The Journal of a Liar - Valette Montelione / Naroa DeGray (Deceased)

[Whatever]

I have heard and repeated the common sentiment that writing a journal for oneself is a therapeutic act. It both encourages reflection and provides the chance to move beyond the traumatic events of one's past. I have even kept a few vague accounts of my own to compensate for my lack of true friends confidants, but for fear of its consequences I have never written my true thoughts in a discoverable manner. The potential fallout would be something I was unsure I could withstand, back then. I was and still am afraid of being alone rejected, but my views have shifted slightly. Some time ago I showed someone the real me, in so much as I am capable of showing it with my limited experience. I told him what I had done, showed him how deeply my flaws went.

Despite how I view myself, he refused to judge me. For the first time in so long I was able to talk to someone without any lies or misdirection. I could speak without being afraid of losing everything. He just sat and listened, offering me the comfort he believed I needed. I think it was a moment of healing.

So, with that said, let me begin this Journal now, in earnest.

The name I poses is that of Valette Montelione, third child of the mainline noble Aphrosi lineage. Younger sister of Lady Mephisto, elder of Lord Rapheal.

Seventeen years ago to the day, I killed their sister and claimed her future as my own.

[Whatever]

Perhaps I should start at the beginning. For myself, if not for any potential reader who stumbles on this bound journal. Whoever you are, I do not approve, but I understand that curiosity. So let me say my part, without assumption or misdirection.

I met Valette when we were both children. She was mischievous, for a high-born. She was always sneaking out to roam the streets in peasantry attire. I took notice of her one day, because that is what you did, as a street urchin. You watched; Either out of curiosity, longing or fear. Something was not right with her, I knew it the moment we spoke. A noble accent that was poorly masked, skin too clean. She smelled of rich scents so prolific they nearly made me want to gag under my own smut miasma of filth.

It might have been a conundrum, but we became friends shortly after.

We would play for hours. I would show her tricks on the street, she would drag me off to find lost treasure. One time she even brought shovels to dig up dirt to find 'Marleen's Bounty' in a hill on the other side of town. I think fondly back to those days. They were some of the only good experiences I had, back then. My mother had died when I was younger, a harlot who worked the streets. I never knew my father, so when she was no longer around and had no family to speak of, I found myself alone in my quiet misery. Valette helped to open me up, but I knew she could never understand why I felt and acted the ways I did. She either found my nuances curious, or a mystery.

I stole to eat. She learned to steal because it seemed fun.

We were both eleven years old, when it happened. Or so, I think I was eleven. I had no one to keep track of my birthdays for me and they seemed unimportant next to finding a comfortable place to sleep. I was not a fan of the state orphanages, not with those angry old crones. But--

Ah, let me get back on track...

She was eleven years old when I took her life.

[Whatever]

An argument, that is all it took.

I barely remember what it was over, but I know we both said hurtful things. Where she could stomp off and return to a lavish home with a large family, I would have no recourse but to return to squalor. I do not think it was the argument alone that caused it, but a culmination of things that had made me desperate for a change. I lacked any training to understand my situation. The heated argument provided a glimmer of something within me; An alluring promise that I could become anything I wanted, if only I would reach out to take it. I was so overcome by indulging in that sensation that my instincts acted before my rational thought.

Valette was not a person to me, in those moments that my shiv stabbed her. She was... nothing an after image. A kind of promise that by doing this one thing my life can be better, that I can be better... I viewed her only as an illusion of the mind. I suppose, a mental barrier that stood between me and a new existence. It is hard to describe the trance I had succumbed to, but I cannot blame my situation alone on that. There was a desperation in me that fuelled that sinful act.

Only when the blood stained my hands did I regain my senses. But they were no longer my hands. The rough, course skin was gone. My chipped and broken nails had recovered with a sheen I had never seen with my own eyes before. I only noticed the body after satiating my own curious thoughts. On that hill in summer she lay dead, her blood fertilizing the undergrowth. I think I broke down crying, time was a blur. I was not even sure if I had done it, but my subconscious knew punished me justly. I could not take Valette home, I could not risk her family finding the body and punishing me accordingly.

So I hid her. My only friend and I made it so no one could ever grieve over her body.

It was only after frantically washing the blood from my skin and changing my rags that I noticed my altered reflection in the water.

I had stolen her face.

[Whatever]

I did not know what I was, back in those days.

