::The leather-bound journal was no bigger then the size of her palm but thick with blank pages, aching to be filled. Why so small? After her new 'houseguest' had destroyed her place and her last diary, Kristia decided that something smaller would have less a chance of being found. The spine of the book was green and looked as though it had arms growing off into the center cover of the book. It was supposed to be the effect of a growing tree.. or something like that, but whoever the artist was, wasn't very good. Opening the book to the first empty page, smoothing one hand over, the writing began.::
Date: April 9th.
I wish I could start this page by saying my home is free and clear of the vermin called Capizio. Unfortunately, the uninvited 'house guest' is still at large, probably feeding on one of the messy corpses he's left around as I write this. I'm trying to get other hands involved in the destruction of Capizio. Earlier today I spoke to Jewel about using her water-pressurizing bubble to take out the entire house. With him in it, of course. Hopefully he's either explode from the pressure, drown in the water, or get ripped limb from limb. Anything's possible.
After Jewel left the Inn this morning, I chatted briefly with an apparent female friend of her's, Erinalle. We had a conversation about marriages, the number of each we've had and how all ended. I don't know why I even said anything to her but I felt compelled too. It's the first time I've thought about my previous husbands in a long, long time. Too long.
I remember the very first time I set eyes on Kir. Kir Duran. Back when the Red Dragon Inn was first constructed closer to the Stars End Bar. What was that? Thirteen years now. I should have suspected trouble from the moment I saw him, sitting at that table with four other blank faces and a deck of cards. Long blond hair. Icy blue eyes. Damn, he was gorgeous. I can't believe I don't even have one picture of him. Lucky for him that his face was so sweet because that outfit didn't do anything for him. Flannel shirt and jeans, bloody cowboy. And his undershirt? I don't think it'd been changed in a week. Come to think of it, probably hadn't. He was already knee-deep in his affair with gambling when we met. I don't know why I didn't see it then.
It's hard to admit when everything that you've been taught, thousands of pieces of good advice that you ignored, were right. Dalamar warned about men and relationships and the uncontrollable spin that they could add to my life. And what did I do? Not even a week on my own and already tangled up with some boy. I blame it on my youth and ignorance. That sounds about right. Even now, though. With all my past experiences, running into Kir at this time in my life, I think I'd still fall hard and fast. Even with his horrible southern drawl. "Wanna play o' hand, baybay?" Stupidest line I've ever heard and before he even got it out I was practically drooling on him. Six months after that came a quiet, private wedding. Me, him, and our mutual friend Tarldesco. Then came three more months of perfect, thought-to-be-endless bliss. Kir climbed mountains to fulfill any need I had. He was perfect, as far as I was concerned. And a perfect liar. I remember when things started missing from our beach house. First it was little things. Jewelry. Pictures. Old antiques. Things I would cock my head at and maybe ask about but he'd assure me that they were being fixed or he'd moved them. I was blinded with adoration for him, I would have believed anything he told me. Then bigger things. Lamps. Electronics. That persian rug in the front hall. I loved that damn rug.. but I loved him more and that was looked passed as well. I still partly blame myself for Kir's death. Had I not overlooked his problem, he could still be here. He could still --- Scratch that out. I'm not going down that road. Not again.
Anyways.. that fateful evening he claimed to, "Be right back," was the last time I saw him alive. Three weeks passed without a word, a letter, not a peep. At first I thought maybe he'd left but Tarl assured me that couldn't have been the case. We were so in love. Who up's and ditches a happy marriage? So my anger morphed into worry, but I didn't know that Kir even had any enemies. Really, there was a lot about him I didn't know. But the grapevine gossip traveled and word eventually came around that it had something to do with a gambling debt that Kir couldn't pay up. Rumors were that his body was left in some cave up north. Tarl, myself, and several other helpful associates began the trecking through the north eastern mountains of Rhydin. It took only an hour, maybe even less, to find his body. Whoever left him to die wanted him to be found.
Kir was completely naked, chained into ice picks that had been dug into the walls of the cave. His beautiful, scruffy face was painted in purple and blue bruises. Given a good beating and then left to hang there, it was most likely the chilly temp. that led to Kir's last breath. Frozen to death. I don't remember who took Kir down from the wall, those next few minutes.. and days, are still a blur. I remember clinging onto his lifeless body and sobbing uncontrollably. I felt as long as I held onto him, he'd be fine. That he'd instantly revive, kiss me, and we'd go home. That never happened. Tarl arranged his funeral, I didn't even attend. I went to his grave a couple weeks after, but that was it. I couldn't go anymore and I haven't been back since. Really, it's been years now.. I wonder. I should go. See if his tombstone still stands or if it's been beaten down like the rest of this city. In fact. What's a better time then now?
