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Journal Entry: August 7 [[PRIVATE]]
Aug. 7th, 2007 11:48 amI'm more convinced that ever now that Gant and Glening deliberately created the connections to Georik's world because they knew I would be unable to resist asking questions that would probably have been better off being left unasked. And, like a fool, I fell right into their expectations, and now I know more about Georik that possibly I should ever know.
Geutrink... an entire village of 800, destroyed in one night. I'm still not entirely sure how Georik, even in a fit of rage, could've accomplished that; even with a fire, there should've been more survivors. But I've resolved not to probe further into this for Georik's sake, and to a lesser extent for my own. It's already haunting my memory as is, just thinking about the rubble, the shards of bone I kicked up from the ashes.
And yet I can't really condemn Georik. He's been a good friend, helping me when I was injured, or when I needed medical advice. And I can understand the impulse to do whatever it takes to help a loved one, a friend... even if it means throwing your own morality to the winds. So I'm going to simply have to silence those questions. And, as I promised, I will never tell a soul what I heard in that room that night. He still has people to protect, after all.
But... maybe I'll visit that village one more time. I'm not exactly a devout Christian, but somehow I think a prayer for the dead will help me feel better about the whole thing.
Geutrink... an entire village of 800, destroyed in one night. I'm still not entirely sure how Georik, even in a fit of rage, could've accomplished that; even with a fire, there should've been more survivors. But I've resolved not to probe further into this for Georik's sake, and to a lesser extent for my own. It's already haunting my memory as is, just thinking about the rubble, the shards of bone I kicked up from the ashes.
And yet I can't really condemn Georik. He's been a good friend, helping me when I was injured, or when I needed medical advice. And I can understand the impulse to do whatever it takes to help a loved one, a friend... even if it means throwing your own morality to the winds. So I'm going to simply have to silence those questions. And, as I promised, I will never tell a soul what I heard in that room that night. He still has people to protect, after all.
But... maybe I'll visit that village one more time. I'm not exactly a devout Christian, but somehow I think a prayer for the dead will help me feel better about the whole thing.