There had been times when I felt that familiar sensation of malleability, but never to that extreme. I was unaware of what it was and became enchanted by it, as a result. Taking Valette's life was the most natural thing in the world for me. That is what scared me the most. If I could take her life without even thinking then would I do it to others? I have lived with that fear for my entire life. I have always fought against those urges for violence, as best I could. In a way, my refusal to hurt another by my own hands has been a path of redemption I have walked.  But i can write more of that later. For now, let us return back to those early days.

I ran away from my actions.

I had nothing but some stored up rations to survive part of the long winters. Possessing a noble's face and an urchin's rags, I aimed to escape from Aphrosi territory. I hardly knew where I was going or how I would get there, but in my desperation I held the sack over my shoulder, picked a direction and walked. I followed the west-facing roads, twisting and turning around long bends to ever keep moving. My feet hurt terribly with this new skin I had acquired. There was no hard skin to protect me from the pebbles and rocks, so early on I found my walk to be a bloodied one. Rags were torn off and wrapped around them for a measure of comfort, but the pain was piercing.

For weeks, I only stopped to rest in in the tall grass.

But little did I know a bounty had been placed on my recovery. I found myself near the true wilderness, in the last border village before the domain of Aphros ends. I was hungry, my rations having run out or rottend. Not that there was much to eat to begin with, an Urchin stored away what they could, but... It was never much. I tried to steal from a stall, enough to last me a few days, but I caught a mercenaries attention. I was so fixated on the stall owner that I did not notice him inching closer. Until he grabbed me and held parchment next to my face.

I begged for him not to take me. I struggled and screamed to be let go.

But he overpowered me.

And I found myself on a long travel... home.

[Whatever]

I grew quiet as I was escorted inside Valette's childhood home.

Strangers stood before me there in that room with marble flooring and carpets that made my feet glide over their gentle surface. A woman rushed towards me. She hugged me in a concerned relief. The strangeness of their affection was something I almost could not process, but when she said Valette's name, I froze. This was her mother. The guilt quickly took me over. I found myself crying without a word. They escorted me to a room with a prepared bath and tried to ask me questions once I was cleaned up and examined. They found nothing physically out of the ordinary. If anything, even my height had matched their daughters. I kept that silence up for as long as I could, slowly practicing the noble accent in private. Studying Valette's diaries to learn her thoughts and the ways she acted. The lessons clergy gave to homeless children paid off, but it was a long process to mimic my lost friend.

Wherever I went, an escort followed. For a long time any attempts to escape I even half-hearted tried would be immediately blocked. The Montelione's did not want their child running off any more. They of course questioned why I was so quiet. Somehow I had managed to convince them and professionals that trauma had resulted in me losing my ability to talk. But that was all a lie.

It took months, but when I was sure I would not slip up, I began to show progress towards my recovery.

I did not wish to deceive them. I felt pity for them and self loathing for lying, but i wanted to survive. But over the course of those months I had began to find myself growing attached to the Montelione's. For the first time in so long, I had a mother and even a father. I had siblings who cared for me, even if perhaps they resented the consequences of Valette's disappearance. A full stomach every day and all the knowledge I could want at my finger tips. I had grown attached to them. I felt myself falling into this new life I found myself a part of.

Sometimes, I even wondered if I actually was Valette. If somehow those memories I possessed of another life were just an hallucination from an a bad hit on the head.

But I always knew such thoughts were just a my mind trying to push my crimes into a little box that I would bury deep within myself to hide.

Over the years I had various opportunities to escape. A door left open, a servant ordered away with me left alone in a room, a visit to the local market under supervision as a crowd stormed by unexpectedly. Yet I remained stationary despite the opportunities presented. I had grown too attached with this new life, with the family I suddenly found myself possessing. I realized I did not want to leave them. Despite the guilt that quietly eroded me, I wanted to enjoy those familial bonds. I wanted to make up for what I had stolen from Valette by living a good life in her name. But I was always scared of losing what I barely held on to.

It was selfish. It was even cruel. But I had done an unforgiveable act I believed they could not forgive.

I thought to myself: "What good could come of me revealing the truth?" I believed it would only lead to everyone suffering, myself especially.

Later in life I would come to regret that line of thinking.

[Whatever]

How do you explain what it is like to live a life that is not your own? The 'imposter syndrome' was a sensation that never went away. The good moments as they celebrate a birthday that was not my own, the bad moments when my 'foster' father and elder brother died. It tarnished the good and enhanced my misery in the darkest of times. Because of me those two would never know I was not their Kin. They would never be afforded the right to grieve, not in this life anyway. I suppose part of me thought I would always have the chance to reveal it, yet I always put it off for fear of the consequences. Losing that opportunity with the 124 incident was a sobering moment. Our lives had changed irreversibly. 

