Archive for November, 2009

Leafsong’s Diary 29.11 – A Question

If Mirae takes after her brother in the projectile-vomiting tendency, I will scream. I have had so much infantile VOMIT in my hair that I am considering just force-feeding him shampoo. I have no clothes that are not stained, apart from one pair of pink shorts in the back of my drawers which do not fit over my bloated ass anymore.

No WONDER the GHE brand sheepskin sheath baby-preventers sell so well, if this is what they are preventing.

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Leafsong’s Diary 27.11

When I was younger, I used to dread days that were boring and monotonous. Probably because my days were spent idling in gutters, trying to look plaintive and cute enough for strangers to feel sorry for me and toss me a silver. Every day, for months and months- years, even- was exactly the same and I used to dread each one. When Nordrassil died and we lost our immortality, everyone I knew (that is, the inhabitants of the Nighthaven ghetto) was grateful that at last there was an end in sight.

Now much has changed and I am not the same girl as the Leafsong who used to scrabble in the gutter for a casually-tossed copper. Now I welcome days of routine, days where nothing happens except for playing with my babies and being with my husband. Any day without an adversary is blissful to me! I welcome monotony with open arms. But I’m not sure if my husband feels the same way. He has lived eleven thousand years as a scholar, as a fighter, as a theologian and a zealous philosopher; but only just-about-two as a father and a family man. Part of me hopes that he never tires of our domestic cohabitation, but the pragmatic part of me- the ruling half- knows that he most likely will, someday. I’ll deal with that day when it comes!

In other news, PICNIC tonight!!! I hope people get drunk and start fights, I do so love watching them. Also I want to go swimming. HEE!

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Leafsong’s Diary 25.11

(This entry is written in a scrawled, almost illegible hand – well, more scrawled and illegible than usual, anyway)

My hand is still shaking from the events of last night. I don’t know if I can even compose myself to write a coherent entry, but I know that I must try; even if it’s only purpose is to serve as a terrible warning for the future, and a constant reminder that one can never take one’s guard down, as a Shalah’aman. Yesterday, my husband suggested that we leave for Darnassus for our Pilgrim’s Bounty holiday a day early. As the dwarves of Ironforge were too drunk to attend their own Council meeting (presumably), and Shyla had already promised to keep an eye on things at the shop; I decided that it would be very nice to see my home and my father early, even though I wholly expected him to smack me halfway across the city as a result of losing that huge contract. We packed up our belongings and the children, and left Stormwind in the early afternoon.

Thanks to a good wind, we arrived at Darnassus in just a few hours. Of course I wasn’t aware whether it was a good wind or not as I spent the entire four hours throwing up the contents of my guts into a bucket in the keel (I was banished from the top deck by the captain, who very meanly said that the sight of me put him off his steering). I wonder if I shall ever get used to all this sailing. I doubt it, I like my feet thoroughly planted on the earth. Don’t even get me started on gryphons!! Analith and Mirae slept throughout the journey, although Analith woke up long enough to throw a putrified rat at me while I had my head stuck in a bucket.

When we arrived in Darnassus, we were confronted with some sort of dispute. My Shan’do’s male companion, Ilarhino, was having a loud confrontation with several dastardly looking individuals. I took the babies from my husband, in case he decided to get involved. At that moment, there was a raucous female voice coming from behind me – “Shall I kill his girl?”. It took a while, but I realised that she was referring to me! Unfortunately, me being slow as usual, I didn’t realise this until after the antagonists had melted away like snow into the shadows of the city. My husband looked somewhat enraged, and insisted that I take the children to my father’s house (the main branch of the GHE) and accompany him while he tracked down these ruffians. We did so, and my husband had just raised his bow when I heard a whisper from me, words that I will never forget, however long Elune gives me to live. She mentioned how sweet Mirae was- the bitch called her by name! – in my father’s arms. I went as stiff as a board for a second, before immediately shooting away from the scene, my heart in my mouth and the chill numbness of terror making me clumsy. When I arrived back at the GHE, my father was slumped unconscious on the floor with Analith chewing on his hair beside him, and Mirae was gone.

