Upper Bog, Verdant Heights
Enon confuses me so terribly sometimes. Does he want me to give up? Does he want me to walk away, after all the pain of giving myself up for him?
I know I'm confusing to him. I know that some of the things I say to him seem contradictory. The need to find myself, losing myself, and yet giving myself up to him. They are all different things, in truth, but ideas for which I don't have other words. Words are so inadequate, yet that's always what he wants of me.
Words. To tell him, to explain.
"...to mend it... or break it." I thought I would be sick right there. It felt like he wanted me to say, "break it". As though that's what he expected, at least. It isn't what I want.
Yes, I'm afraid of him. Yes, he's hurt me.
Am I stupid for staying? Should I have fled? Should I have taken the opportunity he offered to me? No, I do not believe that.
All of our talk, all I wanted was him to be open and honest. And then, in the end when I thought we had reached a mutual bridge, he closed the gates, saying that the night in the Trove was a bad dream and would never happen again.
This is fine and well, but what happened? Am I never to know what voice it was that taunted me? Am I to believe it wasn't him at all? And if it wasn't him then don't I deserve to know who or what it was? If it was him, I don't know what to think.
He leaves all these questions unanswered. We ended where we began. Always, it feels so close. I can feel his soul tingling at the tips of my reaching fingers, and yet either he closes the door between us, or something burns my fingers, causing me to withdraw.
Am I asking too much of him, expecting too much? I wish I knew. I wish he could tell me. I wish he would trust me.
Oh, Enon. I would be happy, I would not be so hollow, if I did not have all of these questions eating away at me night and day.
The night before I had a dream. It was the first time the dream was not of fire, but I am confused by what the dream meant.
Jeziellia hesitated, staring at the page, her lumper spike quill poised to write. With a sigh, she set it aside. "Best left unwritten," she murmured to herself, closing the journal.
Enon lay beside her, one arm draped across her lap. The sun was flaring to life in the sky, and slowly warming the hill slope north of the Karavan altar. The cratchas and slaveni were stirring to life under the life-giving glow, and slowly the world was awakening.
She brushed his hair back from his face, watching him until a deep growl rumbled from above them. Jeziellia leaned to look around the large tree that sheltered them. Prowling the hilltop was the great torbak Wyac. The Boboli of the forest would harass the beast until it wandered away, Jeziellia knew, but she tensed and one hand rested on her sword hilt lying in the grass beside her. The other hand set her journal on her pack and moved protectively to rest on Enon's shoulder. Wyac moved along and she relaxed.
She sat back against the tree and sighed quietly. Her eyes drifted to her pick. It was still embedded into the tree. The prongs were almost invisible, they were buried so deep. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment again. She had never allowed herself to display anger before...
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Moderators: The Soothsayer, Lanist, Xaphon Zessen
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Last edited by jennaelf on Tue Oct 17, 2006 1:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Zora, the Witherings
Flighty, uncontrollable, volatile, and lacking a backbone. At least someone was finally honest with me about such things. I wonder if the two of them have ever reflected this topic between one another.
I am only what I am, and if these are the things that I am, then
Then what? Flighty. Flighty, yes. I lack direction, and often lack a sense of purpose I know. If he means anything else by it than that... There I go again. Then what if he does, Jez? What if he does? There's nothing you can say or do about it. Leave it be.
Uncontrollable. Uncontrollable. Uncontrollable. So many things this could mean. Of them all, this probably sets me the most at unease. There's a whisper at the back of my mind that says this is also the truest of them all, and thus why I am unsettled. Being uncontrollable, either to the self or even to others, is dangerous.
Volatile. Volatile. Volatile. I'm volatile? I've always been so careful to keep things in order, everything in its place. Only Enon can regularly incite the lack of control that leads to emotional outbursts. Or even can calm me from them quickly.
Lacking a backbone.
Jeziellia stared down at the page, and then laughed.
Lacking a backbone. Until last evening? What, when I drove a pick into a poor tree so deeply that I cannot remove it? When I was being volatile and uncontrollable?
Jena help me. I don't know what to do with all of this. Life was simpler on Silan. Maybe I should have stayed there. I should have urged Enon to go on to the mainland without me. I should have taken up residence in one of the half ruined homes of Silan and stayed there as a healer. How simpler life would be. I could not hurt or confuse those I came to know - they would be there long enough to find their strengths and then they would go on into the new kingdoms and I would remain, a ghost in the ruins of the fallen city.
A ghost in the ruins. How melodramatic.
Flighty, uncontrollable, volatile, lacking a backbone.
How right he is.
Jeziellia leaned her head back to rest on the building against which she sat. The temperature was cool in the early morning mist of the jungles. She could feel autumn creeping closer, and she shivered. She closed her journal and placed it within her bag. She would go out into the jungle and lose herself again in her practice. It would be only her and her Living Blade, and the jungle.
Flighty, uncontrollable, volatile, and lacking a backbone. At least someone was finally honest with me about such things. I wonder if the two of them have ever reflected this topic between one another.
I am only what I am, and if these are the things that I am, then
Then what? Flighty. Flighty, yes. I lack direction, and often lack a sense of purpose I know. If he means anything else by it than that... There I go again. Then what if he does, Jez? What if he does? There's nothing you can say or do about it. Leave it be.
Uncontrollable. Uncontrollable. Uncontrollable. So many things this could mean. Of them all, this probably sets me the most at unease. There's a whisper at the back of my mind that says this is also the truest of them all, and thus why I am unsettled. Being uncontrollable, either to the self or even to others, is dangerous.
