Hi guys!
I'm here to post the first part of my Oblivion character's Journal. I'm doing it as a roleplaying exercise and because, well, I love to write and I've been struggling lately.

I'm not going to drag this out as I'd like everything you know about my character to come from the Journal, not from me.
I intend to post at least a section a week, if not more.
I got some inspiration from Buffy's Journal, which may not be entirely evident in the Prologue, but will become clear soon. Acadian, if you wish to discuss this (as is understandable), feel free to PM me

Any comments or criticisms will be greatly appreciated.


Prologue
We lived in the Western Reach. The Easternmost point of High Rock. I lived with my mother, Aila Aurelie and my father, Faric Aurelie in a cottage a few miles north of Jehanna. Our cottage was small, but it was cosy. A warm fire, good food and soft beds. What more could a simple Breton family want?
Every night I would kiss my father good night, then go to my room with mother so she could read me a story.

It was a good life. Hard, but good. During the day, mother would teach me simple spells to heal myself and others around me. I never questioned why. It was something the women in my family had done for generations. Not the quickest learner, she frequently became frustrated with me. I was never shouted at though. My mother would, when she became angry, merely mutter a few words and close her eyes. Moments later a pale green light would sweep over her and she was calm again.

Father? I don’t know where he went to work. Sometimes he stayed away from home for days on end. Other times he didn’t leave the house for weeks, locked away in his room with his experiments. Many times I tried to sneak a peek into that room. I never even got close. He always locked the door when he was away, and when he wasn’t, well, I was too scared to go near.



“Good night, my child of the stars. Sleep well.” Whispered my mother. Her evening ritual as she left my room, closing the thin door behind her. As usual I waited until I heard her footsteps stop when she climbed into bed. Reaching under my bed, I pulled out the candle I’d hidden earlier in the day, and placed it on my nightstand. Closing my eyes, I envisioned warmth spreading from my chest, down my arms and into the palm of my right hand. I focused more, willing the warmth to intensify, the space which it occupied to shrink. I opened my eyes and willed a spark to appear in my hand, just as I had been taught. Sure enough, there it was. Now I had to be quick. I grasped the candle and brought it to the flame. Wick not millimetres from the flame, I realised something wasn’t right and closed my hand, extinguishing the fire. Something was in my room. It didn’t feel out of place though. Like it was meant to be there.

It must have been an eternity. Nothing stirred in the house. Nothing moved outside. It was never this silent. I was terrified.
Go to mum. RUN.
But my legs wouldn’t obey. I just sat there, in the suffocating silence. Listening as though my life depended on it.
Something crashed. I started. I heard a male voice, low and gruff. My mother replied, her voice too low for me to make out any words, but I could tell she was afraid.
“NO! Leave her out of this!” She was shrieking now.
The intruder was saying something. Words I didn’t understand. Suddenly the light around the edges of my door flashed a brilliant white, and a wave of heat engulfed me. Tears screamed down my face. Blood pouring from my lip, I’d almost bitten clean through in an effort to stop myself screaming.
The window of my room clattered open. I couldn’t help it, I howled my fear to the heavens.
Helena! Get up! Get out of the house!
I scrambled to my feet. The presence in my room made itself felt again. Closer to me this time. I was by the window in no time. I stood with my back to the opening, staring at the door. I could hear heavy, booted footsteps getting closer. My heart threatening to burst through my chest.
The door opened. I tried to scream, but I was no longer in my own body. I was watching from the window. Watching the door open and a hooded figure slide through the gap. Then something weird happened. I watched him draw his dagger and step towards the me that was trapped by her fear. As he drew back his arm to strike, he was sent flying backwards. Demolishing the wall he hit.

Don’t worry Helena. I’m watching over you. Rest now.
Then everything went black.

WOO HOO !!!! Sounds like Daddy's home!!! Sounds good so far!

Welcome to the Arena! It is such a delight to see that you made the journey to chorrol! I do indeed recall us talking on one of the threads at Bethsoft about building a Nordic or Bretonic healer/shamen hailing from Skyrim or High Rock respectively for you to role play and perhaps write about. It seems I recall SubRosa being in on that thread as well, offering some great ideas. I'm delighted that it seems you have incorporated some of those ideas!

Unless I'm reading too much into your prologue, it seems that Helena the Healer may suffer from a voice in her head, as does poor Buffy the Bowgirl. I suspect wise mALX may be correct about the source of that voice?

