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Tychus treats me as a girl, a fragile doll that he deems weak with an inability to protect itself. He is constant in his demands that I become hardened, tougher, stronger... but these are qualities to which I have never become accustomed to. These hands that once would turn the page of a book, embroider, caress the face of a lover now he wishes stained with blood, callous, unfeeling. His guardianship was at first endearing but now I fear the loss of his true daughter has driven him to desperate obsession, that he may claim me for his own as substitute.. a cuckoo within his nest. To fan the flames of his ire would be to invite death, for within him I see a darkness to which no flame of love could ever once again light. And yet.. Yet I feel a concern, an overwhelming pity for his plight, for I fear his cause is destined for a failure which would crush him completely; Too dangerous to stay with him, too guilty to abandon him to the iniquity of the land. Of what should I do?
I have received word upon a meeting within the village of Barovia, some considerable distance away, one of urgency to which I have responded with haste. The sender I know not and yet there is a familiarity of it that fills me with hope. Ha! Hope; But a fleeting feeling that crawls into the darkest of recesses of the mind to decay within some solitary corner of late. I have also received correspondence of one from the township to whom I have been offered aid to appeal my dismissal, one of close attachment to the Garda and, though no guarantee has been given, may supply petition upon my behalf. It is a hope indeed should it prove worthwhile, one that I have accepted to hear, yet nothing should come without price nor favour. Altruism has found hope in that darkened recess to perish alongside it.
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My youth was nothing extraordinary, to me the days were punctuated only by lesson indoors and I was reminded only of the time of week as to whether these were of etiquette, embroidery, mercantile enterprise or solitary daydream. Through a large window within a study crowded by towers of stories, leatherbound tomes, I would watch over the habour, far away from the estate, looking at the spindle-like masts of ships as they disappeared into the horizon. I was never aware of their destinations, nor what their correct nautical terms were, but I hoped that they were bound for distant shores for exploration, the pursuit of adventure and treasures forgotten far beneath the sands of a island littered with palm trees. It was terribly romantic to think that ones life could simply be thrown to the wind and taken in whichever direction was favoured to the day, to live without a care. Father despised what he called 'Sea Vermin' however, saw them only as a method of transporting cargo and as venture for his own purpose of wealth. 'Paupers', he would state, 'were oft' content to work towards their death upon the sea as burial within its depths was as worthless as the lives that sailed upon it'.
Now it is by mere chance that I meet one of these 'scallywags' [Yarr?] upon my daily sojourn at the North bridge that delineates the city boundary, so carefully observed by myself as to abide by the terms of my removal. 'Thera', her name, a seafaring buccaneer of some joviality, quick of wit and whose whimsical nature is endearing, intoxicating. Each scar upon her face must tell an exciting tale of danger from distant escapade, resting in a cave populated by the skeletal remains of prior explorers? Swigging wine from a barrel whilst heartily regaling others with her irreverent deeds. I may listen to her tales all day I shall freely admit, they are a wonder to behold.
A 'Troll', she had the nerve to inform me that I was seen as! Sat at my bridge she may be forgiven but I have neither the likeness nor... disposition to force coin from the hands of passers-by to cross safely... And a 'Worrywart' to boot as well, the cheek of it all! Perhaps I should be called a 'Troll' after all in that I accepted her invitation of a meal at the Lodge as the hour grew late, that at in recompense for her diabolical name-calling and teasing. Eurgh, and a 'Wiggler', named as a common earthworm.
I may think her a pirate but her vocation, she explained, was more mundane, nevertheless exciting however to one who had only heard of their tales and exploits, never experienced them. She sailed a Schooner [Addendum: Look at vessel sizes for comparative purposes] that she had named 'The Huntress', a business operation which saw her travel extensively and sometimes engage in less-than legal business. Her words of her exploits were hypnotising, intriguing, and I could feel myself being drawn towards her charm, her happy-go-lucky bearing [addendum: remove content concerning ale consumption and subsequent mortification]. Her personality was as open as the sea she sailed upon and perhaps filled with as much mystery.
She posited that I should simply rot in Vallaki or at 'My Bridge' as she so named it should I decide to stay and that I should join her in her wanderings and see the land, although I had dreaded as to how much more hardship I could witness or bear. But I have a feeling of exhilaration around her, as though she is a beacon in this dark that should keep sailors from crashing upon rocks, or to keep myself from becoming rooted at the river crossing as a permanent feature.