I feel calmer now. Perhaps this journal does assist indeed. Regardless, enough ranting upon the deserved. To bring this journal back to its former purpose... Art is failing me miserably at the time being. It's not unexpected, since too often I made a habit of giving it away without charge, and hardly anyone upon this frontier would be interested in purchasing wood carvings, no matter how well-crafted, when death, destruction, and chaos have claimed yet another planet. I do not have any business contacts like collectors, either. Self-sufficiency might be possible, but is very risky and difficult. The answer is simple, really. If I wish to remain in this sector, I will need to learn another trade to rely upon for income, which likely means thrusting myself further out into attention, and increases the chance I will encounter the unsavory. But if Cloud-Feather could do it without hesitation, what excuse do I hide behind?
Well, where to begin. I have found another friend, like the insane idiot I am. I can only justify it by telling myself I will do everything I can to convince them to keep their head very low, if not leave the sector completely, but for now I will refrain. After all, I have not heard of any significant destruction since the attack upon Opportunity, which is comforting, though also worrying. Savings have hit rock-bottom and I am going to begin selling belongings if I cannot find employment or the desire of constituents to purchase art does not improve. Not all has been negative. I went to a spa with the new friend and a potential new one. Apparently a spa is a tub of heated water you sit in to gain comfort through prolonged periods of stillness, or something silly of the sort. It was a fascinating experience, even though I slept or dozed through most of it. And, as an afterthought, I accosted a stranger and screeched at them about the error of their self-destructive ways. It was too ironic, really. Kluex guide me.
My new friend wants to be more than friends. That's what she said today in the spa. I don't know what to think about that. She is sweet, caring, and reliable, but I don't love her or feel drawn to her, really. Perhaps I'm just cynical that it will end with the all too common fires of drama or tragedy that burn in Antares with relationship kindling. Regardless, I'll humor her to keep her happy, whatever good it does; but not for long. A friend deserves to know the truth. Well, that felt pleasant. Let's continue. I had another encounter with Rookster, the crazy Avian with a desire to get themselves killed. I was tempted to lecture her, but she tried to attack a patron in the Asani Inn: some overly whiny Avian who was pretending to be a flightless (silly Grounded). What ensued was an intervention from myself and Siarra to stop Rookster from splitting the poor fool in two. As a note, I shall never get in Rookster's way if I can help it. She's a strong Avian, and if she hadn't been thinking clearly because of her anger she probably could have swatted me off easily. As it was, I managed to keep a hold on her to stop any more violence falling upon the Avian victim (who ran away like a frightened hatchling after throwing a chair at her head. Coward). The chair stopped her dead, however, and had her in tears of pain. I attempted to convince her to stop being foolish and let me tend to the bump and cuts, which she finally did. The ironic and touching thing is later on she met the same Avian who had caused her harm (who looked like they'd fallen into a well for some unknown reason), embraced them, and offered them a shower on her ship. Antares is crazy, but sometimes sweet. Well, that is enough for now. I am tired and down to seventeen pixels in my pocket. My gift to Siarra also cost me the rest of the useable wood I had for carving. I will think of something tomorrow. Inventory (Losses/Gains): Loss: the last kilogram of carving wood Gain: some scrap wood from the carving project to use for kindling Loss: 65 pixels for some meals Loss: the sleeve of my favorite robe Balance(Items in inventory): 0.5 kilograms of kindling wood 17 pixels 7 sets of robes and skirts or shirts 1 set of winter clothing 1 carving knife 1 basic PDA 1 large container of some assorted food (Beakseed, Dry cooked meat, and corn peckers) 1 portable water filter Notes: -Since the week ago that I began to increase my time between meals, I have gotten 2 kilograms thinner. -I need work soon, or to dedicate my time staying in one place to raise or hunt food.
Today Kluex has given me two gifts. I ran into a previous friend: the Floran Frax, whom I'd thought had disappeared or been killed. I was overjoyed to see their extraordinary self alive, still as confusingly repulsive and attractive as ever. They're amicable enough for a Floran, and I enjoyed our short conversation, I think. It was happy chance that allowed me to meet an old friend, and I am grateful for whatever assistance Kluex gave in spurring the event along. I've also been given a chance to work: an excellent opportunity under the employ of an Apex named Panzer. It is a curious name, and they certainly are a curious character; the type whom I am reluctant to shake hands with, no matter their candor. One application and one acceptance is indicative of the rarity of diligent workers in Antares, but also a happy gift from above. I am filled with optimism, and I will treat myself by eating a full meal before departing for my first day of work so I go with as many nutrients to fuel my strength as possible. Blessings of grace from Kluex will be given back by myself tenfold with worship and loyalty tonight. Inventory (Losses/Gains): Gain: optimism Notes: -I did not see Siarra, but cannot wait to tell her the good news. Perhaps she would not mind joining me in a prayer when possible. -Lost another two kilograms of weight. Proper employ and pay will mean I can start eating regular filling meals again; definitely not an unwelcome benefit.