Your prologue is good. You tell us enough about your character without doing a data dump. You set a scene with some background that is both interesting and easy to follow. Finally, early on, you introduce quite the emergency/conflict.

That our hearts quicken along with Helena's, and we want to know what happens next are testimony that you are off to a wonderful start.

Welcome Count! Glad to see you over here at Chorrol, and gladder still to see you writing. I echo what Acadian said. Very good start, avoiding all the common pitfalls of the fan fic writer. You give us just enough information to keep us hanging on every word!

Our heroine is fleeing for her life, shrouded by more than one mystery! I cannot wait to see more!

Welcome, as well. It will be interesting to see what the voice in Helena's head does next. Of course I always like a good roleplaying story, so count me in!

Conversations with Acadian and SubRosa are an excellent place to start on the obsession we laughingly call "fan-fiction."

This story shows great promise right from the start- we are given enough information to be engaged, but not so much as to be bogged down. I always appreciate fiction that understands that the introduction is NOT a "character sheet."

We are rather circumspect about specific critiques here, unless they are requested. You can let folks know if you want those as "in-thread" feedback or prefer them in PMs.

Anyway, welcome to Chorrol!

Acadian: You're not reading too far into it. She does indeed have a voice in her head, which, well, is going to develop as she does. I don't want to give too much away yet

mALX: You'll have to wait and see, methinks. Thank you for the kind words

Thank you to everyone for the kind words and warm welcome. Ordinarily it would have taken me another few days to get my next portion of the story completed, but you've spurred me on to continue writing it.
I was somewhat worried about my writing. I don't usually post anything for other people to read as I'm usually ashamed of my work. But you've completely dispelled that. I wanted Helena to tell you her story, instead of having me overload you with information. I prefer it this way too, I feel like it's helping me understand her far better than I could have imagined.

Anyway, on with the show. What follows is the second part of the prologue.
As before, any criticisms will be greatly appreciated. Please post them in the thread, or perhaps drop me a PM if it would require a more in-depth discussion.



Prologue, Cont.

The scent of saltwater invaded my nostrils, brought in by the chill breeze that often signalled a coming storm. Without opening my eyes, I tried to explore where I was. The ground was soft beneath my back, perhaps it had all been a nightmare and I was still in my bed.
And my parents were still alive.
I needed to get up, but every movement I tried to make racked my body with waves of agony. A bad idea then. I was exhausted, but I managed to force my eyes open just a crack. Glancing around I could see thick, green grass, rolling hills covered in forests. A familiar sight. I saw it every day when I went out to do my chores in the garden. I hated doing chores, any child does, but I’d have given anything to be weeding the flowerbeds at that moment.
I couldn’t help it, I began to cry. Despair pulsated through my body, filling every thought I had. Where was I? Who murdered my family? How was I going to survive? Where would I go?



Helena…Helena, it’s time to get up. Come on. You need to move now, you need shelter and food.
The presence was there again. I could feel it. Perhaps it was this that enabled me to do what I did next. I opened my eyes and sat up. My clothes were in tatters. My skirt was torn in at least fifteen different places and my blouse had faired little better. Both needed replacing, quickly too by the ominous look of the sky. Luckily I wasn’t as badly hurt as I’d imagined. I had a few deep cuts and a possible dislocated shoulder, but that was nothing I couldn’t deal with. I closed my eyes again and imagined scenes of happiness. Running in the fields with my mother, holding hands and laughing. Calmness flowed through my body. I was ready to try and heal myself. I’d never healed more than a scratch, but I had to at least try.

I thought back to what I had been taught.
Think of it as bandages, you can imagine them well enough. Now, keep that thought and visualise your injuries. Got that? Good. Apply the bandages. No! Not with your hands. With your mind. Helena, we’re dealing with magicka here. It’s all in your mind, in your heart. Let’s try again.
It was easier than I imagined. It felt like someone was doing it for me. I imagined my wounds healing, aided by my magic. Sure enough, the pain began to subside, and I regained some movement in my shoulder.

Rain began to fall. The cold, icy rain of the North. I hauled myself to my feet and set off towards the woods, the dusk sun disappearing behind clouds, plunging my world into twilight. I figured they would offer at least some shelter, so I could stay partially dry. I’d make a fire when I got there, to keep the wolves and the chill at bay.



Everyone says fire is morale building. Which I understand to a certain extent, but when you’ve just seen your house burnt to a cinder it’s not the most welcome thing. Still, I needed to keep warm.

