A Private Joke

I am not even sure why I wrote what I did yesterday. It’s not as if anybody is ever going to read this journal, except maybe, some future academic curious about life in… in whatever year this is. Given recent events, perhaps I needed a bit of levity, even if it was in private. Or perhaps I didn’t want this day to pass without something in honour of the pranks I pulled in my youth.  Had Aoibheann been up and about and not traumatised, perhaps I might have turned up at the tavern in a dress to surprise her.  Or perhaps not; my sense of humour often seems to pass straight over her head.  For all I know, they don’t even have April Fool’s Day where she comes from.  Or, come to that, maybe it hasn’t been invented yet, when she comes from.  Ah well, I have a year to come up with something for next time; if we are all still here on this strange island and haven’t been eaten by hellhounds.

I went hunting for a while earlier today.  After spending all that time mopping up Matilda and the gate guard, I felt disinclined to bite anyone human.  I did not feel particularly inclined to biting my furred prey either, but I have been neglecting myself, which may account for the extra sleepiness I have felt of late.  It felt good to be out in the woods at least.  Strange, for I have never really been much of a lover of the countryside, having always lived in the city or on board a ship, which even in the best-appointed fleets, is a place somewhat lacking in living greenery. I suppose it could be a reaction to the time I spent in that strange, Nexus-created London, where nothing much grew in the eternal twilight of that city. I think I saw another wood-faery, or rather, another moth, similar to the one that was hovering around while I was talking to Wren the other day, which I jokingly asked if it was a wood-faery.  I think it was the same type, but I can’t claim any expertise on Lepidoptera. I had friends at school who were so inclined, but I could never see the point of catching the beasts, killing them and then sticking a pin through them to mount them on a display, when they were much more entertaining in their natural habitat.

Full moon is well past now. Alec should be back from the trading mission soon.  I don’t envy him the situation he will find when he gets back, with his wife and favourite protégé badly hospitalised with serious injuries.  Not to mention that the cause of the injuries represents a serious problem with the arrangements concerning the consorts that keep this place intact. I need to speak to him about our trading arrangements, but I would imagine he will be otherwise occupied when he returns.  I wish there was more I could do to help.  As part of the local nobility, I feel I should be doing more than tending bar. Of course, I don’t know what the other lords do.  I have only met Niles, and given the absence of slime trails, I don’t think he has been around much of late.  Maybe I should learn to use this damned sword I have been carrying around.  Swordsmanship is supposedly a noble pursuit, so perhaps I should follow Stoddard’s advice and speak to this Kartane about learning how to use the thing beyond holding the blunt end and sticking the sharp end in the enemy.

I should give the tavern some attention.  I feel guilty about abandoning it last night, but I did watch from the window and saw no customers come by.  I should spend more time there though.  With Gywn mysteriously absent and our mechanical friend nowhere to be seen, it is down to Aoibheann and myself, and she is in no fit state to be out of bed, much less running a tavern.  I will take myself over there, with my books.  There must be a few brave souls for whom the appeal of a drink overcomes their fear of hellhounds. I can always do some writing while I wait for customers to turn up.  I am still stalled on Edmund’s progress and the “Black Friars” project is coming to me in fits and starts; ideas about the plot, fragments of story and dialogue, but refuses as yet, to gel into a cohesive whole.  Some inspiration would help.  Perhaps that faun, Zarla will show up again some time soon.  Her input was always refreshing. Or maybe my favourite patrolman will pass by on her rounds.  Maybe trying to tell some of the story will help.

 

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