"she walks around looking at the iron fence and shakes her head, she nods to the guards then goes over and sits on a bench under a tree looking at the garden as she pulls her journal onto her lap and finds a clean page"

Weird.. I still dont know who ordered that fence to be built. All i ordered was a steel gate for the entrance of the property. Plus they refused to let me pay, saying my money was no good there. But yet wont tell me who ordered the fence and paid for it. I dont think Val did it.. when i mentioned it to him last night he had no clue what i was talking about.

Hmm he didnt seem to happy when I told him about being co-owner of the Escort Service. But I felt he should know -now- since he seems to hate whores so much. And i told him the truth... I seldom escort and when I do I sure dont sleep with the customers. I made that clear from the beginning and i stuck to it. Money doesnt mean that much to me that i have to sell my body to get it. Val, seemed still troubled about it though. Well, if he trusts me and truly cares about me, he will know i told him the truth. It seems this relationship is moving faster than I was ready for a few days ago. I really like being with him and care a lot about him. And him sleeping just up the hall sure as hell isnt making it any easier..the not having sex with him part I mean. hmm who am i kidding, he would prolly jump up and run screaming from the house if i "just lets that thought drift off not finishing it as a guard approaches her with a message, she lays the journal down and nods to him as she reads it sighing as she has to go to work"

--Journal Entry 20 October, Vixen Blade

** Moves his ale out of the way, sitting at the bar in the Dome and procedes to write.**

Well, Baskin was killed yestereve, his mouth frothing, and bloodlust in his eyes. From what I was told he was attempting to take on an entire pub on the docks, but alas, my crew took him out of there and when he turned on them, they were forced to kill him. Quite dishearting for my crew after fighting so bravely the other day. Stefan is still missing and persumed to be with his new "brood." Blast it all to hell. I wish I would have known exactly what was out there so I could have taken measures. Figures, politics. Say only what you think people need to know, not what they really do need to know. Public interest, lost me 3 good men. *gives a slight sigh*

Casi is busy today, mumbled something about needing to do something and left early, though she promised to be careful and to stay away from the shoreline I am still worried. We were to go to the "Shores" this weekend but, I guess as a lot of things, they don't always go as planned.

I'm finding myself worn out still, guess it was the honeymoon and then the excitement from the other day, leaving me with a large purple scar on my arm. Nearly bled to death with that cut, thankfully Casi was able to help me and patched me up until a healer was able to help me. And about now, I don't care what anyone thinks, It was not that stupid concidering the lack of information that was given. Ah well, now we have proof.

*takes a drink of his ale and adjusts on the stool.* Well, what to do from here. I do not know. Maybe the answer will reveal itself in time.

* closes his journal and slips it back into his pouch on his belt, resuming his quiet drinking *

--Journal Entry 20 October, Calhin

~she stands before the front window of her shop, her stance wide, her hands on her hips. A picture of assessment, her lithe, petite form straight, her slight weight balanced evenly between two booted feet spaced shoulder-width apart. Her serviceable black linen leggings conform to the slight contours of lightly muscled legs, thin, sleeveless white cotton tunic hanging casually from her shoulders, loosely laced, her sword hanging rakishly from her hip. Silvery hair is pulled back from defiant, angular features, random braids still found here and there. The just-a-hair-too-wide mouth meant for smiles is turned down in one corner, the shrewd grey eyes narrowed thoughtfully above a small, lightly freckled nose. Sixteen. Who knew? She sits to write~

To think this was a time to rejoice. Old predicaments are replaced with new. The sharken are back. That's all we needed. I'm willing to bet half the gold in my coffers that it was the body in the waters from the typhoon that brought them. Mmm...the smell of rotting flesh. Well now...I'm simply hoping none decide to pay a visit to me at my home.

I'm the sole protector there these days. Aidan's been gone since the typhoon quieted, and Trenedy wouldn't be much help as a defender. All of these trials are getting to me. I'm temperamental lately. Being picked on and run off doesn't help.

Ben's having a few issues. I grew angry with him for the way he treated Chastity when she'd been collared. In my opinion, a person is a person, slave or no, and no person has the right to treat another person like something less than what they are, just because of their status. Apparently he saw differently. It was a clash...a difference. Now he thinks I've turned my back on him. When I contested the idea, he told me that I was only fooling myself, and that it would be better if we parted ways. Sure, as if I'd just let him chase me off like that without first figuring out why it is he wants everyone away. Oh well. That's for later.