Tomorrow, you should walk south. You will come to Jehanna, where you can beg for some clothes.
Beg? BEG?! Who do you think I am? I’m not some lowlife!
I know you’re not. But you do need clothes, don’t you? You’ll freeze if you don’t.

I settled down to try and get some sleep. Curling into a ball, I lay with my back to the fire and cried myself to sleep. I was thirteen. Not four months before my fourteenth birthday when my father would take over from mother in teaching me about magic. When I’d start learning how to protect myself, how to disappear. Four months before I would have formed a far closer bond with my father. We barely ever spoke. I didn’t even get the chance to tell him I loved him. I wept for hours until I succumbed to my exhaustion.
Good night, my brave Helena.

Intrigue and mystery ... or Acadian is right!!!!! Great Write! MORE !!!

Welcome, Colonel L!

Nice story so far. It starts with a tragedy, then tells us why it is such a tragedy. The fact that Helena now will never have the chance to tell her father how much she loves his can be cliché, but you have handled it with a light touch so far, which makes it all the more potent.

I'm a better nit-picker than I am at constructive criticism, but I refrain from nit-picking unless I know it's welcome.

Keep writing, and I will keep reading!

I continue to enjoy this - quite a lot. I found myself wondering what had become of Helena's home; you deftly answered that as she tended to her fire in the woods.

Unsure of your future pace or plans here, let me, from my position of ignorance, offer that you not embark on a schedule of posting updates too quickly. Real life does not allow busy readers to devote the attention a story deserves if it is delivered too rapidly.

Here you gave us much beautifully delivered depth. We know at what stage the young healer is in her training, as well as a feel for what her magical limitations at this point likely are. Regarding her inner voice, I am relishing the mystery here. For now, it seems the voice has dear Helena's best interest at heart.

Writing a story from the first person perspective of a thirteen year old is a challenge. You must balance youthful thought and speech patterns and perceptions, while at the same time delivering a narrative that almost must, by definition, not seem to be written by a. . . well, thirteen year old, that limits descriptions to "Oooh, look at the pretty trees!" I think you are doing fairly well on this count. I wrestled with the same concern, starting with a seventeen year old unsophisticated character. In her case, she fairly quickly made it into the Arcane University and became a voracious reader, thereby justifying a slightly more sophisticated 'voice' in particularly her descriptions. It there is a message buried in all this goop, it is simply to, in your edits, screen to ensure that the youthfulness remains in her speech and observations. And again, you are doing pretty well with this so far.

Poor, brave little girl Helena is! As Acadian noted, it is a real challenge writing something from the pov of a child. But you are doing a good job of it.

but when you’ve just seen your house burnt to a cinder it’s not the most welcome thing. Still, I needed to keep warm.
I love both the dark humor and simple pragmatism that Helena posses. I believe she will need more than a little of both to see her through the trials before her.


nits:
I’d make a fire when I got there, to keep the Wolves and the chill at bay.
I suggest going with lowercase wolves here, as you are using a common name rather than a proper noun.


Beg? BEG?! Who do you think I am? I’m not some lowlife!
Did you mean for this to be italicised? I had the impression that this line was Helena's thoughts, with those of her invisible mentor before and after.

Very nice writing style. I have to admit, Helena doesn't sound like your normal thirteen year old, but that's probably a good thing. You managed to answer our questions before we asked them! I look forward to more.

Good descriptions and a main character who continues to hold our interest. The emotions are understated- which is a good thing… A person who has just suffered such trauma tends to be a bit numb and to focus on the important things- like staying alive. It is only when the immediate needs are met that there will be time for introspection and questions.

I apologise for the massively long delay. My life has been somewhat hectic as of late and writers block has hit me in force. I think that's evident in this next portion of Helena's story. I'm actually rather disappointed in how it's turned out, but I can't for the life of me work out what I've done differently.

Anyway, thank you for all your kind words once again, and here is what I managed. As always, any criticisms, nits or general pointers are welcome.

Edit: I've reposted an edited version of the prologue. It's below, and I'd love any feedback on it as always. I took Subrosa's advice and tried to show rather than tell using the scene of Helena's 18th birthday and dialogue. Of which there is quite a bit in this edit. I'm somewhat nervous about it, as I've never been confident with my dialogue.

