#gjola arda

[yascaret]

buny christmas! buny christmas!

[gvnbreaker]

A small package arrives for Aja, wrapped in Starlight paper. Within is two packs of a dozen cigarettes each, the packaging of the box a simple but sturdy paper product with a Doman trademark on the front. The tobacco's high-quality, the brand - if familiar - a luxury one. The packages are accompanied by three cigars of likewise quality. A note accompanies it, written in neat, precise writing. 'Happy Starlight.'

Aja does not see the postmoogle arrive, bound to bed as she is--but even from the lower floor, she can hear the soft flap of their wings when they go. Fewer and fewer letters have reached her in the last several turns. Packages even scarcer--even still, she throws her legs over the side of the bed, feet flat against the hardwood planks. Breathes, hesitates, and hesitates some more. When at last she's composed herself to take on the stairs, reaching the top, let alone the front door, is a near thing.

She touches the note into bruised, cut fingers, thumbs the neat, careful handwriting while she inspects the box's contents. It's thoughtful--she'll give them that, but mystery is always a mixed notion.

Is it Kjat's? Bold. Too bold to send this, even for her. No. It isn't cheeky enough. There isn't a flower, there isn't a threat implied in cigarettes. The paper--she gives it a sniff--isn't infused.

Forestay? Maybe. It seemed a gift unlike Gjola, and why would --

Right. Kiaran.

Aja laughs. A tiny laugh, barely a puff through her nose to mark the crooked smirk, worsened by a bloodied lip half a sun healed. A full, real laugh is hard to muster. And it isn't worth the zigzag of pain it would send through her, she knows. She chances a long, slow inhale, letting the chill fill her lungs. A dull ache sets in. More than the cold, more than the way deep breaths strain her bandaging. It livens the bruising about her ribs with a steady, thrumming pulse.

When she returns to bed, Aja places the box on her dresser. The box is worth staring at for half a bell before she decides it's wasteful not to indulge, and plucks a cigar from the rest.

[yascaret]

01

[A brand new leather-bound journal, fastened with a silver clasp in the shape of a coeurlregina’s crown]

Sometimes I travel to market and purchase a book of blank pages. I leave behind the ones that I have filled as though this empty thing might somehow absolve me of all that has come before it. It has never worked. 

It is cool today. In Shirogane. I returned home to fetch some things. The aetheryte does not bother me any longer but it is troublesome to dress for two weathers in one day.

Pe Gjola has moved her things into the workshop. I think she is happy. It is difficult to tell. I do not know why but when we are alone I feel guilt. Her suspicion of my motives was laid bare. Perhaps she is right to have them. Perhaps I can not do any thing good for the sake of good. But it is wrong to keep this wealth that I have. And it is right to give it to others. She seemed to me in need of succor. But I stand to benefit from this arrangement. Is it then truly charity or is it transaction.

I enjoy her company. I am not certain she enjoys mine. That is all right. I did not bring her in to humor me. But I would like it if she liked me.

I am alone this night. And for the next many I think. Pjel and Aja left together quite suddenly. With Kiaran. 

I ended things with Kiaran. She named things for what they are. A mess. My heart ached to write the letter but it needed doing. She made her contempt of me clear the next sun. So that is done. I should be glad for it. Perhaps some part of me is. But I sit now at my desk in the workshop more alone than I have been for many turns. It is easier to see things for what they are when I am alone. But I do not see anything now. I do not feel anything. 

Aja mislikes Kiaran. As she should. I am wrong to care for her. But some times it feels as thought I am second to this thing that Aja and Pjel share. Even if they had not touched until a sennight past. Some times I am left to wonder if I am lover or mother. Pjel behaves as though I will shatter beneath her touch. I am envious of the way she holds Aja. So fully. There is no fear in it. It is pure. I am glad to bear witness. But too weak of will am I not to covet. I wish that she would handle me as though she were not afraid I might splinter. I wish that Aja would look upon me as she does Pjel. I wish to know something so deep as their love. I do not doubt their affection for me. But I know that it is different. I think that theirs is deeper. A bond forged of shared experience. Companionship. Ours were but bonds hewn of like displacement.

