Fifteen Years, Seven Months, Four Weeks, Six Days Since the Sky Fell

I mixed the potion too strong this time. It carries a hint of death always, making me ill and tired as it assures I won't have any children, but today there was more than a hint.

Tar's asleep still; I suspect he was awake for quite a while after we'd shared our love, the candles could tell anyone that a good time had passed between when I fell asleep and when he woke me up to crawl beneath the covers. I made the potion hastily then, and that may be why it's all messed up.

I can't walk right now, had to crawl across the room and pick up Tar's staff. Then I was barely able to crawl up the staff and stand, and it seemed to take forever to walk from there to this table; opening up this heavy leather book was hard, hell, even lifting the quill feels like work right now.

But I can't have a child, not yet. As long as Tar's still gajo, I have to take this foul mixture every time we make love; I can't marry a gajo, and for the first time ever, it makes me sad.

There has to...*a quill rested for to long upon the page and there is a large blot finishing the sentence*