A Moth's Ruminations: III

[UnBaed 9015]

Spoiler

 

 

 

Moliana within her mother’s apartment in the Augustine Palace.

[Original art by Kalidraws, hair edited by me]

 

The following is a private entry to Moliana’s journal

Please do not metagame the information of this post, unless information is acquired through genuine RP.

 

25th of The First Seed, Year 39

 

To do list:

• Buy fresh ink and nib
• Polish shoes before debut
• Practice curtsy
• Write letter to grandmother

 

Little privacy is to be had in this palace.  Despite its vastness, there is always some colorfully garbed courtier around the corner or another one of those pensive servants.  Even in the gardens!  Feels odd to stroll through them, I hardly know what to do with myself besides. . . enjoy it.  For the first time I needn’t have to fret over pruning the flowers, or trimming the shrubs.  #-=/,\ isn’t too fond of it all, though, but I don’t blame him.  Despite the nature, it’s not natural as he likes it.

 

The rest of this page has been torn out; the remaining passage is elsewhere from the journal.

 

The only place of privacy is the heart of that hedge maze, yet it feels odd to return to it.  It’s like a sense of deja vu where you step into a dream.  Whenever the warble of the birds quiets down for just that split second, I feel as if I am there again, looking at myself through that nonexistent mirror.  How jarring it is to see the reflection of you mimic your own mannerisms by itself, to speak on its own, yet to peer toward you with unfamiliar eyes of that deep green.  Perhaps that was the better way for him to display himself, though.

 

It’s still rather challenging to process everything when it comes, though I’ve certainly grown more acclimated to the bizarreness that are these Four.  I feel fortunate to know them, even the third despite his frightful coldness.  I intend to do all that I can to keep my word to them, to protect the secret.  The current and only threat of it, however. . . is grandmother.

 

Should she find out, such knowledge could be a weapon if I take the wrong steps.  Perhaps the third was too carried away in his revelation, too dramatic in toying with me over my past.  Grandmother could have never been involved like that, not with how she has treated me and how the others have reacted toward her.  I still recall the day when uncle did his spells to check me over for curses, when the family heard I was her assistant in Ando Alur; how grandfather furiously flipped the table and ordered me to go to my room.

 

She has told me small truths, though they were as they are: small truths.  I know she cares for me, but I know what she shall want of me as I grow older.  Perhaps there is still time for me to act, where I can keep her in my life as well as Booker. . . Where I can remain as me. 

 

M.

[MunaZaldrizoti 5796]

The Dowager of Dobrov seemed to relish in the company of her two daughters, finally reunited with her after years of turmoil and strife to bring them both under the same roof. Preparing to lead the Social Season's debut, she felt as if, finally, her life had returned to it's former bliss.