[This red book with a thick, smooth cover would be found on Nimba's nightstand, just before her actual bed. An inkwell would be capped shut next to it. Laid diagonally across the cover with fairly accurate symmetry would be a long blue feather, with a sharpened tip.] [The following is handwritten in careful calligraphy.] Property of Nimbania Culosara. If found, please return. My Starnet handle is 'CumuloNimba,' contact me there. [Next page. The black-ink handwriting is neat and even, despite there being no lines on the pages.] After recounting a story to a new acquaintance today, I realized that I would do well to keep a chronicle of my travels. It is all the good stories that go down in text. Just cite the Avoscript. I do not mean to compare the journeys of my own life to those of any Sunborn, but such is my simple justification. After procuring a peculiarly empty book from my ship's storage, the temptation to write tickled the tips of my feathers. And here I am now. Regardless, here begins my journey in this sector: I hadn't spent the better half of an hour double-checking my ship and equipment before I received a distress signal over my ship's radio. Admittedly, I am not so well versed in the intricacies of my ship's more advanced equipment, like 'scanners' and 'trackers.' It took a bit of work, but I was able to track down the distress signal to a distant moon. Considering that I seemed to be the only one actually responding to the signal, I established a private link with the sender who informed me that her ship was marooned with no fuel, and low food supply. I decided that helping this stranger would be a great way to enter the sector. Come in with a good deed, to set the stage for further good-doings. With fuel to spare, I established orbit with the moon and equipped myself with my old extra-vehicular activity equipment after checking it for signs of degradation. Comfortable in my internalized environment, I touched down on the surface of the moon. It wasn't long before I established a plan with my new acquaintance over the radio. She would beam down and I would quickly retrieve her from the beam-down point, taking her to my own ship. Her name is Lena, and she is an Apex. A run-away from the Miniknog, so goes her story. I didn't inquire much further, she seemed reluctant to tell her story and how she had gotten her ship. Apparently, it was stolen. I'm a firm believer that as long as something is done for the right reasons, all will be forgiven in the long run. Therefore, I do not penalize Lena for stealing a spacecraft from the Miniknog. I offered her a loaf of beakseed bread for her to snack on as she listened to my story. I hope she enjoyed both the story and the bread. Recounting the events of my previous travels gave me a new sense of purpose. I remembered what I was out here to do. Lena wasn't so sure in her goals as I. That's understandable, as she is without faith. I don't blame her, of course. After all, she doesn't openly reject faith like the Grounded. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Grounded will be mentioned later. I told Lena several stories about my past, incidents that would be discredited if I were to describe them in brief here. The most direct conclusion I drew from our interaction is that we're both "in the same boat" as she put it. A more literal definition is that we're in the same sector under similar circumstances. We've both been ostracized. Her from the Miniknog and myself from my previous sector of residence. That's all well and good, but the complication is that it left us both unsure of what to do next. My intuition lead me to what I had seen on 'Starnet.' It's a miraculous thing. While my previous residence had a similar technology, this 'Starnet' seems much more polished and refined. I had pinpointed three locations. A spaceport named 'Caelestis,' a humble settlement known as 'Refract Valley,' and another such settlement called 'Fernbrook Field.' I'll skip some details and say that Caelestis Station was an unsuccessful venture, solely due to a lull in its activity. I don't think I'll be going back to 'Refract Valley' after the terrible display I've seen there. I'll divulge in full now. Stepping off the telepad was like an assault on the eyes. The most that could be said about the place is that the constructor was at least conscious of symmetrical design. That's the most that could be said. The gratuitous amount of color was completely offensive, and entering in the main building didn't provide much relief. Lena seemed impressed by the display but the only impression I got was that whoever designed the establishment was a buffoon. And I was soon to be proven right. Our casual wandering led us up to the second floor. Some young fools were making a mockery of themselves by publicly displaying their affection for each other. I don't claim to have infinite wisdom at the age of twenty, but I will tell you that devoting many of those years to bettering myself in His name has wisened me up to the world. That, and my previous residency had a large number of showings of explicit nature in a public setting. Thank Kluex nobody