Chilling Swamp, Heretic's Hovel of Verdant Heights
I wonder why this place is called Heretic's Hovel. I'm not surprised, particularly in winter, that this immediate area is called Chilling Swamp. Just a few more things to add to the list of items that weigh on my mind. These are lighter though, and I would much rather entertain these thoughts than the others.
I contacted Kendrus, finally. He has the bottle of peppermint oil that Mercellus made, the bottle I saw in my dream. He says he will give it to me. I'm honestly relieved by that. I told him he could keep it - I understand the sentimental value of items from a friend who is no longer around, as it were. I'm relieved because, though I offered to remake the concoction myself, I don't know much of anything about how to do it. Mercellus was very careful with his selection of the leaves, and everything.
I'll finish what you were working on, Mercellus. I promise.
They want me to set him free. As if I could. I still don't understand how any of this started! And now, Kendrus says that Perun can help me to release Mercellus into True Death. I can't do that. Not yet. Not when I haven't even tried. If I knew he would be strong enough - but I don't know how to tell. The little... spark... seems to just be there. I feel it, ever-present, but nothing more. I may need to begin meditating, and try to judge its strength. It is possible, if released near a powerful portal of Atys, then the planet itself would help and restore him.
I'm not sure I trust the altars to do the same thing. On a suggestion from Jelathnia, I will be making a trip to Crystabell to see if I can learn anything about the teleporting machine there. A part of me feels they are not the source of power referred to as the 'altars' and simply a means of bringing the manifested flesh to a familiar location.
All this theory-thinking makes me dizzy.
Two nights in a row I have nearly driven myself into unconsciousness. It doesn't help that I haven't been sleeping very well, I suppose. I can't seem to stop thinking, worrying. Things that need done run through my mind endlessly. I can feel Mercellus's presence, and it is as though it never sleeps, moving and flowing through behind my thoughts. Never intruding. Like a leaf riding on the wake.
I would question the Karavan directly, but I can only imagine the horrible things that may come of that. The last thing I want is to be declared some kind of heretic or monster. I wonder if they could still get away with burning a heretic?
I wonder what happened to Kendrus. "And so soon after -" was all he said. I didn't feel right trying to pry, considering that I am the source of his pain, in this matter. It seems like no matter what I do, I only hurt those around me eventually. Either by being unable to give, or by giving too much. Or this time, by my selfishness, my fear, and my unwillingness to trust... to trust Jena to keep Mercellus with us, if I had pushed him back into his own weakend body.
I miss spending time with Enon, but he's so happy with everything he's accomplishing. Who am I to complain at all? I know he thinks I'm always out with some company or another, but that isn't true. More often than not, I am by myself. I like to be alone, sometimes. A lot of times. Yes, he and I are practicing our elemental magics together, but that's a little uncomfortable, whereas careplanning for him brings me a sense of contentment I have been unable to find in many other places. I have to trust that he understands this, from the things I have said.
Jelathnia is working on amplifier crafting, but I may continue some of Vae's research, starting with the notes she left behind. I made a pair for Zyratuan, a friend fo Xyrana's, and they were rather nice for such overall low quality amplifiers, and for the limited range of materials available to me. Thankfully, Kas gave me a few samples from the guild hall to work with later.
There was an outpost battle going on one evening, so my hopes of asking Zyquo out to harvest were put on hold. I shouldn't have been so foolish. I waited for the battle to end, thinking he would contact me when he was free. I was wrong. I'll know better next time. Instead, he joined in the celebrations of Nexus taking the outpost, and trekked young Kalysto to Fairhaven. Not that I begrudge him that. I was in a poor mood. Finally, frustrated enough, I suited up and headed out to gather some materials to experiment with. My friend Bellator was going to join me, but was assisting a guildmate in some tasks for the Kami. Though not interested in what they were doing, I was glad for the company. I managed to get myself into trouble a few times, and Bellator came to help me out. It's amazing what a simple pair of boots can do to the path of fate.
I spent the rest of the night out in the desert with them, after a frustrating conversation with Zyquo. It isn't often I ask, or even attempt to ask him to do things with me. I'd have thought he would have been curious when I said 'perhaps later'. I guess not.
I haven't heard from Valko since we spoke, a few nights before the attack on the House outpost was underway. No one attacked, thankfully. The real battle was at the outpost 'next door', Malmont. The New Empire held. I saw the battle from a distance, and it was beautiful. It sounds terrible to say that about such a display of carnage and homin violence, but from a distance, it was just bright, colorful streams and explosions of light. Scintillating colors streaking across the skies, from the upper hill of the outpost, into to the lower levels, and back again. Breathtaking.
I was surprised he wasn't there. Relieved, too, in a way. I've seen the weariness weighing on him since much sooner than this. A part of me suspects our conversation the night of the declaration against Hightower Farms will be our last. I pray to Jena it isn't, but I think I will understand if it was.
The nodes are being difficult this season. Moreso than other winters. I keep ruining everything I try to make, and I can't seem to remember how to swing my sword effectively.
"Have you read your father's letter, Jeziellia?"