Volatile. Volatile. Volatile. I'm volatile? I've always been so careful to keep things in order, everything in its place. Only Enon can regularly incite the lack of control that leads to emotional outbursts. Or even can calm me from them quickly.
Lacking a backbone.
Jeziellia stared down at the page, and then laughed.
Lacking a backbone. Until last evening? What, when I drove a pick into a poor tree so deeply that I cannot remove it? When I was being volatile and uncontrollable?
Jena help me. I don't know what to do with all of this. Life was simpler on Silan. Maybe I should have stayed there. I should have urged Enon to go on to the mainland without me. I should have taken up residence in one of the half ruined homes of Silan and stayed there as a healer. How simpler life would be. I could not hurt or confuse those I came to know - they would be there long enough to find their strengths and then they would go on into the new kingdoms and I would remain, a ghost in the ruins of the fallen city.
A ghost in the ruins. How melodramatic.
Flighty, uncontrollable, volatile, lacking a backbone.
How right he is.
Jeziellia leaned her head back to rest on the building against which she sat. The temperature was cool in the early morning mist of the jungles. She could feel autumn creeping closer, and she shivered. She closed her journal and placed it within her bag. She would go out into the jungle and lose herself again in her practice. It would be only her and her Living Blade, and the jungle.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Haven of Purity, the Witherings
[size=-2]actions aligning with October 18, 2006[/size]
The kincher's manipulator slammed into Jeziellia. The new Tryker armor she'd been wearing had managed to leave her light enough to dodge most of the small kincher's blows, but this one landed true. Grinding against the edge of the plates, the manipulator penetrated the armor and embedded itself in Jeziellia's shoulder, barely missing her heart, and exiting through her back.
She cried out, grabbing onto the kincher with one hand, swinging her sword at it haphazardly with the other. Its weight was almost too much for her to control in such a sloppy swing, but the blade struck. The kincher shrieked in pain, one of its eyes damaged by the blow. Jerking away, it pulled Jeziellia with it. Shifting its weight forward, the kitin pinned her to the earth. Rearing up, it meant to send its second limb through her, killing this homin, its enemy.
Jeziellia swung her sword up at just the right moment. The lucky swipe removed the deadly spear as it came toward her and the kincher shrieked again, the call being answered in the distance by other kitin.
The world began to grow fuzzy around the edges of Jeziellia's vision. If she didn't finish this fight soon, the kitin would. Mustering what stamina she had remaining, she shoved her blade upward. Living blade met living kincher, sliding through its softer underside like a burning blade through a snowdrift. The shrill cry of the kincher died as it collapsed on top of her.
She lay there for a moment, panting heavily. The kincher's weight did not lie too heavily upon her, as its stiff legs supported most of the bulk above her. A wrong move and they would shift. Her arm was going numb and she knew she was losing blood. The other kinchers in the area had heard the death cry of this one, and would soon come to investigate. She had to move. With no small amount of effort, she rolled the kincher away from her, gritting her teeth against the pain. She would have to pull the manipulator out of her shoulder, but not yet.
A clumsy hack and it was removed at the first joint, the main portion of the appendage still lodged through her. Working quickly, and trying to ignore the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her, Jeziellia pried off the kitin's main protective plates, removed the small stinger that generated the electrical charge they sometimes emitted, and the gland that regulated the kitin's secretions. Nothing else would be of any use to her, damaged as it was by their fight.
She left the psykopla field just as two other kincher crested the nearby rise, intent on finding their 'companion'. She would need somewhere peaceful to rest, to meditate, and to bind her wounds.
[size=-2]actions aligning with October 18, 2006[/size]
The kincher's manipulator slammed into Jeziellia. The new Tryker armor she'd been wearing had managed to leave her light enough to dodge most of the small kincher's blows, but this one landed true. Grinding against the edge of the plates, the manipulator penetrated the armor and embedded itself in Jeziellia's shoulder, barely missing her heart, and exiting through her back.
She cried out, grabbing onto the kincher with one hand, swinging her sword at it haphazardly with the other. Its weight was almost too much for her to control in such a sloppy swing, but the blade struck. The kincher shrieked in pain, one of its eyes damaged by the blow. Jerking away, it pulled Jeziellia with it. Shifting its weight forward, the kitin pinned her to the earth. Rearing up, it meant to send its second limb through her, killing this homin, its enemy.
Jeziellia swung her sword up at just the right moment. The lucky swipe removed the deadly spear as it came toward her and the kincher shrieked again, the call being answered in the distance by other kitin.
The world began to grow fuzzy around the edges of Jeziellia's vision. If she didn't finish this fight soon, the kitin would. Mustering what stamina she had remaining, she shoved her blade upward. Living blade met living kincher, sliding through its softer underside like a burning blade through a snowdrift. The shrill cry of the kincher died as it collapsed on top of her.
She lay there for a moment, panting heavily. The kincher's weight did not lie too heavily upon her, as its stiff legs supported most of the bulk above her. A wrong move and they would shift. Her arm was going numb and she knew she was losing blood. The other kinchers in the area had heard the death cry of this one, and would soon come to investigate. She had to move. With no small amount of effort, she rolled the kincher away from her, gritting her teeth against the pain. She would have to pull the manipulator out of her shoulder, but not yet.
A clumsy hack and it was removed at the first joint, the main portion of the appendage still lodged through her. Working quickly, and trying to ignore the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her, Jeziellia pried off the kitin's main protective plates, removed the small stinger that generated the electrical charge they sometimes emitted, and the gland that regulated the kitin's secretions. Nothing else would be of any use to her, damaged as it was by their fight.
