Fondly remembering those few weeks between "hot sweaty mess" and "freezing delicate parts off" as I'm rather fond of my delicate parts. Time to air out the winter comforters.
Apparently I am supposed to speak to Malachai, I admit to putting that off - at best he yells at me at worse he cries, heh, maybe I'll cry. Nothing can be as painful as working out those thousand knots from my hair. I'll consider myself adequately punished.
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The Personal Journal of Arien
First Mate's, of the Scurvy Mermaid, personal thoughts separate from the formal log. That's the plan anyway.
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