brings their children this deep into forsaken space. But it won't be forsaken for long. His light will spread with each footfall I make into unknown territory. A rather decorated Avian descended the stairs from an upper level as Lena and I were discussing what to do on the second floor. She quickly excused herself, deserting me to speak with the stranger who introduced herself as Raybina Primfeather. I read about her on Starnet. She certainly likes her rainbows, I recall two on her outfit. She ushered me away from the miscreants, an offer I gladly accepted as she ushered me into the library, still on the second floor. I don't know how anyone would be able to read with light reflecting and refracting off of every possible surface, but there we were. I didn't quite need temporary lodging as my ship can comfortably double as a place of residence, but for Lena's sake I talked with Raybina. She offered short-term employment, and this is when I began to wonder to myself. 'Where is the temple?' She asked me if I was a priestess when I inquired further into employment. I suppose it's obvious from the dress, so I replied yes and asked her where her temple was. Then she admitted she was Grounded. I was disgusted. [The rest of the markings on the page seem to have left an impression of the paper, as if they were written with more force.] Resisting every urge to enact some vigilante justice, I excused myself as politely as I could. Thankfully, I encountered Lena on my way out by chance. Just as I was explaining my plan, another Grounded hooligan started to give me trouble. This one walked straight into me like an oblivious oaf. At first I began to apologize, but then I saw his attire that practically screamed, 'look at me, I'm so Grounded. Please pluck my feathers!' I couldn't resist taking him up on that offer. I commented on his obviously Grounded dress but I was in a hurry to leave. Any establishment where Grounded are allowed to exist peacefully is a cruel invention of a sick mind. This point was proven to me when the Grounded man, in all his orange-feathered stupidity, called my traditional dress 'slutty' because he thought 'the skirt was too high.' Lena practically had to hold me back, else I would've been tearing that horribly-shaped plumage right off the top of his foolish Grounded head. I managed to wrench myself away from the Apex's grip, and I told the Grounded that I had better things to be doing than giving him some education in respect. That was when he challenged me. To a fistfight! Yes, of course, the Grounded had the gall to challenge a smaller, likely younger woman to a battle of fists. Fully able to give him a not-so-pleasant surprise considering what he estimated of me, I stepped outside with him. He took off his jacket, as though it would better prepare him for divine wrath that was about to be unleashed upon his insolent self. Clearly it's been a long time since I've reflected on my training. The fool got lucky as I missed three attacks in a row. Such astronomically low odds wouldn't help him again, but before I could throw a fourth, another, yes, another one of the damned Grounded showed up, breaking up the fight. The only thing I can appreciate in that is that not all Grounded are belligerent ruffians looking to boast their own abilities by challenging what appear to be easy targets to fight. My better will got the better of me and I calmed down slightly from the new Avian's presence. Enough to let Lena drag me off the scene. Back on my vessel, I managed to do away with the rest of my anger. My ship is like my own personal temple, after all. [The writing returns to normal, although the ink is lighter.] Thoroughly calmed, we tried the last location, a 'Fernbrook Field.' Nothing of interest was there at the moment, so we both decided to retire for that instance. I offered Lena one of the spare spaces in a loft of my ship, and I can only assume she sleeps softly in the hay at the time of writing. For now, I believe violent, righteous massacre will only be enacted on the pages of this journal, as my frustration at continued lack of contact with my fellow Flightless grows. ...Jokes aside, I think all my aggression has dissipated for now. But now I'm thoroughly exhausted. I guess today's story took longer to put into writing than I expected. As my first venture into 'Council Space,' it is important to document, I suppose. If anything else interesting happens, I'll write it here. As soon as I buy a new inkwell. I'm nearly out. [The initials N.C. are written at the bottom right-hand part of the page, ended with a flourish. The date is neatly written next to it in print. Monday, December Twenty-Sixth.]
