Can't teach an old dog new tricks, they say..well, I've trained horses, trained slavegirls, trained subordinates in my days in the Knighthood..but never a dog. Although by some accounts, ::I:: am the dog. Perpetually in heat, perpetually marking my territory. Barking orders from the office. Well, those boots do indeed seem to fit.

But those around me..what they see vs. what I am, who can truly profess to know me? All facets, all faces? None. For I don't even know what or who I've become, anymore. I don't like this, I don't like losing the sense of self, falling into this pit of desperation and being unable to dig my fingers deeply enough and pull myself out. I will NOT use Jane as a lifeline..if anything, I should be devising a plan to protect her from me. Perhaps arrange something between her and my youngest brother: Unfortunately if I did that, I'd be so driven by jealousy that someone indeed would end up dead. That little lady has my affections, my purest affections. She reminds me so much of Mirell...yet this one has a fire and spirit, something Mirell either lacked or was afraid to show me. Maybe at that stage in my life, she was justified in fearing me. But never do I want to see that fear in Jane's eyes. I could envision this tiny Jane knocking me on my arse in a verbal spar..and that's something Mirell wouldn't have dared do. She never raised her voice to me.

Oh, how I loved my Mirell. She didn't even much mind when I partook in whores, but if Jane learns I've resumed that little sideline, something tells me she'll be none too pleased. The one common bond besides their purity, is that Mirell and Jane are the only women I've ever cared about in this way, who, unlike my previous wives, never go out of their way to damage me. No ill intent...unlike others who wish to use me to gain status, wealth, or just like the looks of me..What a hypocrite I am, eh...how many girls have I bedded merely because their bodies and faces appealed to me, yet I dislike the tables being turned. Damn you, tiny Jane, for seeing redeeming quality. How I try to keep you safe from the monsters that lurk in the night, how I want only the best for you...yet I can likely destroy you without even realizing it...Damn me.

::Puts down his quill a minute and wipes moisture from his eyes, then resumes once he exhales softly.::

Damn, I wish Torlin would visit. The only one who can reach me at times like this...my elven brother. After buying me a drink in celebration of parting from Lily, he'd likely kick the life out of me for the fiasco I caused at Ali's wedding, then lace into me for courting a sweet fifteen year old girl who needn't be corrupted by the likes of me..and probably knock me senseless after regaining my breath for not recovering from this funk. How long has it been since I've felt truly happy? When I looked into the grave of Mirell, during the last day on the land of long ago..when Torlin lifted my stillborn daughter out, helping me remove their corpsess from that doomed land to reinter them in truly sacred ground..perhaps I should have done what instinct told me, right then and there. Lower myself in the grave and lie beside the one who loved me since I was a boy. Putting my dead child in her mother's arms, then wrapping my arms around them both...that thought flashed before my eyes and I should have followed through. To lie there until death claimed me as well, dirt clogging my flesh and lungs. Brother, where are you when I need your guidance?

Come back. Then perhaps my sister would find her.."Entitlement", for lack of a better word for due happiness. Axalon would execute my estate, bestowing the inheritance upon those I've chosen, and all whom I care for would be taken care of, rather than subjected to my tirades, tirades that increase as the days go by.

Perhaps I'm just tired. Tired of the uncertainties. Tired of being thought of as something I'm not. Tired of everything. Or perhaps it's still adjustment to new surroundings...I never did thrive immediately under change. Sir Senior pointed that out as a flaw of mine years ago, while trying to train me with a cutlass..then beating me with it when I couldn't wield it as proficiently as claymore, the weapon of my familiarity and then limited skill.

Perhaps I'll ask Teiyah, who's struggling with her own demons..as are we all..for another go in the Arena. Perhaps she'll do me the honor of stopping my heart. I find that one attractive, but too damned much like me...I lust her but not quite in the raw way I do the whores, but there is no sense of her needing me.. and I need to be needed..

::He falls into a black sleep at his desk, rambling thoughts continue even though the quill has stopped, and the archivists quietly enter his office, taking his parchment to add to the bound book::

--Sir Carazzi, 24 April.

Fools, they are all fools.

How can they stand behind the man that doesn't even love his own children? He is not a father. I don't know anyone...

::Looks out the door to see someone burning down the dock::

Lords. He's been through enough. Losing his children, one not even able to see the light of day. I feel sorry for him, but he has to learn that love comes in all forms. Why must he be such an idiot? He reminds me of an impatient rabbit. Fornicating with every female of his race. Idiot...

::Looks outside::

Gods, another child. Wonder how he'll shun THIS one too. Perhaps something wrong with her face? No, too perfect. Oh, I know, maybe he'll discover she is actually

:: Hears some words and continues writing ::

Oh she doesn't remember him... well, thats a good enough reason. Not as good as having a homosexual son. What a fool he is. if he ever wants to carry on the Carazzi name, he'll accept his children for who they are.

What a day. Mayhaps I'll write again, if I survive

Love always Laural.

--Hastily written entry from a table inside the Pleasuredome: 24th April. Mordred

::Covered from fingertip to elbows in ink, he looks up from his cartography work that he strives in attempting to learn from his uncle, and takes a scrap parchment::

I tried to buy Father a bronzed suit of Armor, adorned with the Crest of the House. The smithy wasn't too clear on cost, and I want to pay for it all with the fruits of my labor. But I am shunned by Father, for all I know, he might throw the gift in my face or look at me oddly.

