Blince walked slowly into his home, and glanced left and right before laying down his gear, in it's usual spot by the door. He then went over to his bedroom, and peeked the door open to peer at Ivornwen, and smiled faintly as he saw sleeping peacefully, if not snoring loudly every now and then. The door closed carefully under his hand, and he took up his journal and pen and slouched down unto his chair.
The old journal slowly opened as he split it, reminding him that he should get the binding redone, he also swore he heard it creek, but wasn't entirely sure leather could do so. He shrugged off the noise, and in the slow music of his home, the hooting of a owl outside his door, the snoring of his woman, and the quick long scratches of his pen on the yellowed paper he began to write.
"Today I went to that whore-house of the Wolfhound's. Hyrien was ordered there, and I convinced her to let me come with. Everything went well enough, but seeing her this age, standing purposfully again. Felt strange, I still remember that spiffy little nineteen year old girl haggling me for a new job for her to go and do, or asking to see my Machete for the Uhm-teenth time. I do not know truelly if I like what she's done with herself, having joined a mercenary band... even at one point was Canginate's lass... I know I don't have the right to judge - She isn't my daughter. Nor my blood. But I still wish she would find something peaceful to do... But there's nothing I can do to stop it now.
A strange thing happend this morning as well. I walked out my door and to my horse, per the norm, but the moment I set off from my little slice of paradise the local mayor of the village, a old burly drunken man - nice enough, though. Anyway, he said a woman cloaked in black and red had supposedly asked for me. He did what I told him to do for all but a select view. Tell them, "He don' live here, Ma'am." or sir, depending on whom of course. Stupid to mention, but he's called someone a ''Ma'am'' when he was sir.
Black and red only reminds me of one person... A dangerous person. Someone I don't want to remember. I hope my suspition is just that, a suspition and not a actual truth."
After about an hour of writing and thinking, Blince rolled his shoulders and blew down upon the ink to let it set in before closing the creeking book and placing it beside himself. While his palms gripped the chair's armrests, he pushed himself up, and strolled forward to the door and slipped his way into the room. He laid a loving kiss on Ivornwen's head and moved to lay next to her while crossing his arms beneath his head. He glanced over to his snoring lass, and thought about it for a moment, and headed off to the guest room. "Today's been hard enough, I don't need to wake her up." he thought to himself as he made himself comfortable in the bed. "She's been through enough as of late... Last thing I need is to wake her up from one of my nightmares."