I don't want to. I really don't, but more and more lately, it seems like an inevitability. Part of me screams to burn it, not to open it, to leave whatever 'truth' it holds unknown. It can't be important, can it? Otherwise, he would have just told me when I was there. I'll send word soon, to see how Nysia is doing. Maybe I should write to Emaelle as well. I haven't heard from her since that same visit. Thankfully, though, there's also been no word from Sterga or any of the Rangers, so I assume she's still there and relatively safe.
Another headache. The naps aren't helping much anymore.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Moderators: The Soothsayer, Lanist, Xaphon Zessen
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Company of the Eternal Tree encampment, Nexus MInor
Religious fanatics. Just when I thought things might be settling down a little bit, everything stirs again. So many of them act like their religious choice is the center of the world. So what if I help someone who serves the Karavan? I also help those who serve the Kami. And those who serve no one. I don't care what faction they have chosen to serve. I don't care what guild badge they wear. They are just another homin, needing of help.
The House feels the same way, really. We defend. We've never attacked an outpost. Never. Yet, all I hear are questions "Did you help the Karavan?" "Did you help the Kami?" Yes, and yes. I wish they could understand that. That's just what we do. Our outpost provides crystals to Braveganzar's noble endeavour and we donate more of our stock to other guilds, we trade fairly. I'm just so frustrated with all the political troubles. Enon spends so much time handling them, even when he's not sleeping, I hardly ever get to see him.
So why all the trouble? I wish I knew. This is the least of things that should be on my mind, but at every turn it's in my face. Is it really impossible to exist without devoting ourselves to one side or the other? I believed we could, but more and more, I'm not sure. One will group us with the other, so suddenly we only serve one faction in their view. Convenient, I suppose, in justifying violence.
That seems what this is anymore - justification for violence. What is this proving for Jena or for Ma-Duk? Nothing. It's no longer even about Jena or Ma-Duk, and if it were, the gods are probably ashamed at the levels to which so many of their proclaimed followers have stooped.
I need to go examine the teleporting machine in Crystabell soon. If it really is unattended, then I should have a little time to look it over before the city guards send me away. I'm still not certain it's the answer, but for now, it is a start. Then I must find someone to observe the portal strengths. Perhaps it will be one in the Prime Roots; the older, deeper parts of Atys. Then there's the fireflies and reed leaves to gather. I'm just so tired thinking about everything I need to do.
I helped Kas, in Nexus Minor, last evening. He wanted some of the supreme materials that lace this area. We managed most of them, though they were a little more dangerous than I had expected. Thankfully, we both came out of it whole. I didn't expect to talk about the desert, or about Valko, but somehow that's just what I ended up doing, while we waited for the materials to move closer to the surface. A lot has changed since the early days. There's much more trust and confidence in me, from Kas - that is a very good feeling.
I should see if Zyratuan needs new amplifiers yet, and check again to be sure Leppen is properly outfitted. Oh, and take stock of my materials. Perhaps I should do that before I offer to make things for them.
And to think, Enon's days are a dozen times more complicated. Sometimes, I do miss him. It will pass, I'm sure.
Jeziellia looked to the stack of old logbooks next to her. On top of the pile sat the letter from her father, still sealed. She reached for it, her fingertips hovering over it. Shaking her head, she pulled her hand away.
Religious fanatics. Just when I thought things might be settling down a little bit, everything stirs again. So many of them act like their religious choice is the center of the world. So what if I help someone who serves the Karavan? I also help those who serve the Kami. And those who serve no one. I don't care what faction they have chosen to serve. I don't care what guild badge they wear. They are just another homin, needing of help.
The House feels the same way, really. We defend. We've never attacked an outpost. Never. Yet, all I hear are questions "Did you help the Karavan?" "Did you help the Kami?" Yes, and yes. I wish they could understand that. That's just what we do. Our outpost provides crystals to Braveganzar's noble endeavour and we donate more of our stock to other guilds, we trade fairly. I'm just so frustrated with all the political troubles. Enon spends so much time handling them, even when he's not sleeping, I hardly ever get to see him.
So why all the trouble? I wish I knew. This is the least of things that should be on my mind, but at every turn it's in my face. Is it really impossible to exist without devoting ourselves to one side or the other? I believed we could, but more and more, I'm not sure. One will group us with the other, so suddenly we only serve one faction in their view. Convenient, I suppose, in justifying violence.
That seems what this is anymore - justification for violence. What is this proving for Jena or for Ma-Duk? Nothing. It's no longer even about Jena or Ma-Duk, and if it were, the gods are probably ashamed at the levels to which so many of their proclaimed followers have stooped.
I need to go examine the teleporting machine in Crystabell soon. If it really is unattended, then I should have a little time to look it over before the city guards send me away. I'm still not certain it's the answer, but for now, it is a start. Then I must find someone to observe the portal strengths. Perhaps it will be one in the Prime Roots; the older, deeper parts of Atys. Then there's the fireflies and reed leaves to gather. I'm just so tired thinking about everything I need to do.
