(no subject)
I've been presented with a path forward, and soon I'll have to take it.
Pook wrote me -- herself, for once -- telling me she'd found where the creatures who took the children came from. She is now in the land of Pandaria (that mythical place the black and white furbolg tribe supposedly came from) and the monsters are known as the Sha. She said she didn't expect me to join her, but thought I should know. She sent a vial of some swirling, insubstantial wrongness along with the note, presumably to prove what she was saying. I really could have done without it.
Seb's reaction to her scent was fairly poor, as I expected, but what I wasn't expecting was for her to tell me to go to Pandaria right then and leave her home. That was madness -- I wasn't about to leave her home, unattended and unable to move as quickly as she needs to if things take a turn for the worse. Even leaving her in Moonglade alone... no. We argued about it a bit -- as well as we could, considering her state of mind -- before she resigned herself to the fact that I wasn't budging. I said I was going to stay with her until she was better balanced, and then we both would go.
Honestly, after hunting Seb when she fled, it's painfully clear to me that my days as a tracker are coming to an end. I still have the knowledge, but it takes me too long to catch signs that would have been obvious to me years ago. Pook can still be a cat, and as such is a better tracker than I'll ever be. The children have someone competent after them. I'm still going and wrote Pook to tell her as much, but not right away. Gods, it tears at me knowing we might be able to find the children and I'm not there. Of course it does. Daltrien and Isha might not have much time. But I know if I leave Seb behind, I'll only invite ruin on the life I've built up from the ashes.
And so I've stayed. Tried to help her find balance. And she has, bit by bit. She's much calmer, and even things that would provoke reactions don't go much beyond the initial moments. We'll be leaving for Pandaria soon, and I'm glad for it, because I need resolution in something. I've striven to be the rock Seb needs to support herself through all this, but gods, it's wearing me down. She's pushing me more and more to say what I'm thinking. This is the precise time I shouldn't say what's on my mind. I'm tired and disgruntled about a thousand little things that don't matter in the long run -- but I can't help thinking them, and so what should be a quiet night easily turns into a loud argument.
The other night Pook thoughtfully sent along some of the same sort of tea Saraich gave her, so that Seb might feel a bit better. I thought this was a very nice gesture -- particularly for Pook -- and after smelling the leaves to be sure it didn't seem poisonous, I presented it to Seb. She was wary of it, of course, as the instincts she contends with think of Pook as a rival, but came to accept them -- mostly. When she asked me what I thought of the gift, I told her the truth -- that it might well be the first step to Pook accepting the way things are and trying to find peace in that information. Acknowledgment that if when we find the children, there's a good chance she'll have to deal with Seb on a personal level, and that perhaps having awkward silence isn't the best course of action. It was an olive branch of sorts, one I hoped Seb would take. She did -- mostly, but she couldn't help snarking that maybe she should send a thank you note.
That one comment was all it took to put the burden that had been lifting at the gesture straight back on my shoulders. Every moment with both Pook and Seb around me has me utterly petrified as it is. I don't want to hurt Pook -- I still care about her and the last thing I want is to rub salt in her wounds -- but neither do I want to pretend as if Seb isn't my mate. A gesture towards Pook might stoke jealousy in Seb. A gesture towards Seb might cause anguish in Pook. I want to hurt neither of them, and so each time I've been in that situation I feel like I'm dancing an elaborate, foreign dance that I don't know the steps to. It's incredibly stressful and draining. This one gesture seemed like it could be the end to all that, but then Seb dipped into pettiness.
All I did was shake my head. I didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to bring it up, but Seb insisted. Telling her no or lying to her when she asks what I'm thinking is incredibly stupid, so against my better judgment, I said precisely what was on my mind, and it turned into a yelling match across the hut. We did make up after we'd both shouted ourselves out, but it wasn't a pleasant night.
It isn't that I don't acknowledge that Seb's done a great deal to try to smooth out relations and try to make things easier for Pook, whereas Pook has done very little in turn. I do know that. But Pook came back to find her life gone, and that's not something you recover from on a schedule. She may have pushed for Pook and I to talk, but I wasn't about to do that when she insisted on being a cat all the time and hiding from the whole of what she is. I've been trying to give her the space to heal she needs. Seb isn't the wounded one here and I don't expect magnanimity from Pook just yet.
I'm just so damn tired. Tired of watching what I say around them, of being careful of what I do around Seb in her current state, of waiting for something horrible to happen during the pregnancy so I can respond as best I'm able, and, aye, of sitting here while my children are in some mythical land. I'm on tenterhooks all the time. I just need something, anything, to resolve.
We've started packing for Pandaria. Soon we'll be heading to this land, and I'll finally get to see what the orcs were talking about when they described that Chin furbolg from the Third War.
