<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8948819485210629191</id><updated>2011-07-31T02:03:09.901-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Among the Wolves</title><subtitle type='html'>The IC diary of Lady Isanna ferch Maris, of House Lockele.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Calypso</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4VN6bGKl4NA/S7fuHdvEL2I/AAAAAAAAADE/EqvA8CTORys/S220/Amani.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8948819485210629191.post-3893172649135272356</id><published>2010-05-21T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-21T09:18:50.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;He reminds me so of Papa, sometimes. &amp;nbsp;It's a good thing, I think, though a lot of people don't seem to understand why he acts the way he does. &amp;nbsp;Do I? &amp;nbsp;Perhaps not, but I know that he has the good of the wild in his heart, no matter how brusque he can be with the ones that abuse it. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;It is frustrating to lose a hunter over something so petty, especially considering... Gods, I'm blushing. &amp;nbsp;I can't even write&amp;nbsp;what it is they say that hunter's done with his own sister! &amp;nbsp;And she did introduce him to me as her brother... Some people in this city are truly depraved, are they not?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Then again, I remember that odd Count, Railos. &amp;nbsp;The things they said about the purpose behind the Fledgling's Nest turned out to have been mere rumor... not that it matters. &amp;nbsp;He lost his coin and the place shifted into much more capable hands quickly. &amp;nbsp;Rumors can be deadly. &amp;nbsp;Why more of these city folks do not understand it, I'll never know. &amp;nbsp;To hop from bed to bed... does she never hope to marry a respectable man? &amp;nbsp;Making her indiscretions so public...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I'm rambling. &amp;nbsp;It's a good thing this is just a diary. &amp;nbsp;It's so hard to focus my thoughts any more after all those long days in meetings over succession issues. &amp;nbsp;The more time I spend in the city though, the more I wonder why Flaern has dreams like this. &amp;nbsp;Ruling these people is paramount to insanity. &amp;nbsp;Perhaps he can teach them the way of things.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Either way, whichever of the five take the crown, I hope it all ends soon. &amp;nbsp;Flaern has my support and I will continue to do what I can to draw people to him, but in truth there's only one thing I long for. &amp;nbsp;I need to find workers. &amp;nbsp;(Who'd have thought it'd be so hard in a city full of starving people?) &amp;nbsp;I need to find something to keep me busy, to keep my mind off Dayne...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Like that's going to happen. &amp;nbsp;&lt;s&gt;Just the sight of him makes me weak in the knees.&lt;/s&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;s&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Gods above, I'm glad diaries can't talk! &amp;nbsp;Papa would not be pleased. &amp;nbsp;But I'm a grown woman now, and I've made my choice.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I just hope he doesn't want to talk about children any time in the near future. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8948819485210629191-3893172649135272356?l=le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/feeds/3893172649135272356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/05/he-reminds-me-so-of-papa-sometimes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/3893172649135272356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/3893172649135272356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/05/he-reminds-me-so-of-papa-sometimes.html' title=''/><author><name>Calypso</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4VN6bGKl4NA/S7fuHdvEL2I/AAAAAAAAADE/EqvA8CTORys/S220/Amani.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8948819485210629191.post-8090206108271479767</id><published>2010-05-06T21:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T21:21:47.087-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yelsday, 25 End of Spring</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Whiskey is a horrible, horrible drink. &amp;nbsp;Whoever created it it ought to be drowned in it! &amp;nbsp;Ugggh. &amp;nbsp;I can still taste that nasty burning on my tongue - what do Dayne and Kelindel see in the stuff? &amp;nbsp;He drank five. &amp;nbsp;Five! &amp;nbsp;One, just one, watered down with my tea was more than I could stomach. &amp;nbsp;It made my head spin, far far more than wine has ever done and I've a feeling I'll regret it in the morning.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;It was a silly gamble, wasn't it? &amp;nbsp;Oh, I had reason enough to take the action, were anyone to see it, but in truth... I just wanted to. &amp;nbsp;I'm too tied up in politics and reason to do enough of the things I want to. &amp;nbsp;I couldn't even stay with Dayne yesterday like I'd wanted. &amp;nbsp;That was disappointing... &amp;nbsp;It all added up and I gave in. &amp;nbsp;So what? &amp;nbsp;Everyone does, from time to time. &amp;nbsp;What's a little whiskey, in the scheme of things?