[The ink is a thick black again. She must've bought more ink between this entry and the last.] Events have happened today that I am loath to transcribe. In regards to the previous page, I fully retract my statement about the other Grounded. The one that broke up the fight between me and the orange one. This brown-feathered fool is not to be commended for his actions in the slightest. He deserves a quick incision down his torso, and a forceful rending of his insides. I returned to Fernbrook to ask the local residents how I could help Lena acquire a place of residence. It was a great success! I now know who we have to talk to, her name is Mary. She is a human with pink hair who is apparently the leader around the parts of Fernbrook. I got acquainted with the owner of the popular tavern in the area, and I even had a nice walk through the nature of the planet. It was a thing of great intrigue. The signs of previous civilization are all but completely overtaken by beautiful vegetation, vibrant flowers mix with decrepit stone bricks for a pattern you can't find in other architecture. But I am distracting myself from my frustration. How I HATE that Grounded. The things that he said to me, the sheer ignorance with which he said them. And his motives! "All I wanted was an apoooolooogyyyyyy." Well, you can just die before I'd ever submit a small slice of remorse for the likes of you, you good-for-nothing Grounded. He thinks he has more wisdom than I, simply because he is older than me. (At least, I assume.) Foolish of him to forget, I have the infinite wisdom of the Avos scripture with me always. He tortured and teased it out of me until I finally made a fool of myself in public, again. I wanted to cut out his eyes so he could never give me that smug, self-sure look again. And that empty stare as I assaulted him verbally. Truly, such an absent creature being killed would be a mercy. Let me be humble in saying that it takes a lot to incur my wrath, but this Grounded simply went the extra mile. [The word 'hate' is underlined several times, with parallel lines of decreasing length as they moved downwards] I will start at the beginning. I was simply sitting outside the tavern that but a few days ago had a conflict of interest outside it. Not enough interest for me to detail here. It was a rather unsuccessful outing with Lena and the only thing we ended up as were spectators. Soon after this the strangers from Refract-- the cloaked ones. I didn't make note of them because, in true honesty, I was too enraged to take much notice. But we met again on Fernbrook where they took a liking to Lena. It was quite comical. One of them attempted to ask her on a date while his friend translated to broken Common for him. Again I lose myself. Those were the other day's events, but it is today's that are at the forefront of my mind. I was sitting outside the tavern. Intelligence had been successfully gathered, all I needed to do was get Lena at a moment where she wasn't busy and find this 'Mary' person. For the time being, I was taking a break. I was in a lighter mood because I encountered somebody who seemed faithful for the first time in forever. Unfortunately, they seemed much too occupied for chit-chat. She wished me good graces in Avosi, for Kluex's sake. How that brought me back. I hadn't spoken it in a while, but rust does not collect on something golden. I spoke back to her with what I know was fluidity before taking my deserved break. Then he appeared. He who I assumed earlier had a semblance of civilization to him, but I chide myself for not knowing better. All Grounded follow the same principle, and that is lack of principle. He had the gall to sit across from me even as I glared at him. He went at length to try to make himself out as the 'good guy' for butting into my duel with that orange-feathered fool. He went at length to insult me and discredit anything I said solely based on the grounds that I was younger than he. I was about to really tell him some of my thoughts when out poured another conflict from the tavern. This time it was solely a battle of fists. No firearms were discharged, but in the aftermath someone came out bleeding heavily. With some improvised tools I managed to put my rudimentary knowledge of the medical field to use, bandaging the wound with a disinfected bit of cloth. But no good deed goes unpunished. As I returned to my conversation with the Grounded, he begged for his apology and asked me why I even persisted talking to him. It was me but a moment ago that was doing the same thing. But I cannot expect much from Grounded. They are all hypocritical like this one. Pushed to the extent of my patience, I let forth from my mouth all the rage of the previous day, when I was unable to translate it through my fists into that orange one's beak. He did not even react. Clearly, my rage had rendered him completely and utterly stupefied, his feeble Grounded mind unable to comprehend holy fury it had unleashed. I left righteously, and sat outside the tavern once more, playing brief spectator to a duo of Avians who had watched me repair the victim's wound earlier. The brown Avian wisely avoided me on his way past me. Him and his ugly pink scarf. I decided to leave after a fifth Avian introduced himself to the fray. This one was... Unnerving. It irked me to be around him. I'd rather not describe further here, but the poor Avian who got stuck with his flirting once I left... Horrible. Truly horrible. On my way to the telepad, I saw brown-feathers playing in the fountain (who is the fledgling now? I don't play in fountains.) that is on the path. I gave him my last remarks, before finally making it back here. Even successful days can leave bitter tastes in my mouth when you throw a Grounded into the mix. When you see Kluex at the gates of the Aether, I hope he laughs in your face, brown feathers. Friday, December Thirtieth. N.C.
