I’ve made a list of things I actively don’t need:
1. Another hole in my head.
2. Another hole anywhere in me really.
3. Another sister.
Coming up with mom and dad, I had two sisters, and that was quite enough, thank you very much. Two sisters were more than enough to glom up the bathroom every morning, noon, and night, enough to drive away any chance of dating, and enough to tease me until I could barely stand myself. I loved my sisters, but they were definite pains in my ass.
Now someone’s shown up at the castle claiming to be my sister too…my ‘real’ sister, or my half sister, or whatever she wants to call herself. Her name is Marcellina Lebeda, and as far as I can tell the only thing she can claim with certainty is she’s the product of my biological father’s overactive loins. I fail to see relates her to me in the slightest. In fact, I think I’ve come to a position in my life where neither my biological parents nor my adoptive ones weigh at all into my present situation. Whatever I am at this point, it’s my own fault.
So why is she here then? Well, she’s told Sasha and the rest that she’s here on a diplomatic mission on behalf of the Lebeda family—not necessarily on my father’s behalf, rather on the demands of the ruinous matriarch that spawned the lot of them. Fine, I’m good at diplomacy, I’ve got an answer. My diplomatic answer to Miss Marcellina is that she can go sit on something sharp. Then she can get the hell out of Ursandova.
My friends think that I’m being too harsh, or jumping to conclusions, or whatever well-intentioned folks think when they’re being conned. Personally, I think they’re all a little too ready to believe pretty words from someone with a royal stick up their ass, given that we’ve all appointed ourselves nobles at this point. By hobnobbing with my would-be ‘sister’, then they can pretend to be just the kind of noble-sort they aspire to be. Me, I’ll have no part of it. I have no problem admitting that I’m just peasant scum. Better peasant scum than the noble variety.
After a rather theatrical introduction to my ‘sister’, I’ve done my best not to be associated with her. The next day I joined my friends on an expedition south, where we met a foul-tempered turtle and a few dead guys. I suppose it says something about my state of mind that encountering animated dead in the dark of a forgotten tomb bothers me less than the appearance of someone who claims relation to me.
There was also some business with a werewolf (oh just a werewolf, who gets upset about something like that), that was terrorizing Tuskdale by murdering some of my favorite people. We worked through it (by killing the crap out of it in a nice little ambush), but not before its appearance had undermined some of the confidence we had built up through the citizenry. I’m afraid incidents like this are going to become commonplace in our little kingdom until we recruit some others to help in the general defense. Four adventurers are simply not enough protect an entire nation.
Speaking of which, the development Waywatchers is coming right along. I can’t say that I’ve really figured out who’s in the group, or why, or really even how you tell a Waywatcher from any other kind of watcher. I guess that’s my own fault. But even with these problems, it still feels like things are progressing. Some people (mostly Velimir) even listen to what I have to say. Other people (Nina), sometimes pretend to.
Listen journal, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not an unhappy person. I’m not anything like an unhappy person, I’m really very easy to please. All I need in life is an open road ahead of me, a solid weapon in my hands, and a nice bosom to return home to (more on nice bosoms next time, I may have found a keeper). So please don’t misinterpret my discontent. Like I keep telling everyone, I’m doing just fine.
Now if I could just start believing it.
P.S. I was tempted to put ‘crabs’ on the list of things I don’t need, but I figured that would be redundant with point three on the list.