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not_the_shellI write this into the journal that once belonged to Wesley Wyndam-Pryce yet now is my property.
I do not understand why humans feel the need to document everything as they do. It is repetitive. Once the event has transpired, there is no point in making useless remarks upon parchment.
Yet I feel compelled to do so nonetheless.
I have read Wesley's remarks about myself and Fred once more and noticed he inserts his feelings amongst the facts. There are many blank pages in this journal which I intend to fill the same way, then, if that means I might better comprehend it all.
To start with, I am upset that my Qwa'ha Xahn was murdered by Wesley.
I am jealous that the kill of the dragon was not mine as it should have obviously been.
I am lonely, save for my games of skill and Spike who can no longer speak to me.
Traces, remembrances of the emotion known as "love" swim from the inner recesses of myself and I am confused.
Anger fills me when I think of the mortal who is now my foe - who Wesley has kept information hidden from me, thinking perhaps that I might strike out on my own to avenge my brothers.
My thoughts are jumbled, a mass of words that make no sense as I try to untangle the riddles hidden there. Looking at the previous entries by Wesley, the puzzle is still unresolved. He speaks - no, he writes - of a "demon". One who dissolves and melts the inside organs of the human host.
There is also one mention of Fred and her pain as she gave her body to me to use.
I am done writing for the moment. This is a pointless exercise. I do notice, however, the name that is signed at the end of each entry and I shall attempt to do the same.
- Illyria
I do not understand why humans feel the need to document everything as they do. It is repetitive. Once the event has transpired, there is no point in making useless remarks upon parchment.
Yet I feel compelled to do so nonetheless.
I have read Wesley's remarks about myself and Fred once more and noticed he inserts his feelings amongst the facts. There are many blank pages in this journal which I intend to fill the same way, then, if that means I might better comprehend it all.
To start with, I am upset that my Qwa'ha Xahn was murdered by Wesley.
I am jealous that the kill of the dragon was not mine as it should have obviously been.
I am lonely, save for my games of skill and Spike who can no longer speak to me.
Traces, remembrances of the emotion known as "love" swim from the inner recesses of myself and I am confused.
Anger fills me when I think of the mortal who is now my foe - who Wesley has kept information hidden from me, thinking perhaps that I might strike out on my own to avenge my brothers.
My thoughts are jumbled, a mass of words that make no sense as I try to untangle the riddles hidden there. Looking at the previous entries by Wesley, the puzzle is still unresolved. He speaks - no, he writes - of a "demon". One who dissolves and melts the inside organs of the human host.
There is also one mention of Fred and her pain as she gave her body to me to use.
I am done writing for the moment. This is a pointless exercise. I do notice, however, the name that is signed at the end of each entry and I shall attempt to do the same.
- Illyria
