#ic diary

((Scattered throughout the margins of the book, and a few pages here and there, are random thoughts and notes…these are just a few of Susaan’s musings…))

I been telling so many folks now about where I came from. I suppose it were only time till I wound up dreaming of it all again. Going back there to that time, to the place.

I was a wee lass again – no more than five or six – sitting on my mat between the yurts. The bustle of the Kagon village around me. Other kids playing in the moonlight. The grown-ups talking and laughing. The fire was crackling warm in the center of the camp. The smells of the stews and the meats cooking.

And I was just there, brushing my doll’s hair. I say doll. The thing was a bundle of grasses tied together around a rock, segmented off to look like arms, legs. I used sheep wool for her hair; the other kids used horsehair, but I couldn’t find any to use. The ties were all loose, the grass wasn’t tight enough, the rock was too big…but she was my doll. I made her myself.

And I remember the noise. This man, clearing his throat. I remember the noise because the sound was so…final. I knew I were in trouble. I couldn’t hear any of the other kids laughing any more. Everything was just silent. And I turned around, small and helpless, and there was the elder. Just staring me down, like I’d insulted his mother. His hand came down. Grabbed me by the hair.

I remember screaming, but the dream was silent. Thank Nhaama it was silent, but I can remember screaming in fear and in pain as he dragged me to the center of the village and threw me at the fire. I remember the heat of it on my face, I was so close to it, closer than I was ever allowed to be. And then strong hands wrested my doll away from my little fingers, my doll dammit…

“Where did you find this?” he asked.

“I made her,” I remember telling him, my voice a whisper. I never spoke; I was never allowed to speak.

“Lies. Where did you find this?”

I shook my head. I knew it wasn’t ok to lie. “I made her,” I said again, and the other kids all laughed at me.

“Head too big.” “How awful.” “Stupid pale scale.”

The elder growled, and he turned his back to me, holding my dolly up for everyone to see. “Everything touched by her is unclean. She creates vile mockeries of everything we hold dear. She is not of Nhaama. Look at what this suntouched one has done now!”

And everyone erupted in noise around me. Cruel laughter. Angry shouts. Spitting. Dirt kicked at me.

And then he turned and just…tossed her into the fire. My dolly. My friend.

I wake up before the other kids can start to chase me away again. Before the tribe starts to eat meal together. Before I’m thrown a bowl of bread and lukewarm stew, the burned dredges from the cookpot.

I was six turns old. Six.

Dear Diary,

I feel I am still struggling with the burden that carrying the Takeda sword places upon me. I know I have questioned it before. The words of my love, Vylette, quelled the questions and thoughts before but they continue to surface. Am I bringing honor to the family name? Am I holding to the right principles in the name of bearing the weight of the sword? I sometimes do not know and this troubles me.

I find solace at night in Vylette’s arms and her love so the nightmares that first plagued me when I took another’s spirit from their body have not found their way to me despite the number rising. Did I rob those people their chance at redemption? What of their parents, their lovers, their children, their siblings? My mind races to wonder what these people I may have wronged with the end of a blade may have been to someone else in the world. Will those people soon come seeking the one who stole the one they loved away.

And could I even blame them if they did? If so0meone out there took Vylette from me would I just leave it to the ways of Kami? My mother? I know I know! I have lost my father and brother but, Diary, do you know the anger that festered in me when I found my path passing that of a Garlean embassy? To see those walls. Those Garleans walking along the grounds and especially the guards. Often I wondered if those were soldiers on the lines that may have taken my family from me.

I still find thoughts tracing back to my lost father and brother. Wondering who they would be if they had not been taken from me. What would they think of me now or of Vylette? How much laughter and happiness would have been in my life with them circling me along with the person I love? And it was taken from me just like I may have taken those chances away from others. Am I truly honorable? 

I have spoken to Vylette and my sensei Kaelivh about these thoughts. Both understood my burden and what they say to me is true. I protected myself and others. If I did not I would not be here. I would not be experiencing the happiness my path holds for me now. I wouldn’t be experiencing the world around me and finding my path in a world that long existed only in books for me.

Maybe the answers will come to my path soon or maybe I will stop being so harsh on myself. Is that what I am doing? I still wonder where Synaia is and miss her blunt and hard words to me during times I would share my inner thoughts with her. I have found sensei and his sister are similar to this so maybe it’s a highlander thing? Or maybe I just miss Synaia’s friendship and the sisterhood we built since she never had a second thought of knocking me upside the head to get me thinking straight! 

Anyroad, I have bothered you enough with my words, Diary! I will let you be for now and continue my dance. To know my path is to know myself and I will find my answers to continue walking my path in this world. I will not relent in finding my way. That I promise to you.

Bye Diary

((Scattered throughout the margins of the book, and a few pages here and there, are random thoughts and notes…these are just a few of Susaan’s musings…))

For whom do I write in this tome? A pale girl, who weeps in the storm, Her tears falling silently on our skin The days of our hero stretching on for unknown years gone by, Hearing the fear around her, “Our souls will be soaked in sin” These memories ache with the weight of tomorrow.

Who is this that fights? Who is this that is covered in flies? Who falls with her face down in the dirt?