I don’t remember much about the next hour. My husband came, he had been delayed by some Sentinels. Two humans were there also, Ilarhino and a blonde woman who I think tried to comfort me. The rest is a mix of blurred terror and numbness. Analith was crying and hungry, and I could barely take care of him. All I could think about was my daughter and that she was not with me. I had never experienced such terror. The woman came back, and was taunting us. I wanted to kill her with my bare hands, but she was using the shadows as a cloak. When I heard Mirae crying for food from just outside the door, I thought I was hallucinating. But I wasn’t, it was her, returned and unharmed.

What have I learnt from this? I have learnt that the guilt that I feel whenever I leave my children to go to class, or do a delivery, will be complimented by a new sense of dread. I have learnt that my children may not even be safe in the family home. That there are sly, devious and evil people out there- my own kind!– who will harm even helpless infants if it suits their purpose. And I have learnt that my Shan’do cannot protect us from everything.

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Turkey Rider

Entries might be a little sparse this week, due to the fact that I have thirty pages of research essay to write before Sunday. Woohoo!! To make up for this, here is a picture of a turkey riding shotgun =)

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Saturday morning





“Look at this.”


Aphel pushed his circular, wireframe reading glasses up his nose as he peered over his lifemate’s shoulder. He was sitting rigidly upright on the edge of the bed, while she lay sprawled beside him. Leafsong propped herself up on an elbow, holding up Miss Kaldorei East! He squinted inside the centrefold, then growled between clenched teeth.


“This is Florian. Why did you think I would be remotely interested in Florian?”


Leafsong shrugged a bony shoulder, tracing a finger reverently over the bulging magenta muscles of the Kaldorei pin-up as he posed beneath a Teldrassil waterfall. “ ‘Cause he’s hot, Shan’do. Look at that loincloth.” Aphel let out a derisive snort.


“As if I needed a reminder as to what a scantily-clad Florian looks like. Care to glance around?”


He waved his pen around the walls of their bedroom. Florian smouldered down at them from no less than three fraying wall scrolls, including one tacked precariously to the ceiling above their bed. Leafsong blew a kiss at the white-toothed hunk above, nestling happily down in the cushions beside her husband as she re-immersed herself in Miss. Although her reading was abysmal, this particular magazine was graced with an abundance of pictures. Aphel grunted to himself, adjusted his spectacles and continued to transcribe the minutes from the previous night’s Council meeting. For a few moments, the only noises in the long room were the faint scratches of pen on parchment, and the whispering of flicked-over glossy pages.


Leafsong stretched her skinny length out on top of the blanket, her grubby feet curling around on the wooden rail at the foot of the bed. She yawned, covering her mouth with splayed fingers, the magazine resting upside on her bare stomach. Brushing away a strand of hair, she gazed at her dirty toes; which were stained with earth and the remnants of messily-applied blue nail polish. Aphel reached out to place a hand on her head distractedly, narrowing his eyes down at the notes in his lap, his fingers running down the pale pink curve of her ear. She pursed her lips, rolling onto her stomach and gazing up at him, pale grey eyes partially hidden behind wisps of fern-green hair.


“I’m bored.”


The corner of his thin mouth curved up into a sly smile.


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Leafsong’s Diary 19.11 – In which Leafsong has both good and bad news.

What a week!! I can’t wait for the weekend. Not that I get much of a break, since even though there are no classes, I still have to look after the shop and the babies; but still. It’s psychological, alright? Things have been horrendously busy with the business. I lost a client- a huge client actually, our second biggest- which means that unless I get some new business soon, profits will be down twenty one percent. I think my father’s scream of horror as he reads the morning stock news in Teldrassil will actually be audible over here. I am wholly expecting a six page angry letter to arrive in the post any day now.

I managed to get some new business from that poison shop in the Old Town district; apparantly their old export contact had some “issues” about carrying some of the more deadly and subtle chemicals. The GHE has no such problem! We are a family-run business, but not a family business. We’ll take anything, and take ten percent!

So business has been both good and bad. Family life has actually been very calm and stress-free! My Shan’do and I haven’t fought for a week. He has been very kind to me, and I have refrained from teasing him. It’s nice. How can I get Analith from pulling his sister’s hair? How?? How?? She doesn’t have much as it is, I don’t want him to pull it all out. Bald babies scare me slightly. Even my own.

