Knick-Knacks from Knightsgrave (Theo's Journal)

The goblins and dreugh are all over the beach; the minotaurs dot the hills. Do I mind? Not really. As long as I keep my distance, I'm sure they'll leave me alone--excluding the goblins, of course, who I plan to go after specifically. They're so close to people, but not quite. No one will notice or care if they're gone. Oblivion, no one notices or cares about anything out here! It's untamed; it's beautiful! The sunset is sparkling off the water now. It's magic at play, I tell you, but not the kind of magic that can be harnessed by a person; this is the kind of magic that must be viewed and nothing more. The sea can kill a person in moments, but not I. Not I, because I don't need to breathe. All I need are the goblins, the beach, a little shelter from the rain. It's all here.

There's a stirring in my chest.

I can't go back. It's better this way, but it hurts. I was never an exception--they just liked to think I was.

I'll get used to it. Falling back into old habits is something I'm good at.

Where do I start?

I came back this morning. I laid in the grass all night; my legs hurt too much to walk. I don't want my only family's blood. I made myself throw it up. I had to lay on my face because the back of my head hurt so badly. My hair is falling out, but I suppose being semi-bald for the rest of eternity isn't my biggest concern. It was always a mess, anyhow.

I opened the book so I could wallow a little. The pages were ash.

I made myself throw up until there wasn't anything left to throw up. I'm so hungry, but I just can't bring myself to move. My legs are killing me.

How badly did I injure her? I wonder what she's thinking. I hope she knows I understand. I want her to forget. Just forget it all, please. Don't be like me and think about it until you drown in it. Please, please be okay. Please help her, Terath. I told them myself to kill all the damn vampires. They were just doing what they knew they should do, but I don't want to die anymore. She showed me that life is worth living, that even something like this is worth keeping. I have a coven to take care of and a young mer to mentor.

I think I'll go back to Anvil once my legs are working better. It's time to start again. I suddenly can't stand the thought of being alone. Dil keeps to himself lately, so all I have is poor Titus. I can't have the coven meet in Malabal Tor anymore; I'll have to move them. I don't want to go back to that place.

I'm so sorry, baby. I broke my promise. I told you I wouldn't get into trouble. I'm going to do better this time. I want to make you proud, darling. I miss you. I miss everyone. I'm so sorry for hurting you.

I know I've done things wrong, gods. Please don't punish the people I love anymore. I'm so sorry.

Don't accompany strangers for drinks in the woods, and never let them kiss you.

What is with this mer?

I haven't the patience to write much lately. The house is lovely.

I wish I could lock Fiore out and never have to see him again, but I really don't, and I curse myself for that. I curse myself for the opposite, too; I curse myself for having too much of a heart. I can't do that to something I made, though. He'll end up like me. I don't want to be responsible for ruining his life or getting him killed, but I'll accept that I'm responsible for changing his life, for better or worse. Probably worse. Britta's smart; she knows he's a skeever. I can't say I blame her for accepting his affections anyway, though.

I saw Wren. Everything that's happened between us suddenly melted away. I knew it would. We can never go against or without each other for long. After all this time, it's still her and Xithic who are holding me up. I say I live for the babies, which is true, but I live for Wren and Xithic first and foremost. I know that when I die I'll never see them again, even if the thought of eternity with Tory is tempting. I'm savoring it. I pray, I pray, I pray that our time together is long.

I asked Jo'ara what to do about Fiore. As usual, she and everyone else present gave me sound advice. I never got a chance to try it, though. Kashya was there; I about shat my pants when I saw her. It was good to see Keys. When I got home, I drank a few goblets of qwarsh and had a long discussion with Titus. He's a good listener.

All of my feelings about Fiore were so fresh after telling Jo'ara about them, so naturally, he comes to the bar while I'm drinking and has to remind me that he hates me. Long story short, I guess he could have left all along, because he blew up the front gate. My throat is a little sore from yelling. Part of me feels bad. He's insufferable; I hope he gets what he deserves, but I love him anyway.

I love everyone in this house. What did I do to deserve them? Even Inkss, who puts his feet in my damn pans and tries to eat Xithic. Rascal.

This
is all
my fault.

So that's it, then. I'm out of excuses to come back to the jungle. I wonder what my life would have been like if things were different--maybe if I'd grown up in Valenwood, like I was "supposed to?" I wonder where I would be if Molag Bal hadn't shat monsters all over my home; I dearly miss the city. He kind of shat me out as a monster, too. How one can worship him is beyond me. There's nothing celebratory about a curse that kills your friends, then makes them kill you, but you don't actually die because your great niece convinces you that life is worth living, even though after a while you're not too sure if you really know her anymore.

What did I do to deserve such a miserable chain of events? Not the killing or the curse; I suppose I can understand that--before all of this. What did I do? Is it Y'ffre damning the Bosmer for neglecting his heritage?

I know I'm going to come back to the jungle anyway. I can only pray that whatever god still pays attention to me spares me the trouble of explaining myself to Keys for the hundredth time. I can't take the look in her eyes when I let her down--again and again and again, at that. I hope she never knows. I want to make her proud like I know she's making me proud. I just can't.

I wonder when the next idiot who thinks he can cross me is going to barge into my house and call me names.