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;But no. &amp;nbsp;Dayne had to make a scene, didn't he? &amp;nbsp; He had to announce it to everyone! &amp;nbsp;A little folly can become a huge scandal... Oh, I'm totally overreacting about all of this. &amp;nbsp;It was &lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;just &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;whiskey and I was hardly drunk. &amp;nbsp;Just a little tipsy. &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Oh Dayne... even then, he was trying to protect me.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;The way he makes me feel is so strange. &amp;nbsp;Delightfully so, but still, it's something I've never, ever experienced before. &amp;nbsp;My body tingles when he touches me and I'm starting to wish he never had to stop. &amp;nbsp;I could spend days with Dayne and never miss the company of other people. &amp;nbsp;Oh how I wish I could just throw all this away, forget Esli's death, forget these idiot nobles and their stupid, petty power plays, and run off into the woods with him for a week or two.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I wonder if papa knows just how drawn to him I am? &amp;nbsp;He's never said a word to me on the matter...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8948819485210629191-8090206108271479767?l=le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/feeds/8090206108271479767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/05/yelsday-25-end-of-spring.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/8090206108271479767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/8090206108271479767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/05/yelsday-25-end-of-spring.html' title='Yelsday, 25 End of Spring'/><author><name>Calypso</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4VN6bGKl4NA/S7fuHdvEL2I/AAAAAAAAADE/EqvA8CTORys/S220/Amani.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8948819485210629191.post-4657404516784429244</id><published>2010-05-05T20:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T20:39:12.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Morday, 23 End of Spring</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;He's done it. &amp;nbsp;Dayne's actually done it and I couldn't be happier. &amp;nbsp;To know that papa's given his blessing to this, to us... I'm quite certain I made quite the spectacle of myself when Dayne told me, but what do I care? &amp;nbsp;Should I care if people see me hugging the man I hope to marry, some day?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Probably, but I don't! &amp;nbsp;I really and truly don't. &amp;nbsp;Let them talk. &amp;nbsp;I've made my choice and papa agrees with it.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;It was weird though, sitting on the beach and talking of politics. &amp;nbsp;As if I don't get enough of that in those stuffy meetings. &amp;nbsp;Yes, what we're doing is important, but does anyone even care that I &lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;loved &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;my cousin? Eslianne had her issues... as do I, but she was family and I loved her. &amp;nbsp;Now I've lost her, and all they want to do is fight over who's the best one to fill the shoes of her house. &amp;nbsp;As if that weren't bad enough, they expect me to join in.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;For papa's sake I will, but not on the beach, not in the arms of the man I love, not while the wind's in my hair and &amp;nbsp;the salt air fills me with a need to run. &amp;nbsp;I'm becoming positively wild, locked up behind stone walls so often. I wonder why? &amp;nbsp;I used to love these winters in the city.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;But at least the topic was one of importance. &amp;nbsp;Flaern. &amp;nbsp;I'll never know, I suppose, what it was he meant to say to me that night, but that's okay. &amp;nbsp;I think we're happier this way, better off. &amp;nbsp; I think of him too much as a brother to consider anything else. &amp;nbsp;And he does have my backing; my support, Dayne's&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;and &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;papa's, all the way. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Now I just have to figure out how best to help him.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8948819485210629191-4657404516784429244?l=le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/feeds/4657404516784429244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/05/morday-23-end-of-spring.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/4657404516784429244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/4657404516784429244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/05/morday-23-end-of-spring.html' title='Morday, 23 End of Spring'/><author><name>Calypso</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4VN6bGKl4NA/S7fuHdvEL2I/AAAAAAAAADE/EqvA8CTORys/S220/Amani.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8948819485210629191.post-7743887111251569254</id><published>2010-05-02T18:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-02T18:34:38.