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Herb-scented Log
#31
Quote:Dormehan Standoff
12/10/343
Today, I was on break. On (mostly) my own will, like most of my schedule.
I teleported to Cellsvich, stopped by, (resisted the neurotic urge to scrub) said hello, then walked off.

After I headed to Dormeho's square, I noticed something interesting. Namely; a situation that needed handling. Fast. Blue called upon me to help.
Whatever was going on, it had angered a Squire named Jorden. The cause was a Blonde Student, who reveled in the anger.
The battle began quicker than I could run in. But I had to stop it somehow. I ran in, staff primed, mind cleared.

The objective was simple; minimize bloodshed, calm the squire down, stop him from doing something stupid, in no particular order.

I succeeded at only one of these.

The battle raged on. And the guard appeared, inconveniently. (And it wasn't even the right ones.) Nonetheless, I tried to remain calm, as I tried to also calm Jorden down, or otherwise convince him not to fight. As I made my attempt, he looked no different. Surely he's calm. Surely he's alright.

No. It wasn't alright at all. I watched him continue beating up the Student, screaming inside for him to stop.

The guard stood in the way, at least, and I lobbed a potion towards the Student, mostly because I had to. It is my duty...
Blue kept Jorden restrained, truly stopping him from doing anything more, for the moment. Jorden used a burst of wind to break free of the grip, just in time for an even worse guard to have their attention drawn to the situation. I kept trying to reason with Jorden, to de-escalate the situation.

Blue tried to keep him still, but her grip slipped; forcing her to strike instead. Jorden appears to have given up at that point. Once more, I made an attempt to calm him down, this time much more successful. At last, he's in a position to be reasoned with, too late, unfortunately. With the situation handled, I lowered my guard, and let the processing begin. The supposed victory was bittersweet, but at least she didn't have more leverage to play victim.

Admittedly, I was angry at the whole thing. The guards threatened to drive me to do something stupid. And what happened afterwards only wore on me. I need another break.
My past haunts me every day, and it's the form of a journal I can't let go of.
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#32
Quote:Burning Man
1/3/344
I'm not sure what to comment.
I woke up. I got out of bed. Got ready for the morning, made sure to say my prayers, teleported to Imperia. Went on a walk. Walked to the smoke in the woods, and expected anything but what I was currently seeing. Yakin, his girlfriend and Alex, smoking. Smoking something. It doesn't appear to be anything safe, that's for certain. Especially not with that burning effigy of what looks like a person. (which is the least important part of this encounter, mind you.) A cloaked stranger; the only other sober person, was there as well.

It appeared to be Alex's first time smoking whatever it was. Marked by coughing, and barely-there talk about "letting it in."
The natural reaction was first to kick in.

Yakin and his girl took a puff from the hookah, (yes I learned this part-way through) and I merely watched. I could only watch; I was afraid of ruining it. Admittedly, it was quite amusing to see the group under the influence, travelling (mentally) to new worlds. Eventually, even Alex joined in on it, after enough time. My brain failed to process it, and I briefly walked out of the forest, then back in.

I wasn't dreaming, everything was indeed happening.

Talk continued mostly under the influence, the smokers talking about the most enlightening nonsense that they've ever heard, minds abuzz about nothing. I kept watch on both the situation and the outside world, being sure not to succumb to the pressure of peers. I kept a Cleanse Potion close, just in case. Jokes that made little sense, but were hilarious to them were made, from the natural roads paved by their... addled minds. (I feel pretentious writing this, but it's the only way I can describe it.)

Eventually, the cloaked stranger left out cookies. The other effect kicked in.

The munchies kicked in, and soon, cookies were left out. Delicious, delicious cookies, perfect for the snackish smoker. They were devoured in short order by Alex, in slightly longer order by the woman, then by Yakin. I elected not to partake in the feast. The group returned to their positions in appropriately silly ways, returning to the world of drug-induced enlightenment.

Soon, Alex came crashing down to reality. That was the queue for the party to end. Yakin and his woman rode into the distance, and I walked into it.

By writing this down, I'll know it really did happen.

My past haunts me every day, and it's the form of a journal I can't let go of.
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#33
The writing is a bit jittery.
...Strange.

Quote:Epiphany of Sloth
I was never a writer. Always a reader. I never really wanted a big stake in the events, merely watch them unfold. At least, that's what I think. Because every now and then I realize I want to be involved. I want to be someone; I don't just want to sit out of the game! But, despite EVERYTHING, from prayer to Mercala, from help from one of Her devoted, from secular help to not-so-secular help, I'm still an observer. How much has changed over the years? Heck if I know. Sure, I get help. I always get help. I get so much help I never help myself. I don't even know if I need it at this point; I'm going senile and I haven't even hit 40. I suppose that's what I deserve for forcing Vera into a contract of making sure I don't come up with another use for my foot-warmer. Or my gauze.

I'm getting off track.

I don't know what to do. Probably retire into a quiet life of servitude and solitude. Maybe it isn't worth going back to Sigrogana for that small chance it'll get better. Sure, some big thing's gonna happen, there'll be a call to arms and there I'll be, but I think I ought to just give myself closure. Sort my life out; get everything in order, start a family, fade into obscurity.
That sounds nice.

I should also mention my friends. Probably burdened by my constant need to be helped. I wonder how many friendships involve a clergyman and a businessman; probably more than I think, but questioning everything I can is a good trait to have. A lot of them were 'strange' sorts. I wonder how she's doing. Did she finally score with the man of her dreams? Secure the marriage etc. etc. etc. An inventor's a good fit for a big business. Speaking of businessmen, I wonder how Yakin's doing. I hope he finally found happiness. Whether with or without the woman he was looking for. Maybe he could get a good night's sleep at last. Who else, who else... There's Walter. I hope I haven't made his life hell; with my constant flailing and crying and bawling an cries for help. Maybe he'll finally find peace. Or something greater than it; peace is all around us, anyone could pick it up like a pebble and collect it, or just throw it away.

Speaking of; I'm impressed at how long I've spent dying. Not literally, but I'm pretty sure at least one of my past selves would want it like that. And then I got shoved around and bullied and here I am. Every school should install a bully? Probably not, would likely leave a lot of damaged children and broken souls. There's enough trouble with education as-is and life in less-fortunate places (Not naming names, just look over the horizon) do the job enough.

...All these words, and I've yet to actually give myself closure. Talk to someone that really matters in my life and tie off the loose end.

I just hope I don't end up like Wilson.

Either way, I think I should close this off.
I was never good at writing endings.
My past haunts me every day, and it's the form of a journal I can't let go of.
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