Quietly, the drowess bound the black leather journal with thick crimson ribbon, ending it with a delicate bow. She kissed it, then set it in a gift box which it fit in - perfectly. She tucked the box under her bed, leaving it for a later occasion. Her fingers grazed over an empty journal next to the box's resting place - this one of grey-brown leather - and she took it up, weighing it. The ghost of a smile appeared across her lips. She climbed onto her pillow-covered bed and sat near the headboard, opening the cover. She had decided to stay somewhere else, alone, in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar building, but in a familiar city; yet she savored her solitude nearly as much as the presence of others.
Blindly, she leaned to the left and groped about her nightstand. Finally, she felt the softness of a quill and cold glass filled with dark red ink. Her hand, although it struggled to do so, gripped both items and brought them closer, setting them onto a nearby pillow. Aunrae left the quill where it was when she brought the inkwell to her mouth, biting into the cork and promptly spitting it across the room. She cursed - she knew it would have to be recovered later. She coaxed the corner of the front cover between her toes, holding it open so that she could hold the inkwell in her left hand. Her right hand picked up the quill and she resumed writing in Infernal, but her writing was strange - almost lucid, but littered with her old terminology.