In other news, some nutter is warning my husband off “something”. He’s not exactly sure what. The threat was rather vague. Unfortunately the part where it stated that if he “kept interfering”, I would be tied up and eaten by wolves!!! How mean is that? So unnecessary. Hmph. Who would want to hurt ME?!

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Losing Business

The Menethil Apothecaries have offered us thirty percent discount on Kalimdor export.”


GHE give thirty-five!”


The human male’s expression was sombre in ostensible regret, although she could see his eyes already sliding sideways to the exit. Gripping the edge of the wooden counter to stop her long fingers from shaking, she forced the corners of her mouth upwards. He shook his head dolefully, glancing surreptitiously at his pocket-watch. She repeated her offer, staring down at the bald patch in the centre of his skull. His head swivelled from side to side once more, negative.


I’m sorry. The contracts have already been exchanged and signed.”


“Forty?” she offered hopefully in a last-ditch attempt to retain her second-biggest steady client. The man cleared his throat, embarrassed, not meeting her eyes as he continued to shake his head. Suddenly, the shop seemed a few shades darker. Feeling her throat closing up, she swallowed rapidly, stepping away from the counter. A prickling began at the corners of her eyes as she knelt clumsily, fingers fumbling for the client folder tucked beneath her inventory list. Tugging out the one entitled McGriffin Aromatherapetics, one of the larger files, she carefully placed it on the wooden countertop between them. The man coughed once more, moustache twitching, and reached out delicately to take it.


“There’s the matter of the carrier’s fee? Two thousand gold, I believe.”


She nodded numbly, a hot pain throbbing in the back of her throat as she reached in her back pocket and with blundering fingers pulled out a white and yellow cashier pad. Taking the quill in her hand, vision beginning to blur, she began to scratch away in Common. She got as far as I, Leafsong, grant two, and then paused. After a moment, she wrote fousend after the two, and frowned at it. The man cleared his throat, louder. Crossing it out, feeling her cheeks flare, she wrote thossend. There was a second awkward pause. He lowered his voice, in mock concern.


“Would you like me to do it for you, Mrs. Sha-Shalama- Mrs. Shaman?”


She remained motionless, frozen with mortification. Smiling kindly, he plucked the quill from her trembling figures and scrawl two thousand gold in elegant, effortless Common. Tearing the slip from the pad, he bowed his head to her.


When the door slammed shut she looked up, vision fragmented by hot liquid, her chest rising and falling erratically. Spinning on her blistered heel she shot out of the shopfront and fled to the anterior stockroom. Only the fleeting remembrance of the fragile lives in her belly stopped her from hurling herself face first on the large pile of discarded hemp sacks used for transporting herbs. Instead, after shoving the door closed behind her, she sunk down onto her rear and pulled her knees to her face, finally letting loose the tears of disappointment and rage.

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Thanks Blizzard, I didn’t really want to sleep the night before my huge midterm!

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Leafsong’s Diary 15.11 – In which Leafsong stops moaning (for once) and counts her blessings.

I think that I spend too much time over-thinking and worrying and complaining. It’s been two years since I’ve escaped my situation of extreme poverty, and yet I still wake up in the mornings expecting another hungry, tiring and humiliating day. Even though I can see the GHE store around me, feel my lifemate in bed beside me and hear the children breathing quietly in their crib; I am transported back to the slums in Nighthaven, the ceiling becomes a corrugated iron slab and my husband’s body becomes my brothers, huddled beside me for warmth as Lake Elun’ara froze outside. I wonder if I will ever lose this duality of vision, which never lets me forget where I came from (where I could return to, if things go wrong).

Last night, I felt a moment of peace. A whole night of peace, one where I didn’t see hollowed cheekbones and protruding ribs in the chubby, round bodies of my children. I lay in the arms of my lifemate in the large copper tub, heated from beneath by a terracotta burner, and watched the candlelight flickering on the walls. I felt arms and warmth around me, solid and motionless, heavy across my shoulders. I felt fingers running up and down the prominent jutting knobs of my spine, squeezing the fragile bones in my emaciated arms. The parts of my body that I think are ugly, remnants of my malnourished childhood; he embraced with devotion and commitment. I think things are going to be alright from now on.

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Little Fawn!

little fawn

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