We rest now in Warasia.
Long has it been since I have been able to focus on any one thing, other than that accursed elven woman. So it is with some relief that I pen this entry now, and I pray that you have the patience to tolerate me dear reader, for I fear I may ramble on. It dawned upon me that I had not thought to consider many of the dilemmas I had struggled with preceding that incident in Kakochan. Inevitably, the weight of these things has bore down upon me once more. Yet most curiously, and it is with a sort of fascination on my part that I come to realize this, I find myself in a state of want. Despite the numbness that seized me while I hung in such sorrow, I also felt a distinct presence of something settling into a place inside of me, where before nothing had dwelt. Would it be laughably dramatic to suggest that I was somehow sated by the sadness that haunted me? That for all my rationality, my honest desires were to feel at all, whether great joy or crushing pain? There is much I still do not know. What I do know, however, is that with the passing of sorrow I find myself amidst a familiar…lacking. And while there is comfort in the familiar, the want for stimulation is insatiable. I knew this, and yet I could never fathom the power it had to animate me, and compel me to mobility. Be it whatever, my heart yearns for maturity.
We spoke, the elf and I, though the exchange was somewhat one-sided. I suppose I have the wine to thank for that, as I could not foresee such a thing as that happening were she not under its subtle influence; perhaps the drink is a spell all its own. Quite a pair we make, what with her bouts of verbosity, and my tendency towards silence. Would you believe that I wrapped my arms around that woman, silent reader? I feel I may have been just as surprised at myself as she, in recollection. While I know better than to take her as one who does not feel, I am sure that there is little love lost on her part for my mere sake; her struggles are with the lot of us, this I understand. I will go on feeling as I do, for I expect nothing from her and I am not so improper as to require acknowledgment. She is alive, and I am satisfied.
Interestingly enough, Kraytol also wished to speak with me, though he may have beheld a slightly greater observation of tact than to simply barge into my room and bark at me passionately. Indeed, this struck me as peculiar, for the minotaur and I have had little to no meaningful discourse through much of this journey. Not for sake of his past…dullness, but rather a lack of coincidence. But I have taken great notice of his development these past few months, and there is an air of awareness about him now that cannot be discounted. He inquired how I avoid the entrapment of absolution, and I tell you reader that for all the irony in such a question, I could not stifle a laugh. I do hope I wasn’t received poorly in that, but ever have I wished to bear such a “curse” as his, for the state of mind I find myself in has long lost its luster, and I confessed this to him thus. I do not know if he understood me. He told me that for all my apparent thoughtfulness, I seemed like an appropriate person to discuss such things with. Perhaps I have come to be viewed this way.
Yablo has been scarce. What mischief does he weave as I write, I wonder?