She left the psykopla field just as two other kincher crested the nearby rise, intent on finding their 'companion'. She would need somewhere peaceful to rest, to meditate, and to bind her wounds.
Jeziellia Mara'tyr
Officer, House Etchmarc, Arispotle
Better by far you should forget and smile than you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rossetti (1830 - 1894)
[size=-2]OOC: Jeziellia's Journal is OOC knowledge only. Possibilities of reading it IC should be brought to me for discussion. Thank you![/size]
Officer, House Etchmarc, Arispotle
Better by far you should forget and smile than you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rossetti (1830 - 1894)
[size=-2]OOC: Jeziellia's Journal is OOC knowledge only. Possibilities of reading it IC should be brought to me for discussion. Thank you![/size]
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
The Forge, Pyr, Burning Sands
I've finally sent a letter to Ema, as Perun asked me to. Perun. Poor boy has no idea what he's in for. His guild will need a leader, and most of them look to him. In him is the natural gift of drawing people, but that does not mean he will have the ability to bear the responsibility. As he said, he doesn't want the responsibility. He wants to be young, have the chance to make his own mistakes, free of that. I cannot blame him.
There are things we all must do, and can only do at ease without the burdens of responsibility. Then, Jena never promised the Homin life would be one of ease.
Enon has been sequestered in his apartment these last days, I think. His building's caretaker will not tell me one way or another, and will not let me in to look around. It is just as well. We both have needed time to think, without being separated by a dangerous journey or other deadly intents. ...not that having time to think has done me any good.
My shoulder still aches a little from my fight with the kincher yesterday. My first on my own. A proud moment. In fact, I will soon be replacing the cover of this journal with two plates of the kitin's shell. I had best get to work.
Jeziellia closed her journal and took out her dagger. Carefully she cut through the capryni-gut stitching that held it bound together. She placed the stack of papers to the side, being certain they were secure and would not fall out of order. She placed a sheet of Mitexi bark atop the papers and laid a piece of the kincher shell - which she'd already cut to the appropriate size and polished to a shine - on the bark. With a bit of pigment, she marked where the stitching holes would need to go. Once she'd soaked the shell in boiling secretions, it would be soft enough to punch holes in with her awl, before she stitched the whole journal back together.
A few of the Fyros workers in the Forge shook their heads at her, but were unable to ignore their curiosity, watching the Matis woman work delicately, but with an intense single-mindedness.
I've finally sent a letter to Ema, as Perun asked me to. Perun. Poor boy has no idea what he's in for. His guild will need a leader, and most of them look to him. In him is the natural gift of drawing people, but that does not mean he will have the ability to bear the responsibility. As he said, he doesn't want the responsibility. He wants to be young, have the chance to make his own mistakes, free of that. I cannot blame him.
There are things we all must do, and can only do at ease without the burdens of responsibility. Then, Jena never promised the Homin life would be one of ease.
Enon has been sequestered in his apartment these last days, I think. His building's caretaker will not tell me one way or another, and will not let me in to look around. It is just as well. We both have needed time to think, without being separated by a dangerous journey or other deadly intents. ...not that having time to think has done me any good.
My shoulder still aches a little from my fight with the kincher yesterday. My first on my own. A proud moment. In fact, I will soon be replacing the cover of this journal with two plates of the kitin's shell. I had best get to work.
Jeziellia closed her journal and took out her dagger. Carefully she cut through the capryni-gut stitching that held it bound together. She placed the stack of papers to the side, being certain they were secure and would not fall out of order. She placed a sheet of Mitexi bark atop the papers and laid a piece of the kincher shell - which she'd already cut to the appropriate size and polished to a shine - on the bark. With a bit of pigment, she marked where the stitching holes would need to go. Once she'd soaked the shell in boiling secretions, it would be soft enough to punch holes in with her awl, before she stitched the whole journal back together.
A few of the Fyros workers in the Forge shook their heads at her, but were unable to ignore their curiosity, watching the Matis woman work delicately, but with an intense single-mindedness.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Rydon's Walk, Pyr, Burning Sands
A kind old Fyros woman rented a cot to me last night. She's cooking breakfast downstairs now, insisting I'm much too thin and need to put some weight on my hips. I can't help but smile. She's been very kind.
I can smell the Izam eggs and I think Bodoc steaks. It smells delicious. Out my window I can see Rydon's Walk. I can see the bustle of people going to and fro, and the apartments just across the way. I know I shouldn't, it feels like spying, but I've been watching to see if Valko returns safely.
I left him sleeping in the Trench of Trials. I could have sat there the rest of the night, but the urge to explore has always been stronger than -
The place seemed safe enough and he can take care of himself, I know. Still, I worry a little. The younger Pyr Militia members I've seen passing in the street haven't seemed worried, so things must be fine. With their Link to Valko, they would know if something were amiss, I think. They all seem very close knit already. I'm happy that Valko has been able to find his happiness in this.
Enon, too, has had great success over the past few days. If he hasn't by the time I write this, he will soon be granted his certification as an Advanced Forest Forager, I believe. He's been working very hard toward that. Too hard, sometimes. Would it have been so terrible to come and enjoy the Team Spirit hosted tournament with me?
I suppose that's half self-pity talking. I could have volunteered to go and help him in his work, but there are times I don't want to volunteer. I want to be asked. I want to feel wanted, in ways other than -
I've become very fond of some of the Dragonblades. I think the Order will do very well for a long time to come, regardless of whatever challenges may arise to face it - from within or without. Suryi, Kandi, even Calior who tries to be gruff at times. Good homins, all of them.