I helped Kas, in Nexus Minor, last evening. He wanted some of the supreme materials that lace this area. We managed most of them, though they were a little more dangerous than I had expected. Thankfully, we both came out of it whole. I didn't expect to talk about the desert, or about Valko, but somehow that's just what I ended up doing, while we waited for the materials to move closer to the surface. A lot has changed since the early days. There's much more trust and confidence in me, from Kas - that is a very good feeling.
I should see if Zyratuan needs new amplifiers yet, and check again to be sure Leppen is properly outfitted. Oh, and take stock of my materials. Perhaps I should do that before I offer to make things for them.
And to think, Enon's days are a dozen times more complicated. Sometimes, I do miss him. It will pass, I'm sure.
Jeziellia looked to the stack of old logbooks next to her. On top of the pile sat the letter from her father, still sealed. She reached for it, her fingertips hovering over it. Shaking her head, she pulled her hand away.
Re: Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Hallowed Mountain, Abyss of Ichor in the Prime Roots
I went to Crystabell when I first woke. It's true, there are no Karavan Guardians there. Or, there don't appear to be. I was studying the transport device and one of the Karavan confronted me.
They knew something happened at the Silt Sculptors camp. I should have guessed as much at the time, but I was too scared to think about it then. They knew something happened, and they found her and punished her for it. So they know. They know how I've...
They seem to know. Do they still burn homins? Somewhere that no one can see?
I went to see Ba'caussey. She's marked now. Marks of shame she calls them, chastisment is what the Karavan said. I don't know what it means, but she was wearing little more than rags and would not come into the main parts of the camp. The others seemed to ignore that she existed.
"Are you sure you're ready to let him go?"
No, I'm not. She knows I'm not. Somehow, that Trykette sees right through me.
"You must be ready to send him away when you do it. He must not carry any of your doubt with him... Even if this may be a heavy price on you. I am sorry Lady. Jena have mercy upon you."
Perfect faith. Am I capable of that?
And then, with all of this, there's really no one to talk to. It will be the same, ultimately, as the original choice. No one to help me, only to catch or drop me afterward.
Kendrus says that Perun is well. I guess he's isolated his Seed from me. Even when I sent him away, I didn't do that to him. I didn't leave him worrying or wondering if I was alright. I didn't make it so that he could not tell whether I was alive, or dead.
With the political upheavals, Kas and Enon are busy. And the other two homins I would talk to about this - Kendrus and Perun - my presence is only a reminder of pain.
So here I sit, in the darkness of the Prime Roots. There's a sap storm coming. I can feel it in the scars on my feet. There's always a tingle, like a light charge in the air, before the storms. I welcome it today. Sap dampening my hair and clothing, the physical representation of the power of Atys.
The power of Atys. I will remember that. A sap storm. There must be a sap storm.
While letting the sap storm pass, I told Enon about some of it. Of course, trying to tell someone else about it really shows me how much I don't understand, and how many of my ideas are half-thoughts, and of little use to anyone else. I don't really know what I'm doing. I only know that I have to do something. I won't release him to True Death without some hope.
I went to Crystabell when I first woke. It's true, there are no Karavan Guardians there. Or, there don't appear to be. I was studying the transport device and one of the Karavan confronted me.
They knew something happened at the Silt Sculptors camp. I should have guessed as much at the time, but I was too scared to think about it then. They knew something happened, and they found her and punished her for it. So they know. They know how I've...
They seem to know. Do they still burn homins? Somewhere that no one can see?
I went to see Ba'caussey. She's marked now. Marks of shame she calls them, chastisment is what the Karavan said. I don't know what it means, but she was wearing little more than rags and would not come into the main parts of the camp. The others seemed to ignore that she existed.
"Are you sure you're ready to let him go?"
No, I'm not. She knows I'm not. Somehow, that Trykette sees right through me.
"You must be ready to send him away when you do it. He must not carry any of your doubt with him... Even if this may be a heavy price on you. I am sorry Lady. Jena have mercy upon you."
Perfect faith. Am I capable of that?
And then, with all of this, there's really no one to talk to. It will be the same, ultimately, as the original choice. No one to help me, only to catch or drop me afterward.
Kendrus says that Perun is well. I guess he's isolated his Seed from me. Even when I sent him away, I didn't do that to him. I didn't leave him worrying or wondering if I was alright. I didn't make it so that he could not tell whether I was alive, or dead.
With the political upheavals, Kas and Enon are busy. And the other two homins I would talk to about this - Kendrus and Perun - my presence is only a reminder of pain.
So here I sit, in the darkness of the Prime Roots. There's a sap storm coming. I can feel it in the scars on my feet. There's always a tingle, like a light charge in the air, before the storms. I welcome it today. Sap dampening my hair and clothing, the physical representation of the power of Atys.
The power of Atys. I will remember that. A sap storm. There must be a sap storm.
