Ab Intra

[B0b_J3ffers0n]

".. I hope you find shelter, like the pearl in the clam,

I hope a kind current saves you when the whirlpool scatters your plans,

I hope.. the sun in the sky isn't too bright during the sunset today,

I hope.. you find lots of yummy food on your next.. foray.."

- The Song Within The Shell

---

Date: Yiel, Nineteenth.
Location: Gloomlight Grove.

Today I had my first taste of war.

It wasn't something direct. Nothing like the stories I heard back home. There was no fire and brimstone, no giant overwhelming titan, no charging, no screaming - I didn't get to see that. (Thankfully!) No, instead... I got to see the aftermath. The pain that came with it. The sorrow in peoples' eyes as they witnessed the people they care for the most, undergo some of the worst experiences of their lifetime. All for... What?

When I came here; I was told a few things. Firstly, that I would be going to some backwater island close to Meranthe of all places. I was delighted! I was going to be posted somewhere where I wouldn't have to worry about drowning. Somewhere where I wouldn't have to stare death in the face almost constantly. Somewhere where, for once, I wouldn't be judged for a lack of something I hadn't been capable of doing. I was finally getting the post of my dreams. Freedom, an escape, a permanent vacation.

And then...

My Captain told me I would be joining a war.

Not just any old war - no, no.

The war against a demon-controlled settlement.

I'm in over my head.

I'm not like these people.

They stand tall, even in the face of overwhelming pain. They stand tall, even though their friends are injured. They fight, even though they're facing down overwhelming odds. And yet - I'm here. I have the gall to pretend I can even remotely match up to that level of commitment. I mean, I didn't even come here with the intention of being noble. I'm not a hero like these people. Hel, I'm not even a proper soldier! I didn't even pass my Cadet exam properly! I FAILED the practical tests!

... And yet...

Somehow.

Some way.

... Someone, has faith in me. Faith in what I'll become. Sure, she can't even say my name right - and maybe I kind of deserve that kind of humiliation - but... She believes in me. And nobody, not one person, has ever done that. Not one single person in my entire lifetime has flat out told me they believe in anything I have. Not my strength, not my personality, not my intelligence. So why? Why, specifically, does she have faith in me?

I don't understand.

Maybe I never will.

But I don't want to let her down.

... Maybe, through this path that I've stumbled into, I can find a way to repay this faith. And, in kind?

Finally, finally...

Be safe.

[B0b_J3ffers0n]

"Snow?"
"You can barely keep yourself from falling into the dirt!"
"Snow and dirt... What does that make?"
"Ahaha! Snirt! Snirtfins!"

---

Date: Uner, Twenty Third.
Location: The Traverse.

I don't like to wallow in self pity often.
It's a repulsive thing that is often romanticized in novels. Something that is viewed as an 'obstacle to overcome' by most in New Atlantis.

Yet, today, here I am, finding myself wallowing in it like a parrot fish within it's own mucus. I pity myself. My own weakness. Because, in the end, that's all that I am. All that makes me, me. Failure, after failure, after failure. That is all I can see myself as. A miserable, whimpering, failure. Because, fundamentally, I am worthless. That's simply how things are, and how things will continue to be.

I've attempted to run from this fact for some time.
I made friends. Three. Four?
A number.

I hear their encouraging words, the way they treat me, the way they treat eachother - and I can't help but wonder... Why? Why is it that they believe in me in any regard? Why is it that they continue to hang around me, continue to interact warmly with me? And then - I understand the answer. I realize why they talk to me. They pity me. They pity the siren that can't swim. They pity the siren that can't talk normally. They pity the siren that can barely try to fight without screaming and running away.

They pity the stray minnow from New Atlantis.

I want to pretend I'm going to be fine. I want to pretend I'm going to keep moving. I want to pretend I'm strong enough to keep smiling, laughing, charging forwards like there's no tomorrow - but I'm just... Not that strong. I'm not strong enough to pretend I'm a warrior. I'm a coward. I'm a fraud. I'm nothing more than a simpering fool that hurts herself when a medic is trying to treat her... Or a coward that simply can't face down a man that's trying to cut her down.

I should have stayed at home.
Maybe then, I wouldn't have to trouble The Traverse with my presence.

I hate that I made them care.