(no subject)
Living in Silvermoon doesn't stink as much as I thought it would. Yeah, there are guards all over the place, and those disturbing security constructs, but now that I'm working outside of the city they have no reason to bother me. And having a home to go back to, knowing that when you walk through the door, there'll be someone there, waiting for you with open arms and a smile...
Like last night. Came home from a long day of doing all kinds of stuff, some of which will never leave these pages. How would it look for a shady, knife-wielding thief and assassin to be running around gathering candy for a sick kid? My reputation as a badass would never recover. Of course, I may as well kiss it goodbye, anyway. The orphan matron's asked me for a favor come Winter Veil, and from the way she was sizing me up, I have a pretty good idea what it is. I just hope the pillow won't get me hung up in the chimney...
I must have "Sucker" written on my forehead in letters only little kids and shrewd mom types can read.
Anyway, came home from the auction house to find Tyr already there, pretty little moth on his shoulder helping him read the book on his lap. I set out the dinner I'd picked up, and we spent the evening just talking. He's invited me to his family crypt for their yearly... thing. It's kind of his way of bringing me home to meet the family. This sounds awful, but a tiny part of me is glad his sister is... no longer with us. From what he's told me of her, she would have taken one look at me and chased me off, possibly at the point of a very large sword. Not only was she the usual over-protective sister, but Tyr's personal Order-appointed bodyguard too.
Well he's mine now, Miss, whether you approve or not. It'll take a lot more than a scary ghost sister to run ME off. I said as much to Spooky and I guess that meant a lot to him for some dumb reason, cause he... got affectionate. A lot. And at one point, I guess he really liked... what I was doing, cause... well... let's just say that the Light, when maybe accidentally vented through hands that are say, wrapped in someone's hair, can leach all the color out of said hair. ((The ink of the last few hastily-scrawled sentences is smeared a bit, like the journal was suddenly shut before it could dry properly.))