*she stares quietly out of the window in her bedroom, looking drawn and white. Her monkey, Cato, chatters quietly on her shoulder, plucking at chameleon strands. She smiles without pleasure, lifting him down. He scampers to his little bed. She opens her diary upon her lap*

Dear Diary,

How am I to be? I ought to be happy, and yet I mourn. Why is it that sadness always outweighs happiness? I feel as though I cannot smile. It takes too much effort and I feel just sick when I do. I have only see Father once since he has gotten better. It is too hard to be glad for that with Paul gone. It's not that I am not glad. I am. Infnitely so! I could not live without Father. It's just so hard to act as such. It is hard to fathom that Paul will never be coming back.

I haven't cried. Is that wrong? I've tried, because I know I should, but I cannot. It's as though I've no tears to shed. There is simply this ache in my chest, like there is some enormous weight pressing upon it. I do not see anyone.

This is my second day in solitude in my room. I simply can't see them. They'll think me apathetic, or perhaps pathetic, and I could not stand either. When they knock, I ask them to please leave me be. I pretend to eat. They send food, and I feed some to Cato, eat a bit myself, and dispose of the rest. I have this fear that if I leave my room, I will not be able to breathe. Paul won't be there to guard me from the evils outside my door.

Felina came in. I could not make her go. She seemed to want to say something, but only asked me if I knew what had occurred when Paul died. I said yes, that I knew he had given his life for Father's to make his heart strong again, and to give Jane a child, because he loved them both so much. That he was a great man, who cared so much for others that he was willing to risk his life for them. This seemed to shake her somehow, and she left, saying nothing more. It was most queer. But I suppose I am beyond wondering at her behaviour. There is no use questioning it. She does not respond, but to bring up her rearing. I've no wish to speak of such things.

Can he really be gone? Aside from Father, he is the one person I most trusted. I cannot think of him never coming back without gasping for breath. It's like I'm being pushed under water. Will it stop? Oh, I pray it so.

--Journal Entry, 18 November, Mairin Carazzi

*Opening a new journal she looks at the blank page with some intimidation..but her mood outweighs her fear and she begins to write, with a new bottle of ink, silver, like the moon, like her beloved..*

So things are new,

neh?

A new life, joined with another, it's like being a mother a child and a lover both, this betrothal..

By Brigid does it make sense for me to be nervous to see him? Like we're starting over, all the love in my heart multiplied tenfold for that sweet elf...he sings me to sleep and I'm afraid to go into dreams for fear of waking with him. I feel Sylver's presence in my heart now more than ever, as if those few words mutter by Dan were more than just a simple ritual...Something binds me to him, every breath of his, mine, every hurt, every joy, all passed through me even when he is away. I hear the whispers of his thoughts, his aspirations, I want to constantly touch him, hold him, kiss him and let him know of this love that swells in me. What a thing to be given life, and to be given love..I never knew what debt was until now, and I feel I owe all the Gods above my thanks for letting him find me. I do so love him journal, so much it brings me to weeping and then laughing. I've never known such a lightness as this...oh but never....

--Journal Entry, 18 November, Arachne

*Rosalyn sits alone at a table in the dome, sipping on wine, thoughts whirling around inside her head,she decides to write*

Dear Journal,

There a things that I have failed to write in here, maybe I was to busy hiding them from everybody else and so decided to hide them from you as well, but alas I can tell you now.

For days and days now I have been escorted home every night by the kind and gentle Attrei,I wrote before that I have rented a room to him, but I feel guilty for taking his gold as I am glad for his company. I do not know what to say our friendship has blossomed into, more than a friendship is obvious but what to call it exactly I'm not sure. A boyfriend I dare say is the closet thing to what he is to me. We have kept our secret from everybody for a time now and just yesterday we told others. What they make of it I'm not sure, and I can say that none were suprised. *smiles*

And now I wait here in the dome for his arrival, which I'm sure will occur, if not I am sure I will see him at the house. For now journal I will finish my writing ,with much more to come in the future I'm sure.

Rosalyn Lovine

* Shuts the journal and places the supplies back into the pocket of her cloak*

--Journal Entry, 18 November, Rosalyn Lovine

*Meg sits wearing her nightgown watching the sea from her camp beneath the palms. Swiping a hand over her forehead she cannot sleep for the heat, such a change from the mountains and the snow of the north. Putting her thoughts into words she quietly pens a verse, letting the words flow from her wrist without really thinking at all..*

This place all riddled with faces
Pinpricked with starlight
The heavy swell of heat
Makes me want to roll from
these binding clothes
go wandering in bare flesh
feel the scathing weight
of a new place
caress this weary starved
skin..
Mountains and home
sending a raw chill
to ring through all
the layers that warm
a hunger right behind my tongue
A freedom here,
to reveal oneself
and be accepted...
Find myself up in
the late of the evenin
to escape from bedclothes
and nightclothes
and submerge myself
in the sea
feel steam rise from my body
as if I've been imprisoned for too long
always well behaved
an end
a beginning

