Though I haven’t enjoyed the Church of the Builder, I can atest to saying that I am tired of hearing its name ring about the town as I am of this would-be vandalist of false lore and tactic…or should I say tact?
I believe, diary, that this is where I am truly like my father. Not caring for the mythos that is some practices, but do wondering why such a thing has come to be. All that I can say though, through all this, what a horrid way for Mr. Pip to die…that is…even if -that- little bit of information has made it to my ears without being misconstrude so ridiculously.
The poor gent died on the floor of a church cell surrounded by pain and woe…at least he is at peace now. So hope I and I’m sure a few others. The only time I recall even speaking with Mr. Pip was down at Ms. Star’s Gangplank. There was a few words between him and another kobald gent over Ms. Star’s attentions…or affections…I can’t make heads or tails of it.
Will this City that I have grown up in -ever- be normal? I mean…even the courtship between Mr. Melnik and I seems odd…though I’m sure it is due to the busy scheduels we keep. But how well can a couple court if they cannot see each other to court?
How I miss him diary…him and his bed rocking snores.
Daddy has kept me busy as well! I will be taking self-defense classes via miss Sky Netzien…if I got that correctly…here soon! I am actually quiet timid to handling a weapon. The very thought of harming someone does not bode well in my mind either.
But with a sigh, and a rather large work load, I return to my day.