Twice now I have been attacked in this inn. Both times people sought money and both times were within the same week. The first attack was easy enough to deal with for Davick was there with me. The man held a sword to my back and demanded money from Wolf lest I be run through, but he failed to take a grip on me thus I simply walked away from the threat. The second, though, was less simple.
The man, a different one, made his demands when I was alone. I refused his less than polite request for my "valuables" and he attacked. A sword drawn within the hallways of the Prancing Pony. Foolishness! Nevertheless, I managed to avoid his attempts to strike me for the most part. All save one. The flat of the blade caught me rather hard across my upper arm, so now I have a rather large bruise forming there. Unfortunately, that hit caused my footing to be less than perfect, thus when he stepped closer to ram the pommel into my stomach, I fell over in a rather unceremonious fashion. Luckily for me, he had been planning to catch me with his knee, which my backwards topple caused me to avoid, so it was hardly a difficulty to take advantage of his subsequent exposure by planting my foot in his crotch. To my sheer surprise, it was just about that time that I heard a crash of wood and, as the man fell unconscious to the side, I looked up to see Drevorin standing over us with what appeared to be half of chair.
I am not entirely certain what to make of this. Altruism is not exactly in his nature, nor is chivarly, and the last I knew he and I had agreed to pretend that the other did not exist. It is strange, then, that he should be the one to aid me. It leaves me more than a little uneasy. I must wonder if he has caught wind of the tentative developments between Davick and myself and somehow hopes to exploit it.
Insofar as the Wolf goes, we talked further later in the evening. I made no mention of what had occured earlier in the day. It would only have set him on edge, I think, and I do not wish for that. His speech of late has been quite free with me and I do not wish to risk him closing off again, not when the nature of our discussions are so close to the heart.
He spoke openly of his feelings for me and for Marinette. I have seen him suffer so many times when she has left him without word or warning and even now I find it difficult not to comfort him with thoughts of her return. He seems to hold no faith that she will come back to him this time and hardly seems to care, but still he wishes to wait and see her again before making his decision. I understand this and I accept it as being the correct course, but even so it is hard for me.
I remain unconvinced that he could ever choose me, especially in light of his belief that pleasure and love are mutually exclusive as opposed to being a compliment to one another. Marinette allowed him the freedom to bed whomsoever he wished, but I do not see things in the same light and he knows that he must adjust that view should he and I become more than we are. If I cannot be enough for him then it is better not to waste our time in trying and instead find someone for whom I am.
I just wish that this waiting will come to an end, and soon. It is unbearable. He did say that he would understand if I chose not to wait for the outcome, but in my heart I know that I must. For too long now I have clung to my feelings for him, even when I have denied and ignored them still they have persistantly remained, just waiting for me to let my guard down or to be reminded. One way or another, this must be an end to it. I know that I cannot spend the rest of my life waiting for something that will never happen. If I cannot be with my wolf, then I must move on but to do so I must convince my stubborn emotions that there is no way back.
In the meantime, I have something to distract me at least. My memories of that time are slowly returning. It is nothing much, nothing truly substantial. It is just the occasional flash in my mind - a moment in time that, by itself, seems to have no connection to anything else. With these small realisations comes something else; flickering shadows at the edge of my sight. When I look to them they are gone. I have told no one about these. I would suppose that these are the things I spoke of back then, the unnamed "They" of my nonsensical journal. I fear that if anyone knows that I am beginning to see them again - especially since I am so uncertain of it myself - that they will deem me insane again.
