(Following will be entries relating to Tray'Ju's exploits. Please enjoy!)
Entry 1:
I've been carrying this empty journal around now for, what, two years? Two cycles already...damn. Just realized its already been that long. Yet days feel so long each. It's mind blowing really. To think, two years ago already. Feels like a dream. But everything has of late. And not just cause of the drugs. Though those are aiding this dream sensation.
I mean, here I sit, sober for the first time in weeks. I'm missing two teeth, my tail is broken, and I've got two stab wounds. I have almost no coin coin to my name and I can't stop the muscle twitches. Yet all I want is more of that damn drug. I want it.
Writing this down, these thoughts, this is strange. Like I'm talking to someone else. Like I'm getting outside of my head at long last. Seeing myself objectively. And...I'm not enjoying it. Sober and self reflective?
It's a bad combo.
I hate it. I can't stop thinking. Thinking of the fire. I keep seeing Tessra and her screams keep echoing in my head. I need the drugs. I need to stop the screaming. I
I just had a break down, had a break down. Snapped. Had to stop writing. Fucking Brass Blades keeping me here. I -need- my drug. I need to stop the screaming.
But it's that drug that landed me in the fucking cell in the first place. It's karma maybe? Two years ago I walked into this city ready to find Tessra's killers. I was gonna avenge her. Now look at me. I'm smuggling drugs, selling it, and hooked on my own Twelve damn supply. Broke rules one through seventy right there.
My own damn fault. Got cocky. Got greedy. Got caught up in the city. I deserve this I suppose. Maybe this is Tessra getting back at me for all the whores. I dunno. I got urges and-
I'm just not the same miqo'te that came into this city. I'm not. And if I'm not careful I'm gonna end up dead in a gutter. Bleeding Boar is gonna be waiting for me once I get out of here. Brass Blades are easily bought off. But he's gonna wring my neck if I can't get him that shipment back.
Gonna be a hell of a time.
Entry 1:
I've been carrying this empty journal around now for, what, two years? Two cycles already...damn. Just realized its already been that long. Yet days feel so long each. It's mind blowing really. To think, two years ago already. Feels like a dream. But everything has of late. And not just cause of the drugs. Though those are aiding this dream sensation.
I mean, here I sit, sober for the first time in weeks. I'm missing two teeth, my tail is broken, and I've got two stab wounds. I have almost no coin coin to my name and I can't stop the muscle twitches. Yet all I want is more of that damn drug. I want it.
Writing this down, these thoughts, this is strange. Like I'm talking to someone else. Like I'm getting outside of my head at long last. Seeing myself objectively. And...I'm not enjoying it. Sober and self reflective?
It's a bad combo.
I hate it. I can't stop thinking. Thinking of the fire. I keep seeing Tessra and her screams keep echoing in my head. I need the drugs. I need to stop the screaming. I
I just had a break down, had a break down. Snapped. Had to stop writing. Fucking Brass Blades keeping me here. I -need- my drug. I need to stop the screaming.
But it's that drug that landed me in the fucking cell in the first place. It's karma maybe? Two years ago I walked into this city ready to find Tessra's killers. I was gonna avenge her. Now look at me. I'm smuggling drugs, selling it, and hooked on my own Twelve damn supply. Broke rules one through seventy right there.
My own damn fault. Got cocky. Got greedy. Got caught up in the city. I deserve this I suppose. Maybe this is Tessra getting back at me for all the whores. I dunno. I got urges and-
I'm just not the same miqo'te that came into this city. I'm not. And if I'm not careful I'm gonna end up dead in a gutter. Bleeding Boar is gonna be waiting for me once I get out of here. Brass Blades are easily bought off. But he's gonna wring my neck if I can't get him that shipment back.
Gonna be a hell of a time.
