Episode III - Intro
{ The following is an IC diary entry - Private unless permitted otherwise. }
This is my third journal. The third chapter. Plenty of things have been left behind and many more are still to come. Even so, some habits die hard. Silently playing a song over and over in my head seems to be the only thing that will help me keep a grip on my own thoughts for they are scattered but strong. Connection built upon connection, tangling my life to this world and perhaps the next one.
I have established myself in Stormwind City to some extent. Work is not the difficult part of the task for there are plenty supplying room and board in exchange for favors. However, their fine print is almost always identical. There is something about yourself that you must give up in order to be a good and jolly employee -- your freedom. I may simply be too accustomed to an old way of life. I cannot deny this. The high walls of stone and clatter of guards making their rounds keeps me on edge. I not only feel constricted, but taunted. The rope on which I thread is as fine as hair. The trees and people bring out some color into the otherwise pasty world though. The banter of many serves as white noise whenever I read in much the way the waves did far from shore. I don't always pay attention as much as I probably should.
The company with which I have established a contract differs in this area, at least directly. Thinly veiled behind the conscript of manners and protocols are people with ambitions and insecurities. Our encounters so far have been pleasant enough, with one brief exception for which they were not at fault. But they have also been revealing. Within this company I have found discipline living alongside excess. Dissent has already shown between the crew in my presence, but many have also been able to bite their tongues. And while I am happy to begin a new business venture, I must concede...
Coming back to this city has brought with it a wide array of emotions. The first and last time I set foot within these sturdy walls, I did not do so alone. I miss my dearest John. Without his cleverness and determination, the canals of this beauty seem stagnant. The hands in the clock-tower move but time never moves with them. I feel grounded. Cornered while the wounds fester and rot. I must not allow myself to wither under this exposure to my own humanity. With perseverance, faith and wisdom, I will create boon not only for myself, but for those around me so that we may all blossom under these uncertain skies.
Margharette Lionsong Grimwald
