I Wound for Love
Entry #9
[Written on thin parchment, in small script, that may be difficult to read by some. The pages themselves are neatly organized and appear to represent an obsessive nature about the writer.]
The mercenary group I inadvertently chose to join has grown in numbers. There was one woman that I met the day of my addition. I neglected to mention her before as I did not know her well enough. That is not to claim that I know of her any better than I did before, however, I have a bit more understanding.
Her name is Aerybeth DuskFalcon. It seems appropriate. She is a mute, or so I would believe. I do not think I have ever once heard a word leave her lips. Instead, she uses the very same stones the rest of the Wolves hold in order to remain in contact with one another. While I have not used mine, I am more than capable of hearing the others through it. Once more, it is a tool to observe the others, not necessarily to be involved. I appreciate that in comparison to an outright participation in their personal lives.
At any rate, she holds an air of doubt about her. Her thoughts seem as though they are jumbled at times, and others, she simply makes very little sense. I'm a 'no nonsense' type of guy, so I tend to prefer things that have logic or method behind them. In that respect, I suppose it's easier to say that I could endure the company of a woman if she wasn't a babbling idiot who spoke about nothing.
My leading authority, Fairborne, was in the Undercity the other day. I did what I do best when I see my cohorts and decided that in order to observe them, sneaking through the shadows was better than standing by idly. He was speaking with two others I had never seen before. Both were of the undead faction, very possibly members of the Forsaken. I don't take the time to get acquainted with those of that nature, as they hold very little relevance to me.
The first introduced herself as Gerd Aldlander. With straps across her face, it's difficult for me to tell if she's blind or simply attempting to make a failing fashion statement. The woman [or what was left of one, anyway] standing before her was sporting the same sort of attraction. The latter referred to herself as Narica, but I now know her as 'lieutenant' as well, though I have never had the privilege of speaking with her. (Once again, it's something I can do without, as she holds very little influence over anything occurring in my life.)
The second, with overly-large and glowing blades called himself Behren, which I have to admit is a very unique and exotic name. If he wasn't falling apart and wouldn't resemble the site of a future archeological dig, I might actually throw in my lot with him and consider him an ally. For now, he's simply someone I know who's working for the same authority.
Let me be a little more in depth for you. The Grey Wolves are a group of mercenaries for hire. If you don't know what a mercenary is, please finish this stanza. Otherwise, feel free to skim through and move along to something more interesting. (Of course, everything I have to say is interesting, so I imagine you'll be reading along anyway.) A mercenary is defined as one who serves or works merely for monetary gain. These types of people are often referred to as 'hirelings', though you'll never hear me consider myself one.
Truth be told, I don't consider myself a mercenary at all, even though that's the position I currently hold. I don't enjoy answering to authoritative figures. In fact, this is the first time I'm seriously responding to the orders that are given to me. Don't get me wrong. I don't particularly mind working for Fairborne. You'll find out why in just a little while here.
As I stated before, Miss Aldlander and Behren are members of the Grey Wolves as well. They seemed polite enough from what I could hear. Sad to say, as I was stealthed and moving through the small tunnel leading from the Undercity's entrance to Silvermoon City, I was far too preoccupied with listening to the conversation taking place between Miss Alexemia and Flamesong, the Farstrider. I wish I could say I was listening completely, but there was a bit too much going on for me to concentrate on one single thing.
The female in question, the one I've been following around lately, disappeared later that evening. What she discussed with one of her many suitors, I do not know, nor do I care to. She has a tendency to mention physical intimacy, which does cause my stomach to twist and turn, much the same way it does every time Krysinna offers me a kiss.
My attention was turned to Fairborne after I'd finally come from my hiding place. He pulled me aside and offered me a position, different from his taskmasters, and different from the other mercenaries.
"I would like for you to be my eyes and ears. Inform me of the inside ranks, anything you find suspicious, whether it be betrayal or insubordination," was his request.
As though I could possibly turn this down. If there is one thing I am impeccable at, it is the observance of other people. I've been watching everyone from the very beginning. Fairborne must know this, which would explain why he'd want me in such a position. I approve of his acknowledgement of my talents, and even more so that he should want to use them. To some, I may be considered a pawn, for he is using me for his own protection. What they fail to understand, however, is that offers me leverage.