He calls me a timid little Mary. I asked my Uncle what a Mary is and he said I'm no such thing. Uncle Axalon seems to be more like me than my own father..and I do indeed like girls. I requested an escort in the hopes of getting a pretty girl to fornicate with me so Father might accept me. But I am frightened. The other day I was a year old and now I'm seventeen. Uncle Axalon says it will take time to develop my mind to catch up with my body.

But I don't have that much time. I wanted to buy lithium from the Healer to try and reverse the Curse, I use the spare time I have to try and mix concoctions to restore me to the little boy I was, and if such a potion kills me, perhaps Father's life will be easier.

I just want things to be right. Regardless of how it affects me. Back to work, here comes Uncle.

--Breuse Carazzi, 24 April.

::yawning softly as she stretches and drops the blade that she clutches her chest even in her deepest sleep, she reaches into a table beside her and pulls out her journal, flipping open to the next clear page without even bothering to look over the other pages to see her last thoughts. she picks up a quill with a sigh and dipping it in ink begins her new thoughts::

I don't know what people want from me anymore. Before it was "Tei you need to feel you need to open your heart and let the emotions in." The love that I feel that is so foreign to me to begin with, that causes me so much pain as I am shunned and scorned by him. I hate these emotions I am having. The jealousy that enrages me too often then not is taken out on those around me that have done nothing wrong. My threats to others growing more frequent by the day, as I lose a little more of myself in the insanity of these cursed emotions. To even hear another speak ill of him causes the deepest rage in me to the point that I have threatened many for doing such.

So many eyes watching me all the time now, I long for the days when I was able to stay in the shadows and barely noticed. Instead everyone seems to know I am coming before I even arrive. Most of the new faces that have arrived on the island fear me, with good reason. I don't even know half the time what is going to make me snap. I don't know. Yes insanity.... these emotions or maybe the results of feeling them is driving me insane.

I know that not even three days ago I ended up with a very nasty bloody carving of our family symbol in my thigh, a symbol I might add that I am the only one that knows how to create. I don't know how it got there, I don't remember any of it. All I know is that I seemed to snap out of a trance and Black was holding both my bloody dagger and my sword. I know he couldn't have done it after I actually saw what the symbol was, yet I still don't know how it got there. Thankfully I know a healer that was able to heal it without leaving a scar. I now wonder if maybe after all this time mother is finally getting to me...... no that can't be it.

::she dips the quill again as she glances around hearing nothing but silence she knows she is alone, having sent all the guards to check on zy::

Even though Alterio has broken the truce that we formed, most of the time I simply ignore him. I have found it's easier to not acknowledge the things I feel as opposed to actually feeling them. I lie to myself by ignoring him or anything he does. Although Halfdan seems to think that mine and Alterio's souls are forever entwined together and that we will never be free of one another. I think about the threat from Axalon on a daily basis, If I were to end Alterio's life to rid myself of these feelings Axal would hound me until I shared Alterio's fate. Perhaps that would be best for everyone though.

There are many that compare Alterio and I to one another, I can see half of what they say as being truth. We are both stubborn and strong willed. It enrages me to even think that anyone would compare me to the one man that seems to take the greatest pride in hurting me. The only man that is able to hurt me. I don't see myself as being anything like him, he seems to be strong in areas where I find myself very weak, he taunts me now knowing that I love him, he uses that against me. What a fool I had been to have allowed such emotions or maybe the foolishness was in openly admiting the way I feel, but did I allow them... or have I truly been cursed by them into an eternal hell for all I have done. Is loving someone that will never accept me my punishment for my sins of the past?

::another dip in the ink as she tilts her head glancing over her words::

There are many that see things in me that I could never see within myself. They see me as strong, I see myself as weakened by these emotions, I know that it would kill me to take his life like he has asked before, or to watch another end his life for him, even if it was warrented. I could never do it, although sometimes I so yearn for it. No one truly knows that I would defend him to death no matter what the reason, my loyalty will never falter, even if he never accepts any of this. I would hunt the person that caused him any pain, the pain would be endless and actually the thought of it makes my heart race.... I almost long for someone to hurt him in anyway just to allow me to become lost in the pleasure of blood lust once again and to forget ..emotions.

I hate this, I think I hate me... how could I have let this happen? I put on a good show, letting others think that I no longer care about him.... but how I so want to crawl into his arms and just be okay again. I have taken care of Zy for as long as I can remember now, and although I love my sister sometimes I yearn for the life she has. Where all is taken care of for her, she doesn't have to do anything really, because I will always make sure nothing happens to her and that she always has what she needs or wants.

::she closes her eyes growing tired from just putting all these thoughts into words::

I am so tired, so tired of living every day in a constant battle with myself. So tired of feeling, I would give anything to go back to not feeling anything. The blood lust still comes often, but I have not the energy to do anything about it anymore, unless it is in defense of him. I no longer even really care what happens to me, just an end to the torment of these emotions. I let him fool me because I want to be fooled? No because I want to be with him, I want to feel his touch or lay my head against his chest... I want to not need him the way my soul cries out for him with every passing day. Why did he have to be the one that was able to make me feel anything? I hate it. I pray that soon the cold emptiness I once had returns, anything has to be better then this.

::she blows on the ink forcing it to dry then shuts the book and shoves it onto the floor with a soft thud. rolling over onto her side she picks up her blade and clutches it to her chest forcing herself to curl back up under the covers and block everything out allowing the sleep to take her again::

--Journal Entry, Teiyah, 25th April.