August 26 -- You can't go back.
Dear Diary,
It's been something of a week. With Lassair's permission, Oliver and I spent several days in Andorhal, waiting for a good opportunity to scout out the old Bordros property and see if that Tatters character was using it for his home base, which I'll get to in a minute.
It's strange now, going back. The Scourge will probably never be fully eradicated--how can they be, when all they need to do is wait for new people to die in order to gain themselves a new crop of mindless footsoldiers--but seeing them pushed back, seeing the land where I grew up going from grey to green... it's amazing. Andorhal is starting to look like I remembered it. They've rebuilt the sweet shop and the dress shop, the road from town center to Hillsbrad is nearly complete. Even butting up against where the Forsaken have started to wreak havoc and hell like they're the new Scourge, it looks alive again, and although I know that the town may have been lost forever in recent months, seeing it alive felt
Strange.
I don't know how I feel about going back, because even going back, even seeing where I once called home all green and alive once again, it's not the same. In some ways, that's good. My mother's gone, and all her hell with her. My father, too, and Selvaggia. But so are the good people, so are the good times. Llew's circus won't ever pull up outside of town again for me to learn knife throwing or balancing on a tightrope or trapeze arts. Ludo and his father won't come by again to drink tea and play princess. Riley won't be waiting for me to finish lessons and go wash off all that effort.
It may look the same, but it's like... well, it's like the inn there. It's all rebuilt on the outside, and looking at it from the street, you would think "that's the same inn." But then you go inside and there isn't even a fire in the fireplace. No chairs, no tables, not even a butcher's block in the back. No beds upstairs, nothing but empty space and sawdust. And worse, no people. It's like one of those eggs with pictures painted outside. Not the Noblegarden ones, the ones that people paint all fancy and then keep in glass cabinets and talk about like they're jewels or something. But then you crack it open, and it's not a nice hard boiled egg like at Noblegarden or even a chocolate egg. It's just hollow.
That's what Andorhal feels like now. It feels like it's painting itself up to be as it once was, and perhaps it is in some ways, especially outside of town, but without people, without those memories, it's just hollow.
Still pretty, though.
Oliver and I spent a few nights there, the first of which was spent entirely getting completely drunk. I don't remember much beyond the point at which Oliver drew dots on rocks and stuck them in his eye sockets, which I hope doesn't mean he's managed to crush his eyeballs. I don't think it does, though. They looked relatively normal, if a little black and blighty. It was good to see him in such high spirits, though. I don't think I've seen him that happy in a while, and it just made me feel good. I like to see him happy. We haven't been happy enough of late.
The following night, we decided to scout out the old Bordros place, and sure enough, that Tatters character (a worgen warlock. Go figure) and his little girl accomplice were there. My attempt to distract them drew more suspicion than it should've and they almost caught us on the lake (note to future self: if ever engaging these two again, DO NOT DO SO ON ICE), but thankfully, Oliver's deathgate plan worked relatively flawlessly, and we both wound up atop Acherus, soaking wet but alive. I'd like to get another good look at the place, but I shan't go there alone. I also shan't go there with the enormous Sigil army, not until or unless they've had a chance to learn a bit more about how to combat foes this dangerous. Stehl perhaps. His people perhaps. If they could create a distraction outside, I could likely get in, see what they're up to within those old ruins, and get out.
Then again, I don't know how worth it such a venture would be. They've not been harassing me and Oliver at all, which makes me wonder if they have any real interest in furthering Bordros' schemes or if they're just a... a cult of peculiarity. That's a good phrase for it. Either way, I think the advice that Lassair gave to the Sigil en masse to simply not engage either Tatters or his little girl was wise, and I think it should be followed still.
Lassair really is doing a wonderful job in Marius' absence. I think he'll be proud to see how smoothly things have been running, and I think... well, I hope that this will encourage him to take more time to himself in the future. The Sigil needs Marius in the same way that a family needs a father, but if he's unable to be there or just needs some time to himself, we can function well.
Getting back to the not going back (heh) thing, I saw Riley the other night (no, I'm not calling him Afterburn). He's... Light, I wish we were as close now as we used to be. I wish he felt free to talk to me, but he doesn't. He's like one of those eggs, too: bravado and beauty on the outside, but I think nothing but fear and hopelessness within. It kept sparking through when we were talking. He's stopped defining himself as anything but the commander of his unit within the Seventh Legion, and with Vesiel gone, I can't blame him. I just... I wish I could fix it. I'd see him back to his old self again, but I know that man is long gone. My Riley, the one I grew up with, died a long time ago. We can't keep holding onto the past. We've got to keep moving forward.