While letting the sap storm pass, I told Enon about some of it. Of course, trying to tell someone else about it really shows me how much I don't understand, and how many of my ideas are half-thoughts, and of little use to anyone else. I don't really know what I'm doing. I only know that I have to do something. I won't release him to True Death without some hope.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Jeziellia tossed and turned. Her hair was plastered to her cheeks and forehead by a thin layer of sweat, the tendrils imitating the fingers of flame that consumed her in her dreams. A scream wrenched her from her sleep. She bolted upright, looking around. It took her a moment to realize the scream had been her own. Her sleeping gown was drenched with sweat, clinging to her body. Once again, the bedding was damp. Jeziellia sighed, looking around.
Enon was gone already. Likely to the Lost Valley Stronghold to defend OmegaV's claim on the outpost. She turned, setting her bare feet on the floor. Her eyes traced the scars from her toes to her ankles. They were red, irritated. They looked just months, instead of years, old. She cringed as she stood, the pressure of her weight on the sensitive skin caused an uncomfortable stretching feeling. She sat back down.
Jeziellia pulled her pack from underneath the bed, flipping open the top. Nestled in the corner, wrapped in a piece of softened leather was an amber jar. Inside was a gray colored salve. Emberstorm had made it, at Zyquo's request. There wasn't much left, but it would help for now.
The dreams are coming more often. I think it's because of Mercellus. I can almost feel him moving deeper. Stirring things. Sometimes it feels like a rumbling deep in my mind. The headaches, the sleeplessness, and now the nightmares.
Jena, help me. I'm still afraid I'm going to find Karavan guardians waiting for me when I go outside in the mornings. I worry about Ba'caussey, too.
I've been distracted, confused, irritable. Maybe lonely, maybe sad. I've been thinking of going to my father's for a season. I wrote Enon a letter. There was a response resting on the desk when I woke. I really do need to think about all of this. It's so much easier not to think. To lose myself in digging, to focus on keeping up with the schedule of battles, to do anything but think.
Enon was gone already. Likely to the Lost Valley Stronghold to defend OmegaV's claim on the outpost. She turned, setting her bare feet on the floor. Her eyes traced the scars from her toes to her ankles. They were red, irritated. They looked just months, instead of years, old. She cringed as she stood, the pressure of her weight on the sensitive skin caused an uncomfortable stretching feeling. She sat back down.
Jeziellia pulled her pack from underneath the bed, flipping open the top. Nestled in the corner, wrapped in a piece of softened leather was an amber jar. Inside was a gray colored salve. Emberstorm had made it, at Zyquo's request. There wasn't much left, but it would help for now.
* * *
Enon's Apartment, Yrkanis, Majestic Garden of Verdant HeightsThe dreams are coming more often. I think it's because of Mercellus. I can almost feel him moving deeper. Stirring things. Sometimes it feels like a rumbling deep in my mind. The headaches, the sleeplessness, and now the nightmares.
Jena, help me. I'm still afraid I'm going to find Karavan guardians waiting for me when I go outside in the mornings. I worry about Ba'caussey, too.
I've been distracted, confused, irritable. Maybe lonely, maybe sad. I've been thinking of going to my father's for a season. I wrote Enon a letter. There was a response resting on the desk when I woke. I really do need to think about all of this. It's so much easier not to think. To lose myself in digging, to focus on keeping up with the schedule of battles, to do anything but think.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Yrkanis, Majestic Garden of Verdant Heights
The Royal Inspectors have just left the hall and I'm still a bit puzzled as to what exactly they are looking for, or what it was that caused Kas to be so Un-Kas-Like. I've seen him flustered, both with blushing, and non-blushing things. I've seen him upset, in a way. I've seen a lot of things, but I have never seen him not have an answer, nor have I ever sensed a desperation in him like I did last night.
I'm glad they at least believed me enough to follow me to the empty building in the Tylini Ward. Of course, there was no goo-study paraphenalia there, but it'll give them something to investigate for a few days at the least. I can blame it on a dream, if they press. Or rumors.
There are more than a few things missing from the Hall. Not the material storage or anything, but things missing from Enon's office, most notably. Nothing I could name specifically. It just feels different in here. A gap in papers here. A missing folder there. I wonder if that's the burden I sensed Kas carrying, though there was also something the matter with Jelathnia. I imagine the child is due very soon.
I'm sure this will all come up again, and at a more opportune time for me to ask Kas a few questions. At this point, I deserve to know exactly why I was asked to distract the Inspectors.
The Royal Inspectors have just left the hall and I'm still a bit puzzled as to what exactly they are looking for, or what it was that caused Kas to be so Un-Kas-Like. I've seen him flustered, both with blushing, and non-blushing things. I've seen him upset, in a way. I've seen a lot of things, but I have never seen him not have an answer, nor have I ever sensed a desperation in him like I did last night.
I'm glad they at least believed me enough to follow me to the empty building in the Tylini Ward. Of course, there was no goo-study paraphenalia there, but it'll give them something to investigate for a few days at the least. I can blame it on a dream, if they press. Or rumors.
There are more than a few things missing from the Hall. Not the material storage or anything, but things missing from Enon's office, most notably. Nothing I could name specifically. It just feels different in here. A gap in papers here. A missing folder there. I wonder if that's the burden I sensed Kas carrying, though there was also something the matter with Jelathnia. I imagine the child is due very soon.
