I shouldn't, hence I know it won't be for but the benefit of my own heart's desires to allow my spirit to become enthralled with the beckoning of other satires, but I find it impossible to resist. My heart takes me where my head dare not travel, yet I blush at the thought of what I might miss in it's absence. I know, living, writing in these most troubling of times is a quarrel I might be forced to surrender to, but to no avail. I will press on, forsaking my inability to remain true to the oath of my own narrative, and not his.
I am forever bound by my obsession, my lack of will against the pull of his very tongue. And yet, this morning past, I nearly succeeded incorporating the word Exchequer in to my latest quest, Roundabout (Keepers III). It's a very pathetic existence I lead, I beseech you.
Kristin, Queen of Damondon
