Post by Just Richard on Jan 20, 2011 8:00:00 GMT -8
((The title is in Old Tongue and is translated to: "I am lost in my own mind."))
Mat sits in a fairly unkempt room. There are clothes scattered here and there and the bed is still in disarray. His appearance is similar. His hair a mess, his jaw covered in a thick mass of stubble, and his eyes bloodshot and underlined with dark circles. His desk is still immaculate despite the mess. At the upper right corner is a worn but clean leather bound notebook. Beside it is a thick hardback novel. On the cover is a mounted party. A man in dark armor and a woman in fine robes lead the group. The words The Eye of The World are emblazoned in gold at the top of the cover. His leather journal sits open in front of him. He pours the journal, the raven-feathered quill scratching out that same curved alien script that has come to fill the latest entries. [/color]
Three days since she left. Things with the new house/mansion/villa are coming along nicely and moving to a signing phase. I've been looking into furnishing the place extravagantly. No point in having nice things outside without having nice things on the inside too. Erzabeth would insist on it anyway. She always wants what's best for her people. She was the one who gave Sheila those extravagant shoes and those gloves that Sheila liked. So yeah, I guess as one of "her people" I should give myself the same nice things. Fireplaces in most of the rooms, Sheila would've liked that. Part of why I chose this house, because she would've liked it. Middle of Capitol Hill, center of the LGBT community, so many dreams and so many hopes here. I could feed off of it for days if I wanted, but... who gives a bloody damn about that sort of thing when life is like this. Alone, empty, and wondering who the hell gives a damn whether or not I show up to Court this weekend. Andrick's still MIA, Erzabeth has enough on her plate to open her own restaurant, and my wonderfully subtle Baron is doing his best to work with the very people who want to destroy us.
On that. Aislenn was a very...how to put this...intriguing woman. Thoroughly convinced that our two groups could and should work together. And Ulrim sitting there doing his best to not give the Freehold away. I think that had Simon not been there to tell Ulrim what not to say, the man would've handed over the Freehold to the bloody Society of bloody Leopold. Bunch of Whitecloaks in my opinion. Pretty much the same attitude too. The meeting verified one of my suspicions. Ulrim was boning the woman. Operative word there: was. She gave him the cold shoulder and it was all I could do to not laugh out loud on the spot. She was a cute girl, nothing to fall over for by looks, but still pretty and one hell of a personality pouring off of her. I guess I'll give Ulrim points for judge of character on this one. With that sort of life and energy, I'd bone her too... if she wasn't a bloody zealot. She is fully confident and certain that her ideas are the right ideas. I'm pretty sure that they--her bodyguard was there packing something for killing I'm sure--knew I was there, they didn't voice it but these people are better than most about noticing things that are blatantly integrated as threats in their fanatical values -- i.e. anything beyond the normal humans out there. Huginn was very good at his practice run, he brought back the addresses that the two women stopped at and scratched them out on a sand box (one of those used for fancy stone settings) that I got for the specific purpose. He was given a bit more than five drops this last feeding. My way of praising him. They will be useful in the future hopefully.
They're with her now. Getting made into something beyond mere decorations. Sheila seemed pretty excited about it all. Left me a little present in expectation. Two raven tattoos two give them manifestation in the normal world as per their augmentation. I think she just wanted to further emphasize the fact that I am the incarnation of the Prince of the Ravens. I'll give her that. I'm coping with her departure in similar ways. Retreating deeper and deeper into Matrim is not the safest way of coping, but it's better than giving Era a good shot at taking out Andrick while he's... well, while he is recuperating. So yeah, going with Mat. I'm diving back into Jordan's world, it's comforting me to enough of a degree that life is bearable.
It was easier last time. I didn't feel this tug, this pull, telling me that I have to be near her. Light, who knew the Oath would do this much to me. I feel empty, I feel hollow, lifeless. I'm a bloody Changeling, I have to stay full of life and hopes. Otherwise...
There is an answer to this, but I don't know how or if she'd take it. Anthem. She is still hanging out at the Baron's place. Apparently, there of her own will, why anyone would want to do that is beyond me. That's asking for Bedlam right there. But, maybe, with Sheila being gone... her Love may give her reason enough to be with me. The Light knows, I'd be grateful and it wouldn't be an act of choosing "second best," it would be an act of wanting to be safe and not alone. Besides, I'll be living in a hollow shell of a house soon, I need someone to keep me company or I'll go insane. My current state is pretty evident of that.
I haven't slept in two days, I'm probably not going to get sleep in a few more. I haven't shaved in more. I haven't cared enough to do either. Might even go to court disheveled and haggard. Probably expected of me with what's going on. I doubt I care enough to show them how strong my will is. Light, I'm so emo right now I make myself sick.
Mat sighs and rubs a hand across his face and looks at the screen of a laptop positioned beside him. He looks back to the journal and then drops the quill. Quickly turning back to the screen he gapes at the newsfeed of his Faebook page. He sits there for a long moment before looking back at the journal and picking up the quill.
Blood and bloody ashes... he's back. He's back. Burn me, I hope this isn't some trick and that he is really there. Now I have something to look nice for come Sunday. Informal or not he's back and he will know what to do about things. Sheila's still gone and I miss her insanely and I will not rest peacefully until we are together again, but... somethings are looking better. I have to clean my life up and---
The last of the sentence trails off in a line of ink. Mat once again drops the quill and turns back to the screen. Tears fall from his eyes as he makes a few clicks and then he whispers, "Finally, at least she's still here." The screen is still Faebook, but at the bottom right hand corner is a chatbox with the text of "Sheila Cooper is online" in faded text at the top.
