Blog as Someone Else Day: Charlie Doyle

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Of all the moods of my beloved Edward, I dislike his sulks the most. The malarial deleriums are upsetting, but keeping him in bed and fed takes most of the worry away. The night I awoke with his hands around my throat and him shouting at me in what I must assume was gutter German is simply one of the hazards of loving a warrior whose war is over in the real world yet continues in his mind.

However, the persistant funks into which my lord can work himself, from which neither food nor drink, a ride on Oscar or kisses from me can assuage, trouble me most of all. I feel ridiculously helpless in the face of them.

He's been sulking for two days, prowling the manor house like one of his stuffed cats come to life. I'm hoping the mail, with its news of a new assignment will cheer him. It will be good to work again.