Prologue, Part 3

So this was it. My life, everything I knew, gone in an instant. I had no idea where to go, or what to do. The only thing I have going for me was a male voice in my head that, a few days before, told me I should go to my country’s capital city and try to find life there. Was I going insane? I mean, come on. Hearing voices is bad enough. Listening to those voices and actually doing as they say is just plain stupid. Although, it didn’t occur to me at the time. It made me feel safer, so I just went with it.

“Get out of my way! Stupid beggar!” This was something I’d become accustomed to over time. Everyone assumed that because I couldn’t afford to dress in silks and velvet, I was a beggar. I never once begged. I never had to. The eve of my arrival in Jehanna marked the fourth day since…it happened. I had no idea what to do. I’d heard nothing more from the mysterious voice in my head. The voice that was soothing, yet authoritative. I feared for my sanity more and more. So I sat in the lower class district, and cried. It must have been for hours, because when I finally managed to blink away the tears, I had company. A young Khajiit girl had sat down next to me and looked evidently concerned.

“What troubles you, smooth skin?” she purred.
“I’m lost.” Was my sobbed reply. I couldn’t manage any more words than that.
“If you are lost, why aren’t you seeking your way? When Tsiya is lost, she asks for help.” Something about the Khajiit accent deeply moved me. I don’t know why, but I trusted her. I’d spoken two words to a Khajiit I barely knew, and I trusted her. Looking back, it’s completely nuts.
“I have no one to ask. Look at me, Tsiya. Do I look like I have anything to give?” I said in a hoarse whisper, gesturing at my clothes. Well, what remained of them. I barely had a blouse anymore.
“This one thinks you are lucky it was me who found you before it got dark. The men will be back from their work soon, and they’d make your life worse.” That set me off crying again.
“Don’t cry. Come with me. You’ll have friends and a place to live. Safe, away from all your troubles.”



“Happy birthday!” cried my friends as I stepped through the door into our home.
I barely had time to register before Tsiya and Amusei had their arms around me. My eyes quickly sought out Azrael, sat in his usual seat near the books. He beamed at me. In his lap was a small box, immaculately wrapped.
“Thank you. You really shouldn’t have though.” I stammered, still flabbergasted by the surprise. Looking around, our usually mundane house was decorated in all manner of different colours. Streamers around the fireplace, what must have been hundreds of little signs saying “Happy eighteenth birthday, Helena” were dotted around all over the place. Not to mention the jewels that adorned the table.

How had they been able to afford all this?

I knew the answer, obviously. They never hid anything from me. I just had to ask to right questions.
“We’re thieves of necessity, Helena. Not because we want to cause trouble for anyone, but because we need to steal to live. The food on our plates comes from the pantries of the rich folk, who have enough to feed a small army. Does that bother you?” explained Azrael, the day I finally asked.
“A little, yes. My parents always taught me to live honestly, and follow the laws. But I’ve seen how things are. We’re too poor to get jobs, no one will hire a beggar as they seem to think we are, and we need to live.” I answered.
“Sometimes laws have to be broken though, and lies need to be told. I’m certainly not going to say I feel good about it, or that I enjoy doing it. But we need to live.”
“I know we do, Azrael, I know. I thank you for what you do for me, and the others.”

I managed to detach myself from their embrace, and made my way over to Azrael, who’s cheek I very firmly planted a kiss on.
“Happy birthday, beautiful” he said. His face taking on a very red hue. And judging by what I felt, mine was too.
“Thank you, you’re far too sweet to me, you know that?”
“Here, this is for you. Open it.” Smiled the Dunmer, as he pressed the present into my hands.
Grinning my thanks, I tentatively opened the wrapping, quite unsure what to expect.
“Oh Azrael! It’s amazing! Where did you get this?” Inside was an immaculately beautiful sapphire, about the size of a baby’s fist.
“That’s for me to know, I’m afraid. You didn’t tell me where you got my present from.” He grinned, gesturing at the thick, leather-bound journal that lay on the table. “Neither did you tell me how you managed to create a lock spell for it that only I can open.” True enough. A month and three days prior, it had been his birthday. I knew he’d been longing for a book to write his thoughts down in. Deeply troubled, we ended up deciding that writing down the things he didn’t feel he could talk to me about may have helped. Of course, I made clear that he could talk to me about anything. But, stubborn ‘til the end, I couldn’t change his mind.