I'm sure this will all come up again, and at a more opportune time for me to ask Kas a few questions. At this point, I deserve to know exactly why I was asked to distract the Inspectors.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Yrkanis, Majestic Garden of Verdant Heights
This autumn has been busy.
Kas and I have yet to take that trip to Nexus, like he wanted to do. Maybe winter. I imagine he's busy with Kima, as I have heard Jelathnia refer to the child. Small, pink, and "neat".
It all made me think. I'll be twenty-seven next Fallenor. Will I ever have children? Or even a child? What would they be like, I wonder? I did ask Enon, when we were traveling through the Void so he could work on his pike-fighting. "Not until I know I have something to give them." I know he means the restoration of his House, and the noble status his family once held, but all of that is so much less important than a parent's love. And if the House cannot flourish in these new Kingdoms the way the noble houses did in ancient Matia? Then that's it?
There's already so much he has to give.
I don't know if I'm ready for a child anyway, so it's a moot point for now. Plus, there is the matter of Mercellus still inside of me. There are all kinds of theories that could come from that. What happens to a child's awareness forming inside of me, while I house my own and Mercellus's?
Perun sent me a letter. After over a cycle of silence - I could not even sense his seed, it was as though he had died - he finally sent a letter. I had been in Nexus Minor, harvesting with Zyquo. Zyquo is so very kind to me. I wish that kindness could undo the poor view some have of him.
When the message came, Zyquo understood I had to go. I traveled to Muse Watch Lake, to the northern side. He wanted me to release Mercellus. I understand how he feels, I think, but I still can't do it. He was breaking my heart, I swear. Even after I thought I could send him away and never see him again. After everything, I do still care about Perun. I don't talk about him or think about it, or even hint at it when I am with Enon - he would just be upset. Rightfully, I suppose, but still. How I feel is how I feel. Perun did not do anything to intentionally hurt anyone. He's a good Seed.
We spoke for a long while. The Seeds will be disbanding. He'll be joining up for voluntary work with the Rangers, probably in Almati. Maybe out near Silan. I hope he doesn't end up patroling the Exodus path.
I wonder where Kendrus will go? He's another very kind Homin. Does he have another home in mind? Will he be leaving the lands, like so many others? Would he accept an offer of a place within the House? I don't know, given his friendship with Perun, and Enon's distaste for the same. Still, I don't want to see him alone. Funny that I'm worrying about him, I guess. There's so much else...
I don't think Perun and I will try to avoid each other anymore. I don't know what will change, truly. We rarely saw each other before I sent him away. I've made an axe for him, and sent word. I hope - I hope he did not ask me to make the axe, just to make me happy, to distract me while he left to Silan or something. I will give him until Winter turns, and then send another letter, perhaps try to reach him. I'm afraid of that nothingness I sensed before, when he isolated his seed from me. It is disquieting.
Kendrus gave me Mercellus's herbs and the bottle of peppermint a couple seasons ago. I ran into him on my way to help defend the Lost Stronghold, in the Void. Such a short time ago, really, but it feels so much longer.
I still haven't read my father's letter, inevitable as it is.
This autumn has been busy.
Kas and I have yet to take that trip to Nexus, like he wanted to do. Maybe winter. I imagine he's busy with Kima, as I have heard Jelathnia refer to the child. Small, pink, and "neat".
It all made me think. I'll be twenty-seven next Fallenor. Will I ever have children? Or even a child? What would they be like, I wonder? I did ask Enon, when we were traveling through the Void so he could work on his pike-fighting. "Not until I know I have something to give them." I know he means the restoration of his House, and the noble status his family once held, but all of that is so much less important than a parent's love. And if the House cannot flourish in these new Kingdoms the way the noble houses did in ancient Matia? Then that's it?
There's already so much he has to give.
I don't know if I'm ready for a child anyway, so it's a moot point for now. Plus, there is the matter of Mercellus still inside of me. There are all kinds of theories that could come from that. What happens to a child's awareness forming inside of me, while I house my own and Mercellus's?
Perun sent me a letter. After over a cycle of silence - I could not even sense his seed, it was as though he had died - he finally sent a letter. I had been in Nexus Minor, harvesting with Zyquo. Zyquo is so very kind to me. I wish that kindness could undo the poor view some have of him.
When the message came, Zyquo understood I had to go. I traveled to Muse Watch Lake, to the northern side. He wanted me to release Mercellus. I understand how he feels, I think, but I still can't do it. He was breaking my heart, I swear. Even after I thought I could send him away and never see him again. After everything, I do still care about Perun. I don't talk about him or think about it, or even hint at it when I am with Enon - he would just be upset. Rightfully, I suppose, but still. How I feel is how I feel. Perun did not do anything to intentionally hurt anyone. He's a good Seed.
We spoke for a long while. The Seeds will be disbanding. He'll be joining up for voluntary work with the Rangers, probably in Almati. Maybe out near Silan. I hope he doesn't end up patroling the Exodus path.
