Al's Accounts

Entry One

Well, I know you’re a book and everything but I feel like we should introduce ourselves. I mean, you’re book, I got that down, we’re good there. Me, I’m Al. You’re well made, I feel like I should apologize that you aren’t being used by the good Queen. Guess you'll just have to make due.

Got myself a little place outside of Vulkwasten with my pension, nothing fancy, but it’s home. First thing I did was put up Talisse's painting. She hated it, always fussed when I looked at it too closely. Where I saw nothing short of perfection, she’d point out a smudge here or some minuscule ‘flaw’ that took away from the composition. I’d tell her to quit being a ninny. She’d tell me she wished she married a turnip farmer. I’d tell her she’d have to fight me tooth and nail because there was no way in Oblivion I was letting her take my beloved turnip tender’s hand. Always made her laugh.

Bear always stood by his thought that I married her too early, that we weren’t mature enough.

[colorful insults have been scribbled out, just the very wisps of the crude language can be caught.]

He didn’t know, he never had what we had. I don’t regret a damn thing. A leaky roof and day old bread didn’t mean squat when your head’s addled with the novelty of love.

Gonna start getting bitter, not a good feeling. It festers in the mind and rots the soul.

People here are friendly, really friendly. First there’s this little mer, he goes by Theo. If he keeps undressing me with his eyes, I’m gonna make him buy me a drink. And then a gal named Wren. Like the pudgy, drab little birds. Not a fitting name. [the writing seems to be getting sloppier, less legible.] Others, but-- [one would think a chicken wrote out the rest, it's more scratchings than it is letter work. dribbles of drool could suggest the big lug of a mer fell asleep on the fresh words, he'd be certain to have a face full of smudged ink come morning.]

Entry Two

Been having these recurring dreams, or rather, seeing the same face every time I close my eyes to sleep. Everyone else has blurred features, like I'm looking at them underwater. But not her. She's just as breathtaking as the first time I saw her. Kind eyes, hair like the flickering flames of a fire. Overtime I take a step closer, she seems to take a step back, like she's taunting me.

[A drawing has filled up the rest of the page, consisting of a bust of a young, Altmer woman. Wavy hair has been painstakingly braided in a long braid that hangs over her shoulder. A round face with almond shaped eyes, the smirk she wears implies she knows something the viewer does not. Three words are smushed into the corner of the page--]

Courage and kindness.

Entry Three

Finished repairing my breastplate, just in time for a job with some caravan group that call themselves the "Magpies." Seems like an easy enough job, just escorting the lot of them and their goods to the Gold Coast. Group seems pretty nice, Theo and Wren are in it. Found it strange that they included a kid, makes me a little anxious, if I'm being honest. I'd have no problem wrapping the little guy in a blanket and tying him to the caravan, seems a little too eager for action. Some fancy man is coming along, doesn't have a weapon or anything to protect his soft belly. He can join the kid, I'd tie him up too no problem. Least they'd keep each other company.

Entry Four

[The page seems wrinkled, as if the writer had been holding the journal a bit too hard.]

Not gonna go into the nitty-gritty, there are some things you just don't wanna remember. Grey beasties of Daedric origin were on the hunt, killed the fancy man. That stupid, fucking kid kept trying to run from the only safe place, and even then, it wasn't so safe 'cause those little shits can climb. Wren had to run after him twice. She deserves an award for dealing with his bullshit. Or a drink, in the very least. Had half the mind to knock him out with the hilt of my axe.

Theo went above and beyond, was an honor serving by his side. Managed to save the caravan's leader, not gonna go into how or the shit we saw. Enemy saw fit to use his magicka to bury a nail into my shoulder, nailing me against the only way out. Glad it wasn't my dominant arm, even then, the pain was like nothing I've ever experienced.

Wren fixed me up with what little healing magicka she possessed, got the job done. Doesn't seem to be getting infected, gonna keep an eye on it. In the mean time, I can't move that arm so good. Hoping that changes soon enough. Never been so glad to see a shot of whiskey in my entire life, gonna numb the pain and the vivid memories.

Entry Five

Everything is just peachy keen, have little to report. Finished putting together the stone fireplace outside on the patio, really ties the place together. Made a pal when I was patching up crumbling spot in wall by the lilac bush. Well, that's not quite right. I screamed. Loudly. Surprised the guard didn't kick my door down but can you blame me, a giant fucking lizard staring right at you, nearly pissed my breeches. He's nice though, we're good, keeps the insect population under control so he's welcome to stay.

Was eating an orange and reading outside, it being a lovely day and all. Felt something staring at me and sure enough, soon as I look down the giant fucking lizard is staring at my orange like it's never eaten. Gave him a piece, looked sorta cute chewing on it.

Named him Spud, he's my Spuddy. Get it?

[A small doodle of an iguana with an orange slice as a smile is drawn at the bottom page along with he words. "My Spuddy ol' pal."]

Entry Six

Everything is not peachy keen, what the fuck, did I curse myself or something? Tarethis had the nerve to tell me he has romantic feelings for me. I don't believe it for a second. Plus, what does he know about me that isn't already apparent? Twit. Boris ended up coming over later though. Gonna pause for a second and go on a little rant.

Boris. You can't try to convince me that name doesn't bring to mind a dumpy, oaf of a Breton with more hair in his ears than his head. But no, she's actually quite stunning. Who decided to call her Boris? I feel like they need to reevaluate their life choices.