As for being picked on...well, my virtue was being teased again. By the gods, I'm only sixteen. Don't I have enough things to worry about without being poked at for keeping men out of my bed? I mean, as I told them, I've got a shop to run, a household to care for, a lute to learn, finances to manage, relatives to pacify, books to write, a people to guide and protect, and the welfar of others to deal with.

Of all things to pick about, they always choose my age, my physique, or THAT...all very touchy subjects. Why can't they pick on my colouring, or my skill, or my speech...or something! Anything but those things. Yeesh. Yes, I'm very sensitive these days. I grow tired of defending myself, day in, day out.

Well I've been to see Mairin. She seems happy. A little quiet and reserved for her. Still beyond polite. She says she can't remember what happened, really. She doesn't seem upset with me, for which I'm glad. Relief in spades.

Mumphra can taking a flying leap off a cliff.

I think business will be better now that the sharken are prowling again.

--Journal Entry 20 October, Jane Maichen

*stares blankly at the paper before him for some time before setting quill to it, as if willing his thoughts to simply appear. After some time, he sighs, realising the folly of this, and begins to write..*

Gods, a day without Ara! My heart is in a truly pitious state, I tell you, my inanimate paper friend...*sighs to himself* I do wish I could spend every moment of m'life, awoken and non-, wih her at m'side. Some claim there to be paradise beyond the skies. I say (write, actually..) here and now, no paradise such as that could compare to an eternty, nae even a day with my Beloved Arachne! *he sits back for some time and reads this, staring with almost-unblinking grey eyes. After what could be perhaps a candlemark, he begings to write again*

I know I shall see her soon–though 'twill nae be soon enough to suit me. Ah, but what a feeling this is! What a fire she feeds inside this Elf's heart! Nae, in his very Soul, his very being! Being with her, that is true paradise, for each touch, each laugh, each glance and kiss and laugh and sweet, sweet musical note, 'tis all from a Goddess, my Goddess...a croí, a rún, chieran, céadseach, a ghrá mo croí–a thousand endearments, a million endearments, 'twould not be enough, not match all the beauties, the aspects, the facets of the one who holds my heart so! Not in a lifetime, and not in an eternity could I hope to do such. I can try, however...oh, yes, I can try. And I shall, for does one of the Elves, of the Daoine Sidhe, have s'much time as to do thusly? Indeed, the one so named does. And so shall the one so named attempt, whilst attempting to do what he can with his meager self to give s'much as he can of the treatment to his Goddess as should be awarded to a being of such high standing. High standing? The highest! Yes, thusly shall this one attempt...

*he sits back and reads once more. After a time, his eyelids droop a bit, and he relises what he must do. He begins to write once again*

Ah me, but even this one of the Sidhe mentioned above, even he must sleep at times. This, this is certainly one of those times. And so, I sign, and this does be the end of my writings on my friend, the inanimate piece of papyrus...

--Journal Entry 20 October, Sylverleaf

::::sits at the small table in her kitchen, candle burning, windows opened to allow the breeze into her home, ink, quill, and old worn journal all laying ready to use. Dipping her quill, she opens the journal, finding an empty page, and begins to fill it with her small, flowing script::::

Calhin...I wish 'e 'ad at least told me when 'e was takin the 'Rover' out. I could 'ave gone tae 'elp 'e and Casi. I 'ear 'e 'as lost yet anoth'r o'is mates. Tis sad tae see 'im lose so many. I am sure it must be takin a toll upon 'im. I 'avena gone tae see 'im and Casi for the last few days. I am nae tae sure about travellin alone, what with the sharken about. The one I saw while I was with Laddie twas fearsome! 'alf man, 'alf shark. The teeth on tha thing was definitely shark. Jagged....row upon row.

:::looks up, hearing Bailey approach near her, taking a moment, she concentrates on her brother, watching him sign to her, in answer she nods, signing her reply, then returns to her writings::

From wha I 'ear, Benjamin is tae be back taemorrow. Per'aps I shall send 'im a welcome 'ome gift. Naething extravagant, as I 'ave m'self and Bailey tae look aft'r. Per'aps jus something small. I donna knae though, I donna wan tae appear tae be latchin m'self ontae 'im. Tis nae m'intention. 'e is polite, and a gentleman, and 'e treats me kindly enough. Tis enough tae warrant a small welcome 'ome gift, I think.