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sycaday, 18 End of Spring</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Shameless&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;That's how I feel right now - absolutely shameless. &amp;nbsp;I should be embarrassed at the very least, but all I can do is think about how perfect his arms felt around me, how... how absolutely right it felt to rest my head on his chest... how sweet those dreams were. &amp;nbsp;I love him so. &amp;nbsp;There. &amp;nbsp;I said it. &amp;nbsp;I don't know if he intends to speak to papa or not, though. &amp;nbsp;He... he is so unusually silent on that topic. &amp;nbsp;(Of course, I don't bring it up either, do I? &amp;nbsp;I couldn't bear to hear he's changed his mind...) But last night... If I'd not been so tired, I wouldn't have done it, but now that I've done it, I regret nothing. &amp;nbsp;Nothing. &amp;nbsp;Not any more. &amp;nbsp;Not since he... died. &amp;nbsp;I'm going to spend each moment with him without worrying. &amp;nbsp;It's not worth it. &amp;nbsp;Who knows how long we'll even have?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;And to think it all started with honey!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I wonder where Flaern's been? &amp;nbsp;The darling man is just never around enough, though I can hardly blame him for that with the pack and his political goals. &amp;nbsp;I really should do more to help him. &amp;nbsp;I wonder, just how &amp;nbsp;much can I do without risking papa's good name?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;And the Lord Captain - Kelindel, since he insists so avidly. &amp;nbsp;It's good to have a friend, but I have to say I was... ahhh I don't have to say it. &amp;nbsp;We had an interesting talk last night of history and weapons and I do hope he was serious about making that dagger for me. &amp;nbsp;Of course I'll pay for it. &amp;nbsp;I can't encourage gifts like that, at this point. &amp;nbsp;They send wrong messages all over the place.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Maybe I'll ask him to make me a matched set... &amp;nbsp;They'd look lovely with my new green and gold dress.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8948819485210629191-7743887111251569254?l=le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/feeds/7743887111251569254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/05/sycaday-18-end-of-spring.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/7743887111251569254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/7743887111251569254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/05/sycaday-18-end-of-spring.html' title='Sycaday, 18 End of Spring'/><author><name>Calypso</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4VN6bGKl4NA/S7fuHdvEL2I/AAAAAAAAADE/EqvA8CTORys/S220/Amani.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8948819485210629191.post-5153157230056797585</id><published>2010-04-24T21:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T21:51:02.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Morday, 7 End of Spring</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;There's not been a moment since my arrival in the city when I wished I was here less - unless, maybe it was while I was recovering from the plague. &amp;nbsp;It isn't that I hate it here. &amp;nbsp;I don't. &amp;nbsp;In fact, the city is starting to grow on me, for once. &amp;nbsp;But all the same, this is ridiculous. &amp;nbsp;I won't be fought over like some kind of trophy. &amp;nbsp;I'll -never- be some kind of trophy. &amp;nbsp;&lt;s&gt;If that's all they want...&lt;/s&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Oh, now I'm being ridiculous and melodramatic, aren't I? &amp;nbsp;I wish I had a female friend here in the city though; someone I could actually speak to and trust. &amp;nbsp;It's funny, but of the two people I can trust, one is never around and the other is the root of the whole issue.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Dayne, why won't you tell me what is going on? &amp;nbsp;You love me but you only want to be my friend; yet, you start acting ridiculous when I accept invitations from others? &amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Really... I don't understand why he's acting this way. perhaps the city has gotten to him too much.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Perhaps the city has gotten to me too much.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I want to go home. &amp;nbsp;That brief scare was enough to tell me that much. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I miss Papa.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8948819485210629191-5153157230056797585?l=le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/feeds/5153157230056797585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/04/morday-7th-end-of-spring.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/5153157230056797585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/5153157230056797585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/04/morday-7th-end-of-spring.html' title='Morday, 7 End of Spring'/><author><name>Calypso</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4VN6bGKl4NA/S7fuHdvEL2I/AAAAAAAAADE/EqvA8CTORys/S220/Amani.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8948819485210629191.post-1742815637531172416</id><published>2010-04-17T19:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-17T19:12:41.458-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blooday, 27 Beginning of Spring, 1087</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Spring is halfway over, already and I feel as if I've hardly even noticed it. &amp;nbsp;First the horrors of the ball, then the plague that kept me indoors, then the fires and then, of all times, I got ill myself. &amp;nbsp;I've hardly had the chance to enjoy the sun on my skin and when I do... it hasn't gone well. &amp;nbsp;Ever.