Anyways, apparently she thinks I'm easy on the eyes too as we had a roll in the hay, so to speak. Can't actually imagine having sex on a pile of hay. Taking turns picking out straw between each other's butt cheeks, nothing sexier than that.

Tarethis is gonna be a headache though, can just feel it. Not looking forward to running into him anytime soon.

At least the lilac seems to be thriving in the shaded area I was concerned about.

Entry Seven

Have to re-engrave Talisse's ring, apparently I've been touching it too much and the lettering has more or less faded.

"He gazed and gazed and gazed and gazed, amazed, amazed, amazed, amazed."

Funny how four words can mean so Gods-damned much.

I can't keep doing this to myself.

Entry Eight

I don't think I know enough swear words to express my anger after spending the night in a cell with Tarethis. He spat on my face 'cause I wouldn't give him a straight answer [the irony] and I guess I just snapped 'cause next thing I know his blood is all over my fist. I don't regret it, felt better than anything he could ever do to me. Words were said, he wants an apology, among other things.

Gonna start charging him for every piece of clothing he takes off with his eyes.

Entry Nine

He finally broke down. It seems the wall of his pride was no match for the weight of lust. Took me aside and begged for me to touch him.

So I did.

The lilac is blooming.

[A few pale violet blossoms are pressed in the pages, giving off an intoxicating, musky, floral scent]

Entry Ten

Wraesha, leader of the Magpies, told me I seemed like the "hero type." I'm not so sure about that.

Trigger Warning

A hero would've joined the Dominion selflessly, to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. Me, not so much. I was too much of a coward to die at my own hand, I am too much of a coward to die at my own hand. Though I can hardly think I will ever experience a greater pain than losing my Talisse and Malanie.

I figured if I couldn't find the courage to still my heartbeat, someone with opposing views would. Thus a hollow pledge saw me enlisted with the Dominion in hopes a twisting dagger through the heart would be the sweet release from the shackles that bind me to this physical plane without them.

Entry Eleven

Can't sleep, let Spud in the house to keep me company. He's snoozing on the rug by the fire.

The bulbs by the brick wall are starting to sprout, he's done a good job keeping insects away. Deserves a treat.

Entry Twelve

Talked with Boris.

She asked me if I hated her. As if I ever could. She asked for answers, and I gave them to her. As best as I could.

I hope it brings her some understanding.

In turn, she told me of her own experiences with loss. At first she seemed reluctant to tell me, though I assured her it was nothing like a contest, that there was no way I could possibly compare mine to her own and vice-versa. Pain is much too personal to be filed in lists, ranked from greatest to least. She seemed to understand.

Boris has been through far too much for someone her age. I wanted to touch her, to reassure. When I look at her, I feel the need to comfort. No matter how much sleep she has the girl always has a tired undertone.

[There seems to be a pause in the writing, as if the next was written much later given the irregular handwriting.] Her eyes are very pretty, they tell a story she cannot.

Entry Thirteen

Am I losing myself? Have I buried my heart or tossed it out to sea? It seems Wren and Terath can hardly find the patience to say in my company. Not that I can blame them, there are times where I can hardly stand to be in my own.

Entry Fourteen

Evenings spent with her are bliss. She takes the place of the bottles I've so often brought with me to bed, warmer than the heat any drink could provide. A healthier one, at that. It radiates from the heart rather from the gut. Often times I find myself waking up in the middle of the night for no particular reason, perhaps a need to check if this isn't some alcoholic daze.

Truth be told, her size worries me at time. I know she wouldn't like to hear it, but when I see her pressed to my chest, caught up in the comfort of sleep, I can't help but think how small she looks.

Entry Fifteen

Leiorei Vierich is her birth given name.

Entry Sixteen

With each passing day, I grow closer to the date of my departure. As such, I've polished, oiled, and worked out the dents in my assigned armor. I find the Dominion's seal garish, but I'm also not paid for my thoughts and opinions, as so often I remind myself. If anything, I am, in essence, a body. One that through heavy labor, has acquired both muscle mass and stamina to surpass physical trials.

All in all, I've come to accept I'm a Gods-damned working ox tilling the way for the Dominion. How much is enough power? I've been finding myself questioning that as of late.

Entry Seventeen

Too tired to live, too scared to die.

Entry Eighteen

I told her I was going to see a healer, it was a lie.

It felt both sinful and comforting to cry.

Boys don't cry.

There's a small alcove at the edge enough, just deep enough to keep away from prying eyes. I hate the crowds of people, I hate the commotion, I hate the noise, all of the noise. Everyone is talking, welcoming me back with empathy and pity in their eyes. It is not so much what they say, but what they don't.

She wants to touch me, I don't want her to touch me.

My bones ache with the weight of my misdeeds.

Entry Nineteen

She hung Talisse's painting over her desk.

I know she means well, I do, but it angered me.

What right does she have to touch her painting, she knows my wife made it for me. It's not for her to touch and place where she pleases, let alone over her work desk. It's inappropriate, that's not for her to touch let alone decorate her house with. Fuck, I lose track of how much she knows. Does she know I have a daughter?

Had.

Had a daughter.

Entry Twenty

Six times.

I've caught myself six times about to call her Talisse.

I can only cover up so much clearing my throat.