A few nights found Suryi, Zyquo, Kandi and myself out hunting. One of those nights Calior joined us late, and then in the start of the evening. Along with a friend of Kandi's. What was his name? Shadarin? A little varinx trouble, a little victory over Guille the Zerx... The days have been good.
Zyquo has been very generous to me with his assistance. We spent a lot of time in the Upper Bog and near the Fearing Fens, gathering materials for me to progress in my weapon crafting skills. And advance I have! He requested a blade made by my hand, and though I know it is greatly inferior to the types of weapons he is able to wield, he accepted it graciously, happily. I was happy to give it. It was the finest blade I have made in some time. I hope soon to be able to offer Kas an axe worthy of his skill. I must keep looking for materials for a blade for Enon. It must be perfect, worthy of an Etchmarc. I haven't told him my plans in that - only of Kas' axe. I only hope I can fulfill my work soon, so he does not feel I am neglecting him in favor of his Ojin. That could be an awkward situation with which to deal.
A group of us did eventually help Enon with his foraging work. We gathered near the Fearing Fens - Enon had not been there to harvest, I am glad to have been able to show him - and Enon pulled a field of nodes to the surface. The rest of us harvested the materials from them, with Enon watching over us, guiding some. It seemed he learned as much as some of the rest of us did, simply by seeing another working in a node, without having his own hands buried in it. There's something to be said for being able to observe another's technique, and seeing just how your own spirit can affect what is coaxed out of Atys.
When Zyquo had helped me, I mentioned to him what Enon had told me about a homin's link to Atys through their feet, where their spirits were almost always in contact with the lifeforce of Atys. He did not look down at my feet as we spoke - for which I am very grateful. Part of me aches for him - that he puts others above himself. Part of me cannot help but be angry with him sometimes. He meant to draw the Blades together for the Day Out, but I felt like some of us were being scolded for being off in a separate group. I understand his motivation, but I could not help the little black beast that rose within me and lashed out. I could see Kandi was becoming slightly distressed, and I feel very protective of her. She is a sweet and darling Tryker, and is one of the only homins that can bring me out of the darkness I sometimes find myself in. She's also one of the only homins I feel the urge to actually hug. She's infectious, in the best way. Such vivaciousness should never be dampened.
So much has happened and I've been so lax in writing!
I nearly stumbled over Perun on my way here to rest. I came around the back of the bathhouse and he was sitting against the back wall, staring off dreamily. I think if I had not rounded the corner he may have fallen asleep there. I hope he found appropriate lodgings.
I told him that I should kidnap him to Yrkanis one day and get him fitted for some new armor and weapons. He's been scraping by in Zora, without a proper patron homin, buying new gear as he could afford it, one piece at a time. I will go through some of the old armor I've kept and alter it to fit him. I can also make him new weapons. I will have to inquire after his studies, of course. These are thoughts for another time though.
I can hear the woman on the stairs. I think breakfast is done.
A quiet but firm rapping sounded against the door of the room Jeziellia was occupying. "Breakfas's done, Miss. Come down and let's get some real food in you, not that leafy stuff I hear about in the woods!" Jeziellia could hear the woman chuckle. "I will be down most directly, honored Mother," Jeziellia said just loud enough to be heard. She put her journal into her pack and set the pack on the foot of the cot, with her armor and weapons. She kept a dagger on her belt, and wore a soft long gown the Fyros woman had given her to wear during her stay. She turned the latch on the door to descend to the kitchen, but paused, looking back at the window.
You should open the window more often, and let out some of your light.
Valko's words came back to her. Maybe he was right. She walked to the window, pushing the panes outward. A gentle autumn breeze was flowing over the city, still cool from the chill night. She smiled, turned, and went downstairs for breakfast.
A kind old Fyros woman rented a cot to me last night. She's cooking breakfast downstairs now, insisting I'm much too thin and need to put some weight on my hips. I can't help but smile. She's been very kind.
I can smell the Izam eggs and I think Bodoc steaks. It smells delicious. Out my window I can see Rydon's Walk. I can see the bustle of people going to and fro, and the apartments just across the way. I know I shouldn't, it feels like spying, but I've been watching to see if Valko returns safely.
I left him sleeping in the Trench of Trials. I could have sat there the rest of the night, but the urge to explore has always been stronger than -
The place seemed safe enough and he can take care of himself, I know. Still, I worry a little. The younger Pyr Militia members I've seen passing in the street haven't seemed worried, so things must be fine. With their Link to Valko, they would know if something were amiss, I think. They all seem very close knit already. I'm happy that Valko has been able to find his happiness in this.
Enon, too, has had great success over the past few days. If he hasn't by the time I write this, he will soon be granted his certification as an Advanced Forest Forager, I believe. He's been working very hard toward that. Too hard, sometimes. Would it have been so terrible to come and enjoy the Team Spirit hosted tournament with me?
I suppose that's half self-pity talking. I could have volunteered to go and help him in his work, but there are times I don't want to volunteer. I want to be asked. I want to feel wanted, in ways other than -
I've become very fond of some of the Dragonblades. I think the Order will do very well for a long time to come, regardless of whatever challenges may arise to face it - from within or without. Suryi, Kandi, even Calior who tries to be gruff at times. Good homins, all of them.