[Nothing unusual to report about the handwriting or ink-level.] Commune with fellow faithful Avians brought about its own unprecedented problems. It seems Fernbrook Field is where I'd find the most luck in meeting them most often. For now, at least. The first I met is Tenca. No, not my brother Tenca, but another. She has brown feathers, but is not to be confused with the fool with brown feathers of the previous entry. Nay, this new Tenca is wise. It was an interesting circumstance I met her in. The beam-in location for Fernbrook Field is a decrepit clock tower, unbeknownst to me before today. I was on my way out after another nature walk when I heard commotion on a level above me which I had completely neglected the existence of. On my way to investigate the happening, I saw an Avian in the most curious of dress. The strangest part is that he spoke to me first, in Avosi! And for a moment I had his appearance confused for a Floran. A clay mask covers his face and beak, and ugly leather straps bind themselves to his torso. I can only imagine that this is what suspends his heavy-looking pants. His feathers were gray and dull, not dissimilar to his dull wit. But I will get that far later. Our first exchange was a pleasant one. I believe it was just him explaining why he wore what he did to me while I didn't really listen. Something about a tribe of hunters. My only thought was, "Dear Kluex, there are more souls that torment themselves by dressing and living in such a way?" Truly harrowing thoughts aside, I ascended the stairs to find myself surrounded by books. More interestingly, off to the side lay she shaft. The height of the clock tower, and I was inside of it. Almost on-cue, a lift in the middle of the shaft operated, bringing down a ghostly pale human with neon blue hair. It was like she stepped out of a can of paint. Why are humans like this? Regardless, the human informed me that the ruckus I heard earlier was in fact them testing some biochemical weaponry atop the clock tower. Apparently, testing sleeping gas atop the clock tower is just as normal as the drunken brawlers spilling out of the Taproot Tavern. Clearly I had arrived quite late after the test, because the brown-feathered Tenca was tending to the sleepy victim-- a Floran whom I had warily avoided earlier. The savage put on a display of weakness, whimpering and nearly crying. I knew better than to get close and fall for the facade. I am not easily tricked. I suppose it wasn't hungry, for the beast left without a fight. Thus left myself and Tenca, who chided me for still being adorned in the same outfit which I had passed her by on the previous day. I didn't mind the issue all that much, but after my explanation Tenca saw it fit to provide a "solution." If we recall the masked individual from earlier, Tenca in her wisdom remarked that he could likely tailor something to fit my needs. I was excited. Many of my clothes had been lost to unfortunate happenstance, it would be nice to get new ones. Descending from the clock tower, Tenca imparted on me some more wisdom. And by 'wisdom,' of course, I mean she talked in circles arriving at no real conclusion. Kluex bless her for she is faithful, but I am not faithful in her ability to give advice. She told me something to the effect of "I can worship on my own, for nobody is stopping me. There are likely bits of scripture in Refract Valley and Fernbrook itself." I replied, explaining why Refract Valley is a terrible place where the Grounded, three in a row as a matter of fact, run amok and torture the undeserving. Then she told me, "Well, complaining isn't going to change anything. Go and be the change you'd like to see." Well, Tenca, which is it? Keep to myself, or worship openly? The worst was yet to come. By fortune or lack thereof, we managed to stumble on clay-mask himself, having a discussion with the poor soul I stranded with the freak from the other day. I think his name is Rosen-- the soul I stranded, that is. He's a young man with blue feathers a few shades darker than mine. Tenca seems to like flirting with him, but she seems like the kind of Avian that could get that way among any company. Rosen, he gives me strange looks from time to time. I don't think they are of admiration, but it felt wrong to inquire further. I don't hold it against him. It's humbling to be closely examined. I think I prefer Rosen the most out of any of the other company. He has a soft heart. The emotional types always endeared me. I am sidetracked. About clay-mask... I forgot to mention that he keeps this terrifying bird creature with him at all times. Kluex knows it's probably the only companion he can keep conversation with. It stands at about waist-height, with an enormous beak that snaps shut. I would say it's liable to consume an entire limb, or at least break bones. So not only was there that barrier, but