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Cliff at Grainval near Fecamp (1881) by Claude Monet

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-The Bay Golden Horn-

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I could contact my brother like this, I think. Or maybe Jay, she seems better at keeping secrets.

The risk makes me nauseous. But I could. I really need to think about this

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I shouldnt have drank tonight. Its stronger than im used to. and it sidnt make me feel anuy better

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It's been awhile since I left but the hurt hasn't left and hasn't even shrunk. I take off my disguise and I look in the mirror and I see him and it's a reminder of alll I promised i woudl be and couldn't

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Isn't it fucked up. I left him again. I had to I know I had to but I left him again. I am so very sorry little brother . It seems I cant ever do this right

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It feels like I'm starting to forget what I look like without a disguise on. I only take it off inside these days and my true reflection in the mirror seems so strange sometimes. I dislike it quite a lot.

Before I could at least be myself at the Tank. Oh, Gods, I didn't think I'd miss it this much.

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On brighter notes, I have found a stall close to the docks selling some of the deep sea fish Gill and I grew up eating! Going to try and cook them the way mother did it. I never did get the recipe from her, but I think I remember enough from helping in the kitchen.

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That woman is terrifying, but I can't help seeing Jay in her.

Or her in Jay, I suppose. Maybe it's just their looks. After all, I haven't known Jay for nearly long enough to tell.

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I can't do more for them. I can't I can't I can't I can't

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Neither of them are from the Trench, but one of them visited a long time ago. Apparently, they're from one of the nomadic tribes that move with the summer currents of the Northern sea and they pass by the Trench every year. Not close enough for it to be a point of trade for them, they say, but close enough to visit if someone wants to. Not many do.

I told them to be quiet about it. No truths, no lies. Navy doesn't know the currents that deep, they won't have a reason to suspect these two know anything of the Trench. And they're both genasi, not tritons. I hope that'll be enough to keep them safe long enough to get to the Tank.

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One more island under Navy's thumb. They are already transferring prisoners onto ships. Except for two, for now. Apparently, they're from the Undersea. I will have to talk to them.

I hope they're not from the Trench.

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Ports are all the same. Big, small – doesn't really matter, does it. Loud noises, people-people-people, all kinds of smells. If you close your eyes you won't be able to tell a difference between All-Port and... well, this.

I think maybe the sea smells familiar, but it's probably just my imagination. Until recently I didn't even know sea had a smell.

The temporary apartment here is nice. Just one room, but it overlooks the sea – far enough from the docks to be quiet, but close enough to still have salt in the air. I could almost fool myself into believing it's peaceful.

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Ships are awful to be on. I don't know how Gill does this. Or any of them, really.

The sailors on this one are nice enough, though I'm not deaf and hear them whispering now and then. Apparently, it's weird for a fish to feel sea sick. I don't know how to explain the currents underwater don't feel like this. You can't fall underwater, not really. In the Oversea all you do is fall and even more so on deck.

Some of the whispers are more unkind than that, but I don't feel like dwelling on them today. I will have time once we arrive.

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Entry 002

Artificial Leviathan. What an atrocity. The documents go into quite the detail on how they are made and most of them make me sick.

It's true, I do not feel about Leviathans as strongly as I used to, but the thought of hunting them like simple animals is revolting. And that's only the beginning.

I have been slow in parsing out the reports. Some are too graphic and I am able to read them only in small portions before needing to take a break, to go breathe the salt filled air out on the deck. I thought growing up surrounded by the darkness of the Undersea would prepare me. But for all the brutality of that world, it is not very complicated.

Kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten. Dark waters are dangerous and you should not go in them alone. Or at all, when you're but a child. Don't get too close to the warmth of the vents lest you get burned. Listen to your parents, to your elders and you will be alright.

This brutality is simple, it is nature. These reports, however...

It's a very human cruelty. Or, well. A humanoid one. A cruelty of the one who comprehends the pain of others and yet chooses to deal it anyway. The purpose of it does not really matter to it's victims.

The Navy, the Elders. They're really are the same.

I will be compiling everything I learn from this into a report of my own once I get my hands on more invisible ink. It will not be a pleasant task.

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Will I ever know why they didn't care about Gill this much? Will I ever understand? See their perspective?

I've kept peace at home. For their sake, for my sake. But Gods, will it ever be clear to me, why they've discarded him so easily?

...Probably not. I'll never understand how it feels to not care about Gillion. I'll never understand why they did not ask a single question. I'll never understand why they didn't come back for him.

I haven't been sleeping well lately. I almost yelled at a sailor today. He pushed me when a wave came on, on accident, and I had a desire to bite him. Like Gill used to do when he was little.

I need to rest more.

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I miss my job at the Tank. The rhythm it brought to my life, it's steadiness. Even if I had to listen to everything everyone would say, even if every time Caspian visited filled me with dread... I still liked it.