I am glad to be out on the road, Tel beneath me and Sildras in front of me. I can concentrate on the road and on showing Sildras how best to ride a guar. I can forget what happened last night.
Sildras is learning from an Argonian who invited him to try fishing. I am keeping my eye on them from a distance. But Sildras seems to have gained a little bit of confidence after being with the Ashland tribe. His curiously overcame his shyness. And my being close by is enough for him to agree to try.
It is nice to see him so interested in the world around him. It gives me hope. And on the morning after what transpired, that is sorely needed.
I suppose writing it down is for the best. If I can track what all has been setting off the visions, then I can best learn how to control them or avoid them.
It all started when I awoke in the night. I had gotten up to get some water for my parched throat and checked on Sildras. When I returned Avon asked what I was doing up and I told him I just got some water and for him to go back to sleep. But as I lay there in the bed, I began to feel that hunger again. This time it was accompanied by the smell of perfume. Well, not exactly perfume, but a very pleasant smell. Like incense, though it was not any scent I know. It seemed to make the hunger grow. I tried to simply go back to sleep, to ignore it. Yet it would not go away.
Then I started to hear a voice. It was so faint, a whisper, barely audible. After hearing it again and again, I came to understand. The voice way saying, I long to touch him again. But it was a voice I knew. It was Avon’s. I could not understand. Perhaps he was talking in his sleep, though I could not see his lips moving.
The perfume got stronger. Heavier. It felt as though it were wrapping around each limb, my chest, my throat, my head. Like the smoke given off by a volcano, thick and heavy. And the hunger grew greater and greater. As if quenching that sensation was what my life depended upon.
And before I knew it my body was growing hot. As if I might steam from my pores or my skin could smoke. And desire began to stir in me as I have not felt in a great while. I did not know if I should fight or give in. What was happening? Was this a bizarre dream? Or perhaps a result of my not having been intimate with another person in so many days?
I reached out and brushed some of Avon’s hair from his cheek to tuck it behind his ear.
That was when the visions came. Fast and hard, like an eruption. And I watched as three separate times I was killed. Each time, the killer looked remorseful. Looked as though they were forced. And I heard them saying sorry and promising to make it quick for they had no choice. And I knew those eyes too. Knew that voice though it had changed each time.
And then, I saw the worst of all. I watched myself though I was not me then, I was Avon. It was back in the Boethiah shrine. I watched Ervis’ betrayal again. I saw him trying to reason with me, who was Avon. Ervis admitting his love, Ervis pleading for Avon to join him and be free from the sins and secrets of Fayrl. Ervis had known so much but held his tongue on Avon’s account. To keep Avon’s heart from being wounded by my actions. Perhaps he also feared that Avon would run from him if he heard of what I had done to his first love. That by telling the truth it would show he had also kept the terrible secret.
I saw myself speaking cooly of what had happened. Trying to placate the situation with apologies for my actions and imploring my daesoohn to forgive my young and idiotic decisions.
I watched helplessly from a distance as Ervis knocked me down and raised his sword. I saw how pathetic I had looked that day as I told Ervis to stop joking. How unguarded I left myself. The trust I still bore my daesohn, even as he was going in to kill me. And time seemed to pause for a moment as intensions were made clear. And then, as if in slow motion, the sword began to fall and my dagger struck hard and fast into Ervis. It played over and over again. I had to watch that horrible moment of my own instinct taking over and ending my daesohn’s life, the blade protruding from his flesh and the spread of his lifeblood from the wound all over the shrine, all over the ground, all over me.
And I had to look at that face contorted in rage and surprise over and over again. All the while, I could feel Avon’s suffering. His guilt over not stopping it. Not intervening before one of us had been slain.
Any other thing I might have been able to speak of. But not that. Not after seeing that place again. And especially not after learning of Avon’s feelings. I should not be the one to see those. It is not my place to be privy to. I know him well enough to know that Avon would feel great embarrassment and shame if I were to tell him I knew. I told him I would not discuss this vision.
I do not know what that strange hunger or perfume were about. But I am beginning to suspect that physical touch is the link to starting the visions. And they seem to be related to the person who I have touched. I know now that the only way to know for sure, is I will have to subject myself to the visions on purpose. It is something I do not look forward to. I actively dread it. Perhaps Avon can help me in this endeavor. If he could use a sleeping spell or something to keep the person unaware, then I can try and find what exactly these things mean by means of the servants.
I just need to avoid physical contact with other people as much as possible until I am back in Mournhold. Then I can–
By Vivec’s balls! My son has just caught the largest fish I have ever seen. I must go!