despite being faithful he held me in contempt for absolutely no reason. I did him no wrong and he despised me solely on principle. At this point, I was unaware. I had my doubts about him, as well, but I was containing them. In the sake of not making things awkward for all four of us, I was polite and well-mannered. After it seemed we had struck a deal, he pulled me aside for a final negotiation that "would benefit the both of us." I think it would've benefited the both of us if I had known to strike him from his high-horse then and there. But alas. In all his less-than-charming insolence, clay-mask proposed that if I were to want clothing from him, and he even said he is only a hobbyist tailor experienced mostly in hides, I would have to "accompany him," which I assume meant "do it myself." The selfish bastard. You think "living off the land" is the stage for ultimate altruism, not motivated by corporate greed or the desire for money when it is merely the food in your belly that matters. But apparently, this is not the case. He insulted me for the way I lived and flat-out told me he detested me. All entirely unwarranted and only based on the fact that I utilized the resources of society when he chose not to, because he chooses to live stubbornly. To think I respected such a decision before today. Truly, it's just another trip for people who have nothing to try to feel superior to those who have. How pathetic. With all manners out the window, I gave him what-for. I told him about his semblance to a Floran. He might as well be one, at this point. Lack of culture, lack of education, and lack of reason. Perfect characteristics of a Floran. Perhaps he's but a Floran who covered himself in stolen grey feathers. I would not be surprised in the least. He babbled out some words that I didn't bother myself to listen to as I excused myself. I was headed for much more pleasant company. I regrouped with Rosen and Tenca on the other side of the building where they had unfortunately become stuck with clay-mask's "pet." Tenca was acquainted with it, so it was under control. Watching Rosen befriend the thing was a fun scene to watch, but it struck me that this thing was unsafe. Obvious, I know, but it was much less a pet and more a feral creature. I was ready to sew Rosen's arm back onto his body when I noticed he was reaching out to touch the damned thing. I brought up the danger of such a creature to the two of them in a casual conversation. I had difficulty getting my point across, and I finally submitted to their lack of logic when Rosen said that I was being 'close-minded' in considering people's safety over a dangerous, feral creature's apparent necessity to be in public. Tenca tried to pull a fast one on me and twist my logic to suit her own clever wordplay, but I cut her line of thinking with my quick wit. You'll have to wake up earlier in the morning to make a fool of me. Even still, it was something I did not expect when Rosen was the one to do what I thought Tenca was trying to do. Put me in the role of the beast. He came up and started petting my plumage. Did he expect me to bite him or something? It got to the point several times where I thought I said something irrefutable, and yet somehow they stubbornly managed to bring about ambiguity to another fact I perceived as given. In the end, I think I finally got them to at least understand where my stance was taken. I excused myself in a short manner, tired both physically and mentally exhausted from some of the sillier parts of our 'debate.' Still, I appreciated being around such good company. Even though the earlier clay-masked fellow left me with a sour taste, Tenca and Rosen made me feel better. It was nice, to just, as I put it when I was there, "hang out" with them. Who is to be sure, perhaps I'll be partaking in their company again soon? Only time will tell, but I am glad to have ended one of these entries on a positive note rather than with unsated fury. Thank you, Tenca and Rosen. Saturday, December Thirty-First. N.C.
[Today, her handwriting seems to have extra curvature to it, her letters looking more fancy, as though she had some reason to put in extra flourish, or simply feel like it. Perhaps proper answers lie within.] Today was an astounding, unabashed success! An excellent start to the new year. Yesterday was spent shopping for new clothes, but today I was able to get some much needed things done. Nobody stood in my way, this time. Nobody tried to give me a lecture, or beg for an apology. Nobody challenged me to a battle, and I may have even found something more worthy of note. I'll divulge chronologically, like always, but the nature of this entry will be fairly short. I had a bit of doubt with my new outfit. It was simple, a yellow top and a black skirt, with gold accents here and there. It just wasn't exactly what I'm used to. I usually stick to outfits that have two or three colors, but this outfit had a whopping four. Yellow, white, black, and gold. Apparently, I'm the only one to fret overtly about such smaller details. Thankfully, too. Regardless, I found that Mary person in front of the Taproot Tavern (I go to Fernbrook Field quite often now, as a side-thought.) and the short of it is that she showed me places where Lena could stay and told me a few things about it. Next time I see her, I'll let her know. After receiving a tour from the formerly-elusive Mary, I sat outside the Tavern. I was about to log onto Starnet on my cellular device when who else but Rosen would approach me? He addressed me as 'Lady Culosara' and I couldn't help but inwardly revel. Him calling me that reminds me of father's helping hands all running around the house. My mother was 'Lady Culosara,' and I was 'Young Lady Culosara.' I suppose Rosen calling me by a title reserved for my mother made me feel... More mature. That's not to say that I am not already mature. It just was a good reassurance. Rosen and I got into a long discussion, which was mostly myself interviewing him about his past. I enjoyed it, it has been so long since I have been able to discuss... I'm not sure how to put it. "Avian topics," I suppose? When I was with family on Avos, it was just commonplace to hear people talking about Guardians and scribes and what-have-you. I took that sort of thing for granted, but Rosen has granted it to me once again. He has quite the interesting past, I must admit. I discussed little about myself, but it would happen that we are both rusty with the art of swordplay. So, I put forth the idea that one day we could spar with wooden "blades." He seemed approving of the idea. This is my journal and I must be frank. I believe Rosen has a fancy for me. No, not love. What a childish notion that would be. If the silly way he pet me the other day was a clue, then it is my understanding that he just has trouble expressing himself. When we were talking normally, he was fine. I was happy to hear that he had previous training in both scribehood and Guardianship. But after he started to dismiss himself, he behaved very strangely. He slicked his talons through his plumage as though he were preparing for something, trying to get them a certain way, and he kept straightening out his dress. Regardless, he respectfully bowed towards me so I mirrored his gesture. I made a simple jibe about the encounter in which he affectionately patted my crest, purely jocularly, and he looked as though I had told him he was being tried for murder. I wouldn't be surprised if he dropped a few feathers with how fast he "excused" himself. It was more like he ran away. ...Amusing. My final thoughts on the matter is that Rosen should formally attempt to court me if he has the desire to do so. I'd be inclined to accept. There would be no hurt in trying, and he is a fine example of a virtuous, faithful young man. Perhaps if I go on one of those outings we said could happen, he would do it then. We shall see, but I am not a fan of awkward games... Even if I involuntarily play them, myself, on occasion. Monday, January Second. N.C.
[Her handwriting is the same as ever. The straight lines are very straight and the curves have a certain flow to them. Her handwriting seemed somehow more this way in this entry than any of the previous ones.] It's been two weeks, and I've deprived myself of most contact on purpose in hopes that I would come to a realization. The day isn't quite over yet, but I'm taking a quiet time to write before the day's events have taken focus in my mind's eye. I write this entry from atop the Fernbrook clock tower, the first entry of which I've written while not in my home. I feel that this is also symbolic. Of what exactly, I could not discern in the moment. Still, the breeze is nice on my feathers and were I to have trouble getting inspiration for the sentences to be written here, all I would need to do was gaze out in either direction and draw inspiration from nature. Two weeks is a long time to spend in solitude. Many greater than I have done it for longer, but for someone as humble as myself, it was quite the feat. I had to reflect on my experiences so far in this sector. About Lena, and what has come to pass with her. Not much wisdom is to be gain by simple passing of events, although Lena reminds me of my respect I have for other cultures, as Takumi did years ago. Concerning those Grounded that I've found on my journey; That Raybina Primfeather, as well as "Toni" and last but not least, the effeminate brown avian. I reflected on how wrathful I've been as of recent when it concerns those individuals and I've come to one conclusion. [Her writing switches over to High Avosi glyphs, although her penmanship can clearly be seen as similar between the two languages. The glyphs and letters share similar strokes and lines, it's obviously done by her meticulous hand.] I haven't been harsh enough. It's been nearly a month and a half since I last drew the blood of another. My knife is sickeningly clean. And I knew I would find the answer in my reflection. The constant crowds of this sector prevent me from correctly apprehending those who would defy Kluex. Does that make me a vigilante, the fact that I would want to partake in such an action? No, I am a believer carrying out my duty. ...But that is not the true answer as to why