A few nights found Suryi, Zyquo, Kandi and myself out hunting. One of those nights Calior joined us late, and then in the start of the evening. Along with a friend of Kandi's. What was his name? Shadarin? A little varinx trouble, a little victory over Guille the Zerx... The days have been good.
Zyquo has been very generous to me with his assistance. We spent a lot of time in the Upper Bog and near the Fearing Fens, gathering materials for me to progress in my weapon crafting skills. And advance I have! He requested a blade made by my hand, and though I know it is greatly inferior to the types of weapons he is able to wield, he accepted it graciously, happily. I was happy to give it. It was the finest blade I have made in some time. I hope soon to be able to offer Kas an axe worthy of his skill. I must keep looking for materials for a blade for Enon. It must be perfect, worthy of an Etchmarc. I haven't told him my plans in that - only of Kas' axe. I only hope I can fulfill my work soon, so he does not feel I am neglecting him in favor of his Ojin. That could be an awkward situation with which to deal.
A group of us did eventually help Enon with his foraging work. We gathered near the Fearing Fens - Enon had not been there to harvest, I am glad to have been able to show him - and Enon pulled a field of nodes to the surface. The rest of us harvested the materials from them, with Enon watching over us, guiding some. It seemed he learned as much as some of the rest of us did, simply by seeing another working in a node, without having his own hands buried in it. There's something to be said for being able to observe another's technique, and seeing just how your own spirit can affect what is coaxed out of Atys.
When Zyquo had helped me, I mentioned to him what Enon had told me about a homin's link to Atys through their feet, where their spirits were almost always in contact with the lifeforce of Atys. He did not look down at my feet as we spoke - for which I am very grateful. Part of me aches for him - that he puts others above himself. Part of me cannot help but be angry with him sometimes. He meant to draw the Blades together for the Day Out, but I felt like some of us were being scolded for being off in a separate group. I understand his motivation, but I could not help the little black beast that rose within me and lashed out. I could see Kandi was becoming slightly distressed, and I feel very protective of her. She is a sweet and darling Tryker, and is one of the only homins that can bring me out of the darkness I sometimes find myself in. She's also one of the only homins I feel the urge to actually hug. She's infectious, in the best way. Such vivaciousness should never be dampened.
So much has happened and I've been so lax in writing!
I nearly stumbled over Perun on my way here to rest. I came around the back of the bathhouse and he was sitting against the back wall, staring off dreamily. I think if I had not rounded the corner he may have fallen asleep there. I hope he found appropriate lodgings.
I told him that I should kidnap him to Yrkanis one day and get him fitted for some new armor and weapons. He's been scraping by in Zora, without a proper patron homin, buying new gear as he could afford it, one piece at a time. I will go through some of the old armor I've kept and alter it to fit him. I can also make him new weapons. I will have to inquire after his studies, of course. These are thoughts for another time though.
I can hear the woman on the stairs. I think breakfast is done.
A quiet but firm rapping sounded against the door of the room Jeziellia was occupying. "Breakfas's done, Miss. Come down and let's get some real food in you, not that leafy stuff I hear about in the woods!" Jeziellia could hear the woman chuckle. "I will be down most directly, honored Mother," Jeziellia said just loud enough to be heard. She put her journal into her pack and set the pack on the foot of the cot, with her armor and weapons. She kept a dagger on her belt, and wore a soft long gown the Fyros woman had given her to wear during her stay. She turned the latch on the door to descend to the kitchen, but paused, looking back at the window.
You should open the window more often, and let out some of your light.
Valko's words came back to her. Maybe he was right. She walked to the window, pushing the panes outward. A gentle autumn breeze was flowing over the city, still cool from the chill night. She smiled, turned, and went downstairs for breakfast.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Thesos, Savage Dunes of the Burning Sands
Last day of Fallenor, AC 2, JY 2535
25 Jena Years now. Happy birthday, me.
Jeziellia closed her journal. Her feet dangled over the cliffside that overlooked Thesos, just over the earthen ramp that lead to the 'fortress', as Valko called it. Beside her, Valko had laid out his bedroll and gone to sleep. A storm rolled in, but it didn't seem to bother him in the least. She smiled and shook her head, watching the sun's corona grow toward the brighter light of day.
The first snows of winter have come.
I spent the evening of my birthday watching the Pyr Militia training together outside of Thesos. I had debt to work off, so I harvested in the field nearby. It did happen that they could use my healing skills a couple of times. Valko was being something of an _ _ _ - a couple of times he stood behind me and fired the heavy weapon he carried. Scared me half out of my skin. All, he says, in revenge for my startling him when a node got away from me and exploded.
We watched a storm from near the 'fortress' as it raged over Thesos and the rest of the desert. I could not have asked for a better gift from the desert than the warmth of companionship, and the wind of the desert on my skin.
Of course no one knows, and I'd rather such things not be such a big deal. It passed pleasantly, as any other day - I could ask for nothing more. Perhaps that Enon were not so busy, but I know his work is important.
He will find time for me.
Last day of Fallenor, AC 2, JY 2535
25 Jena Years now. Happy birthday, me.
Jeziellia closed her journal. Her feet dangled over the cliffside that overlooked Thesos, just over the earthen ramp that lead to the 'fortress', as Valko called it. Beside her, Valko had laid out his bedroll and gone to sleep. A storm rolled in, but it didn't seem to bother him in the least. She smiled and shook her head, watching the sun's corona grow toward the brighter light of day.
* * *
Yrkanis, Majestic Garden of Verdant HeightsThe first snows of winter have come.
