I manage to break through the charm, and escape. It’s when I joined the party, I realized we all experienced our past or some version of it all over again. We go out. We got lucky.

I know I often play all high and mighty; I was raised to be perfect. But tonight, I was reckless. I wandered outside that shabby bar filled with “honest merchants”, knowing too well something was bound to happen to me. It’s when I felt the hammer coming full speed behind me, I knew it found me. Salvation through punishment, that’s how I was raised to think; how tainted by my family’s corruption I was. My first reflex was to try and gut the man, but my dagger could not go through completely.  He was a mountain of a man, but still a pile of worthless trash.

Still, I think he broke one or two ribs during that fight. He took me by surprise and managed to get a few hits. I must have been distracted. That’s what happens every time Gwen tries to show me kindness; I lose focus. I’d rather she wouldn’t. If she knew who I used to be, what I did. I know she’d forgive me, but I could never look her in the eyes again. She’s too naive, too kind. People like me don’t deserve forgiveness, not in the way she offers it. I wish I had set that man’s head on fire rather than aim for his chest. But it’s too soon for the party to realize how vicious I can be. By chance, his captain and a cleric saved him from me. Healed both of us actually. The adrenaline made me blithe, and wish I held Gwen’s hands for a moment longer.

We’re staying on the captain’s ship tonight. We’ll have our own tomorrow. I should be worrying about our new quest; retrieving that damn dragon egg. But Cadaver’s words kept bothering me. He rubs me off the wrong way most of the time. Always walking around showing off his precious skin and stupid tattoos. Just begging to be seen. He has nothing but charisma and luck. Probably why it irks me so much to know he is right. I’ve been too harsh to Gwen, and I had to apologize. She doesn’t deserve my past and how it affects me today. So, I made her a flower from one of the pages from the spell book. Nothing I didn’t already memorized. I learned origami as a way to hide passages in texts I did not want to share with others. I was so young and selfish. I still am, but I can at least try and make it up to her.

She seemed to like it; the flower, I mean. Gwen’s still set on breaking down my walls, and I’m still wondering if naivety or a savior complex. I have always had trouble connecting with others. I do try, I simply don’t know how to. I bought Coraline a medicinal cream with the money I had left, but still haven’t found the courage to mention it. Seeing her relentlessly scratch her arms worries me. She’s scarring herself; wounds of the past maybe. The last document I read on social interactions mentioned “pet names” as signs of affection. I named her “Carrot”. I think it worked.

And then, there’s Val. I think we have an understanding. Terrible swimmer, but they seem pretty smart once they learned their lesson. Saving them was a close call, but I think the party would have hated me for not doing so. And killed by pixies is not an honorable death, even for a bard. They don’t bother me, and I let them be. Maybe I could offer them a drink over the next two weeks on the ship. Two weeks… hopefully I don’t ruin out of my medication. It’s already hard enough to deal to deal with my panic attacks on their own. If the party finds me in such a vulnerable position- I’d rather not think about it or I won’t be able to get any sleep.

Nid wyf yn ofni marwolaeth, dim ond y gwyrdroi