I am finding myself unable to kill. At least, not the whole answer. Rosen. He makes my mind sick in a terrible way, I lose my entire demeanor when I am around him. I am firm in the belief that he is not at fault for this, but if I am to continue to be around him then I believe I will simply find myself unable to kill. It does not help that I've seemingly fallen out of practice with my hand-to-hand skill. If Rosen and I spar like he promised me we would, I will re-sharpen those lost skills. Fighting is not simply about technique, it is about the applications of those techniques, and I wish to apply those techniques very soon. A fond memory involving the harsh sound of something cracking against sandstone comes to mind. Take pride in the small things, as they say. I will try to keep myself 'normal' around Rosen one more time. If I fail, then I will pursue something else to busy myself. [Her writing switches back to Common.] I have been doting on the argument I had with the clay-masked Avian. The things he told me about self-reliance. I believe he is a fool. I am self-reliant in ways that are certainly evident from my past experiences, more specifically those described in this recent entry. He doesn't have any advantage over me, especially not in a circumstance where it would matter. Thankfully, he is faithful, at least to my understanding. To have to wound him would be a waste of effort. What I plan to do in these coming days is find a way to occupy this impetus that I've recently been feeling. My meditation put a temporary halt to it, but now I only have two choices. Neither one of them seems like the easy option. With a run of bad luck, the result could be having to satisfy both. Monday, January Sixteenth. N.C.
[The lines of her penmanship in this entry are much sharper than the previous few. It's quite likely that she's using a new feather or has freshly sharpened the one she was using previously.] Today, my mercy is unparalleled. Against many principles, I returned to that insipid place, that Refract Valley. I brought Hulei along to send a message, of sorts. The way those others looked at us as we walked in and I spoke to him in High Avosi, it was quite comedic. As I sat down, I went on my phone out of boredom. I had went there under the impression that I would immediately encounter all the Grounded Avians I hear have taken haven in the Valley. Instead, we were seated across the table from a human, a hylotl, and an employee of the Valley. I didn't care to take names, I had no quarrel with any of them. None of them were much for conversation, so I simply had a seat and went on my phone to find that the human was sending rude messages describing my servant and myself to the Starnet Instant-Messenger. It was clear that my regal aura of order had off-put all three of the vagrants, for they quickly filed out uncomfortably. I made a passing knowing remark at the human for her snide comments, and if I didn't know better I would describe her reaction as cowering in fear. It is when these nuisances left that things began to become much more interesting. We were joined by an Avian gentleman, and believe me that I am generous in this description. He was not gentle nor did he act like a man. He was much more of a rabbit than anything else. I don't know what he called himself, but he was a dark-feathered man who wore an unfashionable set of goggles on his head. He wore a careless t-shirt and some garb that seemed as though it belong on a human instead of him. Overall, he was quite obviously Grounded by the look. No respect for tradition, and certainly no respect for my servant. Hulei took great offense when this rude man verbally attacked me with no provocation. And after running his beak for so long, he truly expected me to let him walk right past me. Hulei tripped the Grounded with the parasol he had been using to escort me into the establishment. Our methods for incapacitating this individual were quite interesting but it'd be pointless to describe at length in this entry. The important take-away is that eventually I gave him a stern talking to, and turned him loose. He hopped away like the cowardly rabbit he truly was inside. I'm not surprised in the slightest by what took place in Refract Valley. I was already aware that it is a haven for the degenerate Grounded. There are many like it on the outskirts of Avian-controlled space, but none were ever so... Oddly colorful as the Refract Valley. It is an insult, an offense to the eyes as well as my beliefs. Raybina Primfeather wants to play games and taunt, and I am certainly willing to let her not her little haven is not entirely safe from Flightless. However, Hulei was injured in the endeavor and we must hold back for now. He is treating himself now, but soon miss Primfeather and I will have a little chat, to put it figuratively. Of course, I can't focus all my efforts on this Refract Valley. Perhaps I will give Hulei a day off for his work well done and to recover from the injury he received to his face, and use the next day to send a foray into Fernbrook. I still need to encounter Rosen. We shall see. Saturday, March Fourth. N.C.
