11 Grasping
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*(Solo TTRPG Journaling based on Wanderhome by @jdragsky)*
*text under readmore in case you can't read my tiny handwriting*
Today, the girl and I set out on our journey. I woke her up before sunrise, to make our escape before the city became full of life. Too many dangers.
She’s afraid, I can tell.
I found an old map among my things to take with us, it should prove useful. If I’m correct, it’ll take us a little less than a day to make it to the next town over, where we can stop for the night. I’ve also broken into my savings jar in order to hire a local peddler to act as a caravan, at least for now. It’s easier than traveling on foot. I fear, though, that I may need to find odd jobs to do in each city we stay in, in order to keep paying for his services.
His name is Tiberius and, while I do not consider myself a cruel sort, he is particularly ugly, inside and out. Most peddlers tend to be; obsessed with their wares and their coin and their numbers. He is a unique sort, though. One of those cats with no fur, who has to overcompensate by wearing pounds of bumble wool. The girl keeps asking him where his fur went.
I am urging her to stay silent, but it is difficult with Tiberius around. He refuses to cease his endless yapping. He asks about me, and her, and where her parents are, and why we hired him, and for how long… I have half a mind to steal his beetle myself and kick him out of the caravan, but I remain silently seething.
If there is one piece of good to come out of his inability to not speak, it’s that song he keeps humming. The girl seemed fascinated by it, tapping her fingers to the beat. When he noticed, he asked her if she would like to learn it and she said yes. It’s an old aria, he explained, from his ancestors, passed down through generations. I think that sounds like a load of hogwash, peddlers have a tendency to make nice lies, but the girl loved the story and the song. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile since I met her.
I decided to start calling her Aria. Maybe, if she can smile along and believe in Tiberius, perhaps I should start trying to believe in her as well.
I always did want to name my daughter Aria, but the chance always passed me by.
We’ve arrived in town, now. And we’ll be staying here for two days before taking off again. I have the money for two nights in the inn, but I’ll need to find work in order to pay Tiberius for passage to the next town. Though, if I can find my own wagon, I might not mind leaving him behind.
It’s been a long time since I stepped foot into this town. I attended university here, once, when I was still young and hopeful. Perhaps it’s the one thing that saved me from Her wrath all those years ago. I wonder if any of my old mentors are still here. It would be nice to see at least one familiar face.
Finding work was difficult. The markets are always full of vendors, but none willing to hire for a day's work. Aria seems overwhelmed by the noise. I nearly had a heart attack when I realized she had run off somewhere. Tiberius found her by a pen of rather impressive bumbles for sale, petting them gently. I had to apologize to the owner. I don’t know how to punish a child that could kill me.
The local shrine was a bust as well. Aria found old food offerings, ones that had already gone bad, and couldn’t help herself. I snapped at her and now I feel guilty. Does she even know who she is? Do I?
I’ll buy her a nice meal tonight to apologize, but I worry our funds are dwindling. We’ve barely even started our journey and it could be over by tomorrow night. Tiberius finally took pity and offered me a job. A small delivery job to the university. The teachers there purchase a fresh order of textbooks every semester. He said he’d give us free passage to the next town if we delivered them for him tomorrow.
I’m not sure how long we’ll be able to keep this up, but I’m going to keep up my optimism and hope that we’ll make it through.
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Nightingale University
Natures: Market, Hallow, and University.
Aesthetic Elements:
Show-Stopping Livestock
Distant Smells
A Well-Tended Shrine
Forgotten Offerings
Statues Of The Founders In All Their Glory
A •Witchy Professor Whom You Once Called A Mentor
Folklore:
The Forbidden Society Of The Theatre Hall
The Crow And The Thirty-Three Thieves
The •Miraculous Teachings Of The Old Priest
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