A Bit Of Hope.

I’ve recovered, mostly, from the operation in which Ivory used my blood, along with one of the men running this hostel, to replace the Red Cap inside of Sheryl.

Unnervingly, it wasn’t quite so difficult as expected.

It seemed almost eager to vacate Its Vessel and inhabit the Zephyr Doll, instead, which I tried to voice concern over, but I found it difficult to do so I was falling unconscious at the time.

Alyssa has been fussing over me just short of obsessively; I’ll admit, it’s actually rather nice to have the positive attention, for a change.

The pain isn’t less.

I don’t feel as though it ever will be, and the torment doesn’t stop – the reminders of Blair brought to us by the Black Dog are infrequent, but jarring, and the dreams continue to plague us both nightly.

Even without those things, I know I tend to see Blair no matter where I go, or what I do. The oddest of things remind me of xim, and I often can’t find a connection between the trigger, and the impact.

Nonetheless, I think having Alyssa and Windmill as steady parts of my life is starting to ease the numbness, and the success of the surgery – while concerning – has given me a little bit of hope.