Pook wrote me -- herself, for once -- telling me she'd found where the creatures who took the children came from. She is now in the land of Pandaria (that mythical place the black and white furbolg tribe supposedly came from) and the monsters are known as the Sha. She said she didn't expect me to join her, but thought I should know. She sent a vial of some swirling, insubstantial wrongness along with the note, presumably to prove what she was saying. I really could have done without it.
Seb's reaction to her scent was fairly poor, as I expected, but what I wasn't expecting was for her to tell me to go to Pandaria right then and leave her home. That was madness -- I wasn't about to leave her home, unattended and unable to move as quickly as she needs to if things take a turn for the worse. Even leaving her in Moonglade alone... no. We argued about it a bit -- as well as we could, considering her state of mind -- before she resigned herself to the fact that I wasn't budging. I said I was going to stay with her until she was better balanced, and then we both would go.
Honestly, after hunting Seb when she fled, it's painfully clear to me that my days as a tracker are coming to an end. I still have the knowledge, but it takes me too long to catch signs that would have been obvious to me years ago. Pook can still be a cat, and as such is a better tracker than I'll ever be. The children have someone competent after them. I'm still going and wrote Pook to tell her as much, but not right away. Gods, it tears at me knowing we might be able to find the children and I'm not there. Of course it does. Daltrien and Isha might not have much time. But I know if I leave Seb behind, I'll only invite ruin on the life I've built up from the ashes.
And so I've stayed. Tried to help her find balance. And she has, bit by bit. She's much calmer, and even things that would provoke reactions don't go much beyond the initial moments. We'll be leaving for Pandaria soon, and I'm glad for it, because I need resolution in something. I've striven to be the rock Seb needs to support herself through all this, but gods, it's wearing me down. She's pushing me more and more to say what I'm thinking. This is the precise time I shouldn't say what's on my mind. I'm tired and disgruntled about a thousand little things that don't matter in the long run -- but I can't help thinking them, and so what should be a quiet night easily turns into a loud argument.
The other night Pook thoughtfully sent along some of the same sort of tea Saraich gave her, so that Seb might feel a bit better. I thought this was a very nice gesture -- particularly for Pook -- and after smelling the leaves to be sure it didn't seem poisonous, I presented it to Seb. She was wary of it, of course, as the instincts she contends with think of Pook as a rival, but came to accept them -- mostly. When she asked me what I thought of the gift, I told her the truth -- that it might well be the first step to Pook accepting the way things are and trying to find peace in that information. Acknowledgment that if when we find the children, there's a good chance she'll have to deal with Seb on a personal level, and that perhaps having awkward silence isn't the best course of action. It was an olive branch of sorts, one I hoped Seb would take. She did -- mostly, but she couldn't help snarking that maybe she should send a thank you note.
That one comment was all it took to put the burden that had been lifting at the gesture straight back on my shoulders. Every moment with both Pook and Seb around me has me utterly petrified as it is. I don't want to hurt Pook -- I still care about her and the last thing I want is to rub salt in her wounds -- but neither do I want to pretend as if Seb isn't my mate. A gesture towards Pook might stoke jealousy in Seb. A gesture towards Seb might cause anguish in Pook. I want to hurt neither of them, and so each time I've been in that situation I feel like I'm dancing an elaborate, foreign dance that I don't know the steps to. It's incredibly stressful and draining. This one gesture seemed like it could be the end to all that, but then Seb dipped into pettiness.
All I did was shake my head. I didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to bring it up, but Seb insisted. Telling her no or lying to her when she asks what I'm thinking is incredibly stupid, so against my better judgment, I said precisely what was on my mind, and it turned into a yelling match across the hut. We did make up after we'd both shouted ourselves out, but it wasn't a pleasant night.
It isn't that I don't acknowledge that Seb's done a great deal to try to smooth out relations and try to make things easier for Pook, whereas Pook has done very little in turn. I do know that. But Pook came back to find her life gone, and that's not something you recover from on a schedule. She may have pushed for Pook and I to talk, but I wasn't about to do that when she insisted on being a cat all the time and hiding from the whole of what she is. I've been trying to give her the space to heal she needs. Seb isn't the wounded one here and I don't expect magnanimity from Pook just yet.
I'm just so damn tired. Tired of watching what I say around them, of being careful of what I do around Seb in her current state, of waiting for something horrible to happen during the pregnancy so I can respond as best I'm able, and, aye, of sitting here while my children are in some mythical land. I'm on tenterhooks all the time. I just need something, anything, to resolve.
We've started packing for Pandaria. Soon we'll be heading to this land, and I'll finally get to see what the orcs were talking about when they described that Chin furbolg from the Third War.