I wonder where Kendrus will go? He's another very kind Homin. Does he have another home in mind? Will he be leaving the lands, like so many others? Would he accept an offer of a place within the House? I don't know, given his friendship with Perun, and Enon's distaste for the same. Still, I don't want to see him alone. Funny that I'm worrying about him, I guess. There's so much else...
I don't think Perun and I will try to avoid each other anymore. I don't know what will change, truly. We rarely saw each other before I sent him away. I've made an axe for him, and sent word. I hope - I hope he did not ask me to make the axe, just to make me happy, to distract me while he left to Silan or something. I will give him until Winter turns, and then send another letter, perhaps try to reach him. I'm afraid of that nothingness I sensed before, when he isolated his seed from me. It is disquieting.
Kendrus gave me Mercellus's herbs and the bottle of peppermint a couple seasons ago. I ran into him on my way to help defend the Lost Stronghold, in the Void. Such a short time ago, really, but it feels so much longer.
I still haven't read my father's letter, inevitable as it is.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Towerbridge, Knoll of Dissent of Verdant Heights
For a season now, I've been carrying the truth in my pocket. When Kas asked me to distract the Inspectors, it was because he was removing all Old Kingdom documents from the Hall. He said this was because all historical documents fell under the ownership of the King. While this sounds plausible, I must now reconsider the whole-truth of this reason. Do I even bother to ask? Can I expect to be told more than I may understand? Regardless -
Because of the plausibility, the possibility, I had taken to carrying with me the letter and logbooks that Calaith Mara'Tyr had given to me during my visit, with Enon, to help Nysia. Just after winter started, I met with Perun. To deliver the axe I had made for him, and to ask if I could attend the first portion of the Tryker funeral for Mercellus. Finally, some truth. They don't want me there. I'm neither family, nor 'clan', and regardless of everything else, I make them uncomfortable. So be it. I have considered not going at all. I don't want to make any homin uncomfortable, and Mercellus is not dead.
I decided, with this knowledge, and because the time seemed right, to read my "father's" letter. Perun sat with me, though his presence made little difference.
He's not my father. Calaith Mara'Tyr is the brother of my real father, Calicci Mara'Tyr, who was executed almost 24 Jena Years ago, for unorthodox studies involving the Goo. My mother died of an infection, which caused childbirth difficulties. This is the truth of my parentage. This is why I was locked away and hidden, why Mireya Mara'Tyr hates me, and why her older children never treated me like a sibling. This is why her family was forced to leave settlement after settlement, living the half-lives of Runners.
This doesn't come as much of a surprise, or half as much of a shock as I might've thought. It seems paltry, given my initial reaction when the letter was given to me. No, my near-fainting spell wasn't because of this letter, I imagine, but the one that followed. The letter from Calicci Mara'Tyr, written the eve of his execution, to me.
My difficulty with drawing sap, my difficulty making real connections with other homins, my isolation, my ... All of it explained so simply, as an 'accident'. A mistake to be forgiven. The reason I have never known my father or my mother. The reason I have never known the love of true parents, the reason I always feel alone, apart from others. All his fault, and he calls it an accident. He did not expect me to survive to read the letter, yet he wrote it.
I don't know if I hate him, if I love him, or if I'm just confused by it all. I am a little scared at what it all means, what it may mean for Mercellus.
Oh, Mercellus, please forgive me. He's delved deep into my own essence, battling the remnants of the infection. I must find away to stop him, to have him rest, to strengthen him. As it stands now, he grows thinner in spiritual form, and this is troubling. I tried last night. I failed. He's so alone, a little frightened, and fighting. I need to draw him back to the surface of things.
Enon.
"And in your soul... your essence recognizes me... and you run."
I did it again, last night, didn't I? I ran. What am I supposed to think of this? I'm not sure what to think of it. He knew? No, he suspected. I think he knew. That feeling, I remember that feeling in the Trove. I remember it all so vividly. But to really see what it was? The image is burnt into my mind, though I keep rejecting it. It can't be true, can it?
Yes, Jeziellia, it can.
I need to speak with him about it, about it all. After so long, I deserve to know more of the truth, especially after last night. It is time I grew up, and saw the world and everything it is. It's not simple, and it's not inherently good or bad. Will he tell me the truth? Show me again? Can he?
I hope.
Fear, so much fear. I must master it.
Jeziellia closed her journal with trembling hands. The Border Guard was already busy patrolling, below her. Around her, all of Atys continued as if nothing had changed. Jeziellia ran her fingers back through her hair, pushing out the pins that held it up in the delicate twist, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. She opened her journal, and penned one sentence at the bottom of the page:
Nothing's changed but what I know.
For a season now, I've been carrying the truth in my pocket. When Kas asked me to distract the Inspectors, it was because he was removing all Old Kingdom documents from the Hall. He said this was because all historical documents fell under the ownership of the King. While this sounds plausible, I must now reconsider the whole-truth of this reason. Do I even bother to ask? Can I expect to be told more than I may understand? Regardless -
Because of the plausibility, the possibility, I had taken to carrying with me the letter and logbooks that Calaith Mara'Tyr had given to me during my visit, with Enon, to help Nysia. Just after winter started, I met with Perun. To deliver the axe I had made for him, and to ask if I could attend the first portion of the Tryker funeral for Mercellus. Finally, some truth. They don't want me there. I'm neither family, nor 'clan', and regardless of everything else, I make them uncomfortable. So be it. I have considered not going at all. I don't want to make any homin uncomfortable, and Mercellus is not dead.