:::gets tapped upon the shoulder, and turns, indigo eyes gazing up to her brother as he signs, she nods.."Aye, Lad, if'n ye wan tae walk down tae the beach, I shall go with ye.". Standing, she threads Kiralyn's longsword about her waist, stopping only long enough to sign her name to the journal entry, and leave it to dry:::

--Journal Entry 21 October, Tika Flynn

:::sits at the desk in her sitting area, poised over her journal, with quill in hand, late in the evening::::

Im not sure what to do about the Sharken. I know I dont want to see any of my family and friends hurt by these beasts again. I am half-tempted to don my armor, and obliterate any of the monsters who happen upon my path. Though, Uncle Alterio would literally have my hide. I would skinned and quartered for sure. He is entirely adamant about the guards being posted at my door, as well as Ali's and all of the children's doors. Though, Lia does tend to stay close to me, and, Khlamar help the Sharken who walks up on the child with me near. I dont know if I could contain myself...in fact...Im sure I couldnt. Hell itself would know no fury like the fury I would show that creature.

Being a Sharken veteran, somewhat, myself..I know full well what the beasts are capable of. Also, I know full well how their teeth can slide through skin like a warmed knife through butter. I bear enough scars from them as it is.

Though, the images of the Sharken beneath the Sea...I remember them nightly...vividly. I remember seeing Uncle Alterio torn to bits by their teeth and their fins. I can feel their fins and teeth lashing into my skin in the deep hours of sleep. :::shakes her head::: I still have no idea how Uncle Alterio managed to carry me into the dome. He was far worse than I by the time they were through with us.

Granted, there were, among their numbers, those who knew the feeling of cold steel severing parts of their anatomy while they lie writhing in their death throes. I have never seen a more vicious species in my entire life.

:::thinks about Lia, whom she just checked on, as well as Mairin and Felina, to ensure herself that all of the girls were fast asleep, and safe:::

Im afraid I have frightened Lia. She had come and crawled into the bed with me last eve. I had one of my nightmares...when she finally woke me up, the child's eyes were as round as saucers, hugging me as she cooed..."S'ok An'y Leer...deys not gess you. I's here...I make dems go ways forebers.". I hugged her soo close, and apologized for scaring her. She clutched both quilts to her, as she sleeps with both the gifts from Uncle Alterio and I, and cooed, snuggling back up tight against me. However, tonight, she hasnt come into the bedroom. I pray I did not frighten her.

:::changes the subject, not wishing to dwell on those things so close to sleep, and instead, concentrates on Ali::::

Ali was incredibly upset last evening. She had recieved a letter from Anthony. Though, I am not sure what the letter was, or even what it pertained to...I remember the look on her face as I passed her in the hallway. Something in it had to have made her angry. Maybe she will talk to me about it later, and I hope I can help her sort through everything.

:::thinks about other things she has done over the week's end:::

I went home, to check on my house. Everything in it is still just as I left it. I spent a little time there...with Uncle Alterio's guards of course, arranging all the beautiful furniture Vixxy had sent to me for taking care of the children. She didnt have to pay me for that, in any way, shape, or form. I enjoyed it. ::smiles:: But, it is wonderful to walk into the door of the home, see the furniture, and know that it is mine. Finally...I dont live in a 'closet' as Mia had relayed that my Uncle had said to her.

:::with the sound of a soft knock upon her sitting room door, she stands, crossing over to it, and answers it. Her Uncle's guard standing there.."M'Lady Lyrias..is everything all right? I saw the light, and it is incredibly late. I wanted to make sure there was nothing amiss.". Smiling a bit, as she has begun to become accustomed to the guard, she nods..."Everything is fine. I was just about to retire for the eve. Thank you, Ganji." Nodding, the young guard steps back, allowing her to close her door, returning to her journal:::

Otherwise, still no word from Taelie. He will be home soon, Im sure.

~Lyrias~

:::standing, she simply leaves the journal open, for the page to air dry, as she turns, walking to the soft, queen sized bed, pulling back the brockade, and satin sheets, and places herself beneath them, extinguishing the candle, and drifts off into a fitful sleep, haunted by the leering faces, and cold, dead eyes of the Sharken:::

--Journal Entry 21 October, Lyrias Dreams