Well, I completed my first task at the new employment I acquired, I met a licentious slob whom I feel some pity for, and I ran in the rain with Siarra. Overall it was an excellent time, and I've quite relished having a task given to me that required some actual physical exertion. It keeps my mind off other less happy thoughts. Let's compare the highs with the lows of the day, shall we? I believe I shall. The work that I completed today was incredibly satisfying and I cannot wait to have some pixels to freely spend and save again, however I have reason to believe my employer Panzer may have a temper problem and the suit I need to wear in order to work is extremely uncomfortable. Perhaps I can ask her about that after a few weeks of work. Simply replacing the boots with something more suitable for talons would be perfect. Earlier in the day however, I had a hybridization of privilege and cursed chance to meet the same Avian who ran from Rookster again: Herx. He has been making passes at Siarra, and since he believes we are engaged, which I suppose we are so long as I continue to allow her to believe it is so, he saw fit to invite her and myself included to engage in his erotic idea of youthful fun. I swear, for a few moments I really did wish to wring his dirty feathered neck, but that was callous of me. Although his offer is disgusting, it is just a response to loneliness I presume, and I can sympathize with that, though I will never accept such a revolting offer. He does not seem to understand that neither Siarra nor I want anything to do with his proposal, but he's harmless, although annoying. I lost the theme of highs and lows in that brief rant. Siarra and I ran in the rain together. It was perfect, and made me miss the rain back home so much it hurt. It was good pain though, because it made me forget about all the aches in my arms and back after the work day at Panzer's facility. I think I will send mother a letter. Well, that really is a thought, isn't it. I have completely neglected to write to her a single time, mostly because I'm not sure how I would send such a communication to her. That is no excuse, though. Just because I have not the ease of contacting her on the PDA does not mean I should fall out of contact. I will begin a draft this week. Kluex be praised, and health be abundant. Inventory (Losses/Gains): Loss: 2 Pixels for some food with Siarra (Surprisingly cheap food) Notes: -I am not conserving rations too strictly, since I have a source of income now, and only lost a half kilogram of weight since the last entry. -I should ask Siarra more about her old home. -I need to find and purchase an actual home. -Joke Goal: Do Aubrey's job twice as well so he gets sacked for his impudence.
I received my first pay from my work on a metal order at the foundry, which was satisfying and pleasant. I've now more pixels to spend than what was available to me for quite some time, but I will be saving most of them, since I am still waiting to buy a home and it is wiser to save what I can. Herx also came about to cordially offer to show off his freshly preened tail feathers to Siarra and I. He really has a way with perversion, that Avian. It was amusing to watch him made uncomfortable when a priest who was visiting Asani briefly, Stabrazer, questioned his faith and criticized him on his human-like rhetoric. I would have never thought he was a flightless, but I suppose he's trying to follow the path to salvation in his own twisted way. The visit from the priest was not entirely comforting, though. He pushed that Siarra and I marry each other and begin raising more faithful Stargazers in Antares. Neither Siarra and I are older than twenty and one years of age yet! And considering we have only been seeing each other for four weeks, we both laughed at his proposal's ludicrousness together afterwards. It's also worth mentioning that I had the pleasure of seeing Frax again. She's possibly the only Floran whom I can tolerate and even sympathize a little with in spite of her barbaric tendencies. I know Stabrazer would not approve of my interaction with Frax, but he did say that all have the potential to be saved by Kluex. Could that mean that even those who are inherently damned might be able to see his grace by following his path? I do not know. I do know I enjoyed my time with Frax. I bought her food, since that always puts her in a good mood, and gave her a brief sparring lesson with spears. Her form is not bad, and she definitely has potential. She gave me a slice on my right shoulder, but you cannot learn the art of combat in its fullness when no blood is spilled, my father used to say. When it heals I look forward to another round with her. Panzer is confined to a wheelchair now. I do not know why, but she has lost the use of her legs. I pity her, truly I do; it is one of the worst fates to be forced into, to be crippled in Antares. No one deserves it. Some disgusting wayward filth of a Floran whom I sincerely hope is damned to eternal fires of pain thought it amusing to kick her chair down the steps of the Taranis beam pad before promptly making their escape. Disgusting creatures like that make me wish I had the fire in my belly to stomach the killing of filthy swine. As a footnote: I sent mother her letter via a communication to Avos, but since I do not know her location it may be some days or even weeks before it finds itself in her hands. I am excited to see if she writes back. I told her much about my exploits here and made certain to include I missed her and my remaining family. It is my sincere hope she can appreciate my communication. Inventory (Losses/Gains): -Gain: 739 pixels -Loss: 10 pixels for Frax's leg of meat -Loss: 29 pixels to restock some dwindling beakseed and feathercrown supplies Notes: -Panzer said I was her only remaining smelter, so I believe that may mean I will not be seeing Aubrey at the workplace anymore, not that I have any reason to miss his company.
