Dear diary,
Father has not died yet.
Although a man who was named after a bird offered to kill him for me. I didn't know if I should be flattered or frightened. Whatever the case, I've forgotten how to feel either.
I refused his offer.
As a healer I feel it would shatter the very idea of my work, should I seek to harm people. Although I would lie if I'd say the thought of poisoning my father had not crossed my mind. Yet daydreams are daydreams. I will not poison him. He will kill himself with his drinking or with his experiments and I will rightfully take his place as the Master Healer.
The Killer Bird was an odd figure and apparently a past lover of one of my patients. I naturally didn't speak of her case with him, but I could not help but to quietly wonder how two such opposite beings had end up together. They must have been horribly drunk.
He asked odd questions from me, assuming things. For instance if there'd be a possibility I would wound a patient to gain knowledge. He also thought I was not able to laugh at anything. Well, it was not surprising. I suppose I appear cold. The previous conversation threw his whiskey on my face. Twice.
Personally, I just think they do not understand my sense of humour. However it is as clear as day that I have not gotten any better in communicating with people. I ought not to bother. There are more important matters I need to focus on than conversing with the lesser beings.