The old home was destroyed. Our family torn apart by a tragedy.

My foster mother took ill, leaving all of this weight on Mephisto's shoulders, the poor woman. Mephisto had been my crutch growing up. It would be a lie to say I did not feel protective towards her. She almost lacked the emotional depth needed to navigate the complexities of life.  I felt I had more than enough internal turmoil for the both of us, so I was something of her keeper growing up. Of course, looking back on those events, I was just imagining my own importance in her life. She never truly needed me, least of all now. In recent years I have began to question my presence in their lives. Do I want to continue this charade? Have I not staved off the inevitable for long enough?

I had dreams of adventuring to far off lands, riding the waves in a sturdy ship as the sun bathed the blue horizon. It was such an alluring dream to me, the promise of true freedom. My refusal to pursue it was one of numerous self-punishments.

For years I have tried to make up for what I did to Valette. Living a good life in her name by helping others, by doing it pleasantly with a neutral position on political matters to never cause harm towards House Montelione. Although recent years have proven my resolve waned, in that regard. I have however tried to fight my violent impulses with everything I had. I simply do not want to hurt anyone, even if it is part of my nature to. I understand that some people deserve to die, it is simply too costly to risk redemption. But I have never stolen another face. I refuse to use a weapon to take a life, by my own hands at least. The walls I have placed around my core prevent it. All of my desperate actions towards redemption, towards self punishment, resulted in people starting to see me only for my bedside manner, my stolen title and Valette's body.

How I felt was less important than how my false presentation made them feel.

The unending propositions from people that could not know and would not accept me, should they learn the truth. 
The false friendships built on lies and deceptions.

Even those I had dared to let closer to the true me would invariably betray that trust. Whether through intent or circumstances. Aphros is a cynical place that perhaps enjoyed proving my insecurities to be true.

As I write this journal I muse over the man who had been the only one to prove my presumptions wrong. 

Vaelrun Emris, the former Oracle of Aphros, was a warrior who viewed himself as a blade, more than a man. How strange it was that only after his fall from grace did we begin to grow closer. It was through him that I learned much of my nature. I opened myself up to him and defied his every presumption of me. He did not reject me, despite learning I was no noble being. I feel he made me a better person in a genuine sense. I would like to believe I did the same for him. I was so close to convincing Vaelrun to live a quiet and earnest life with me, away from all of the pain we had both endured. No more oaths towards violence, no more living a false life. I still remember the day he had left for the Shadowlands, following a lead that might enable Aphros to fight her many enemies. He promised me in a moment of affection that he would be careful.

I want to believe he kept that promise, all the way to the bitter end.

As I hold the only object of his to return, I consider the reality that once more I am truly alone.

[Whatever]

I do feel the urge to give into despair. I can feel it wrapping itself around my heart. It takes everything I have to fend it off.

There is a hole within me that, for a time, had been filled by his presence. Now I feel the absence stronger than ever. I grieve for Vaelrun, but I must celebrate his life, not mourn for his passing. The dead are never truly gone, they are just changed. In a way that is a comfort, to know one day we may meet again. Whether either of us are aware of the other is an entirely different matter. I suppose it is the memory of those moments where he helped me crawl from my shell that give me the strength to go on. 

And I am not sure I can continue as I once was.

There was a taste of freedom in what that warrior, bound to his own chains of duty, had shown me. The possibility of showing someone who I am, without fear of retribution or the terror of losing what I had never truly earned. After all of this I think I want to simply be in my own skin and not feel like I am always hiding.

I love Mephisto, Rapheal and the others. They are the family I was denied in my old life. But if I continue like this then there will be nothing left of me. The progress I had made will be lost and I will fall back into the old fears that had dictated my life more than anything else. I do not want to become a husk devoid of dreams and comfort. Perhaps it is time I end this chapter of my life, even if I cannot know what comes next. Will they reject me once they know the truth? I suppose so. I did kill their sister and lied to them for almost two decades. Will I be detained and executed, or simply exiled from Aphros? Will the other faceless defend my life upon learning the truth, or will they conspire to hunt me down and assassinate me for refusing to be controlled?

Maybe that is the beauty in this life we live. The future is an uncertainty.

I do not know if any paths to a bright future await me, but I walk barefoot on the gravel to honour Vaelrun's memory. He would want me to keep moving forward. Whether I die, or find myself in exile, I know voicing the truth can only be a good thing. Nothing can undo my sins, but I can do the great kindness of finally admitting my fault.

