13/3/337 note; sharpen wit when possible
Another calm day in Cellsvich square. I psyched myself up, ready to properly spread Mercala's light, and to spur others to think on it.
One such enlightening conversation came from with a rather depressive fellow named Kyn. They seem to be a non-worshipper, if only because they were empty. They tended to fight a lot and if they are to be believed, they try to spread their beliefs...
...However, contrary to the title, they are not what sticks out today.
Thore is. As I had a brief argument with him (that derailed from a parallel), we were told to take it outside.
One rain later, he decided to, indeed, take it outside. But he chose to turn his blade upon me. He insisted on cutting me down, no matter what it took. I'm not even sure if I should call him friend. He's got the keys into the house. At least he's in the fort, for now... Perhaps he was reacting out of anger... but, why?
My past haunts me every day, and it's the form of a journal I can't let go of.
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