Mat sits in a fairly unkempt room. There are clothes scattered here and there and the bed is still in disarray. His appearance is similar. His hair a mess, his jaw covered in a thick mass of stubble, and his eyes bloodshot and underlined with dark circles. His desk is still immaculate despite the mess. At the upper right corner is a worn but clean leather bound notebook. Beside it is a thick hardback novel. On the cover is a mounted party. A man in dark armor and a woman in fine robes lead the group. The words The Eye of The World are emblazoned in gold at the top of the cover. His leather journal sits open in front of him. He pours the journal, the raven-feathered quill scratching out that same curved alien script that has come to fill the latest entries. [/color]
Three days since she left. Things with the new house/mansion/villa are coming along nicely and moving to a signing phase. I've been looking into furnishing the place extravagantly. No point in having nice things outside without having nice things on the inside too. Erzabeth would insist on it anyway. She always wants what's best for her people. She was the one who gave Sheila those extravagant shoes and those gloves that Sheila liked. So yeah, I guess as one of "her people" I should give myself the same nice things. Fireplaces in most of the rooms, Sheila would've liked that. Part of why I chose this house, because she would've liked it. Middle of Capitol Hill, center of the LGBT community, so many dreams and so many hopes here. I could feed off of it for days if I wanted, but... who gives a bloody damn about that sort of thing when life is like this. Alone, empty, and wondering who the hell gives a damn whether or not I show up to Court this weekend. Andrick's still MIA, Erzabeth has enough on her plate to open her own restaurant, and my wonderfully subtle Baron is doing his best to work with the very people who want to destroy us.
On that. Aislenn was a very...how to put this...intriguing woman. Thoroughly convinced that our two groups could and should work together. And Ulrim sitting there doing his best to not give the Freehold away. I think that had Simon not been there to tell Ulrim what not to say, the man would've handed over the Freehold to the bloody Society of bloody Leopold. Bunch of Whitecloaks in my opinion. Pretty much the same attitude too. The meeting verified one of my suspicions. Ulrim was boning the woman. Operative word there: was. She gave him the cold shoulder and it was all I could do to not laugh out loud on the spot. She was a cute girl, nothing to fall over for by looks, but still pretty and one hell of a personality pouring off of her. I guess I'll give Ulrim points for judge of character on this one. With that sort of life and energy, I'd bone her too... if she wasn't a bloody zealot. She is fully confident and certain that her ideas are the right ideas. I'm pretty sure that they--her bodyguard was there packing something for killing I'm sure--knew I was there, they didn't voice it but these people are better than most about noticing things that are blatantly integrated as threats in their fanatical values -- i.e. anything beyond the normal humans out there. Huginn was very good at his practice run, he brought back the addresses that the two women stopped at and scratched them out on a sand box (one of those used for fancy stone settings) that I got for the specific purpose. He was given a bit more than five drops this last feeding. My way of praising him. They will be useful in the future hopefully.
They're with her now. Getting made into something beyond mere decorations. Sheila seemed pretty excited about it all. Left me a little present in expectation. Two raven tattoos two give them manifestation in the normal world as per their augmentation. I think she just wanted to further emphasize the fact that I am the incarnation of the Prince of the Ravens. I'll give her that. I'm coping with her departure in similar ways. Retreating deeper and deeper into Matrim is not the safest way of coping, but it's better than giving Era a good shot at taking out Andrick while he's... well, while he is recuperating. So yeah, going with Mat. I'm diving back into Jordan's world, it's comforting me to enough of a degree that life is bearable.
It was easier last time. I didn't feel this tug, this pull, telling me that I have to be near her. Light, who knew the Oath would do this much to me. I feel empty, I feel hollow, lifeless. I'm a bloody Changeling, I have to stay full of life and hopes. Otherwise...
There is an answer to this, but I don't know how or if she'd take it. Anthem. She is still hanging out at the Baron's place. Apparently, there of her own will, why anyone would want to do that is beyond me. That's asking for Bedlam right there. But, maybe, with Sheila being gone... her Love may give her reason enough to be with me. The Light knows, I'd be grateful and it wouldn't be an act of choosing "second best," it would be an act of wanting to be safe and not alone. Besides, I'll be living in a hollow shell of a house soon, I need someone to keep me company or I'll go insane. My current state is pretty evident of that.
I haven't slept in two days, I'm probably not going to get sleep in a few more. I haven't shaved in more. I haven't cared enough to do either. Might even go to court disheveled and haggard. Probably expected of me with what's going on. I doubt I care enough to show them how strong my will is. Light, I'm so emo right now I make myself sick.
Mat sighs and rubs a hand across his face and looks at the screen of a laptop positioned beside him. He looks back to the journal and then drops the quill. Quickly turning back to the screen he gapes at the newsfeed of his Faebook page. He sits there for a long moment before looking back at the journal and picking up the quill.
Blood and bloody ashes... he's back. He's back. Burn me, I hope this isn't some trick and that he is really there. Now I have something to look nice for come Sunday. Informal or not he's back and he will know what to do about things. Sheila's still gone and I miss her insanely and I will not rest peacefully until we are together again, but... somethings are looking better. I have to clean my life up and---
The last of the sentence trails off in a line of ink. Mat once again drops the quill and turns back to the screen. Tears fall from his eyes as he makes a few clicks and then he whispers, "Finally, at least she's still here." The screen is still Faebook, but at the bottom right hand corner is a chatbox with the text of "Sheila Cooper is online" in faded text at the top.