Kluex be praised, there is much to recount, but I will start with the more recent. I am teaching Siarra the art of combat with spears, in addition to basic footwork and dexterity. She catches on well, and I just lent her my father's old spear to practice endurance exercises with so she can strengthen her muscles. It would be a happy blessing if she can confidently match me in sparring, spear to spear, and still draw no blood in the future. I used to participate in such sparring when my father took me as a pupil, and it is a brilliant art that still draws spectators on Avos, where it is centuries old. I hope to soon be confident she will be able to defend herself from a potential aggressor when I am not near enough to assist. I also learned something a little disturbing in its coincidence: she came from the same orphanage as Cloud-Feather. It seems she fared far better than he, since she had friends, but it was still a shock. The same dead Avian whom we fished out of a frozen pond spent his youth in the same establishment as her, though I don't believe they knew each other well. I wonder what Kluex is trying to tell me with that omen. Herx Amman... I could go on for some time about him, both in how he disgusts me and also about the pity I feel for him. He actually arrived upon my ship today with no clothing, looking as feeble in intoxication and insufficient diet as a sad hatchling. He looks sick, and I told him so. I could hardly bear to look at such a wretched sight and certainly couldn't deny him when he asked if we could give him some clothes because his old human clothes were rotting away and dirty. I gave him my favorite robe, with the tear on the right sleeve and all. I hope he finds the sandals I put in the pocket, just so he does not need to walk about in his bare talons and dirty them in the same mud he tracked upon my ship. Kluex, what has that Avian done to be forsaken so? I will pray, and wait for an answer while I try to figure one out myself. Well, no more time to write for now. I must be off to Panzer's facility to see if there is work to be done. Kluex bless all in his light. Inventory (Losses/Gains): -Loss: My favorite robe -Loss: 25 pixels for additional food purchases -Temporary loss: Father's spear, while it is loaned to Siarra Notes: -Rookster, poor girl, is still mentally unstable, and Siarra suspects she might be under the sporadic influence of drugs. I will see about speaking to her about it. I hope she at least enjoyed her brief courting yesterday with Herx.
Time has been good to me. I am still hard at work looking for two smelters for Panzer, but I am confident I will find some candidates. The number of unemployed or unofficially employed in Antares makes it absurdly easy. I said hello to Herx and a new friend of his: Priest Initiate Nefeta. She requested I carry an old hatchling greeting to her sister Tereta Shallowbeak on Avos when Siarra and I leave for the planet. This is a reasonably short entry, but perhaps I will think of more to add later when more thoughts come to me. Reminders: -Talk to Rookster. -Give the greeting from Nefeta to Tereta upon arrival on Avos. (Look for the merchant district.)