I spent the evening of my birthday watching the Pyr Militia training together outside of Thesos. I had debt to work off, so I harvested in the field nearby. It did happen that they could use my healing skills a couple of times. Valko was being something of an _ _ _ - a couple of times he stood behind me and fired the heavy weapon he carried. Scared me half out of my skin. All, he says, in revenge for my startling him when a node got away from me and exploded.
We watched a storm from near the 'fortress' as it raged over Thesos and the rest of the desert. I could not have asked for a better gift from the desert than the warmth of companionship, and the wind of the desert on my skin.
Of course no one knows, and I'd rather such things not be such a big deal. It passed pleasantly, as any other day - I could ask for nothing more. Perhaps that Enon were not so busy, but I know his work is important.
He will find time for me.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Kami Circle of Fleeting Garden, Verdant Heights
Do I expect too much of myself? Do I ask too much to be better, somewhere, at foraging than him? I've worked in the desert, though not too hard, for a while now, and he comes over... "enough to learn their specializations" and he reaches into a node and pulls loose almost twice as much as I can.
It's frustrating. Almost humiliating?
Zyquo is leaving on his journey near winter's end, and for those with whom he's made some personal attachments, things are becoming strained. I wish there were some way I could ease the burden for them all. I cannot. I can only trust that he will return - soon, safe, and well. Hopefully he will find what he's looking for and return happy.
Do I expect too much of myself? Do I ask too much to be better, somewhere, at foraging than him? I've worked in the desert, though not too hard, for a while now, and he comes over... "enough to learn their specializations" and he reaches into a node and pulls loose almost twice as much as I can.
It's frustrating. Almost humiliating?
Zyquo is leaving on his journey near winter's end, and for those with whom he's made some personal attachments, things are becoming strained. I wish there were some way I could ease the burden for them all. I cannot. I can only trust that he will return - soon, safe, and well. Hopefully he will find what he's looking for and return happy.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Flaming Forest, the Burning Sands
There are already too many secrets, and now I have one of my own. Dear Jena, deliver me from myself. What've I done?
Enon can sense the unease, and I insisted it was only that I felt unwell. I still feel unwell, but now at least it is not because of my feet, or any other such outside influence.
All these secrets I keep for others, and now it is one that is mine that shatters me. Will shatter me. Not only me, but so many others, too. What was I thinking? What was I doing? I should have made him leave, I should not have cried. I should not have been upset at all, but I was so afraid that honesty had pushed Enon away already. It undoes me, this worry.
Suryi thinks we are perfect together, but by the gods nothing is further from the truth. I've seen one more perfect than any I've seen before, and it remains hidden.
I cannot keep this from him. I've already avoided it, tried to bury it, but it is emblazoned on my mind, as much of a scar as those on my feet. But how can I tell him? He'll never trust me again, even the small amount he does now.
To the Dragon's Belly with me. What of the others? It is little matter what happens to me - it is the damage I've wrought that I cannot bear to let loose on the others.
Oh Jena, why did I have to wake this morning? Let me sleep, the sleep of peace, the long sleep of death - rather than hurt so many anymore.
Scars don't form on the dead, Kas said.
Jeziellia set the journal aside and pulled her knees up to her chest. She rested her forehead on her knees, her arms covering her head, and she sobbed quietly.
There are already too many secrets, and now I have one of my own. Dear Jena, deliver me from myself. What've I done?
Enon can sense the unease, and I insisted it was only that I felt unwell. I still feel unwell, but now at least it is not because of my feet, or any other such outside influence.
All these secrets I keep for others, and now it is one that is mine that shatters me. Will shatter me. Not only me, but so many others, too. What was I thinking? What was I doing? I should have made him leave, I should not have cried. I should not have been upset at all, but I was so afraid that honesty had pushed Enon away already. It undoes me, this worry.
Suryi thinks we are perfect together, but by the gods nothing is further from the truth. I've seen one more perfect than any I've seen before, and it remains hidden.
I cannot keep this from him. I've already avoided it, tried to bury it, but it is emblazoned on my mind, as much of a scar as those on my feet. But how can I tell him? He'll never trust me again, even the small amount he does now.
To the Dragon's Belly with me. What of the others? It is little matter what happens to me - it is the damage I've wrought that I cannot bear to let loose on the others.
Oh Jena, why did I have to wake this morning? Let me sleep, the sleep of peace, the long sleep of death - rather than hurt so many anymore.
Scars don't form on the dead, Kas said.
Jeziellia set the journal aside and pulled her knees up to her chest. She rested her forehead on her knees, her arms covering her head, and she sobbed quietly.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Yrkanis, Majestic Garden of Verdant Heights
Jeziellia sat on the floor of her apartment. Her armor was spread around her in a circle. Piles of materials littered every shelf and surface space imaginable - Shells were stacked in one corner, the largest on the bottom and the smallest on top. Hides lay in piles near the doorway, some still stretched over racks hanging from the ceiling, allowing them to dry out from being hauled around in the rain. Jars of sap and oil lined most of the shelves, buckets of amber, seeds, and resin grouped together. All of these things sat undisturbed as Jeziellia inspected her armor. With a sigh, she set her battered chest protector aside. She stood and walked over to her bed. Her pack lay there open, its contents spread over the fur blanket. She cleared a spot and sat down, taking up her journal.
My sleep the last few days has been dark, deep, and empty. No fire, no passionate kisses, nothing. No pain, no tenderness. Only oblivion.
The kitin have come. Pale and wicked creatures from deeper in the Roots than ever recorded. Some have questioned their desires - "What do they want?" I wonder, instead, what stirred them. They are pouring across the face of the new kingdoms. This cannot be like the Great Swarming, but I wonder if this is somehow better or worse than the loss of the old Kingdoms in a large sweep of claw and stinger.
