Britta's Musings [Language/Spoilers/Maybe NSFW]

This hide-bound volume of thick paper is both a journal and a sketchbook. It's tucked away in a bundle in a wardrobe with a collection of chalk, ink, scraps of cotton, and a bar of rough soap with bits of sand stuck in it.

The name 'Britta Heldon' is written on the inside cover in a neat, angular hand.

The first few pages depict studies of flora and fauna from the Gold Coast. They're not very good. There are a lot of vague, scribbly humanoid figures on the last of this initial group of drawings. Most of these are prone.

Keeping a separate journal is pointless. My space for books is limited, and the drawings show my thoughts as much as words do. That's not a complaint - I have a place to keep books now. It's safe here. I'd even go as far as to call it luxurious. There's a fucking sauna.

I'm about to write some personal thoughts, so if you're reading this, it's at your own peril. Furthermore, you're a terrible person. I'm kidding. Just let me read yours and we're even.

Housekeeping flirts with me, but I think he just does that with everyone. I get the urge to bite when I look at him. He begs us not to eat him, which makes it worse. I drank of the cured khajiit, who willingly gave her blood. I like her. I like all of them. So many were just kids when they were turned. I still haven't met the youngest. He ran away, but we're hoping to bring him home. The dark elf makes me a little nervous even though our host said something to the effect that she's all sunshine and bunnies.

The most unnerving is the high elf. He confessed to feeling for me, but I remember what he said to our host at the tower. If he's playing me, so be it. I'm vain and weak-willed and it gives me a man in my bed again. Not the way you're probably thinking. I just want to be held. It doesn't help that he smells delicious with all those wounds right now.

I'm pretty sure Twilight Lily was at the housewarming. She shot him several times. Bows shouldn't be allowed at that arena. I hope they rule against it in the future. I lost the fight against our host, but I felt so alive in the ring. The Sanguine Silencer is a fun alter ego. Perhaps I'll work on a better costume should I continue - that spider one was brilliant and a proper helm is a good idea.

XXV years of running and now that I've stopped, I'm filling my eternity with dangerous games. I'm going to regret this.

The next two pages are filled with still lives of household objects. The one coloured drawing looks kind of decent - it's of a pair of shiny goblets catching the candlelight. There's a note at the bottom. A few loose, candid drawings of people from above are tucked in here. Looks like detail has been sacrificed for the sake of getting the whole figure down.

I'm overthinking this Sanguine Silencer thing. Need to get dressed and shop around.

I have two new outfits thanks to my latest victim. If only I'd thought to charm them into giving me some banking information. Too late. Maybe I'll be that lucky again.

One outfit is skimpy leather, the other is full plate. I'm definitely using plate for Fight Night. I don't know why I got the skimpy one. I don't really want to seduce anybody; it just feels nice to wear something showy.

It seems Vulkwasten has an atmosphere of fear around it. First the 'murderous vampire' (redundant), now a string of kidnappings. Plus so many of ours are from the area. They'd better not bring the town's luck with them. Anyway, the Rose Garden wasn't as full as I thought it would be. One khajiit in particular was very hostile. There's one in every microcosm.

This round of drawings depicts a scattered set of armor and studies of a left hand. A crisp, clean line drawing of a large house takes up a whole page. The house drawing is the most technically accomplished.

Seems architectural drawings are my forte. I like the bad ones more. They're small. They're messy. They turn my hands and rags this deep, brownish purple if I use a lot of different colours. They have character.

I met our host's niece today. She's also from that little town. Mortal. Host's reading nook is comfy. I see why he doesn't want to share.

Housekeeping patched the altmer up. I caught myself giving a foot rub without thinking about it like I used to for Maximus. It doesn't mean anything. Just old habits. I left to hunt for the night. He won't crawl into my bed if I'm not in it. Maybe.

Host wants to hunt together some time. I'm looking forward to it.

There is a badly-drawn but recognizable series of small faces at the top of the page. A male bosmer with scribbly hair and a worried expression, a female bosmer with freckles and a wry smirk, a grinning, fresh-faced khajiit, an attractive dunmeri woman, and a poorly-lit altmer whose eyes are closed.

Our little khajiit is ready to face the world. I'm proud, sad, and worried all at once. Is this what it was like for Mother? I wish I knew where she was to ask, or whether she's even alive. Anyway, the boy is headed back to town to see his fiance. Apparently there's a Telvanni slaver at large in the area. I hope someone afflicted gets him, and keeps him from turning. I'd best skip the Rose Garden this week and avoid the shore for a time. I wouldn't want to end up like poor Cassi.

It's odd that I remember Cassi. Sire took my memories away, leaving me my thoughts of Max, but things are coming back to me. Is it because I've settled in somewhere? Relaxed? Accepted my situation? I bet it's embracing my curse that did it. He would have me wait 'til I'd want to eat the whole village.

