Note to self: alcohol makes one lose control of one’s emotions, but not disastrously so. I was worried about that. I have seen enough people in their cups to warrant caution when approaching the stuff. Having a few glasses of wine in a temple seemed the safest way to experiment.

I never would have considered it on Bral. One drunken misuse of my abilities could have found me launched from the city before the hangover fully wore off. Much to Devon’s chagrin, it proved almost as destructive: feathers and a broken vase, but no fire.

I daresay the others benefited well enough from my experience around those who had overindulged. You would think they had the presence of mind to down the jugs of water I left beside their pallets before succumbing to sleep, but I am beginning to think they are unfamiliar with the drunken state as I was, previously.

My dreams continue to elude me, or perhaps my distance from the one piece of home keeps the memory of them from finding me. I am, however, undeterred. Morpheus sent me a waking sign and that was much more than I had ever hoped. No matter the resistance, no matter the cost, I WILL see this through until the end, however fate may deem it to conclude. It is, after all, the journey–the dream–that drives us onward, not the waking.

I feel, though, that my companions misunderstand me horribly. Kenari’s surprise that I would play with her troubles me somewhat. Her barb that I would only sing dirges stings, too. I would think that such a playful soul would take good-natured teasing in stride, but I suppose her passions rule her as much as anything. I shall endeavor to be more… ‘emotional’… in my dealings with her in the future, if it would put her mind at ease. It goes against everything that I have ever learned. Overt emotion is reserved for the zeal of pursuing the dream, for the rage that fuels the powers of the mind, for the tenderness in crafting a song. I cannot remember the last time that I observed an easy smile from one of my kind in the village.

Ef Utan breaks the mold of any humanoid male that I have met. He has yet to proposition one of the ladies of the party for favors of a delicate nature. Perhaps he finds us not to his taste. A Tiefling, an Asimar, a Catperson, and the amazing psychic sparkly barmaid. Yes, I can see how a human would find that just a bit too much. Or perhaps, it is only that he has learned a sort of control of the urge through his profession. He remains an unopened book in so many ways. I do hope that I might know him better in our journeys ahead.

Sapphira is… well, more tight-lipped than even I am. I suppose it is merely her way. Anything she says may be used against her at some later date. Or maybe she just doesn’t like people very much. Who is to say?

Lenata is a friend although there is only so much you can glean about a person while constantly hearing what they wish to drink in their thoughts. It is for this reason that I proposed a different venue to continue our conversation. Little did I know that our trip out for drinks would turn into such a journey. But we had that drink finally!

Whatever our feelings on the matter, we are all linked by the brand of the Spelljammer. Although we come from many different walks of life, it is the tie that binds our motley assortment together. I only hope that we may come to know the deeper bond of friendship that seasoned adventurers speak of, rather than the almost painful politeness we employ. I can already tell that taverns will be making lots of money off me if only so I can slip the bonds for a bit and get to know them all better