We are the Forsaken. We are the free willed dead. We fight for that freedom against the Lich Kind who would enslave us and the living who would see us destroyed. I tell myself this, I know it's true and it's what I am.

And yet I can't get rid of these living feelings, feelings that are in my head, as any chemical processes linked with them have long since ceased. Why can't I get rid of them? Shake them?

I ran into Sid in Silvermoon. I told him I had work in the Ghostlands, which was true enough to some extent, but I'd also gone there in the vague hope of running into him at some point during my journey through Sin'dorei land. And of course, run into him I did, along with Phinn, the fuc the half-blood that had joined the unit. He was showing her through Silvermoon. Giving her the grand tour.

She was wearing his hat. Why in the name of the Dark Lady would she be wearing his hat if he was just showing her through the city? And the way they were standing around each other. And she called him "Cigarette". If that's not a fucking pet name my heart's till pumping warm blood through the rest of my body.

I may have tried to shoot her. And that's irrational. Because I missed. I never -try- to kill. I kill. This entire thing has gotten my mind working in an odd manner, thoughts scrambled and not making sense. [i]Feelings[/i] bubbling in the fore-front of my brain. Anger, rage.

Hurt.



((Much further down the page, which happens to be riddled with small holes made by a very sharp dagger))


I am Forsaken. I am the free willed dead.

Fuck the living.