Had some girl talk with the dunmer. It was nice, though the things we vampires talk about are depressing. It always comes back to love or cures at some point. A pity that we retain the ability to love, but it also drives us to find the cure much of the time, so I suppose it evens out. I always searched with Max in mind. We spoke of more than that, and I found myself relaxing a little more around her. Not entirely, but no more tension than I'd feel around an altmer. I chalk it up to their imposing height.

He offered to purchase me a cure once. It came with flowery promises that I don't buy for a fraction of a second. Any sane vampire would take him up on it anyway.

I can't. I'd die. I am a coward.

There's another face drawn at the bottom of the page. This is drawn larger, and with much more care than the doodles above the text. It's an Imperial man with brown eyes, a dark, just-barely-tamed beard and tied-back hair. There's a faint scar over his right eyebrow. Next to it, a list:

Things I remember about Cassi:

-Blonde. Cute. Stole a boy I liked? Not sure.
-Never cared much for her for some reason.
-Maybe boys? Was I jealous?
-She was taken on a ship in the dead of night.
-We held a candlelight vigil
-Her father took off after her and was never seen again
-Her aunt made excellent tea

The majority of the book is now taken up with landscapes and figure drawings. A great deal of them seem to be in cool, dark colours and, despite the Gold Coast's usual weather, a good few feature stormy clouds in the sky. A couple of pages depict a lot of Imperials seen from some high-up place, drawn small and without much detail. The last few are studies of corpses with gory necks. It's all still very imperfect, but her improvement is clear as one leafs through the pages.

I haven't actually written in ages. People keep pissing Host off. Housekeeping even had a tantrum over it. I guess the Bartender apologized, but I haven't spoken with her yet. One of these days, it's going to end up with a real fight. I'd die for Host or my mer, but much as I love them both, I'll get myself a little refuge just in case.

That skeever didn't say it back. I knew he wouldn't. I don't want to fight over it if it means keeping him. It isn't healthy, but nothing about me is. I'll just enjoy this until it goes up in flames, I guess.

A clannfear is drawn in chalk pastel on this page. Its pose looks stiff and awkward and the proportions are off, but she's managed to give its form some shape and depth that her early drawings lacked. A little arrow indicates the flesh behind its crest with "stab here" written at the end.

Hopefully there won't be another one, but hoping the other students don't do it again is like hoping I won't bite people. The Cat outed me, but the Flirty One said that people mostly don't seem to mind - some have even offered to let him feed off of them.

I think overall, I'll like it there.

A handful of fungi from Morrowind are sketched out in one corner of the page. The writing and drawing are a little sloppy.

Fucking Dunmer. I miss Cassi. I almost went looking. Still, the afterparty went over okay. The Young One follows The Enchantress around like a lost puppy, then claims he's good at flirting. He's funny. I feel like protecting him, though he doesn't seem to mind danger so much. I wonder what it would have been like, raising a boy.

I don't ever want to talk in front of people like that again. Enchantress said I did well. She's so confident. I want to be her when I grow up.

((This is now less an actual journal and more just what's written and drawn on the clutter on Britta's desk. I consent to anyone who's ICly been in Britta's apartment snooping through this and finding things out, if there's some gap where it would make sense for them not to get caught.))

Tucked carefully away at the bottom of a drawer of what seem to be personal effects - letters, drawings, et cetera - there's a small notebook kept in pristine shape. This is the first entry:

He finally said it back, after I met someone else. I'm glad I didn't work up the nerve to leave now, though. I'm a fucking mess, but I love him.

My new tenants are alright so far. I still feel like staying here until they adjust is the best course of action. It's not an awful lot of work at the moment, which is fine by me. I really ought to get back to campus and see who's still around. I popped by again once and at least one seems to be gone. Nobody's given me a straight answer on what's happened to the poor thing yet, which leads me to believe he's either dead or good as.

No leads on c. but I'm not sure if I really want it now. Newest tenant has some interesting ideas to follow up on.

((A bear is drawn on the top left of the page of one of Britta's less scandalous notebooks. The next page is torn out.))

Jode - Makkoma - Ta
Potency - Essence - Aspect

Describe it as sentence structure. Compare it to a language. Try not to have your students blow things up.

I wasn't teaching, but maybe I could? It's something else to do, I guess. I did okay helping others. The Breton girl was so eager - she reminds me of my younger self. I'll have to see if she wants any assistance. It's good to be back around there.

We'll be taking a field trip next time. I have no trouble acquiring gold, but the idea of finding it raw is exciting. I don't think forging it ourselves is so necessary, but maybe the orcs enchant things a different way? Can you infuse the magicka straight into metal as it's refined? That's one to ask later. It works with cloth and ink, but I'd think the blacksmithing process might cause some issues.

Will need:
-A good cloak. Preferably fur.
-A decent weapon; Divines know what's up there.
-

...that's probably enough.