Recent Events.

I feel it’s time I said the things I have kept to myself, for fear of making things worse; a foolish idea, really, because losing Blair is the worst that could have happened to us.

Every night, She comes to me with taunts, showing me the past and – I assume – the future, as it may have been had Blair survived.

I watch him endure, every night, the most mind-breaking of torture, Her glimpses of ‘what may have been’ sharp and cruel contrasts.

In the interest of full disclosure (Blair had no secrets but one) I will confess, some of the things She chooses to show me are not chaste. Images of Blair pressing me down to the mattress, Alyssa behind xim, her hands sliding over his shoulders – and then it flashes back to the torture, jarring, and I’m allowed to wake.

Every night for the first few days, She asks if I wish to know for certain whether or not Blair gave in to her and became a Scion; then, She let me see with certainty that xe did not.

I cannot say this comes as a comfort.

If Blair had become a Scion, maybe xe would not have died.

Alongside the sleepless nights, I – like Alyssa – am being continuously left tokens, things that belonged to Blair or that remind me of xim. Sometimes, instead, I am brought stems, and I know they must belong to Daisy Chain; I’ve burned every single one.

We compared, and Alyssa is not being brought those; instead, she keeps finding little tears or strips of red cloth.

I have been neglecting Windmill’s care; this morning I made sure to rectify this, but the horse nearly kicked me.

With bladed hooves, that would have no doubt been lethal. I managed to move faster than I thought myself capable of.

Windmill huffs and snorts, paws at the ground, continuously restless – I am sure that he knows Blair is gone.

Lastly, on the front of the hostel, it appears as though it’s becoming a busier place, whether it’s due to people dropping in for a night or two or because we can feel the presence of PREs and/or their proxies just outside.

With all these scraps and tokens being brought to Alyssa and to myself, she believes the PRE known as the ‘Black Dog’ – the PRE who tormented Blair for years – has set its’ sights on the two of us, to begin with.

Ruby Tuesday is always lurking out there, it seems, and we are all aware that she has designs on this place…just as we are all aware that she has taken Sheryl’s presence as some sort of personal offence (Sheryl has yet to entirely recover, incidentally).

Daisy Chain ran off, but we are certain she will return. We would run, but we haven’t the first clue where to go, and I have been running myself ragged in an attempt to make up for my extended period of uselessness; as it is, I still feel I’m drifting.

Besides, I can’t bear the thought of running from her; I would much rather take her head off her shoulders and string it up using those goddamn stems.