Perhaps it is so with Kiaran as well. But I do not feel as though she fears to break me. Even if some part of her yet looks upon me as animal. She speaks of her world and I am reminded of this gulf between us. We are separate creatures. We do not belong together. I enjoy her company. It is foolish and I am a fool. I like the way she looks at me. It reminds me of the passion I saw once in Pjel. In the Wood. It reminds me of the first time Aja laid her eyes upon me. It reminds me of Baghak. Her friendship. I miss her terribly.

This is unfair to Kiaran. It is why it must be ended. Of course I care for her. But it is through her that these three spectres haunt me. 

And she is angry with me. And right to be. About Forestay. Another mess. I leave them in my wake when I seek to do good. But I like to do good. But if I am the only one to gain from it. Is it good to begin with?

Baghak would say: You think too much. I know she is right. But I cannot stop it. 

The airship awaits but my mind and heart are else where. I will have moko and sleep. Tomorrow I will do better. 

[yascaret]

Gjola no...

[yascaret]

05

[A brand new leather-bound journal, fastened with a silver clasp in the shape of a coeurlregina’s crown.]

[Another page frayed with moisture, as though it has laid open for quite some time before being written in.]

A fortnight they have been gone. No word. Time blends. Perhaps I am mistaken. 

Tide

Tide took

Forestay

I struck F

What is there to be said that has not been said already? I tire of the solitude. I tire of my own thoughts. Of being trapped with them. Within them. 

Kjat has visited many times. If I did not know better I would think that she worries for me. But I know she is above such things. We are not well acquainted.

Thrice this sennight have I found myself asleep at her breast. In her graciousness she does not speak of it. We do not speak of it. She knows that I am weary, I think. And in her did I confide many things for which I am ashamed. But such is the effect she has on me. It is not lust that takes me in her presence. It is something less unthinking than that. Or more?

I have not taken the lotus. Sleep has come easier since Tide but I yet fear for my dreams. 

It grows well. Too well. The trellis was taken in barely three suns. I added another and it too was consumed. The vines swallow the walls of the cellar and threaten those of the main floor. But I do not mind it. If I close my eyes and turn my ears to its growth it is not unlike the sound of the Wood. I find comfort in this. Despite all things.

.

.

Perhaps they are dead. Why else should they not have returned?

Perhaps Kiaran has shown them the stain that I am on their lives. Perhaps they have simply chosen to leave. I could not blame them for it. I know that it would ruin me. But at least solace could be taken in knowing that they have at last found peac [The sentence ends abruptly in an ugly blotch of ink. The paragraph is scribbled out several times.]

I spoke to Kjat of my thoughts. Some times I cannot help but wonder if my spirit perished with the Kestrel. Perhaps it would be best if I were to succumb to this serpent that so ardently struggles to swallow my heart. It would be the easiest thing. But I am too selfish for it.

Perhaps that is why she continues to visit. It is graciousness that I do not deserve. Least of all from someone I know so little.

But then I would leave Gjola. She does not need me: this I know. Yet I can hardly bear such a thought. Abandoning her. As many have done before me, or so I think. We have grown closer. Scarcely a modicum but it is something. She is a flower that I would see blossom. If only I could coax open the petals.

It would have been easier. To swallow my pride and do as my mothers bid me. To take up the mantle of ritual and tradition as my sisters did. To serve nameless purpose for Yascaret as so many have done before me. As so many will continue to do. A cycle untouched by my presence and my absence both. Perhaps that is what we all are: nameless, faceless motes in an endless sea of sky. There is greater dignity in accepting it. Too young and foolish was I to realize.

.

.

.

.

Tide is a good friend. She has made me wonder. Perhaps I only wanted to see Baghak in Kiaran. She would have never hurt me like th

[yascaret]