The role of the villain is one I have played for most of my life. It's comfortable, and there is something sure about knowing people will automatically think the worst of you. There is even a certain satisfaction to be found in outdoing oneself, to go above and beyond even the expectations of those same people, and being well and truly vile on a level they can't foresee.
For some people, I put aside the villain. I take care of them, do what I can do make their lives better. Not suprisingly, I think some of them fail to notice it when it happens or mistake my motives as something ulterior.
My nephew was concerned about being untried, about becoming too connected to a certain slave that is not his own. We had discussed days before how her owner might never draw certain things from her with the methods he uses, and how our own efforts might enable an easier transition. At the time, my nephew had wanted to know if I ever thought said owner would sell this slave. No. I didn't leave room for further interpretation. He would not. Nash knew it, but I think only wanted it confirmed by someone older. The night he was concerned about growing too attached, I encouraged him to branch out, to explore. He is only fourteen, and while he is tall and handsome, intelligent, and often mistaken for someone older, he is still not advanced enough for all the world has to throw at him.
I don't know why he sent the slave, Mare, back to Ar from the fair. It was a question I never asked, and the reason was never given. I gathered it must have been due to something severe enough in terms of infraction that he had to handle it, and something that involved others possibly, because he did not draw his parents into the act. Still, he sent her back to the inn here in Ar, and continued interaction. He seldom visited the inn before, as far as I am aware, and now the visits have lessened. New friends, school beginning, etc. It is not surprising to me at least.
She thinks I am the villain. I am not.
I told my Madeline last night-all of it. The trip to Cos, the way both women of brown took care of my son. The plans and ideas, that only Nash knew before last night, and was only told a few days ago. The fact I had changed my mind. I don't want to risk an attachment to any one person right now, not enough to have one as the mother of future children. There is more to do, and I don't believe either of them would have benefited.
Yesterday, I went to the park, and Idgie was there. Leader of the Jit Army, and the one who convinced me to see my son. My first son. Tavian. I did not think it would benefit him either, but despite the fact he has his mother's eyes, she tells me that he is just like me. They are supposed to visit today, but so far there has been no sign.
Fate and Julian, the latter of whom has been ill until today, baked cookies. I have kept Madeline separate from Julian. Not all men do keep their slaves away from their children: Lucien, Nathan, etc. Bridging the gap between who I am as Master, and who I am as father. Not something I've had to do in the past.
I told her I would not be reading her journal anymore, would not be writing more letters. After this last sojourn that direction, I realized she would not talk. She did not write. Chance given, she once more turned to Skirt. Now, it's for her to tell me what I need to know. To figure it out. To work.
This entry rambles.