I told Enon what happened between Zyquo and myself. I kept it in the simplest terms. I didn't want to think about it, or try to over explain it. He took it very well, and things have been warmer between us than they have ever been. Is it because of that moment of honesty, or the admission of how he makes me feel, of what lead up to the moment with Zyquo? Maybe a combination.
Or perhaps he more fully realizes that there are other men who desire my affections - I cannot believe it is so base as what he suggests otherwise. Not Zyquo. And for me, a test of my devotion to him.
Now, days later, I still do not wish to think on it. Zyquo's been gone. Suryi and Kedino are becoming friendly. Haldir and Jelathnia threw their rings into the lake where they were wed.
And now the kitins. I woke up, prodded by cold manipulators. The minute I opened my eyes, they let out this terrible shrill call and
Jeziellia shuddered, remembering the innumerable kitin manipulators that pierced her body, pinning her to the ground of the Upper Bog, as others tore into her flesh.
It was unpleasant. We spent the night fighting against them. We cleared the way from Yrkanis to Towerbridge, and then beyond, but they keep coming. We went to Fleeting Garden to patrol around Fleeting Garden. They seem to be everywhere. We traveled to the Witherings, near Lonview Stronghold. The guild Melinoe had cornered a particularly large kipucka there. The "Zorai Exterminator", it was called. What a horrible beast. Homins flung spells, and swung weapons of all manner, to no avail. We did not so much as scratch its chitinous armor. I only hope we can keep it away from the cities.
Despite this, I will soon take my Test of Rank for the title of Knight in the Order. I would likely endure the Test of Scouting during these trying times simply to prove that I could, even without the Rank. Maybe tonight.
Jeziellia sat on the floor of her apartment. Her armor was spread around her in a circle. Piles of materials littered every shelf and surface space imaginable - Shells were stacked in one corner, the largest on the bottom and the smallest on top. Hides lay in piles near the doorway, some still stretched over racks hanging from the ceiling, allowing them to dry out from being hauled around in the rain. Jars of sap and oil lined most of the shelves, buckets of amber, seeds, and resin grouped together. All of these things sat undisturbed as Jeziellia inspected her armor. With a sigh, she set her battered chest protector aside. She stood and walked over to her bed. Her pack lay there open, its contents spread over the fur blanket. She cleared a spot and sat down, taking up her journal.
My sleep the last few days has been dark, deep, and empty. No fire, no passionate kisses, nothing. No pain, no tenderness. Only oblivion.
The kitin have come. Pale and wicked creatures from deeper in the Roots than ever recorded. Some have questioned their desires - "What do they want?" I wonder, instead, what stirred them. They are pouring across the face of the new kingdoms. This cannot be like the Great Swarming, but I wonder if this is somehow better or worse than the loss of the old Kingdoms in a large sweep of claw and stinger.
I told Enon what happened between Zyquo and myself. I kept it in the simplest terms. I didn't want to think about it, or try to over explain it. He took it very well, and things have been warmer between us than they have ever been. Is it because of that moment of honesty, or the admission of how he makes me feel, of what lead up to the moment with Zyquo? Maybe a combination.
Or perhaps he more fully realizes that there are other men who desire my affections - I cannot believe it is so base as what he suggests otherwise. Not Zyquo. And for me, a test of my devotion to him.
Now, days later, I still do not wish to think on it. Zyquo's been gone. Suryi and Kedino are becoming friendly. Haldir and Jelathnia threw their rings into the lake where they were wed.
And now the kitins. I woke up, prodded by cold manipulators. The minute I opened my eyes, they let out this terrible shrill call and
Jeziellia shuddered, remembering the innumerable kitin manipulators that pierced her body, pinning her to the ground of the Upper Bog, as others tore into her flesh.
It was unpleasant. We spent the night fighting against them. We cleared the way from Yrkanis to Towerbridge, and then beyond, but they keep coming. We went to Fleeting Garden to patrol around Fleeting Garden. They seem to be everywhere. We traveled to the Witherings, near Lonview Stronghold. The guild Melinoe had cornered a particularly large kipucka there. The "Zorai Exterminator", it was called. What a horrible beast. Homins flung spells, and swung weapons of all manner, to no avail. We did not so much as scratch its chitinous armor. I only hope we can keep it away from the cities.
Despite this, I will soon take my Test of Rank for the title of Knight in the Order. I would likely endure the Test of Scouting during these trying times simply to prove that I could, even without the Rank. Maybe tonight.
Jeziellia Mara'tyr
Officer, House Etchmarc, Arispotle
Better by far you should forget and smile than you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rossetti (1830 - 1894)
[size=-2]OOC: Jeziellia's Journal is OOC knowledge only. Possibilities of reading it IC should be brought to me for discussion. Thank you![/size]
Officer, House Etchmarc, Arispotle
Better by far you should forget and smile than you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rossetti (1830 - 1894)
[size=-2]OOC: Jeziellia's Journal is OOC knowledge only. Possibilities of reading it IC should be brought to me for discussion. Thank you![/size]
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Yrkanis, Majestic Garden of Verdant Heights
Feast or famine. Too much or too little. This is the ebb and flow of life around me, of late.
Just before the uprising of the kitin, Haldir offered me the position of High Officer. I accepted, and have worked toward helping the Order with nearly every breath since then. I must find a better balance. The kitin uprising has not been helpful. The past few days have been nothing but fighting back the carapaced beasts. Parts of me still ache with remembered wounds, though they have long since been mended by the grace of Jena and the life essence of Atys.
