Rainmaker

In all the years I have known Marius, I have never seen him so enraged as he was last hand. I'm not sure that anyone else knew exactly how much of this was hidden beneath a mask, either. For he let surface just a mere glimpse of the rest of the iceberg that lay below, unseen. The weight of it pains me, as I am the indirect cause of his displeasure.

Marius came and left, just like that. Left me behind for the sum total of two-weeks. I do not know whether he is even on the island. And that in itself depresses me severely. Already four days have passed since he left and I feel myself slipping away into the throes of melancholy a little deeper with each passing day. I should look forward with hope that I will recover fully and play my Kalika again. But hope is a fickle thing.

The Magician commented, as she glanced out the window with me upon the overcast grey sky pregnant with constant drizzle, that I am the cause of the lack of sunshine these past few days. Although, I do not think my mood disturbs her all that much.

She says that I am the Rainmaker.
For once, I think I believe her.

Liar's Moon

She came to me with something hidden behind her back, asking whether it was alright to surprise me. Imagine my surprise then, when she offered me a larma, unbidden, held out to me in the palms of both hands. The girl had knelt and put her head down as well. No, I was not merely surprised. I was stunned to the point that my heart had skipped a beat, and my breath had been briefly stolen.

I think I have been led down this same road before by this same kajira. Yet each time it comes to the same fork and the same dead-end. I never ate the offered larma. Nor did I partake of the outward symbolism that the offering of it should suggest. For I am certain that it was done unintentionally. Or with an ulterior motive. Neither of which I blame the girl for.

Raja means well.
Always.

Though both of us would now live amongst one another for the time being, beneath the same Liar's Moon.

Water Mark

There is a water mark on the ceiling which is somewhat circular and fragmented in its jagged yellow zags. I've been staring at it for a long while now, and for some reason I cannot remember my own ceiling beneath my Master's roof, or whether I had ever really noticed ceilings before, at all.


I long for different days gone by. Past times, filled with the reckless ability to do whatever I wanted to do, whenever I was not detained with long music practice and rehearsals. How I long now for the endless hours of gruelling practice and the threat of my Master's whip if I am less than perfect with every rigorous musical scale.

The hand that lays beside me is wrapped in thick bandage, yet I feel that it is not mine at all. It must be foreign and grotesque, because it has been hidden away from me beneath the wraps. My right arm is pinned and immobile. I cannot even bend it to unwrap the bandage from my left hand to have a look. I am unable to rise from where I have laid the past few days, and it is painful even to breathe.

Once I dreamt that I heard music in the face of an urchin. Pretty in her innocence and her bashful fears. But I awoke to the sound of silence, with not a single melody to draw me away again. I do not think I will ever dream again as it does not seem feasible beneath a yellowed water mark on the ceiling. The sight of it only compels me to count away the long hours, and the pain I must endure ever since...

"the day the music died."

Port Kar

Beneath the surface veneer of what Port Kar appears to be runs a subversive parallel countering almost every aspect of that city's pulse. Almost, it seems, within a swirling, cyclic, down-river flush of every other Vosk settlement's refuse. And delightful refuse it is, too.


I met a youthful adolescent with a pretty face late one night on the pier while watching dock hands load up the troupe's equipement. He was rather street savvy and had an arrogant cockiness about him that drew my eye. Too, I was certain that his flirtations were nothing imaginary on my part. At first, he had merely embarrassed me with them. But when the lad had finally approached and drew me into more risqué conversations, his manipulative game was wholly lost upon my own rising tide of curiousity and desire. "Port Kar," he said, "is a haven for our kind." I did not know what he meant by our kind.

For I did not readily suspect that he was kajirus. He seemed.. much too sure of his footing in the world. Moreso when he took hold of my hair and kissed me with the impassioned kiss of a Master.

There are still far more perplexing mysteries surrounding the culture of the port city, some that still continued to puzzle me even long after we had set sail across Thassa for other seafaring ports. In Port Kar, nothing is as it seems, as first impressions often lay dashed to bits beneath their subterfuge.

The youth with his pretty face.. became revealed to me as none other than a woman named Oshunai dressed in men's clothing. She was amused with herself at having conned me so easily. Yet, perhaps it is I who has the innate desire to be conned.

Remedies

Following the brief trip to the Isle of Thanta a second time, we are an entire day behind the schedule as we sail now across Thassa to the port of Kar. My own sea-sickness has been somewhat curtailed, due to a tea remedy given me by the Lady Asia. Yet there is another sickness that still lingers.. I fear I shall never find a remedy for.

It is the second day into our voyage and all I can do is gaze behind across the watery horizon with numerous troubles that cloud my mind. I have done my best thus far to remain in good spirits when Marius is around, lest I tempt him to shackle me down below in the galley for the duration of the trip.

First and foremost upon my mind, is Capriel. I wonder if she still thinks of me, as I think of her. Secondly, there is a nagging guilt regarding another girl, whose name I don't know. She is one of many slaves that I had assumed belong to the Lady Slaver, Asia. Yet I have since learned differently, that the girl actually belongs to another. The girl has been put beneath the duress of a heavy punishment for an infraction, that I later discovered I had partaken in. Yet still, overhead looms the very real possiblity that she is to be sold for her.. indiscretions, and I am beside myself with grief over this.

If only there were a remedy for all that plagues me of late.
I fear, for the sake of Marius, that I shall become an incurable thorn in his side.