Of late, I have found myself less and less inclined to write within the pages of this journal. Perhaps it is disinterest which stays my hand, or maybe it is a lack of time. So much has happened recently - enough to leave me utterly exhausted by the time I have found a suitable camp for the eve - and I find my mind cluttered with it. It is difficult to think straight and I fear that my rationality is being effected. Is this a reaction to the events, I wonder, or has a malady been laid upon my shoulders from afar?
My disagreements with Lustwyn grow worse. They have been more frequent and more venomous. It is not my desire to push her away or turn my anger toward her undeservedly. I am aware that I have over-reacted to her on more than one occasion, and that many of our disputes stem from simply miscommunication. We had not long since spoken our apologies and come to agreeable terms once again than she came to me and hostilities resumed. I tire of the insults; of being named a shrew and accused of unfeeling coldness. I tire of being her verbal training dummy, of being spoken at as if I were less than the mud in the treads of her boots. She has a new "sister" now; a frightful woman of poison and hatred who speaks out of turn in relation to matters that are none of her concern. Lustwyn does not need me any longer and this may well be for the best.
Thayalengir, meanwhile, is proving to be of some concern. I have never before known a man to be so very tempremental. He grows angry over nothing that I can see, storming away to sulk over matters that are ultimately without meaning. He expects me to understand yet I can make no sense of him. He is, perhaps, the most irrational creature that I have yet encountered, making even Drevorin appear sedate and predictable. I know not what to do about him, or what to think of him. Is his mind fractured? Does he require some help? Or is he simply a spoiled child trapped in the body of a grown man? I cannot tell.
The girl, Stonra, is another recent addition to the strife. I disliked her upon sight; the way she talks, the way she acts. She is thoughtless, selfish, violent, lacking in even the most basic of manners and utterly devoid of common sense or courtesy. I can never remember having reacted quite so viscerally to anyone before, especially not within the first few encounters, but there is something, some intangible thing that makes me despise her. She has grown close to Seaver however, so I must make the effort to tolerate her presence. I learned recently that she originates from Archet - perhaps she is one of those I used to watch from my window, playing in the muddied streets as children are meant to do; so free, so enviable.
The return of Aakusti has done no favours for my state of mind or temper. He demanded the right to protect me, although I know not from what. I would have refused, but what would have been the point? No words of mine would have swayed him from this course. Having him around is a deeply uncomfortable notion for me. I cannot help but remember how I came to be exiled from Aughaire and I detest being watched. He has promised that he means no ill and that he will avoid bloodshed as much as possible, but I cannot shake the underlying feeling that he plans to take me back - to where I do not know for he too was exiled from our tribe. It is irrational, perhaps, but his presence fills me with an unknown dread and in the depths of the night I find myself awakening to suspicion that he has found another way to force me to become his wife.
Throughout all of this I have remained worried for Rellas. Nalokha has made no move against him as yet, I believe, but that does not mean that she has forgotten about him. He remains within my house, attempting to go unseen by his former mistress, whilst I keep watch from afar. My charms and incantations are, I hope, of some use but with all the other distractions I have been suffering, I cannot be certain of their strength. He, of course, is a distraction in his own right. He told me some days ago that he and Jazilin had parted ways romantically because he desired me instead. Since then, he has frequently expressed his wish for us to be together and claimed love for me. He is an attractive young man, I will admit, and I care for him very much, however I had already come to an agreement with another. Even were that not so, I remain unconvinced that this is more than simple gratitude for my actions convincing him of phantoms. My continued rejections break his heart anew each time we speak and that, in turn, breaks my heart for I have no desire to hurt him.
My one shining light throughout all of this has been Haldrid. Perhaps it is an insanity to try again after our prior failed attempt at a relationship, but I find myself at peace when by his side. There is a gentleness to him and an understated caring that I have not felt since my time with Vaenthall so long ago. I feel safe when I am with him, warm and appreciated, and all of the trouble seems to melt away in his tender embrace. Even the truths that I have not dared speak to others are easier to utter to him. He knows that I continue to practise the arts of my mother, that I have only furthered my education at the hands of the Corcur and the Rhuadaur tribes; it does not faze him. I have shown him a portion of the scars and unwanted tattoos that festoon my body from neck to foot and he did not shrink away in horror. I have told him of the shadow people; that I see them, that I hear them, that they aid me and although he neither sees or hears them himself, he did not ridicule or disbelieve me. To be so accepted, to not have to hide myself, to feel so happy...
I wonder if it is love... and if it is, when will it all go wrong?