I told Enon last night that I was a little jealous of some of the other women with whom he spent so much time. I didn't try to explain it, though I know it is two-fold. They spend more time with him than I do, and I know he's out there learning things from them that I'd rather I was in a position to help him with. I'm always behind. I never have anything of practical value to offer him. It's still frustrating. I accept it now with more grace than I did before, however.
Kas is within his element with this kitin uprising. I have spent a great deal of time with him, watching him. He seems almost happy. A gentle happiness, a contentment. A man with purpose. I have been glad to see it, and have been glad he has experienced it. While out there and fighting, I am glad to listen to his orders. His experience in these things far exceeds my own, and I'm still a little uncomfortable with some of the ideas about "what an Ojin is for".
It was endearing to hear him tell me to wait near the kincher infested beach in Resting Waters, only to then look sheepish and rephrase the imperative as a request. We all seem to change one another a little bit, given enough time together. I've come to a slightly better understanding of the role Kas serves, and he's become more comfortable with the idea that I see him not entirely as a servant but as simply another homin. Who can say if this is for the better or the worse? And who can say how long it will endure. Likely not long, but it was still nice to see.
And, like always, over all of this looms another shadow. Or a spirit. I went out to Dew Drops two nights ago to scout the islands there for signs of the kitin. I stopped in the waters near the Kami teleporter for a refreshing swim. Thank Jena the waters are shallow through most of that area. A sudden cramp seized me. I clawed my way to a sturdy coral upcropping and doubled over. As the pain left me, I was dizzy and motes of light floated in my vision. I looked up and saw Zyquo standing over me. Though the sun was shining brightly and there was not a cloud in sight, he looked as though he were standing in a rain storm. He gazed down at me, and there was something in his eyes I couldn't decipher. I was about to say something to him when he simply faded away. There were no foot prints in the sand where he'd stood, no sign that he'd been there at all. When I asked the nearby Kami, it simply looked at me with pity, as though I had gone mad.
I have mentioned this to no one. Either I saw a spirit - an odd, if not impossible occurence on Atys - or I have hallucinated. In either case, it would do no one any good to be worried. I fear something terrible has happened to Zyquo. For now I must keep this fear to myself. It may prove unfounded. I pray it is. I pray to Jena to watch over Zyquo. I pray that my vision was only a hallucination born of stress, and kitin stings.
Tonight, I will test for the rank of Knight. If I cannot find someone with the time to administer the tests, then I will run the trek on my own, simply to prove to myself that I can.
Feast or famine. Too much or too little. This is the ebb and flow of life around me, of late.
Just before the uprising of the kitin, Haldir offered me the position of High Officer. I accepted, and have worked toward helping the Order with nearly every breath since then. I must find a better balance. The kitin uprising has not been helpful. The past few days have been nothing but fighting back the carapaced beasts. Parts of me still ache with remembered wounds, though they have long since been mended by the grace of Jena and the life essence of Atys.
I told Enon last night that I was a little jealous of some of the other women with whom he spent so much time. I didn't try to explain it, though I know it is two-fold. They spend more time with him than I do, and I know he's out there learning things from them that I'd rather I was in a position to help him with. I'm always behind. I never have anything of practical value to offer him. It's still frustrating. I accept it now with more grace than I did before, however.
Kas is within his element with this kitin uprising. I have spent a great deal of time with him, watching him. He seems almost happy. A gentle happiness, a contentment. A man with purpose. I have been glad to see it, and have been glad he has experienced it. While out there and fighting, I am glad to listen to his orders. His experience in these things far exceeds my own, and I'm still a little uncomfortable with some of the ideas about "what an Ojin is for".
It was endearing to hear him tell me to wait near the kincher infested beach in Resting Waters, only to then look sheepish and rephrase the imperative as a request. We all seem to change one another a little bit, given enough time together. I've come to a slightly better understanding of the role Kas serves, and he's become more comfortable with the idea that I see him not entirely as a servant but as simply another homin. Who can say if this is for the better or the worse? And who can say how long it will endure. Likely not long, but it was still nice to see.
And, like always, over all of this looms another shadow. Or a spirit. I went out to Dew Drops two nights ago to scout the islands there for signs of the kitin. I stopped in the waters near the Kami teleporter for a refreshing swim. Thank Jena the waters are shallow through most of that area. A sudden cramp seized me. I clawed my way to a sturdy coral upcropping and doubled over. As the pain left me, I was dizzy and motes of light floated in my vision. I looked up and saw Zyquo standing over me. Though the sun was shining brightly and there was not a cloud in sight, he looked as though he were standing in a rain storm. He gazed down at me, and there was something in his eyes I couldn't decipher. I was about to say something to him when he simply faded away. There were no foot prints in the sand where he'd stood, no sign that he'd been there at all. When I asked the nearby Kami, it simply looked at me with pity, as though I had gone mad.
I have mentioned this to no one. Either I saw a spirit - an odd, if not impossible occurence on Atys - or I have hallucinated. In either case, it would do no one any good to be worried. I fear something terrible has happened to Zyquo. For now I must keep this fear to myself. It may prove unfounded. I pray it is. I pray to Jena to watch over Zyquo. I pray that my vision was only a hallucination born of stress, and kitin stings.
Tonight, I will test for the rank of Knight. If I cannot find someone with the time to administer the tests, then I will run the trek on my own, simply to prove to myself that I can.