Antlers, the journal of Elis

[Talisman]

"What a fool! So unwittingly selfish with his pains; careless in his melancholy. Aimless in his resolution. So quick to cut off the very fibers of his nature for the beggar's worst chance at loneliness' salvation. To make me the tool of his self-desertion... does he not even see how it hurts to feel the brush of his lips? My heart had moved and settled comfortably into reality and yet he picks at old wounds on ill-conceived flights of fantasy even he doesn't believe; hoping perhaps opening old holes in my heart might restore those in his. Fool, fool, damnable fool! I wanted to be mad at him, but I know better than to show it. Such brutality of backlashing emotion would only have pushed him further into scorning himself, and I could see he already regretted his act. One day I will make him embrace himself true, then he will realize he is his own shackles' keeper.

It was a happier occasion to meet with him in the mountains and show the Elder Hroin around a ruin. His Dwarven friend is a curious marvel to watch; almost entertaining.. though I'd care to not let him catch me smile to his antics of crude charm and sage tangent. I would like to work alongside them both in the future. Together we can do effective work in the mountains, and it seems the Elder's slow pace through dangerous locale makes him good bait for luring out the worst of abberations; whom I'm delighted to have slain by my fang and claw. It seems this Dwarven needs a protector even in his homey mountains, though I would never say it. Even Elders of other kin should be respected. This reminds me I forgot to ask the fool ranger where the Dwarven is; he was wretched sick upon last sighting and scurried off under magick's cloak before I could cure him."

[Talisman]

Madness! That is what is must be; a madness that lends me mercy, pause, hesitation, restraint. To stare upon the precipice of an inevitability that will bring sorrow and discord in its wake and give it a pass, when I could have stopped it then; there! That moment. And forget the judgements of the lion, wolf, and sapling oak; walk away knowing I did right. It is the oath-avowed role of the Druid to destroy the weeds that upset the Balance; an unglamorous act, unworthy of the glory in which the singers lift all deeds of violence. Yet a duty. One that calls for stone hearts and strong wills. The realization of a purpose greater than your own innocence or the peace of your dreams.

It is a madness called hope, and foolishness, and willful naivety. Where does it come from..? The apathy of my Elven blood? The hopefulness of my humanity? The objectivity of an outcast? The empathy of a shape-shifter that knows what it feels like to be the beast? To have also been subjected to that primal drum that calls animal minds to the hunt? She killed a woman, and although that woman's guilt isn't entirely irrelevant, she killed an innocent man to kill that woman. He was merely someone whom believed in law too much for her fanged chaos. She upset the Balance for a vengeance that was never even her's to claim.

I do not truly think that was the primary motivator: It was the Hunt, and an excuse to slay a man. Her and I both feel the beast, I know it. The difference is I tame it, and she abuses it like an addict wanting to be bathed in it. The damned Malarite didn't even for a moment look upset or regretful that she killed that man. She merely spoke the words she felt she had to. Her actions speak more truly: she was willing to kill that man to get something she wanted--something she didn't even deserve to claim. I will not play her fool, not at the expense of others' safety or the Balance's sanctity. She cannot redeem herself and stay one of His.

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There is something more that has me beleaguered my spirit and haunted me in my quietest moments.. Something colorless and shapeless; not a form I can apply my emotions and thoughts to, like the Malarite or the winter or the related feelings of inadequacy the winter has given me. For a long time it has been but a whisper of a thing, but managed to leave me melancholy every time I felt its brush. Ever since Beck.. I.. am missing something substantial in my life. Some mortal, human substance beyond my relationship to the Divine, to the land, to the animals..

After Beck, I pushed myself away from others.. But now the woman in me, the human in me, the elf in me... needs something, someone, or several someones to grasp to. This is a basic need of Humans and Elves alike; a Half-Elf is no different. I have been denying myself a chance to connect with someone too long, and it has left me empty. I was so determined to be rid of the girl I was that in the course of it I left something behind I never should have..."