If this is my last entry then let it be known that I regret my actions and I accept my fate with as much dignity as this liar can afford.

[Whatever]

My name was Naroa.

It had been so long since I spoke it. Part of me genuinely believes my name to be Valette. Twenty years of conditioning. The name of my birth slides along my tongue like that of a bitter lie. I do not know who I am anymore.

[Whatever]

It seemed I was not the only one hiding my true nature, in some ways. Rapheal did not refuse me, at least outwardly. To him, as he states, I am the sister he has always known. Those words should bring me peace, but the way they are spoken is so uncharacteristic of who I knew. I would show concern, but do I have any ground to stand on? He showed me who he really is, beneath the layers he would use to hide. I should be thankful for that - I did thank him.

But in my minds eye I cannot help but picture Samandriel and his eventual betrayal. Can we ever truly know anyone? Even those we had grown up with...

Mephisto on the other hand had an outcome I saw coming. She had lived for so long, desperately clinging to the hope that she can keep this family together, despite our numerous losses. To learn the sister she had known for most of her life was an imposter who had stolen from her family and to then realize that the only blood sibling you had left was your brother could not have been easy for her to cope with. All she has left is Rapheal and her cousins. I know she is experiencing emotional turmoil beneath her logic and reasoning. No small part of me wanted to comfort her.

But I am scared to dare try.

I left her with a promise that if she reached out I would respond. It is all I felt I could do. Maybe she can forgive me. Maybe she will want my head. There are parts of Mephisto that can perhaps be considered cruel, but never towards those she considered to be family. Of which I have just committed a self ostracization from.  I just do not know anymore which way the winds will blow. 

I am sorry for all of this...

Until I am sure they can accept me I will have no recourse but to limit my presence in Aphros. Mephisto has to grieve and come to terms with what I told her. To provoke her with my presence may only result in tragedy. Although, abandonment may create an equal response. If she writes to me I will answer, but... I'd be remiss to not consider that Ignorance may in fact be bliss. Did I do the right thing? Was it a kindness or a cruelty I shared? It all seemed so clear, until the moment itself arrived. I just don't want to deceive them anymore.

[Whatever]

I feel I have grown disenchanted with Aphros.

My criticism of my former home only grows with each passing day. I understand the flaws of my society and I know it should have the capacity to overcome them, but rarely do I feel right chosen over wrong. There are always forces at work that ensure society may not change. Control is exerted to the point of cynicism. How many crusades have we left unfinished, when their propaganda was built on objective good? For humanity, at least. To rid the world of the Hive, therein saving countless human lives for generations to come. It is telling that Aphros has made peace three times with the creatures, within each enabling its eventual regrowth into a viable threat, wherein they have always attacked and fed on our loved ones in order to breed once more. I suspect a fourth occasion will arise within my lifetime. My doubt whispers to me that this is unlikely to change.

To know that we always leave that threat unfinished leaves me with a sense of discontentment. It is as though Vaelrun's efforts were for nothing.

What truly effects me however is the lack of integrity within our systems of governance.  Nephilim are in positions of power, wherein they refuse to act with virtue. Our entire society is fanatical to the point of detriment towards the sanctity of human life. We concern ourselves with enabling our darker nature under the guise of controlling it, but to do so in an institutional way, one that purposely separates our positive and negative natures into their own distinct branches, only enables corruption within our ranks. Lies and misdirection, assassinations and hypocrisy. Those with a lust for power who will do anything to achieve it are often rewarded for their efforts. The laws on which this society is founded are nothing more than a suggestive deception that apply only to the powerless many.

And I have grown weary of it.

My absence these years has opened my eyes to other cultures, to other more natural states of being. I simply cannot view Aphros under the same misguided lenses.

The faceless will kill any who threatens their institution, they are not afraid to threaten such in the open. The Nephilim will retain public control of Aphros while lauding themselves as Gods. Aphros will continue to cull any threat to its position, without ever truly intending on doing any good. Perhaps one of the worst offenders is the Bastion, which is rife with corruption. The very knights who should uphold a societies values by in large seem to be only in it for power. The common man, woman and child will continue to live in fear, often conditioned into a passive stance while forces they are unprepared for toy with their lives and lead them to eventual ruin.

I believe I have given up on the soul of this city. It seems so far beyond redemption. I suspect even the Oracle as a position is a mere puppet that is easily replaced, which restricts drastic change from ever occurring. I am just so tired of tying myself to a society that I cannot love.