Cave of Sleepers: Direach

** Azure ** entry 24

Direach's Journals, Entry 19

By Chadwick Quane
 

Hello again, I want to thank you all for your advice and kind words.  I have been working a bit with this communicator and I have found out how to get to the messages that Direach blocked.  It seems he only protected the messages he wrote.  I guess that he didn't wish me to find out what he thought of me.  Strange to see myself so clearly through another's eyes.  I had thought in a moment of weakness to change the name on the communicator to my own, but that would mean I have given up hope on returning it to Direach, which I have yet to do.

Randy has grown more sullen and withdrawn since I wrote last, and now, much of my time is spent trying to catch us something to eat.  Time.  It seems strange, but I haven't slept since I first woke and saw the storm upon us and was told that Direach was gone.  I know it has been ages, yet my mind sometimes tells me it has been but minutes since Direach left.

I searched again through Direach's things and found his Trumps.  I now know them for what they are after reading all of the messages.  Sadly, Direach gave his trump to Torin long ago and I have no trump of Torin to try.  If Torin is even still alive.

I searched through the deck, and I am unsure who to try first.  Please take no offense, but most of Direach's relatives do not look very trustworthy.

There are a few that intrigue me however.  A man with dark hair and green eyes, a silver rose on his cloak and scaled gloves on his hands.  The rose on his cloak matches the icon on the back of Direach's cards.  A red haired man on horse back, his eyes are shadowed and he is dressed in green, he kind of scares me but his Trump is warm while the others are cool, maybe that means something.  Then there are two drawn by a different hand then the rest.  A bearded short man in robes, who looks much like the hunch back Dworkin, and a man with silver hair dressed in leathers.  I feel like I know these two, perhaps they are Direach's companions from his own world.

I have begun dealing out the cards from the Trump Deck almost obsessively, and one of those four always comes up first no matter how I shuffle, and all four appear within ten cards.  There seems no rhyme or reason to the other cards that appear.  The longer I stare and focus on the redhead's card, the warmer it becomes.  Perhaps he can sense me and is trying to contact me, I am uncertain exactly how these things work.

When not looking at the cards I stare out the window, into the blackness.  The brilliant blue pattern that was there earlier seems to have faded as if the space around it is swallowing it's light.  It depresses me every time, and though I seek sleep, it never comes, and within moments it feels again like mere minutes since Direach walked out the door.

Soon I will try something.   Soon or never or years from now, all the same here.

Dara
 
 

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