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;It should have been a joyful morning... &amp;nbsp;Dayne came back to us. &amp;nbsp;Why am I sitting here crying then, just as hard as I did the day I learned he was gone? &amp;nbsp;They're so &lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;stupid&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;! &amp;nbsp;Can't they see it? &amp;nbsp;They both have the same goals, the same ideals. &amp;nbsp;I don't know why all of a sudden, two friends are at each others throats. &amp;nbsp;The two of them are what this city needs. &amp;nbsp;They could shape it... fix it. &amp;nbsp;But no. &amp;nbsp;They'd rather snap and snarl and growl at each other.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Oh, I should have slapped them both. &amp;nbsp;At least Flaern had the decency to apologize to me later, but they need to get this alpha-male rot out of their brains. &amp;nbsp;Papa is right. The city destroys wolves and men alike.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;So why does he insist on sending me here?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Then there's that arrogant &lt;s&gt;ass&lt;/s&gt;&amp;nbsp;pain in the neck&amp;nbsp;of a Viscount. &amp;nbsp;How dare he insult me the way he did? &amp;nbsp;I am seriously considering filing a complaint for that disrespect. &amp;nbsp; Perhaps I ought to arrange a meeting with the ... what does he call himself now? &amp;nbsp;Commander General? &amp;nbsp;Papa did want me to extend our friendship to him and his cause, after all.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8948819485210629191-1742815637531172416?l=le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/feeds/1742815637531172416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/04/27th-beginning-of-spring-1087.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/1742815637531172416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/1742815637531172416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/04/27th-beginning-of-spring-1087.html' title='Blooday, 27 Beginning of Spring, 1087'/><author><name>Calypso</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4VN6bGKl4NA/S7fuHdvEL2I/AAAAAAAAADE/EqvA8CTORys/S220/Amani.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8948819485210629191.post-8459026076534387071</id><published>2010-04-13T11:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T11:31:37.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Elday, 20th Beginning of Spring, 1087</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;I had dinner with Kelindel the other night. &amp;nbsp;He's a nice man, seems to be quite a good man, but like most men, he doesn't seem to be able to see the person beneath my title. &amp;nbsp;It's frustrating. &amp;nbsp;Does he really wine and dine every woman he's interested in, talking of gardens and the like? &amp;nbsp;Perhaps the ladies of the city are just that dull, but I grew up in the wild, in the Wolfwood's forests. &amp;nbsp;A little garden... Well, I guess the truth of it is that I had much more interest in getting to know the man than hearing of his possessions, but he -like most of the others- seems to prefer keeping me at arms length.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Will I ever find true friends among the city folk? Most I've talk to feel so fake. &amp;nbsp;Am I really so different?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I thought that, perhaps, I'd found a real friend in Flaern. &amp;nbsp;But he is so formal, so withdrawn still, despite the conversation I think we had while I was ill. &amp;nbsp;Did we? &amp;nbsp;Did I dream it? &amp;nbsp;It doesn't matter, really. &amp;nbsp;I rarely see him, despite his kindness and generosity, and now it seems that I've got to find a way to speak with him about what I've learned. &amp;nbsp;I need to know the truth. &amp;nbsp;I wonder if he'll trust me with it?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Dayne...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;What, dear Gods, am I going to do about him? &amp;nbsp;My heart still races when I&amp;nbsp;remember&amp;nbsp;the touch of his lips, the feel of his arms around me. &amp;nbsp;It was so wrong! &amp;nbsp;Papa will skin him alive and refuse to let me set foot in the city again if he knows the liberties we took... but I didn't stop him. &amp;nbsp;I could not. &amp;nbsp;And then we spoke of friendship...&amp;nbsp;Kelindel asked, but what I was I to say? &amp;nbsp;We are friends. &amp;nbsp;I can hardly lay claim to a man's heart after one stolen kiss, when no promises were made, and I could hardly risk my reputation by admitting to our little indiscretion to a near stranger.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Still, Dayne acted so oddly to find us dining together. &amp;nbsp;If it weren't for his smile, I'd have said he was upset. &amp;nbsp;He was tense as could be when I hugged him, but still he smiled, and he wouldn't stay. &amp;nbsp;I thought, I hoped, that maybe he was jealous and that made me smile... but it's been days now since I've seen him. &amp;nbsp;Was he jealous? &amp;nbsp;Is he angry with me? &amp;nbsp;Perhaps he's simply tending to his duties.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;All in all, I think I'm reading far too much into all of this, but... I miss him.