-S.
It's been something of a week. With Lassair's permission, Oliver and I spent several days in Andorhal, waiting for a good opportunity to scout out the old Bordros property and see if that Tatters character was using it for his home base, which I'll get to in a minute.
It's strange now, going back. The Scourge will probably never be fully eradicated--how can they be, when all they need to do is wait for new people to die in order to gain themselves a new crop of mindless footsoldiers--but seeing them pushed back, seeing the land where I grew up going from grey to green... it's amazing. Andorhal is starting to look like I remembered it. They've rebuilt the sweet shop and the dress shop, the road from town center to Hillsbrad is nearly complete. Even butting up against where the Forsaken have started to wreak havoc and hell like they're the new Scourge, it looks alive again, and although I know that the town may have been lost forever in recent months, seeing it alive felt
Strange.
I don't know how I feel about going back, because even going back, even seeing where I once called home all green and alive once again, it's not the same. In some ways, that's good. My mother's gone, and all her hell with her. My father, too, and Selvaggia. But so are the good people, so are the good times. Llew's circus won't ever pull up outside of town again for me to learn knife throwing or balancing on a tightrope or trapeze arts. Ludo and his father won't come by again to drink tea and play princess. Riley won't be waiting for me to finish lessons and go wash off all that effort.
It may look the same, but it's like... well, it's like the inn there. It's all rebuilt on the outside, and looking at it from the street, you would think "that's the same inn." But then you go inside and there isn't even a fire in the fireplace. No chairs, no tables, not even a butcher's block in the back. No beds upstairs, nothing but empty space and sawdust. And worse, no people. It's like one of those eggs with pictures painted outside. Not the Noblegarden ones, the ones that people paint all fancy and then keep in glass cabinets and talk about like they're jewels or something. But then you crack it open, and it's not a nice hard boiled egg like at Noblegarden or even a chocolate egg. It's just hollow.
That's what Andorhal feels like now. It feels like it's painting itself up to be as it once was, and perhaps it is in some ways, especially outside of town, but without people, without those memories, it's just hollow.
Still pretty, though.
Oliver and I spent a few nights there, the first of which was spent entirely getting completely drunk. I don't remember much beyond the point at which Oliver drew dots on rocks and stuck them in his eye sockets, which I hope doesn't mean he's managed to crush his eyeballs. I don't think it does, though. They looked relatively normal, if a little black and blighty. It was good to see him in such high spirits, though. I don't think I've seen him that happy in a while, and it just made me feel good. I like to see him happy. We haven't been happy enough of late.
The following night, we decided to scout out the old Bordros place, and sure enough, that Tatters character (a worgen warlock. Go figure) and his little girl accomplice were there. My attempt to distract them drew more suspicion than it should've and they almost caught us on the lake (note to future self: if ever engaging these two again, DO NOT DO SO ON ICE), but thankfully, Oliver's deathgate plan worked relatively flawlessly, and we both wound up atop Acherus, soaking wet but alive. I'd like to get another good look at the place, but I shan't go there alone. I also shan't go there with the enormous Sigil army, not until or unless they've had a chance to learn a bit more about how to combat foes this dangerous. Stehl perhaps. His people perhaps. If they could create a distraction outside, I could likely get in, see what they're up to within those old ruins, and get out.
Then again, I don't know how worth it such a venture would be. They've not been harassing me and Oliver at all, which makes me wonder if they have any real interest in furthering Bordros' schemes or if they're just a... a cult of peculiarity. That's a good phrase for it. Either way, I think the advice that Lassair gave to the Sigil en masse to simply not engage either Tatters or his little girl was wise, and I think it should be followed still.
Lassair really is doing a wonderful job in Marius' absence. I think he'll be proud to see how smoothly things have been running, and I think... well, I hope that this will encourage him to take more time to himself in the future. The Sigil needs Marius in the same way that a family needs a father, but if he's unable to be there or just needs some time to himself, we can function well.
Getting back to the not going back (heh) thing, I saw Riley the other night (no, I'm not calling him Afterburn). He's... Light, I wish we were as close now as we used to be. I wish he felt free to talk to me, but he doesn't. He's like one of those eggs, too: bravado and beauty on the outside, but I think nothing but fear and hopelessness within. It kept sparking through when we were talking. He's stopped defining himself as anything but the commander of his unit within the Seventh Legion, and with Vesiel gone, I can't blame him. I just... I wish I could fix it. I'd see him back to his old self again, but I know that man is long gone. My Riley, the one I grew up with, died a long time ago. We can't keep holding onto the past. We've got to keep moving forward.
-S.