We were in Feralas again today. When I got up, Jaellynn had his armor on. I asked if that was a good idea, since we’d be going to the druid camp, but he said he wanted to be able to protect me. I can’t really blame him after the surprise of the satyr yesterday. Still, I wondered if druids that lived deep in the woods with little contact with the outside would react well to him. Druids in Darnassus still would react poorly, if they knew.
After a little bit of wandering, we found the camp again. Actually, he found it. I just followed him. We found the elder druid there and asked him about the stags. He kept staring at Jaellynn, looking away, and staring back. I realize that he probably didn’t know what he was, though he sensed something strange about him. It could have gone much worse, though. I am just worried he might mention it to one of the others in the shan’re if they should come through. I should not have let him wear the armor. The elder druid told us that he was conducting a study on the stags to learn the source of the problem. He said he needed their antlers to do so, and that we should go and kill some of them! Can you believe that! I know they are ill and suffering, but it seems so senseless to kill them in such a manner. Fortunately Jaellynn came up with a better idea: we would find some antlers that were shed, or from stags who had already died. So we set out into the woods to find some antlers.
Not finding any, we looked in the harpy nests to see if they might have used some for building. Either someone is picking the antlers up, none have died yet, or we are both not very perceptive. I hope it’s not the latter. I think Jaellynn plans to send a report to Tularius on the matter.
Since we were not too far away, we walked the rest of the way home. He was being broody again, which isn’t unusual, but I had a feeling it had to do with the conversation we’d had last night. I mentioned that I wondered sometimes what would have happened had we met when he was alive. I didn’t say I would prefer it, or anything like that, I only said that I wondered — which is natural, I should think.
At home he finally admitted that he was worried I might decide that I didn’t like having a mate who was dead, and that I would decide to find a different one. At first I felt angry, why would he think that about me? Have I ever made him doubt me? But I realized it’s a perfectly reasonable fear for him to have. I still don’t think he realizes that I’m all right with the challenges that his situation presents. “I’m dead,” he likes to remind me. So what? Physically — mostly, yes. Though he is quite alive, just not in the usual sense. Mentally? He’s not dead at all. To me, he doesn’t seem dead, nor has he ever; and I often forget that he doesn’t need to eat or sleep, that most people don’t feel cool when you touch them, that he can’t become sick. And his eyes… they’re like deep still pools of clear water, they’re exotic and beautiful to me — but he hates them. I tried to reassure him that something like that would never happen. I know what he is from the start, and all the implications that result. I wouldn’t be here if I had a problem with any of them. I just hope he believes me.