I am well aware of the way his eyes fall over Miss Alexemia. I do not know their connection as of yet, but I do know that I've heard many times over of adolescent boys eager to shed their young exterior and take her to that place known as 'pleasure town'. They express a fear of Fairborne doing something to them in return. This implies that my leading authority is responsible for her protection. As that seems safe to assume, it seems only proper that I shall be doing the same. I can easily remove anyone within the way, by using Fairborne's position to my advantage. By doing this, it will bring me closer to Miss Alexemia, and my own personal goals.
Though I will confess here and now, that I have absolutely no intentions of ever overthrowing Phibrizo Damascus Fairborne. I place this in writing, so that when I have passed, those who read about the legacy of the God of Liberation will be well aware that I meant every word of the written speech. In fact, as you are reading this, all of these texts may be considered the 'gospel'. (I hope to have such a wonderful following, that the possibility of this happening is estimated to be eighty-seven percent.)
Of course, I accepted this responsibility, hiding the grin I wanted oh-so-badly to share with him. This has tempted by darker side, something I must hide for the time being, until I have found the proper person or persons to share it with.
This time shall come some day, and soon, I believe. That is what I feel when the wind blows and when the sun sets each night.
Now then, I have officially informed you of past events. I'll admit, I have not been entirely faithful to this book of memoirs. I will not offer any excuses, however, know that what follows next is of the most recent occurrence and should pique your interest some.
I have told you much of Miss Alexemia; the way her brown hair falls about her face in those darling ringlets, the way her lips pout when she doesn't get her way, and the sarcastic wit that drips from every word that is released. This woman is refreshing, and how! I have been attempting to obtain her attention, whether it be briefly or extended. I had wanted to understand her better, but in order to do so I needed to have an idea of who she is.
What I can tell you quite easily is that she is quite the creature of interest. She stands out. She is conspicuous. She could be considered loud, not audibly, but socially. There are simply traits about her that render her to be very popular with the people on the streets of Silvermoon.
I am, at times, a patient man and perhaps overly so. Following Miss Alexemia often involves me peering through various shrubbery and listening to many conversations take place. The day I caught her in the city bazaar, she was speaking with Pyrites, a man who seems as though he is absolutely terrified of Fairborne should he ever choose to place any sort of advances against the female in question. If there is one thing I have always been certain of, it is that Miss Alexemia is the type who searches for conflict, or may simply not realize that she appears to come off in such a way. She is also the type who enjoys another taking the initiative. It is something I will need to work on.
She became the object of desires from many that day. Not necessarily to carry to physical intimacy, but rather a conversational piece. I might not have gotten to see her at all had I not followed her to the Wayfarer's Inn, where she claimed she would be resting.
Miss Atê Alexemia is a very intelligent woman. Our first meeting invoked a sense of distrust, as she knows next to nothing of me, unlike I, who have been trailing her in an attempt to better comprehend the very person she is. It may have also been due to the idea that there were many people in the inn, including a troll female who was quite persistent to obtain a massage after a busy day of manual labor. This warranted the idea that she [and I] yearned for a location that was a bit quieter.
We sat in the Walk of Elders, on one of the benches. Though a vision at my left, my attention had been turned onto the stars. It was my way of avoiding eye contact. There are times when I believe that one who is prying into me will stare, thinking they will discover some hidden agenda of mine. I do not condone of this behavior and most often try to prevent it. Again, Miss Alexemia had every right to dig for information. To appease her, I offered her what I have offered to no other.
My name.
"Soryk," I commented as I looked over to her. She had asked for my name before at the inn, and I gave my last. Consider it an attempt to gain her trust.
She seemed very nonchalant with her response, scarcely even glanced up when she spoke, "Bless you."
Fates bless this girl! Sometimes her reactions are so entertaining, that I could simply make verbal stabs for an eternity in quiet anticipation of what her retorts would be. Of course, it would be rude of me to pursue this avenue, and for her sake, I will not torment her so.
I very nearly cracked a smile. Instead, she only saw the vague upturn of my lips. "You asked for my name before. Soryk. Soryk Valchion."
Miss Alexemia accepted this answer. There is always a catch to offering my name, however, and you, as the diligent reader you are, were most likely aware of this. I requested that it was to be the name she would call me when it was simply the two of us. And then I walked into a trap, and I will admit, a delightful one.
"What makes you think there will be more times like this?" she asked with that curious glint in her eyes, which are clearly not simply Sin'dorei. I could not tell if her tone was clipped, defensive, or equally inquisitive as her entire expression transformed.
