2/10/367
One day, maybe, I will learn my lesson about venting my anger on these pages in such condemning terms. Then again, perhaps it is spending my rage here that, somehow, brings matters back to a more pleasant state! Either way, I am pleased that I have reconciled with Levona. It feels strange, being at such venomous odds with someone you went through utter misery and suffering for, and more appealing to be less divided on the matter.
I should be writing more, these days. Ever since that… argument I had, I am feeling oddly fragile, as if I have suddenly become aware of all the wounds I have been carrying for years, and awareness has brought back all the pain. This journal might help me deal with it, and yet, I hesitate. Perhaps because of the paranoia that someone might, someday, find this; perhaps because of the ugliness of what might be loosed if I dared to break the flimsy scabs that keep my issues from the world.
So. On another note, then. I spoke to the Justiciar today about some of the problems that have been plaguing her, during an inquiry about my will. It was, honestly, pleasant – I felt useful, and hopefully genuinely was of use to her in her trials. This is the part of politics I miss, the part where I advised people how best to achieve their goals and aims, goals and aims I agreed with or thought laudable.
I could be happy in such a role again, not a leader but a consultant – but who am I kidding? I barely have enough time for all the duties I already have, and even if I did, I’ll never be accepted at Court again. The pampered gentleborn look at me with such utter disdain. But that’s a tired old complaint, to the extent that even I’m bored of it.
If I am going to do more with my time, it should be personal, not professional. I should put maintaining my friendships first and foremost. I see much less of Tomas and Bryn than I used to, and I am finding Emma’s company more cordial the more I know of her – I grimace to think of how pithily I dismissed her before. All this time, all these examples of my snap judgments being wrong, and yet I persist in forming opinions before I fully know someone! I should be ashamed of myself. Women so kind do not come about often. Of course, perhaps I’m biased because every time she meets me she says something astonishingly flattering. I hope I am not blinded by all the praise, yet, it feels so very… sincere, as if it rises from some boundless well of true generosity.
I truly, truly hope I’m never proved wrong about her. I truly hope she’s not a witch, or heretic, or – something else, I hardly know what. Such a disappointment would cut me deeper than most.
Arien, but I ramble today. It’s pleasant, though, sitting in my study and just writing whatever occurs to me. Outside the cold gusts are rattling against the windows, but several feet of stone protects me more than adequately. At the moment I am alone, but likely not for long. The afternoon light is slanting lower, and soon, the door will open. Perhaps we’ll have dinner together, just the two of us; perhaps we’ll visit the new conservatory under the last of the sunset. For now, though, the scent of the lilies is excellent company.
Whatever will I do when this winter is over? I hesitate to even consider it.
Ah, enough. I need to work on my will; I have to look through my belongings to find a suitable keepsake for Rei. Lord willing, by the time I die he’ll have forgiven me enough to actually take it. But… better I play the villain in his protection than allow him to make this mistake, and better that he blame me. I do not want to see him turning sour against the whole world, against the whole idea. I am not that necessary to him, any longer.
Still, I hope…