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;There. &amp;nbsp;I said it.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8948819485210629191-8459026076534387071?l=le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/feeds/8459026076534387071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/04/elday-20th-beginning-of-spring-1087.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/8459026076534387071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/8459026076534387071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/04/elday-20th-beginning-of-spring-1087.html' title='Elday, 20th Beginning of Spring, 1087'/><author><name>Calypso</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4VN6bGKl4NA/S7fuHdvEL2I/AAAAAAAAADE/EqvA8CTORys/S220/Amani.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8948819485210629191.post-5932998598963450663</id><published>2010-04-08T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T18:55:32.497-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Melday, 13th Beginning of Spring, 1087</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;The busier I see people, the more I wonder why I'm not. &amp;nbsp;I don't do anything, I don't think. &amp;nbsp;Overhearing those girls yesterday, rude and uneducated as they were, really made me think. &amp;nbsp;What do I do for this city? &amp;nbsp;For papa? &amp;nbsp;Suddenly, I feel quite useless, but I can hardly put myself to some menial task. &amp;nbsp;He would be furious and my two 'escorts' would likely scold. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;But then again, maybe they wouldn't. &amp;nbsp;Flaern hasn't come home in two days and Dayne... &amp;nbsp;Truth be told, I'm starting to wonder if there's more of an issue between us than he's willing to admit. &amp;nbsp;He didn't appear to have a problem with my living in Flaern's house, but after the statement he made earlier about Forge, I'm really not sure he's telling the truth. &amp;nbsp;He doesn't speak much at all, though. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I guess that I had no idea how much either of them cared, until I was ill. &amp;nbsp;Then they both acted, they both spoke, but now that I am well, Dayne seems to be withdrawing again. &amp;nbsp;This business with the Cloaks claims all his time, and I do not know if being away is what he wants, or not. &amp;nbsp;I cannot read his moods.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;s&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Sometimes my title and my heritage frustrate me. &amp;nbsp;Would he still hesitate to speak bluntly, if I were not a heiress?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Oh, that's a silly fancy; the dream of a girl with too much time on her hands. &amp;nbsp;In truth, I'd wish nothing of the sort upon myself. &amp;nbsp;I'd not know how to live, were I not Papa's daughter. &amp;nbsp;It is my life. &amp;nbsp;I would not wish to be one of the common, dirtying my hands for a living. &amp;nbsp;But I do want to do something. &amp;nbsp;I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;need &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;to do something!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;It's frustrating, just how restless I've become. &amp;nbsp;Being ill has really affected me. &amp;nbsp;I can't stand to sit indoors any more! &amp;nbsp;Even walking the city streets and sitting beneath the pergola is better than being cooped up. &amp;nbsp;My books just aren't the friends they once were.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I need to find something to do, before I lose my mind. &amp;nbsp;Perhaps I'll bully Flaern or Dayne into taking me along, the next time they head out of the city to hunt. &amp;nbsp;It sounds thrilling, and I would like a chance to test out my skills with a blade. &amp;nbsp;It seems silly to train and train, as Papa has insisted I do, without any practical knowledge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Wouldn't papa have a fit, if he knew I had such urges?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8948819485210629191-5932998598963450663?l=le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/feeds/5932998598963450663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/04/yelday-13th-beginning-of-spring-1087.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/5932998598963450663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/5932998598963450663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/04/yelday-13th-beginning-of-spring-1087.html' title='Melday, 13th Beginning of Spring, 1087'/><author><name>Calypso</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4VN6bGKl4NA/S7fuHdvEL2I/AAAAAAAAADE/EqvA8CTORys/S220/Amani.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8948819485210629191.post-1952702358215172047</id><published>2010-04-06T22:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T22:23:24.495-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Elday, 12 Beginning of Spring, 1087</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;I can't stand it. &amp;nbsp;I've been recovering for two days now, and while I just don't remember being sick, being a convalescent is bitterly unpleasant. &amp;nbsp;How I envy Flaern and Dayne their ability to go where they will and be who they wish!