One brings shadow, one brings light Nhaama and Azim - Two-toned echoes tumbling through time. These are the stories we’ve heard all our life. Threescore tribes, and my life wasted in one, ten years of dreams cast aside Four-fold knowing, my pain has no end in sight One brings the shadow, one brings the light for One dark future that no one survives We look to the heavens, seeing the yol soar, and On their shadows, away we fly

The road that we walk ever further and further away from our home Is lost in the flood of a hate that I cannot forgive or forget Here proud angels bathe in the sins of their devoted and count Their wages of blood At this, we dream of their end, and here with the world's end, do we cast off their shackles of lies and move on towards tomorrow

I should show this to Suzu once we rescue her...

((Scattered throughout the margins of the book, and a few pages here and there, are random thoughts and notes…these are just a few of Susaan’s musings…))

Had another dream tonight. I’m beginning to wonder like if this is what Ayame meant when she said it don’t get easy, it don’t get “normal.”

It was Ashnan this time. They was hurt, and I was running for them. I reached out and took hold of their sleeve with my hand, and then it erupted in flames. Before I knew it my arm was gone, and when I looked back up at them

It was that damned mage again. Red mask, black cloak, and snide sneer on her face. She used another spell and I screamed and screamed as I woke up. I think I disturbed Ashnan and Ana like, and I don’t know if Teo or Anzu were there, too. I tried to push up and found I couldn’t, and that’s when I remembered my arm was gone again, and I just cried even more.

This really is real. It ain’t a dream.

((Scattered throughout the margins of the book, and a few pages here and there, are random thoughts and notes…these are just a few of Susaan’s musings…))

I don’t know why I be crying like. It all just came out of the dark. One moment I be thinking about when Ashnan and Sarangerel be celebrating their namesdays and it just…

I know I’ve seen near 30 summers. At least I hope me maths is right. Tribe couldn’t be rid of me until I was of age to marry, and I be seeing other girls me age get carted off as early as sixteen turns. I know that first year they couldn’t get rid of me; even them weird Oronir didn’t want me. Crazy sun-loving…

Anyway, it was another turn before they could be finding anyone what wanted me for a wife. They were thrilled to be rid of me, and for 3 whole sheep, too.

He turned around and sold me off to the pirates I know I had a few summers in Eorzea before the Calamity rained down, and another few years after that…everything has just been off of when the summers start, and just because that was when the bloody bastards started looking to sell me off.

I don’t have no bloody name…so I don’t have no bloody namesday. But I finally have reasons and folks to celebrate. Folks what would want to celebrate.

Spoke with Lyta concerning the tattoos and inking. She was less than enthusiastic – fact, I’d say she’d done seen a ghost when asked. She had a mountain of research on the matter, same as what I’d been looking for. Perfect windfall. She advises caution. This be a dangerous path, especially for those what can’t be using magic, or not very well. Even for those what can manipulate their aether easier, it can have consequences.

Her research delved into harnessing and trapping aether. Seems her subject…needs aether replenishment? Can’t utilize her own…some kind of accident, I guess? A lot of this ain’t exactly making sense to me, I’m still being too new to all this. She describes aether “traps,” meant to act as “batteries” of sort, that then travel around the lass’s body in more tattoos. Ink is bloody heavy – she used conductive metals, needed to scar her to get the ink in, it seems.

Applications: risky. Focus on more basic arcanimas for now and only on mages. Cancel appointment with the big bloke, I can’t be risking this on him. Instead of “spells cast in waiting,” focus on same geometries as arcanists use that can be used to focus spell (like my staff).

Ink is still something I want to pursue. Blood of caster used in ink should help bind the aether charging easier. Without needing to use the tattoos for same purpose as Lyta, I think I might be on the right track with my crystal ink.

I’ll put it on myself before I risk anyone else. For now, I’ll keep using me paints and practice the designs.

((Scattered throughout the margins of the book, and a few pages here and there, are random thoughts and notes…these are just a few of Susaan’s musings…))

He died. I killed him, he died. Merc and Khala say he weren’t living to begin with – some ‘simulacrum’ or shite – but that look on his face when he started to melt.

The glove worked – I could take the damned shard out of him. But it unraveled the rest of him, too. Chiron was right well pleased and happy – ‘abominations can’t be suffered’ or some shite – and getting frisky.

I ain’t even scared I’m hearing her voice. I half expected to if I’m being honest. But she’s damn right infuriating like, thinking I’m her little plaything. No, bitch, I ain’t. You’re in the damn glove – you’re the tool to be used. Don’t be forgetting that.

I don’t think a few of us will be forgetting that sight for a long time. My poor Sarangerel…and Nath…they took it hard…I can’t say I be blaming them.

((Scattered throughout the margins of the book, and a few pages here and there, are random thoughts and notes…these are just a few of Susaan’s musings…))

Bugger it all. Excitement be done for now. Now I’m actually thinking this gods damned thing through. Of course it’d be working for me. It felt so natural like, too. It slipped on like, and I knew exactly what I was doing with it. Not like the bloody thing was controlling me, but like I just KNEW what to be doing. And gods I was so proud, Nhaama I was so proud.