A Moth's Ruminations: IV

[winterblood 11181]

Spoiler

 

 

 

The likeness of Moliana captured by an imperial painter, hired by her mother Charlotte

[Original art by: Anato Finnstark on Artstation]

 

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.

 

16th of The Grand Harvest, Year 39,

 

To do list

• Inquire about rune
• Reconnect with father more
• Apologize to maid for kicking them out of room
• Get to know Josephine

 

Am I truly destined to be without a father?  Perhaps I am being too dramatic.  Arici is still my father, yet he has remained absent from my life for many years; does he know the truth as well?  Had that been the dark secret he spoke of to me, years ago?  Why has he left me in this darkness and alone, could he not bear the burden of Liliac and I’s upcoming?  Then there is Sigismund, my true father.

 

My mother told me he had died, and spoke of his disinterest in searching for me when I had been abducted.  I hardly knew how to react when he told me both things were true.  Taken apart and pieced back together by another; by my real grandfather.  Goodness, this is all confusing on paper.  My relations twist and turn over one another, I wonder how even I can put my thoughts into here sometimes and have them make sense.

 

Yet with the return of my real father, I hardly know how I ought to feel.  I don’t know why thought he would be better than Arici, he hadn’t been.  But how could I blame him after what he’s shared?  If he was anything beyond his coldness and emotional distance, he was honest.  That’s more than what my foster father has been to me.  It still brings a pain to my chest to recall the night, to know how soon he intends to go.  I don’t know why I hoped he’d choose to stay with me.

 

I even feel foolish over how I regarded one’s power over mana; to be a master over such energy.  Life can be taken, yet given with this power.  And before I had regarded it with such wonder and mystery, but then again I was just a child mesmerized by that elven wizard.  How little I knew of the grave possibilities with such a power, my father was a prime example of a product of its horrors. . .

 

What a wretched night.  How do I even approach what happened in the gardens prior?  I had thought the Fourth said they wouldn’t reveal themselves to me again, yet they returned.  A part of me wishes I hadn’t allowed for my fortune to be read.  How do they expect me to kill my own grandmother?

 

I wonder often what sort of relationship my grandmother had with these four prior to meeting me, what she demanded of them to make Booker describe her to be mad and frightful.  I’ve decided to push it out of my mind, and pray that such a thing lies in the distant future ahead.  Always on tomorrow.

 

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Spoiler

 

 

 

8th of The Amber Cold, Year 39,

 

To do list:

• Prepare another visit to Haense
• Inquire after Elimar

 

The unexpected has occurred this week.  Prince Sigismund had summoned me to meet him in Haense.  It’s felt like such a long time since we’ve last seen each other, not after that argument he and I had.  Over all this time, I was stubbornly prepared to shun him and remove him from my thoughts.  Yet when his couriers sought me, I found myself preparing to travel north immediately.  No matter how hard I tried to forget him, I still missed him.  Had I been on his thoughts, too? 

 

He took me to his chambers so that we could speak privately.  I thought it to be an odd thing, since he had told me he wished for my insight on some spells he’d come into contact with.  I was ready to be offended and tear him a new one for wishing to use me like that after what happened before, but I was shocked when he apologized about our argument.  He didn’t require my input over magical affairs at all.

 

I don’t think I had ever seen Sig in such a state.  He was quiet and almost mournful, grieving over a life he could not live.  I wish I could free him of his bonds and burdens, so that he and I may live this free life together.  I know that to not be possible, and he does too.  When he embraced me, I never wanted to let go of him.  If only time could have stopped for us there.

 

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The final two entries have been torn out; the remaining passages are elsewhere from the journal.

 

25th of The Amber Cold, Year 39,

 

To do list:

• Dust and sweep bedroom once capable of standing
• Request Booker to find remedy for pain
• Write letter to mother to explain absence

 

A curious way to find myself returned to Izvoroshu.  I hardly remember its name leaving my lips when I slipped out of consciousness in front of the Third.  Had I dreamed of being in the sky?  Or had I truly seen the Augustine Palace and its elaborate gardens growing more distant below me?  I know little of how he returned me home.  I hardly questioned him over it, since I awoke to him reading through this journal!

 

If you’re reading this again, I hate you.  You could have just left me alone once you returned me home, but why didn’t you?  So you could entertain yourself with my thoughts, or pester me about how I killed that man to save that woman?  I dreamt of the incident; where I came up behind that thug with my knife, yet when my hands reached out to grab his head - they were green like yours.  I felt reminded of how you first introduced yourself to me with that magical knife pressed to my throat.

 

It’s the second life I’ve taken, yet the first I’ve done with my own hands.  The first had been Davorn, when he went against my requests and nearly caused war to break out with Elvenesse; destruction would have been had on Ando Alur.  Or rather, if Ando Alur still stood.  Perhaps those people were destined for a dark end ever since the beginning; no amount of blood could have prevented the city’s fall, or saved the people within.  If only it could have ended with the swing of that executioner’s hammer which took Davorn’s life.

 

Put my journal down.

 

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10th of Snow’s Maiden, Year 40,

 

To do list:

• Clear out private space in apartment
• Find something better than knife
• Acquire fabrics for training clothes

 

I feel uncertain on whether or not I’ve made a mistake in making this deal with the Third.  I hadn’t realized he’d now be able to strike me, due to these lessons.  Had that been why he was eager to accept them?  Despite whatever’s happened, the deal’s already been made and I’m not one to back down from my word, no matter how much dread it may fill me with.  I feel as if I ought to stick with it to spite him, for I know how much he relishes in my fear and I know how little he thinks of me.

 

If he shall expect me to be flicked away and cower, he is dead wrong.  I will be that annoying little thorn he wished to have never pricked himself with.

 

M.