81st day of the Scion, 1327 AE
Yet again, it's been some time since I have taken my quill to ink. With all which has recently occurred, I've not trusted myself to write it true. emotion clouds judgement, poor judgement lead to ill-thought action, and such actions often surface before long despite one's best efforts to prevent them. He is gone. Deep within, I believe some part of me knew this would inevitably come to pass. Lyssa knows how we came to be initially.. a glance in a hallway, two subordinates of two quarrelling nobles..poetic really.
Months passed without seeing him again, the wonder of who he had been, what his true name was - surely it was not 'Rudolf' - always at the back of thought. And then a chance encounter with his employee who brought me to his attention. How had it developed from there? Nights of talk, the stars, a cavern. Always he seemed to have some hidden gem, a reclusive oasis veiled amongst the mundane environment that surrounded it. The intellectual games, the exploration of the bond, the charade of innocent charm. He played it well, and I fell.
I should not have. I know it was against my better judgement, that I was only developing myself for heartache. Those that learned we were close could use him to inflict harm. Whether directly siphoning information, manipulating his emotions to lead him to or sway him from action, or employing him to cause or prevent my own action; the bond could be exploited as well, there could be conflict of interest with my professional responsibilities, and once he enlisted with the Blackclaw...a perception of favouritism.
He never understood that, I believe; that I publicly maintained my distance for his protection, and my own. I am yet unconvinced that the Courtiers have ceased their interest, and should they have caught wind? What then? And amongst those for and with whom I work? Unprofessional. He knew what he was coming into, knew that I did not sit idle, that I was frequently engaged, and my time and attention dedicated to the Blackclaw. I was insufficient, thus he found another.
At least one other..perhaps more. Who could say..
He lied. He cheated. He took me for granted. He made me a fool and confirmed my fears. He broke my trust. And I pitied him. Because in this instance, that trust was irreplaceable - he would never earn it back.
I confronted him. It was the trial that served the catalyst. He had boasted of being capable of turning on a former colleague at a command's notice. Thus he was commanded to capture me, bind me, cage me, and have me wait idle until the Warmaster could deal with me. I turned it against him. Made him doubt the Warmaster's motives behind the trial, used his own emotions to cause hesitation, then scolded his inaction as insubordination. And finally, as he decided to follow through with that which the trial required, I drew him to me within the cage, made my escape, and locked the door behind him.
We spoke then. Openly. I questioned his recent actions, attempted to understand his perspective and offer an opportunity to speak the truth, to repair the damage. If he would wash the deceit from his hands and come clean. Yet even when he spoke of what transpired, and what activities they performed together, he still avoided the physical and intimate. Even when I asked specifically, when I informed him that I knew, that his mistress had come to speak with me, had laid everything bare. Still, he lied. It was not until I spoke it specifically, named the act, and illuminated his wrong that he finally spoke true. But it was too late.
You said you loved me? They are words. You told me. You chided that I did not say the same to you? I showed you. And now...you will not remember, will never know.
We agreed that we would not be able to continue. He claimed that he would leave to spare me the consequences of his actions, that I would lose nothing, that he is no threat to me. Fool. I have already lost everything. You have ripped everything. And then to follow that up by stating that I would be conflicted by his presence, unsure of what to do with him, how to handle him. Would I keep him at a distance? Or close? What to do? We are bonded, and I will always remember.
But I would have to contend with that regardless of whether he remained with the Claw or not. "So what then, Evelynn? I stay, I hold to this regret, to my heart and watch you find someone else? What happens then? Do I give way to rage? To jealousy? What an existence." What an existence indeed. Yet it would be to that which you have condemned me.
In one last act, I offered him a kindness. To take it all away. He resisted initially, but shortly reconsidered. Thus I began to pull at each memory, each instance that we shared. To ease his suffering and make him forget. But it was too painful. Each vision was a knife that only emphasized the wrong, that cut fresh wounds over those which already wept. I could not continue, not individually. I took it all. From the present to the day that we first met, I took those months from him. Everything. He would forget her, he would forget the Claw, myself, the connections that he had made, the life that he had built. The eyes that gazed upon me just before he departed held no recognition. They were confused, uncertain...But he would not hurt.
But myself? It is as you said, I will always remember.
<An excerpt from the journal of Evelynn Decipio>
