It is taxing, sometimes, upholding virtue in a world that seems intent on remaining devoid of the same.
I know I have mentioned this on more than one occasion in my writing, but there are moments that tax my commitment. The past couple of nights have been vexing, at best.
I have been helping the tol'vir to train their new soldiers in the battle with Al'Akir, as I have noted in my journals. The tol'vir have been nothing but kind since my work there began weeks ago; I am still an oddity to be watched from doorways by children, but at least now they laugh and run playfully rather than hiding behind their mothers. I have grown accustomed to the comings and goings of mercenaries of all stripes in their cities and villages. Most are attempting to help in some way or another, though some are just opportunists looking to loot the local wilderness for artifacts, minerals, or rare plants. I pay them little heed, so long as they do not harm the general populace.
It was with surprise, then, that I recognized a visitor to the markets of Ramkahen last night. Natesh (a name I have spoken of before at length, to be certain) appeared among the crowds, apparently looking for some exotic flair to a costume she was putting together for some wealthy date's party. While she looked absolutely breathtaking, the outfit was alarming in that it seemed little more than a largely incomplete second skin and was composed of the fel-tainted iron one finds in the worst parts of old Draenor.
We spoke for a short time, of her plans for the party and of what we have been doing of late. She mentioned a charitable auction that she wished me to look into. The problem with this, of course, is that even a brief perusal of my old journals can point out several schemes she has brought to me as noble in cause that ended with my hands deep in some mess that was less than honorable for her own amusement. This came to mind when something slipped in her comments about it being a 'date' auction and being unable to tell me what charity it helped. I am busy trying to fight the good fight on my own terms, after all, and if this is some trick to get me to escort some dim-witted socialite she is trying to impress then I have better ways to offer my assistance to the world at large.
She then offered to take me along on a pilgrimage with her to see A'dal in Shattrath. I am uncertain what she intended to see the naaru regarding, though even with her impish nature she does lean toward good works when she removes herself from her own way. I agreed to meet her there, if she wished, after her party. This is where things become befuddling. Apparently I was to leave with her immediately, the party be damned, even though just moments before she had gone on at length about looking forward to the event if not to the advances she expected from her date. My insistence on bowing to her plans seemed only to frustrate and confound her for some reason. In addition, the winds had been blowing rather hard that night, so I offered her a large cloak to cover her costume and protect it and her skin from the stinging sand (which, as I've noted, tends to show up in the most horrific of places). This, apparently, was interpreted as an attempt on my part to force modesty on her. While I agree that the woman could use a touch of humility and that the costume was rather brazen, I could not convince her that the sand was a genuine concern.
I attempted to present the events as I had seen them after giving us a bit of space to think, given that she brought the matter to the forum of public opinion. She claimed to be trying to present herself as something other than a friend, though what exactly she means by this after our years of adversarial friendship I do not know. I do know that Master Drayven tried to instill better grace and respect to us in his training than she had shown that night, and I fear that were he still alive Grace Indylsarath would point out that this is why I should have continued my life in the cloister rather than in the field. Women complicate matters, he said. And Light, while I do not wish to ever be that closed off from the world and the fairer beings in it, that night I felt that he may have had reason for his concerns.
I have spent the last day since attempting to further aid the war effort both in the southern wastes and along the battlefront that Hyjal has become. Still, this has weighed at my mind. Have I offered offense in my attempts to retain my grace? If so, what can be done about it? If not, why does she strike out so blisteringly? I could chalk it up to the temper and whimsical nature I grew to know in our training together, but it would be impolite to simply write off a friend... even one as temperamental as Natesh... without considering whether or not their concerns have merit.
My ink runs low, in part thanks to the thrice-cursed blowing sand that infiltrates even my dimly lit bedspace. I think this is enough on the subject for now.
