Damn those Pathfinders! All of the blood, sweat, and tears I poured into my thesis are now wasted! They are probably locking my research on Thassilon away as I write this. That was years of exploration, dungeons delved, allies lost! They can’t just reject me for no reason. My theories were too sound. The evidence was there! This must have something to do with the two missing initiates. The ones who had those rather compelling arguments and those rather ancient artifacts that mysteriously disappeared…
What luck! An aasimar woman approached me today, seeking an expert in Thassilon. If I can’t make it as a Pathfinder, surely I can do my research on my own. The platinum she’s paying will help me with my own personal work, for sure.
I saw him for the first time today. While I was deep in my notes, covered in the shed hairs of my dear Skivver, the most amazing man walked through my research room. His supple body navigates through the catacombs with ease. His eyes large and expressive, dig deep into my soul. How I wish to caress those pointed ears of his and whisper to him the secrets I hide.
But I cannot… he could never have eyes for someone like me. No, I must admire him from afar, in my most private of times, and in my dreams. What a worthless wretch I am! Unable to give the man I love a simple “hello!”