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;At least I saw them both, today. &amp;nbsp;It's not odd that I find myself clinging to the familiar in this city, I know, but I do so fear they will tire of my presence. &amp;nbsp;How long will Flaern be content to sleep on his own couch while I take the bedroom? &amp;nbsp;He is so kind to put me up, especially ill, but as soon as I am able, I'll make arrangements for a place to stay for the remainder of my&amp;nbsp;sojourn&amp;nbsp;in the city. &amp;nbsp;Papa would likely not be pleased to know the situation I've been in.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;And they're both so busy... there's more to write about what I know of them, than there is to tell about myself. &amp;nbsp;I finished another book today, and have found myself quite desiring a trip through the shops. &amp;nbsp;A new dress, a new book... Doraster's has some delightful texts, even if the man himself is unbearably boorish and precisely the type Papa would skin me alive for associating with.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;But if Papa knew what was going on here, I'd not be here. &amp;nbsp;Perhaps I ought to send him word. &amp;nbsp;The lass with the shattered leg, the blood in the streets, peasants that think it appropriate to spit at those of the peerage... oh he'd have me home in a heartbeat, demons notwithstanding.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;But I don't quite want to leave. &amp;nbsp;I want to talk to Flaern about the things he said... well, the things I THINK he said while I was ill. &amp;nbsp;And I'm quite certain Dayne kissed me, tonight. &amp;nbsp;I really will have to scold him for that later. &amp;nbsp; I certainly can't let on that I was rather pleased by it.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8948819485210629191-1952702358215172047?l=le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/feeds/1952702358215172047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/04/elday-12-beginning-of-spring-1087.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/1952702358215172047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/1952702358215172047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/04/elday-12-beginning-of-spring-1087.html' title='Elday, 12 Beginning of Spring, 1087'/><author><name>Calypso</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4VN6bGKl4NA/S7fuHdvEL2I/AAAAAAAAADE/EqvA8CTORys/S220/Amani.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8948819485210629191.post-3941793924329783217</id><published>2010-04-05T22:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-06T22:23:50.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sycaday, 10th Beginning of Spring, 1087</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I told Flaern I'd sleep for a week, but I can't sleep at all. &amp;nbsp;I can't stop remembering... I can't tell what has really happened in the last four days, and what didn't happen at all. &amp;nbsp;I'm scared.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Silly of me to be afraid, now that I'm healing, now that death's touch has left me, but I am. &amp;nbsp;It wasn't real, before. &amp;nbsp;Dying was as much a figment of my imagination as papa ranting and raving at me, telling me he was going to kill me for killing mama. &amp;nbsp;Papa adores me. &amp;nbsp;He'd never dream of letting me be hurt.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Funny thing is, that's why I was here in the first place. &amp;nbsp;If he'd just not worried about the demons and the way they always mass in Darkfall, if he'd not sent me to this horrible city this year, I'd not have been sick at all. &amp;nbsp;Still, if he'd not, I wouldn't have seen Flaern again, or Dayne, and it warms my heart to know I've two such wonderful friends in this city of strangers.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;They've both been acting oddly though, haven't they? &amp;nbsp;Dayne's been pacing about like a caged beast and Flaern... I can't remember him ever being this withdrawn. &amp;nbsp;Is it the illness, then, that had them so worried or something else, I wonder?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Oh well. &amp;nbsp;I'm quite confident that, whatever it is, I'll get it out of them sooner or later. &amp;nbsp;Neither of them has proven any good at keeping secrets from me.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I only hope they can keep the truth of what happened this week from Papa's ears. &amp;nbsp;The Gods themselves only know where he would send me next year, if he even got wind that I'd been so close to dying.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I do miss him so, and pray he is well.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8948819485210629191-3941793924329783217?l=le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/feeds/3941793924329783217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/04/sycaday-10th-beginning-of-spring-1087-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/3941793924329783217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8948819485210629191/posts/default/3941793924329783217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://le-pacte-des-loups.blogspot.com/2010/04/sycaday-10th-beginning-of-spring-1087-i.html' title='Sycaday, 10th Beginning of Spring, 1087'/><author><name>Calypso</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4VN6bGKl4NA/S7fuHdvEL2I/AAAAAAAAADE/EqvA8CTORys/S220/Amani.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