I decided, with this knowledge, and because the time seemed right, to read my "father's" letter. Perun sat with me, though his presence made little difference.
He's not my father. Calaith Mara'Tyr is the brother of my real father, Calicci Mara'Tyr, who was executed almost 24 Jena Years ago, for unorthodox studies involving the Goo. My mother died of an infection, which caused childbirth difficulties. This is the truth of my parentage. This is why I was locked away and hidden, why Mireya Mara'Tyr hates me, and why her older children never treated me like a sibling. This is why her family was forced to leave settlement after settlement, living the half-lives of Runners.
This doesn't come as much of a surprise, or half as much of a shock as I might've thought. It seems paltry, given my initial reaction when the letter was given to me. No, my near-fainting spell wasn't because of this letter, I imagine, but the one that followed. The letter from Calicci Mara'Tyr, written the eve of his execution, to me.
My difficulty with drawing sap, my difficulty making real connections with other homins, my isolation, my ... All of it explained so simply, as an 'accident'. A mistake to be forgiven. The reason I have never known my father or my mother. The reason I have never known the love of true parents, the reason I always feel alone, apart from others. All his fault, and he calls it an accident. He did not expect me to survive to read the letter, yet he wrote it.
I don't know if I hate him, if I love him, or if I'm just confused by it all. I am a little scared at what it all means, what it may mean for Mercellus.
Oh, Mercellus, please forgive me. He's delved deep into my own essence, battling the remnants of the infection. I must find away to stop him, to have him rest, to strengthen him. As it stands now, he grows thinner in spiritual form, and this is troubling. I tried last night. I failed. He's so alone, a little frightened, and fighting. I need to draw him back to the surface of things.
Enon.
"And in your soul... your essence recognizes me... and you run."
I did it again, last night, didn't I? I ran. What am I supposed to think of this? I'm not sure what to think of it. He knew? No, he suspected. I think he knew. That feeling, I remember that feeling in the Trove. I remember it all so vividly. But to really see what it was? The image is burnt into my mind, though I keep rejecting it. It can't be true, can it?
Yes, Jeziellia, it can.
I need to speak with him about it, about it all. After so long, I deserve to know more of the truth, especially after last night. It is time I grew up, and saw the world and everything it is. It's not simple, and it's not inherently good or bad. Will he tell me the truth? Show me again? Can he?
I hope.
Fear, so much fear. I must master it.
Jeziellia closed her journal with trembling hands. The Border Guard was already busy patrolling, below her. Around her, all of Atys continued as if nothing had changed. Jeziellia ran her fingers back through her hair, pushing out the pins that held it up in the delicate twist, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. She opened her journal, and penned one sentence at the bottom of the page:
Nothing's changed but what I know.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Yrkanis, Majestic Garden of Verdant Heights
I haven't been feeling well, since Spring came. There are the headaches; they make it difficult to focus on much, even the digging with which I've become so disciplined. Then, my feet.
The scars are irritated, red. Sensitive. Standing doesn't hurt so much as it tends to ache across my skin a little.
I'll give it some time to stop, before I tell Enon. I don't want him to worry. He has enough to manage right now.
I have to find a way to bring Mercellus up, out from where he is. Soon.
What does it mean to have been born an Etchmarc?
I haven't been feeling well, since Spring came. There are the headaches; they make it difficult to focus on much, even the digging with which I've become so disciplined. Then, my feet.
The scars are irritated, red. Sensitive. Standing doesn't hurt so much as it tends to ache across my skin a little.
I'll give it some time to stop, before I tell Enon. I don't want him to worry. He has enough to manage right now.
I have to find a way to bring Mercellus up, out from where he is. Soon.
What does it mean to have been born an Etchmarc?
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Yrkanis, Majestic Garden of Verdant Heights
Jeziellia lifted the large polished shell and leaned it against the wall of her apartment. The oil and sap lacquer had been polished to a shine - enough to show her reflection. The skirt draped over her hips, nearly to her ankles. She frowned, looking down at her feet. She'd stitched together sandals in the Matisian style, which exposed patches of her scarred feet, especially her toes. The scars were an angry red. To her critical eye, they stood out brightly against the green leather. She had wanted to go barefoot to Mercellus's funeral, but that was out of the question. She lifted her eyes back to the reflecting shell.
Hanging around her neck, suspended by and wrapped in a length of twine, was the piece of amber she'd been given in the Silt Sculptor camp. The piece of amber that Kyerna had dug up, that Ba'caussey had handed to her. The piece of amber she'd used to execute Mercellus's fate. The Zoraï top she wore flattered her figure, but more importantly allowed the amber to rest against her skin, just below her sternum, where her ribs came to close around her heart.