*sanding the ink she shuts her journal, setting in the cool sun of the receding tide trying to find comfort and sleep..*

--Journal Entry, 18 November, Megaira

::walks into the Manor, covered in a thin layer of soot, ascending the stairs for a hot bath, and change of clothes. Afterwards, she pauses long enough to pen a journal entry into the old, worn book:::

Ahh, my first day at the shoppe. Im so glad for the work I can do there. It helps take my mind off the emptiness of the Manor without Paul in it. Its hard to be able to keep Lia from knowing what happened to Paul, especially since she knows how I feel. Its impossible to hide it from her. I can only explain it to her that I am sad because Paul has gone away to help the angels, and I miss him. One day I will have to tell her the truth. That Paul isnt coming back. I loathe that day. I dont want her to withdraw again like she did with Torlin.

Thank Bahyrah for the time I can spend in the Jewelry Shoppe. I think this will be good for me. I needed something else to occupy myself with, and this should be perfect. I do love to work with my hands, and, well, there are dozens of possibilities with good, polished metal. Who knows, I may even do well at it. Time will tell.

~Lyrias~

:::she rises, letting the robe fall from her, and dresses quickly in a royal blue, loose, though not overly, shirt, and flowing royal blue breeches, the same attire she wears when she does still train. Sitting, she takes out her brush, and works it through her hair, and meticulously braids it, entwining a ribbon of the same royal blue colour around the red strands. Content with the way she looks, she stands, and heads back out of the Manor, towards the 'dome to see who happens to be there at this time of day:::

--Journal Entry, 19 November, Lyrias Dreams

So much has changed, yet so little ever does. Paul is dead. The first Paul, that is.. the second being Jane's child. The death of a good man, for a virgin's child and a lecher's heart- checks and balances upon this island, so many, so many. The power lies with the rich and influential, while the rest of us scrape by any way we can.

Not that I begrudge Alterio his health.. he does do much to keep the isle running properly, it would be a pity to have him die; there might have been a different way to go about things, though. And the baby- she had five years' leeway, as I recall, is it so hard to fathom taking a man to one's bed by one's twenty-first year? Many here, myself included, are married younger than that.. ah, well. The child seems normal enough, and she seems to be caring for it well enough.

An odd fight, in the dome tonight.. Mumphra fighting Alterio's dragon slave, the dragon wielding a sword, of all things. Strange days, when dragons wield blades and necromancers broomsticks. If I was a dragon, I'd have eaten him and been done with it, though I suppose it would have been a bit of a foul meal, all things considered.

I thought I saw the rabbit yesterday. Perhaps it's just a fond hope...

Casi

*she turns from the desk, leaving the journal open... she leans down to the bed, moving the cold cloth from Cal's forehead a bit to place a gentle kiss there.. she then replaces the cloth and goes to dress for bed*

--Journal Entry, 20 November, Casidhe

Well, I got home last night. I haven't slept since I left for the mainland, so this writing might not be that long. I stopped at the Dome for a short while last night, speaking with Eyas and Charquin, of all people. She wished me to join a guild of light ethic mages...intruguing. I think I might take it up, I need something to do around here.

Anyways, about my family. My mother finally came to, and she's starting to accept the fact that father is gone. This whole weekend has been very tough...but Corgan assured me that he'll handle everything. He'll probably get around to coming here within the next month. I surely hope so. Anyways, I really, really need sleep now. I hope to see Vixen tomorrow, because I didn't catch her when I stopped at the Dome last night.

--Journal Entry, 20 November, Valyndor Lyndrae

:::seats herself, in the early morn's light, at the small kitchen table in the home she and Bailey have been occupying as of late, with journal, quill, and ink at hand, to write:::

It seems tha things upon this Isle may well, yet, become bet'er for Bailey and I. M'new 'ome is being built, I 'ave orders placed at the furniture shoppe in the bazaar, and I finally completed the cloak I 'ad been working on for Lyrias.

::a bright, warm smile crosses her face as she thinks on the home that herself and Bailey will soon occupy:::

Twill be a lovely 'ome. I found the perfect place for it. Tis a quiet lit'le cove, away from most. The plantlife t'ere is absolutely gorgeous. Ahh, and m'bedroom, twill take in all o'the moonslight. I will love it. I think, per'aps tha I shall leave the door open tae take in the eve's cool breeze.

Benjamin 'as been alot o'comp,ny tae me as o'late. 'e offered tae 'elp me move intae the 'ome.

::she looks up and gauges the time...leaving the entry as is, and opened, she stands.."By the devils! I am late.."...she nods to Bailey's question, grabs her shawl, and hurries out to go and meet the elves, the industrious little workers that they are, having likely finished already, and awaiting their payment:::

--Journal Entry, 20 November, Tika Flynn