By this time, I'd had my left arm around her, something that was not initially part of my scheme, yet necessary for the female in my midst. Like Krysinna, she had rested her head upon my shoulder, and this time I was not tense. This girl, Miss Alexemia, can detect uncertainty and doubt. It is essential that I hide all possibilities of this showing, in spite of my rather apparent dislike for the feminine gender and other related issues.
I explained the idea that I very well may have good fortune, for my arm was in one piece and still attached to my body. She seemed to concur with this logic and we spoke on more. She claims to dislike complicated things as she does not find enjoyment in over thinking. Again, I will need to prevent myself from falling into my habits. I must avoid the idea of becoming dull or boring to her. She has decided to make all things quite interesting for me. I cannot say I disapprove.
How you entertain me, Miss Alexemia. Yet I feel I may be the one being toyed with.
"You're talking to me…" she began as she allowed me to bring her in closer. A woman who pauses in her words invokes contemplation with me. "…This can mean only one thing."
Not true. It could actually mean quite a few different things given my perspective. I was talking to her. I was talking with her, unlike with the priestess, with whom I simply continuously inquire things of. On the other hand, she is intimidated of me, unlike Miss Alexemia.
I waited to hear more. And she did not disappoint.
"You have no intentions to bed me."
Now then. These are not words I have had bestowed upon me before. Any other man (or woman, for that matter) very well may have jumped up and madly protested. My own reaction was as calm as every other that I choose to show. Of course, my insides were somewhat aflutter with the idea that she even possibly could have chosen to say this aloud and in a rather public area.
Intelligent she is, however, perhaps she could use some work. Ignoring the cough that came from an innocent man admiring the beauty of the world, I inquired if she certainly desired such a thing and why. I was offered the reasoning that she should want the experience should she ever 'fall in love', as she so aptly put it.
"Do not fall in love with me—I will only bring you a world of misery."
She said this to me, and as she spoke, I could only think that if I ever chose to use words to describe a relationship with me, I would use those as well. This surprised me. It befuddled me. It perplexed me. And then it worried me.
It is highly unlikely that I could fall in love with anyone or anything. Once again, I won't be going into detail, and yet, I do know what that feeling is like. My intentions with Miss Alexemia are nothing of the sort. She seemed not to understand this, however, and I really had no other way to prove my case. Nothing aside from the obvious, anyway.
This offer to bed her. I claimed it was negotiable, and that was how it began. She voiced her preference for someplace quiet, and through an idiotic action of my own, I confused her request with a particular square in the city. We scouted the second inn, however, and even that would not harbor the privacy that we needed. I ignored her giggles in the idea that I, the great Soryk, could possibly do something wrong, and instead escorted her to Falconwing Square.
It's a quiet place most of the time, and upon our arrival, it was absolutely perfect. The silence that hung about the air gave me the ability to look at her, not a simple glance, but to closely examine her. Much of my time has been spent with crawling through her head. I hadn't taken too much time to analyze the more trivial features.
I held her close to me in that protective way, considering the idea that it has been a very long time since I've been that close to someone. I indulged in every curve, every intricate contour of her form. Up until this moment, you have listened to me as I have very possibly gone stark-raving mad with the notion of females. There is another half to this that even I realize, and that I may not have truly contemplated until the night Miss Alexemia spent with me.
No matter how coarse they may sometimes be, women are also fragile and delicate. The one who accompanied me, and the one for whom I am her champion are not exceptions to this rule. I have killed men and women alike, as proven by the actions I took against Krysinna's maternal and paternal units. I will admit, however, that there is a type of self-loathing that occurs when I am faced with executing an action like that against females. Some of those types deserve it, and others do not.
I have never believed that Miss Alexemia was one of the former. I have continuously stated that I merely wanted to influence her. I do also recognize her potential for doing the same to me, and with that notion, I am well aware that I will need to defend myself. I have let her come close enough for the time being, but until I see the opening of a trap she may lay, I will treat her as kindly as she deserves. My consideration will know of no boundaries in her regards.
I would like to think she was sure of herself in all aspects. As I held her, as I kissed her plush lips, however, I knew this wasn't the case. It may have been my imagination, but I felt her shiver, of this I am certain. Not because she was cold, of course, but rather because she was ruled by her fear. I did not even ask. Instead, I jumped headfirst in with my assumptions.
"For tonight," I began in the tone that precedes most of my statements, "simply stay with me, so that you will not feel so pressured to meet these ridiculous standards. We will work up to your aspiration later."
It wasn't me asking for her permission. It was me telling her how I thought things should go, and she accepted it. Of course, even she had her own little twist on how things would proceed, however.
"Clothing is optional, right?"