Date: April 9th.
I wish I could start this page by saying my home is free and clear of the vermin called Capizio. Unfortunately, the uninvited 'house guest' is still at large, probably feeding on one of the messy corpses he's left around as I write this. I'm trying to get other hands involved in the destruction of Capizio. Earlier today I spoke to Jewel about using her water-pressurizing bubble to take out the entire house. With him in it, of course. Hopefully he's either explode from the pressure, drown in the water, or get ripped limb from limb. Anything's possible.
After Jewel left the Inn this morning, I chatted briefly with an apparent female friend of her's, Erinalle. We had a conversation about marriages, the number of each we've had and how all ended. I don't know why I even said anything to her but I felt compelled too. It's the first time I've thought about my previous husbands in a long, long time. Too long.
I remember the very first time I set eyes on Kir. Kir Duran. Back when the Red Dragon Inn was first constructed closer to the Stars End Bar. What was that? Thirteen years now. I should have suspected trouble from the moment I saw him, sitting at that table with four other blank faces and a deck of cards. Long blond hair. Icy blue eyes. Damn, he was gorgeous. I can't believe I don't even have one picture of him. Lucky for him that his face was so sweet because that outfit didn't do anything for him. Flannel shirt and jeans, bloody cowboy. And his undershirt? I don't think it'd been changed in a week. Come to think of it, probably hadn't. He was already knee-deep in his affair with gambling when we met. I don't know why I didn't see it then.
It's hard to admit when everything that you've been taught, thousands of pieces of good advice that you ignored, were right. Dalamar warned about men and relationships and the uncontrollable spin that they could add to my life. And what did I do? Not even a week on my own and already tangled up with some boy. I blame it on my youth and ignorance. That sounds about right. Even now, though. With all my past experiences, running into Kir at this time in my life, I think I'd still fall hard and fast. Even with his horrible southern drawl. "Wanna play o' hand, baybay?" Stupidest line I've ever heard and before he even got it out I was practically drooling on him. Six months after that came a quiet, private wedding. Me, him, and our mutual friend Tarldesco. Then came three more months of perfect, thought-to-be-endless bliss. Kir climbed mountains to fulfill any need I had. He was perfect, as far as I was concerned. And a perfect liar. I remember when things started missing from our beach house. First it was little things. Jewelry. Pictures. Old antiques. Things I would cock my head at and maybe ask about but he'd assure me that they were being fixed or he'd moved them. I was blinded with adoration for him, I would have believed anything he told me. Then bigger things. Lamps. Electronics. That persian rug in the front hall. I loved that damn rug.. but I loved him more and that was looked passed as well. I still partly blame myself for Kir's death. Had I not overlooked his problem, he could still be here. He could still --- Scratch that out. I'm not going down that road. Not again.
Anyways.. that fateful evening he claimed to, "Be right back," was the last time I saw him alive. Three weeks passed without a word, a letter, not a peep. At first I thought maybe he'd left but Tarl assured me that couldn't have been the case. We were so in love. Who up's and ditches a happy marriage? So my anger morphed into worry, but I didn't know that Kir even had any enemies. Really, there was a lot about him I didn't know. But the grapevine gossip traveled and word eventually came around that it had something to do with a gambling debt that Kir couldn't pay up. Rumors were that his body was left in some cave up north. Tarl, myself, and several other helpful associates began the trecking through the north eastern mountains of Rhydin. It took only an hour, maybe even less, to find his body. Whoever left him to die wanted him to be found.
Kir was completely naked, chained into ice picks that had been dug into the walls of the cave. His beautiful, scruffy face was painted in purple and blue bruises. Given a good beating and then left to hang there, it was most likely the chilly temp. that led to Kir's last breath. Frozen to death. I don't remember who took Kir down from the wall, those next few minutes.. and days, are still a blur. I remember clinging onto his lifeless body and sobbing uncontrollably. I felt as long as I held onto him, he'd be fine. That he'd instantly revive, kiss me, and we'd go home. That never happened. Tarl arranged his funeral, I didn't even attend. I went to his grave a couple weeks after, but that was it. I couldn't go anymore and I haven't been back since. Really, it's been years now.. I wonder. I should go. See if his tombstone still stands or if it's been beaten down like the rest of this city. In fact. What's a better time then now?