Herx was right. I do not want to go back. I greeted Tereta as I was asked and then immediately thought to go looking for my mother. It has been so long, and my smaller sister will be finding her own way in this world now. Siarra made the decision to return too, and I'm impossibly grateful to have the worry of her life off my shoulders. I even welcomed the visits to the temple, even though I haven't spoken to anyone about my journeys in Antares. Not yet. I know I need to ask for forgiveness for some of my actions there, but not yet. Herx should have come too. I was afraid he died when news finally reached me about another fallen colony in Antares. Maybe I should ask Herx to forgive me too, because I do not know if I ever want to return. At least, not yet. The first few days here banished any wanderlust. Farewell for now, Antares. Turavis
Misfortune has struck me with a vengeance, she has. I carry a bandage on my eye, and one on my chest. I've been horribly worried about contracting infection in the injury near my eye, which has swelled completely shut. My chest still heaves thanks to the two bullet wounds from some human savages who tried to steal my clothing on another colony, which may be a symptom of my amateur surgeon's bullet removal. On the Aether, I am not ungrateful for my fortune, but these recent events have made me bitter. The same Floran who gave me this eye injury will probably go untouched by any meager law established in Antares, and the harassment and attacks upon my brethren and I for our views will continue. On the planet's cafe where the assault took place, an Avian Grounded also helped the Floran assault me, which just makes the bitterness worse. I did file a security report on the incident, and I hope both meet justice for their unlawful behavior. It was the most I could do. I can take satisfaction from the fact that although I was already injured, the Floran did not get away unscathed. I dealt them a gash from my beak and at least two strong blows. Filthy primitive... Enough about that. My only disappointment was I did not have the nerve to shoot the Floran, although it would certainly have been justified. I might have done just that if Herx's friend Glauen had not arrived and spoken some sense to the Floran that surprisingly wasn't lost on them. What a way to return to Antares, this is. Toting bullet wounds, assault injuries, and trapped in a whirlpool of seemingly unlimited Faithless numbers. At least Herx is here, although his idea of help is offering me the contents of a pipe that slowed my mind and sped up my heart for hours while I sat senseless in a chair. Still, he is the best friend I have in this place. -Turavis-
Confession Some time ago, I spoke with a Grounded, and tried to explain the pain their separation causes the Flightless. They appeared to understand, but it was clear they'd never considered it from the point of view I explained it from. Of course, how could they? The distinct separation between the Flightless and the Grounded isn't borne of hate, nor of spite, but pain. Pain at having a part of our brethren force us to choose between Kluex and them as they leave to find... to find what? They lose faith, truth, purpose, and their flock to gain something for certain, or the illusion of something. Whatever the reason, their acts are rash and cruel, especially in the havoc they play on faithful friends and family they leave behind when they run from us. This is why Glauen deserves nothing less than spite for what his decision did to Herx. It's clear he cared little for how his decision would affect his friend, and saying that Herx casting him out should give him peace of mind was no more than a guise to cover his folly. In the faith, you are whole, or you are not whole in your devotion. The soul itself will never be whole until it rests in the Aether, but your devotion must be absolute. Glauen, though he surely knew he was faithless at heart, played a game of bait with his faith, reeled Herx in, and then fell away to leave his friend behind, hurt and confused. I will admit, I did not intend my words to be as rash as they were, and I am still in debt to Glauen for the time he stopped a Floran from trying to attack me further, but his inability to understand and ease of playing such cruelty upon his friend was maddening. It matters little now. If we ever speak anymore, it shall be curt, brief, and sullen conversation. A pity. I did want to understand what the spiral scar on his hand meant, but I suppose I will never know now. A lesson learned: the Grounded are not to be hated, but pitied, and the pain of their separation overcome with hope that they may see the error of their way and return to us, whether in the Aether or in our mortal lives. Our Winged Arbiter hears and sees these words, and will be kind in his love and understanding. I thank him for all I am.
Confession I cannot help but wonder if our overly zealous kin who are attacking the Grounded have some merit to their madness. The Florans readily attack and savagely kill that which they don't agree with or attacks them, and the frontier appears to respect them. I have been trying to use reason to deal with the frontier for a year, and have only met a select few who respond to it, all of whom are never individuals with any power in the sector's law or colonies. Maybe in that hospital room when I stopped Herx from attacking the Grounded who pointed a gun at Kayra and us for trying to help an injured human I was wrong. I know I am not wise, and I do not have the experience of one father, or the pragmatism and strength of the other, but I must find an answer, because what I am doing IS NOT WORKING. What is there to be done? I've actually considered contacting those zealots. There is strength in numbers, and though they may be rash, no one else would consider taking me in or giving me shelter save Herx. If the two of us were alone that would just make the two of us against a Frontier where the advice extended to the Flightless is 'stay safe'. It seems more appropriate to say, 'don't be killed'. The time for reason is ended. I've collected scars that no amount of using reason stopped the injuries they came from. I need to overcome my distaste for blood and learn to revel in some, because if the Frontier will come to respect the Flightless, it will be for nothing less than a show of strength. Dying is a risk no matter what I do, so perhaps its better to meet it unafraid to stand and fight for the right of respect for our people in this savage wasteland than quietly attempting to persuade peace. I'm sorry, grandfather. Your way has failed me here. Winged Arbiter, please, give me a sign of whether what I am doing is right or wrong. I do not know. I need to go back to carving now. I will think on this and wait in prayer.