“It seems like yesterday that you found me, Tsiya, and brought me home with you. Yet it’s been four years.”
“Yes, I remember the scared little girl I found you as. Now look, you’re a strong independent woman. You’ve saved all of our lives countless times.” Replied Tsiya.
“What? How on earth have I done that? I’ve not healed any of you…” I stammered in reply.
“You have Helena, you know that.” This time it was Amusei who spoke. “Without you, we wouldn’t know how to heal our cuts and bruises. It’s with experience that this one speaks.”
“I guess I’m not going to change your minds, am I? Can we eat now?” I suggested, changing the subject. It always made me feel weird when my friends said these things. Yes, I had taught them to heal, but it wasn’t a chore for me. Of course it wasn’t. They’re my friends for Mara’s sake! I wanted them to be safe.

“Good night Helena, good night Azrael” called Amusei and Tsiya from the foot of the stairs.
Azrael and I called back “Sleep well, the both of you.” I wasn’t surprised they were tired, we’d eaten a fantastic meal of venison with a leaf salad, and Tsiya and Amusei drank at least three of the five bottles of wine they’d set aside for tonight. I’m glad they did, otherwise I fear I would have been too drunk for what followed.
“Now that we’ve got a bit of privacy, thank you for not saying anything about healing me, Helena. That meant a lot to me.” He said, quietly.
“I’d never mention something you’re not comfortable with. You should know that. We decided it would be between us from that day.”

I thought back to the day, a little over a year ago, that Azrael had come home with a deep stab wound. None of the others were around, and we had no gold for a Healer.
“Lie still, close your eyes and try to relax. This is more than I’ve healed before, I need to concentrate.” I was nervous. No, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. I was terrified. Here was my best friend, dying in front of me, and I was the one saving him.
Placing my hands around his wound, I opened a link between me and him. The pain shot through my body as I sent healing magic to the site of injury. I felt everything. The wound I was healing, scrapes and bruises all over his body, but most of all was the ache in his heart. He never told me why he was hurting so much. Even when I pestered him. He just said “I promise I won’t keep it from you forever, but now isn’t the time for you to find out. Please believe me on that.” I did, of course. I believed everything he told me.

“And for that, I am eternally grateful to you. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, for a few months now. But I’ve never had to guts to do it. I think I do now, I hope so.” He looked so out of his depth, I’d never seen him this way. Azrael was always the composed one, the calm one who had a plan for everything.
“You can talk to me, Azrael.” I smiled, leaning across to hug him. “Shall we sit by the fire first though?”
He brought a couple of blankets down from our beds, and laid them out in front of the dying fire. We snuggled in.
“Okay Helena, here goes. I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just going to come out with it. I love you. I love you with every fibre of my being. I know you probably don’t think the same way, I’m just a lowlife thief to you. But know that every day, anywhere you go, I love you.”
Tears streamed down his face. I was completely taken aback. I loved him too, dearly. But I never expected him to feel the same way. Not in a million years. A strapping young dunmer, fit and athletic, falling in love with a soft, Breton girl. I wasn’t skinny like the dark elf girls I’d seen in the city. The girls I’d seen him talking to.
“I lo-“ We were interrupted by a heavy bang on the door. Looking at each other, I could see fear in his eyes, as I’m sure he could in mine. Slowly, quietly, he got up and retrieved his dagger from the sheath I’d sewn into his boot a few years ago. Another bang. Footsteps upstairs, Tsiya and Amusei would be here in a few seconds and Azrael would open the door to whatever lay beyond.
“Helena, hide yourself. Quickly.”
There was no time. With a mighty crack the door came falling in. Walls of steel, too many to count, all holding huge longswords came charging into the room. Azrael went down under a tower shield, floored in one barge. Two figures detached themselves and ran up the stairs.
“Mara save us.” I muttered the prayer under my breath as the guards advanced towards me, crying in the corner.

Hey! Welcome back

Great read, I enjoyed the impact of emotion that came with Helena's experiences, alone and sad, ita a good thing Tsiya came along

I hope we hear more about Helena's time with her friends, she speaks highly of them while at the same time, not saying alot.

Brilliant stuff!

Well, a lot happened here! She luckily found some friends to take her in while she grew up! Your ending has me wanting to know what happens next!

Always good to see more of Helena!

Hearing voices is bad enough. Listening to those voices and actually doing as they say is just plain stupid.
Yep! Just ask Buffy, or Lissa, or Derelas...

An Argonian named Amusei and a quiet young Dunmer called Azrael
Yay Amusuei! I don't trust that Azrael though...

