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The journal looks deceptively simple, black and bound with a tie. It has been left open to a half finished page. Most of the others are filled with drawings and half completed concepts. This one...another muse seems to have captured it's owner.


I sit upon the cusp of my second year here -- a third autumn, what is perhaps another new start. There is an underlying tension in the air even as the humidity has finally broken and the skies have turned that deep and heavy blue you feel you could get lost in. The clouds are beautiful. The cicadas and the last of the tourists provide a soundtrack that is both wild and calming.

I should consider a new scarf and a jacket within the next few weeks - summer's temper has not been quelled yet, but I can feel it.

What will autumn bring.

I know that I must approach the world objectively and independently. There are forces at work that would picture and portray themselves as benevolent messengers, and that truly believe themselves to have all the answers.

No one has all of the answers.

Must beware of the false prophets promising both the light and the dark within or without- anyone that claims to understand either is deluding themselves. I have served many and worked beside so many others- some smiling as they claim to understand the base of human nature, some smirking placidly as they claim to have mastered their fear.

My existence has taught me that fear is to be endured and mitigated - it is not a rational thing to understand, but rather something to be clawed into and exploited through misinformation and a sense of familiarity. One must build strong defenses, pick and choose their battles, and keep their friends close.

I play no more games. I believe my lot in this world is to find my place within it rather than apart from it. I leave the scheming to those with greater ego and delusion. As I grow more comfortable into this life, as I learn more about those I have come to call dear I find a certain sense of comfort in knowing that I will never fully know what makes them tick. The viscera may bind, but the soul is something else entirely.


I need to meet the woman in the tower.