Absently, she smoothed her hands over her sleeves, regarding her reflection for a few moments before turning away, and crossing to her desk.
Mercellus's funeral is soon. I'm sure the Seeds are already gathering. I wish any of us had been able to find his family. Then again, I'm glad we could not. He's not dead, after all. There is no sense in causing them grief over one of their own. I wish Perun and the others could understand this too.
To them, he is dead and gone. To them, he may as well have experienced True Death and moved on into Jena's keeping. Jena forgive me, but I can't do that. I can't let him go off into that alone, or even at all. He is very much alive, and inside of me. Though it may cost me my own immortal spirit, I will see this through, and I will see Mercellus restored.
I will meditate a while, before it is time. I want Mercellus to know the love that is here for him on Atys, for him to know the reasons to fight for living, to grow strong while he's in my keeping.
Jeziellia lifted the large polished shell and leaned it against the wall of her apartment. The oil and sap lacquer had been polished to a shine - enough to show her reflection. The skirt draped over her hips, nearly to her ankles. She frowned, looking down at her feet. She'd stitched together sandals in the Matisian style, which exposed patches of her scarred feet, especially her toes. The scars were an angry red. To her critical eye, they stood out brightly against the green leather. She had wanted to go barefoot to Mercellus's funeral, but that was out of the question. She lifted her eyes back to the reflecting shell.
Hanging around her neck, suspended by and wrapped in a length of twine, was the piece of amber she'd been given in the Silt Sculptor camp. The piece of amber that Kyerna had dug up, that Ba'caussey had handed to her. The piece of amber she'd used to execute Mercellus's fate. The Zoraï top she wore flattered her figure, but more importantly allowed the amber to rest against her skin, just below her sternum, where her ribs came to close around her heart.
Absently, she smoothed her hands over her sleeves, regarding her reflection for a few moments before turning away, and crossing to her desk.
Mercellus's funeral is soon. I'm sure the Seeds are already gathering. I wish any of us had been able to find his family. Then again, I'm glad we could not. He's not dead, after all. There is no sense in causing them grief over one of their own. I wish Perun and the others could understand this too.
To them, he is dead and gone. To them, he may as well have experienced True Death and moved on into Jena's keeping. Jena forgive me, but I can't do that. I can't let him go off into that alone, or even at all. He is very much alive, and inside of me. Though it may cost me my own immortal spirit, I will see this through, and I will see Mercellus restored.
I will meditate a while, before it is time. I want Mercellus to know the love that is here for him on Atys, for him to know the reasons to fight for living, to grow strong while he's in my keeping.
Journal of Jeziellia, Matis
Yrkanis, Majestic Garden of Verdant Heights
It's a sad kind of peace that's come over me since autumn came. Since the funeral. Soon, it will be time to release Mercellus - either into fresh new life, or into True Death. I pray for the former. He's weak, wounded in me. I've tried so very hard to nourish him, to find a way to help him, and I'm at a loss. No one else seems to have any answers. I don't know where else to go. Perun? Maybe. But Perun would rather I release him to True Death, than to fight for a chance that Mercellus might live again.
That, I can't do. But I know that I must release him soon. If he dies within me, he will be denied the grace of going into Jena's keeping, he will be denied a second chance to live. I cannot do that. I would rather he go on into True Death than to simply cease to exist, save as a memory.
I wonder if his brother has left yet. If I can find a chance to speak with him alone, I have something I'd like to try. Perhaps I can even travel with him to his clan's home. That may be too dangerous, however. Especially given the blasphemous nature of what I am doing. I find myself avoiding Jena's temples now, for a fear of the Karavan priests, of condemnation.
I'm not sure how to express this strange peace. I don't feel defeated. I feel as thought I've simply come to accept something that is as it must be. Jena will do as she sees is right and true, and how can I question it? Really?
I believe I know where I will do it - unless I find further information, better information before then.
It's a sad kind of peace that's come over me since autumn came. Since the funeral. Soon, it will be time to release Mercellus - either into fresh new life, or into True Death. I pray for the former. He's weak, wounded in me. I've tried so very hard to nourish him, to find a way to help him, and I'm at a loss. No one else seems to have any answers. I don't know where else to go. Perun? Maybe. But Perun would rather I release him to True Death, than to fight for a chance that Mercellus might live again.
That, I can't do. But I know that I must release him soon. If he dies within me, he will be denied the grace of going into Jena's keeping, he will be denied a second chance to live. I cannot do that. I would rather he go on into True Death than to simply cease to exist, save as a memory.
I wonder if his brother has left yet. If I can find a chance to speak with him alone, I have something I'd like to try. Perhaps I can even travel with him to his clan's home. That may be too dangerous, however. Especially given the blasphemous nature of what I am doing. I find myself avoiding Jena's temples now, for a fear of the Karavan priests, of condemnation.
I'm not sure how to express this strange peace. I don't feel defeated. I feel as thought I've simply come to accept something that is as it must be. Jena will do as she sees is right and true, and how can I question it? Really?
I believe I know where I will do it - unless I find further information, better information before then.