The first part, where Helena meets Tsiya (great name btw.) is strong. The second part is probably the one that you were saying you were not happy with. It is mostly telling, rather than showing. You might consider going back to the drawing board with that part. Perhaps show us the scene of Helena's 18th birthday party instead? Use dialogue to bring the readers up to speed on what has happened in the intervening years, along with Helena's thoughts about the other two.

Rihanae, thanks. It's good to know you're reading. I will definitely be expanding on the prologue in coming edits, so don't worry. You'll learn more about her friends.

Acadian, it's always a joy to have you read what I write. Thank you.

Subrosa, thank you for your advice. I do feel better about the first part. I practically forced myself to write tha last bit, and it obviously didn't come out as well. I'll take your suggestions on board and have a rethink. Haha! Epic picture. Sadly however, his name is nothing more malicious than the name of a Crimson Glory song. I quite often include references to bands I like. For example, the title of this thread is a direct reference to Wintersun. There are a few others too.

Apologies for the double posting here, but I'm bumping this because I've edited Part 3 of the Prologue.

Hi, Count Lauriel! I’m enjoying Helena’s story.

I like the image of the brightly decorated house, it shows how much her friends care to go through that trouble for her birthday. Then we learn how much she has helped them all with her healing lessons, and her role in their little family makes sense.

When Helena remembered healing Azrael, I had no trouble following the movement in time. I’m sure others with more experience will have some ideas other than the italics you already use for Helena’s mystery voice, I just wanted you to know I got it.

I thought Helena and Azrael’s fireside chat was lovely, the actions blended with the dialog to paint a vivid scene. Their tenderness and uncertainty came through very clearly. And the guards crashing through at the end really show what it’s like to be on the other side of the wall of steel!

Your edit on part three is delightful. You show us everything we need to know, but do so via wonderful dialogue and action. Nicely done!


A recommendation. Do some digging and research on dialogue punctuation. There are plenty of helpful websites that can help. Here's one: http://www.be-a-better-writer.com/punctuate-dialogue.html
Then go through your story and see about some minor tweaks. Just one example:

What you want here is: "You've saved all our lives countless times," replied Tsiya.
Replied is a speech tag. When it follows the dialogue you want to precede it with a comma and not capitalize it.

Wow, this is a just a stunning change to what had gone before! Bravo Count! This is exactly the difference between showing and telling.

“Happy birthday, beautiful” he said. His face taking on a very red hue. And judging by what I felt, mine was too.
This was an interesting exchange. I wonder if there was something in that? Or is it just too many romance movies on my part?

It’s with experience that this one speaks.”
And in the third person too! Exactly as the Argonians do in the game. That is one of the touches I always liked in the game, and I am glad to see you kept it for the HF.

I see it was not just the estrogen bubbling in me after all. Azrael does have the hots for our Helena! But what is this at the ending? The city guard bursts in? After Helena! Poor cliff, taken to the gallows again!

Just got a chance to read Part 3 of the Prologue, and loved it !!! I hope Azreal (keep thinking of Gargamel's cat when I read that name, lol) makes it, but it didn't sound good at all !!! Left us on a cliffhanger too, GAAAAH !!! Great Write, and an intriguing story !!!

Perhaps I shouldn't leave you guys with cliffhangers when I'm dealing with writers block. It can't be much fun

In any case, I'm starting to get the creative juices flowing again, I've written a bit more, but not much.

However, as those of you on the forum-that-must-not-be-named may have seen, I was made homeless on monday. I'm in the process of dropping out of college, finding work and getting myself on my feet. Naturally that means there's even less consistency with my posts (can they get less consistent?).

Despite this, I am still writing with Helena. I may not have access to my xbox, but she and I have travelled plenty enough to be able to write a fair few chapters in the meantime. It distracts me from the issues of finding a place to live, etc. At least for a while.

My humble apologies to you, my beloved readers, with the lack of development with Helena's journal. I'm not gonna lie, she's pretty peeved at me for it >.> I'll try and start posting more regularly, but I can't promise anything.

Thank you all for the kind words and support.

PS: Acadian, I'll be sure to check that out, thanks!

I am so sorry to hear what you are going through, Count Lauriel. Have you talked to your college guidence office? They may be able to find ways to keep you in college: programs that would assist you in finding work affiliated with the college itself, dorm areas, hardship scholarships, etc.

I will be thinking of you and hoping your situation gets resolved in such a way that you don't have to give up the college, because that degree will impact your future positively.

Good Luck <3