I have three focuses I want to discuss in this entry. First Herx. I've been attempting to maintain a career at an erchius fuel station under Lyra, and the work kept me busy for some time, but I finally made time to come and try to find him at Dexter Gardens after the virtual abandonment of Katune. I definitely found him, by hearing his ship go down in the distance during the afternoon while I was visiting the Dexter Garden memorial. I did not know it was his ship, and I did not know what it was, but I just had a gut feeling, and I wanted to make sure Herx had been no where near the site of the crash of this unknown object. Even though the quaking from the explosion had knocked my knee into the stone hard, I don't think I've ever run so swiftly. My feeling was correct, because I saw him. Winged Arbiter above, forgive me for what happened next, if I need any forgiveness, it's certainly not mortal forgiveness, because my heart was in the right place. I saw Herx being carried away by some Hylotl in a labcoat and an unknown human, bloodied and skeletal, like he was already dead, so I attacked them both under bad impressions, and tried to tear him away from them, unaware of the situation. The Hylotl was weaker and went down easily, injuring themselves on the stairs, but the human resisted and gave me a hard kick in the knee that nearly crippled me in the days to come, but I was ready to tear his eyes from their sockets and shove them down his throat if that's what it took to make him let go of Herx. A Glitch guard who mistook him for the attacker knocked him to the ground and gave me the space I needed to see what had happened to Herx. He looked starved, although he's always been skinny, and he was bleeding so horribly. He'd lost a whole half of a talon on one of his hands! I recovered enough from the fury that had overtaken me to carry him to the hospital in the company of some others. I was so numb; I really thought that I had lost another friend. I thought I would have to write his epitaph. No one deserves to have to think in such a way. I stayed by him through his recovery as the doctors operated, walked to the cafe building on my bad knee to ask Glauen if he'd sell me food to feed him, and stayed by him when I was detained for the assault I committed. Glauen actually aided a little. He provided the food and drink out of charity, and allowed me to stay restrained to a bed by Herx while I recovered my injured knee, so I could serve my sentence for my mistaken assault and watch over Herx at the same time. It's not as if Glauen could have parted me from Herx. Still, it was kind of him. He does care about Herx, that is certain. *** The ending track of the last focus leads me to Glauen. He is... infuriating. He had the gall to act as though I owed him grace for the charity he'd given, none of which I had asked for. He gave me treatment for my knee, food for Herx, and a lighter assault sentence. But all I asked for was where I could buy food for Herx. If he expects my fanatic gratitude like his flock of Grounded minions for charitable acts he did of his own free will he'd best adjust his expectations. Hah! But his involvement can't be ignored, though I hate to admit it. I might have been able to save Herx's life myself, and I want to say I could have, but I doubt it. I'd have let my wounded knee fall off, given whatever money I had, and used the best of my limited treatment expertise to try and save him, but it might not have been enough. Glauen helped me save my friend's life, and I am in debt to him forever. The money is fickle and fleeting. I can pay it off through unregistered, undocumented work behind the counter at the cafe or even throw him the whole price load of pixels if it makes him happy, lack of savings afterwards be damned. However, I can never fully repay him for helping save Herx's life, and that alone burns my pride. I am in debt forever to a fallen one, and an intolerable self-righteousness monger at that who sincerely seems to believe the titles 'faithless' or 'grounded' should have no meaning or weight. The most disturbing thought however was that he might actually care for me, in some misplaced foolish way. He didn't have to give me the lighter sentence or let me stay by Herx's bedside, though damn him if he'd tried to remove me. He didn't have to care when he saw me accost him in his office, hobbling on my wounded knee to ask where I could buy food while he was in the middle of a meeting. He did not have to offer to treat my knee. What does he think he is, one of my late fathers? Hah! I don't want his damned care if he's going to dangle it in my face like a cheap bauble again and expect my respect. I'm grateful certainly, but I still don't respect him. However, I may have been a little wrong about his character, perhaps a little. One of these days I will ask him why he did what he did and hope he's not inclined to ignore me with his feather-puffed self-righteousness, so I can understand. *** Alo... (The ink trails off, as though the writer fell asleep or stopped here.)
