The galleon landed at Vesper Bay late in the evening. It was already the next day and, with the new moon, the only light were the few gas-lit lamps near the main square.
Walking out of the ship was a older lalafellin gentleman, about 50. He appeared well-heeled, in richly colored silks and linen, lined in silver and gold trim. His hands were adorned with jewels and, around his a necklace with the symbol of Nald and Thal in gold which complimented his bright hazel Dunesfolk eyes.
He stepped onto the dock with a smile on his face. He stopped and scratched his mustache when he saw that the docks were empty.
"What's this? Where in the Seven Hells are those attendants?" Suddenly, the lamps nearest the docks faded, casting the man in pale shadow.
"The Seven 'ells. Ye got it right 'n one Kokoluna..." a quiet voice whispered behind him.
"Who- who's there~!" The Dunesfolk man turned behind him but spotted nothing.
"Ye thought cause ye were able ta talk yer way out of the Yellowjackets in the assesors at Melvaan's Gate ye were safe?" the voice said, old, but steady, this time coming from Kokoluna's left.
The man turned left, "Who- who sent you? Is this Teledji's bidding?"
There was a low, contralto cackle. "Hah. 'tis why ye Ul'dahn's're all alike. Ye do summat thing wrong and ye don't even think much of it. Yer standin' 'ere about ta receive justice and yer thinkin' of competitors."
Kokoluna looked around madly trying to find the source of the accusatory voice. "I-I did nothing illegal! You can't prove anything!"
"Oh, nothin' eh? Hirin' crew of reavers ta steal goods from privateers 's nothin?"
Kokoluna asserted himself. "They stole those goods from Garlemald! There's no difference."
The voice let out a disappointed tsk. "Sad little man. Ye don't rook a crew out of their spoils." She added more forcefully. "And ye 'specially don't trade culls like they're chattel."
"I-" Kokoluna paused, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ye thought the men ye 'ired were just pirates? They were slavers, ye daft bastard. 'N' with yer gil, ye funded their work."
The man began to blubber, "I-I didn't- How could I- The authorities let me leave on my own recog-" his cried were suddenly silenced by sudden swishing sound as a hand threw itself at his neck.
"Ye broke the code, Kokoluna." Jordan said, wiping the knife before placing it back in her boot. "The law may forgive ye, but the code don't." Jordan walked off into an alley out of the port and towards Crescent Cove.
"Professor Sylvia Maxis, one-seven oh-one two-six-oh-nine. The dreams have gotten a lot more [hm] vivid, so I wrote down the numbers. It's just the same sequence of ones and zeroes. Which is, uh, utterly bizarre, but if I made robots, maybe I programmed them, too. I've done so much programming that the language is engraved into my subconscious, maybe. Which is cool, I think? To be addressed later, definitely. Anyway, I have reason to believe that the person I can't remember is named Cee. The sequence is zero-one-zero-zero-zero-zero-one-one, which is just the letter 'c' in binary. I've been thinking about him a lot, so it stands to reason that my unconscious would bring up his name. And! And, and, and, and, and, and, and... I've got a theory. About why he doesn't look human when I draw him. It's because he isn't. Maybe it's because he's something... [ah] something like a human, but my damaged brain doesn't process it correctly, and it just turns him into this... sssort of... thing.
...
Recording's still going? Excellent. I've been making an entry every day, taking about Cee every day, and it's deleted them! The computer this is [uh] attached to has some sort of [of ah] stupid filter installed that doesn't let me talk about certain topics, and it auto-deletes the files! Some of them just get cut out, but it seemed like it was picking up more and more stuff. It took me ages to boot it up, too. This thing is, without exaggeration, completely ancient. The model is from twenty-four-seventy-three! It's shocking it even turns on. It certainly screams like it's shocked. I turned off the filter, yeah, so now I can say whatever, but I can't access the old files. Even a little. Got no idea why anyone would ever install that.
...
Maybe Cee hurt me. Badly. And I just never wanted to think about that. It sounds right, I think. There was definitely an argument.[tsk].
...
I get this creeping feeling, though, that something about Cee and me, something about us, was terribly wrong."
My sister gave me some supplies that she collected over the years despite not ever journaling. She just bought this for no reason, unless...
Unless she was doing it because she knew that at some point, I’d be bored enough to give it a shot and bad enough that I’d use ALL of the tacky equipment she can provide me with.
Rest in peace, Langston, Abe, Uena, Hanasaki Kurokami, Kido, Takay Takayuki, Fujimoto. is it silly that i miss fujimoto already i can't cry right now and we only talked once but Just wanted to put those down in here somewhere. Better get back to investigation. Note to self to talk to Yu. She might've found something, and she's one I think would be willing to tell me. she's also my friend i think i'm really happy i'm so glad she's my friend Anyway, I'm still having so many fucking headaches from this sickness bullshit, even if the hallucinating part is mostly over. Will catch up later.
thank you yu thank you kimura thank you asano please be safe yano
What was your favorite thing to collect as a child and why?
Status: Complete
Ok, so I know that there are crazy cat ladies out there but I was a crazy cat child (I like this better because it's alliterative :D). Seriously though, when I was younger I was absolutely obsessed with cats. I even had those folders for school with pictures of cats on them and I even dressed up as a cat or Halloween one year. As you can imagine, I was a bit consumed with collecting miniature cat figurines. Whenever my family went on vacation, I made it my mission to visit local antique shops, shops, or anywhere that sold knick-knacks, searching for a cat figurine. I have 18 cats in the collection right now but I haven't added any more in at least four or five years. One of my favorites isn't even one that I bought. My best friend at the time gave it to me as a gift. It is a hand carved, wooden cat that is curled up asleep. I treasure it very much because since high school, her and I have unfortunately lost touch. We go to different schools and it makes things very difficult (I'll probably rant about this in a later entry at some point, but not right now because it just makes me sad.) Friends and family have helped me with my crazed cat collection over the years and now I have it displayed on some shelves in my room.
My death couldn't come sooner. It is freezing, the moon is shining too brightly to sleep, and my stomach is threatening to implode on itself. I can only hope that my death is a quick one.
But I wouldn't know, seeing as I'm still alive and too displeased to actually try to let death wash over me. I've always wanted to die in battle, and I had that opportunity when my ship went down. But no - I just had to wash up on an island and survive.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the islanders would just be polite to me. I'm sick of them moving me around, pretending not to comprehend what I'm saying, and acting as if they own the place.
This will be my last entry, seeing as I'm losing the meaning of life. I might as well try to hold my breath for thirty minutes now. Farewell. This is goodbye.
