[Protected Written Entry | 45% Hackable]
After all the head games going on in this place, the simplicity of this bit surprised me. "I wish I had something to write with." Crow turns into paper. From the look of it, I'm not the first person to figure it out, so after reading a couple of other entries, "I don't want anybody to see this." Voila', parchment turns black and burnt-looking, non-existant ink turns silver, and I'm pretty sure I'm in the clear. May be some finer points to work out, but for now, I just want some way to set my thoughts down.
First off, it's cold. It doesn't bug me much, and the snow is pretty, but the lake is increasingly frozen on top. Not enough to bother me yet, I just keep wondering how long this is going to go on. Everybody here is strange, but that actually makes me feel kind of at-home because hey, let's face it, I'm strange too. Kisa's sweet, but she cracks me up, constantly telling me how nice I am. And Akito... mmmm. Yeah. And Zuko's not bad, he cracks me up too, always bowing to me and hissing at everybody else to be nicer when I'm around. Looking like he touched a thread of heaven when I made him feel up my scales, just to prove I'm not a spirit.
... Okay, I'm avoiding the subject, and I really shouldn't do that when I won't let anybody else do it. I'm dead. We're dead, all of us, walking around in this place where we can see and smell and taste and touch things. Like it's all real. Feel things (except pain) like it's real. Nothing except the pain is missing, I'll say that much, and I can't say as I miss it, but still... there's a catch. I know there is. Besides the obvious, for me, anyway. I don't think anyone else is going to go out of their mind at some undetermined future date because they can't ever go back to the ocean.
That puddle, that fucking PUDDLE, I'm so sick of it already, it doesn't MOVE and nothing lives in it, it doesn't even have currents, it's not even enough room to breach properly, let alone swim freely...
...Yeah. Calming down now. Deep breaths, Cy, don't freak out, that sanity thing is something you want to keep.
I hear some people are sort of settling in, doing the chop-wood-and-carry-water bit, learning to live like the pioneers. I can see why, and I think it's smart... if we can find shit to do, we might not completely lose our minds. And there's a lot to do, since there's no real technology here. I haven't actually been up to see the cabins yet, because, heeeey, claustrophobia! But I hear it's pretty primitive. Wood burning stoves and such. Food is provided, but not prepared, which leaves a lot to be done - cooking, cleaning, washing, mending, baking, wood-cutting, sewing, whatever. All that on top of whatever they decide to do for fun. You know what I think, I think we need a rugby league. Or a football team. Or water-polo, this lake is about the right size for that, if a little too deep. And the sex-olympics, I'm pretty sure a lot of people are going to be into that once a little time goes by and boredom sets in.
Never thought I'd miss my parents. Or my brother. But I do, kinda. Building snow forts with Kisa just reminded me. The thing is, I know I don't deserve any better. Hell, I deserve worse. This? This is a fucking cake-walk compared to what I deserve. I am what I am, and what I am is a predator... the bloody diocese already decided, right? Merfolk don't have souls. Except that I'm here, and besides, what's a soul? Sheol's definition must be looser than the Catholics'. Fact is, I consume people. I cause misery. I REVEL in causing misery. My most recent kill alone should have earned me a spot in the mythical lake of fire. Because humans aren't really people to me. They're sheep, blind and dumb, meant to be consumed because they don't know any better. But they're most favored among His creations, and now I'm suddenly wishing I paid more attention to all that bullshit when Dad was ranting on about it.
Also, I really wish I had a beer. As much as I hate being shut up inside, I'd give anything about now to be back home on the couch watching the bleeding Speed Channel while Tak and Dad argue about stupid shit like torque requirements and power-to-weight ratio and chassis configuration. I wish I could sleep on Tak like Papa sleeps on Dad while they're doing that, just tune it out and drift. I want to go HOME.
Can't. Should stop thinking about it. Now. Or now.
Now?
Yeah. Thought so.