thearchivistsjournal

[thearchivistsjournal]

Scattered Pages: Day 736,

Hard to believe it’s been over two years now.  I know I just said all that a week ago on the actual anniversary of my arrival, but with the merging of celebrating that with the solstice get-togethers we’re doing this evening and tomorrow it’s on my mind all over again.  And it’s still true.

Even harder to believe that this time last year I was, well, I still don’t know.  But what I do believe is that my friends gathering on this day a year ago was the start of my finding my way back.

I shouldn’t go on too long with this though.  Not with three different family gatherings I’ve somehow managed to commit myself to at least making an appearance at.  Not that I’m complaining.  Being part of multiple families beats not being a part of any.

Hmmm… wonder if I should pop in at Carmen’s and drop off those notes on the crystal growth experiments I meant to get her yesterday?  No, best just leave it for another day or two.  Sounds like she’s made her switch from shepherd to crystal collector permanent enough that she’ll still be around for the dry season.  To think that I might have let that whole line of inquiry fall by the wayside if Vernon hadn’t introduced us last equinox…  As always, he’s good like that.

Ran into the nature sprite for the first time since the eclipse, and the first time I’ve seen it while lucid since it brought me back from wherever I went last year.  I’d say I was surprised at how happy I was to see it again, but that would be a lie.  It was no surprise at all, really.  Complicated as things are with it, maybe I shouldn’t have been so happy, but when I saw it there watching me from the side of the road it felt for all the world like a reunion with an old friend.

I spent a long while leaning against a tree and talking with it.  Well, talking to it.  My sprite remains as enigmatically nonverbal as ever.  But it did truly seem to listen as I told it of all that it missed this past year.

I told it of my days spent recovering, physically and mentally, from my disappearance.  Of days spent thanking everyone that looked for me while I was gone.  Of the strange stares and whispered rumors incited by my return to the Village and the library and of how those soon faded into acceptance of the whole ordeal being simply another case of outsider weirdness.  

I told it of plans drawn up with friends.  Of interviews with the Village’s woodcutters on how they select trees and - more importantly - how they pay their respects to the ecosystem and the nature sprites when they do their cutting.  Of a week spent camping on the northern half of the island with Maiko as a guide.  Of finding and felling a great tree.  Of mimicking customs that few other than the Village’s woodcutters know.  Of noting surprisingly few rings for the tree’s size.  Of days spent splitting and carving  and hollowing the log with metal and flame.  Of paddling our new boat around the coast back down to the cove near the house.  Of another trip up and down the coast and out to the island of fruit and lizards, this time with additional passengers to test the boat’s capacity.

I told it of changes.  Of Cass’s gradual transferral of apprenticeship to Lin.  Of Lin coming to spend as many nights in the lighthouse as in her father’s home.  Of Maiko finding a dry season balance between odd jobs around the Village and periods of seclusion in the woods.  Of an equinox that saw Cass’s reunion with her now-once-again best friend Xia and Vernon’s deepened relationship with his coworker Tiaho.  Of Maiko’s spending the rainy season helping teach the Village’s children.  Of the strange new forms that my mist night dreams have taken.  Of missing not being haunted.

I told it of joys.  Of returning to the lake of stars, this time with Maiko in tow.  Of stormy eyed dances in the rain.  Of birthday party tellings.  Of recommending books to youths who had been my students a year ago but now had moved full time from the outskirts into the Village proper for apprenticeships and found the archive comfortingly familiar.  Of making a conscious effort to regularly carve out time in my week for walks, tea, and stories with Pat.  Of tellings performed at birthdays, at the crowded inn on stormy nights, and at the dinner tables of friends and their families.  Of sweet fruits and savory fish.  Of rides in the back of the family wagon.  Of finally being fully present for the last class of a rainy season.  Of once again working with Vernon to find archival precedent for a tricky mediation case.  Of other mediators being sent my way.  Of evenings spent with Maiko constructing a board game and writing down rules based on her memories of the game her mother played with her.  Of making a cloak out of the mantle of fur I woke up in upon my return.  Of new islands visited on the way to check up on Iole.  Of loud equinoxes and quiet solstices, both joyous in their own way.  Of the night of the lunar eclipse and the morning after.

I told it of sorrows and fears.  Of yet another rainy season with an elder fading away.  Of a rainy season without one but which  in these past weeks has been marred by the tragic accidental death of a young man I knew only passing but now know all too well.  Of the ill-conceived plan to see what sort of waking visions I would get from staying up through a mist night now that my dreams have changed.  Of the gnawing worries of how Vernon’s new relationship might crowd out our friendship despite Lin and Maiko’s relationship not having done the same.  Of the intrusive thoughts about having been an inadequate role model and mentor for Cass being the reason for her change in apprenticeship.  Of blinking myself out of a daze after slipping on that white-furred mantle and finding myself standing barefoot on the shore with the sunrise at my back while I stare out to where I know that island with its sirensong and dark forest lies.  Of the secondhand pain upon learning the circumstances of Maiko’s parentage within Cloud Tower.  Of wishing it were with me.

I told it of new adventures.  Of the mind-numbing vastness of Cloud tower when seen up close and the alien strangeness inside.  Of an island whose surrounding waters are full of curious eels that will harmlessly coil around one’s limbs.  Of another whose trees are full of beetles the size of my hand rather than birds.  Of attempts to use waking dreams to translate the chants that fill the ruined cathedral when it rains.  Of Lin and I making a daytime retracing of last year’s spontaneous nocturnal expedition to the gates of the old castle.  Of talks about making a lengthier expedition next dry season.  Of a long evening spent on a whim going back through Priscilla's notes and charts of floating island patterns.  Of not-entirely-hypothetical discussions and research into what it might take to renovate her old house on the floating island into a home that can keep shades out on mist nights.  Of writing new stories for equinox tellings.  Of Vernon introducing me to Carmen as an old childhood friend of his who had grown tired of the shepherd’s life and was looking for something new.  Of long talks on philosophy, both natural and metaphysical.  Of comparing my microscope examinations of crystals to Carmen’s attempts to grow her own to the glowing liquid circuits that light the inside of Cloud Tower.  Of a rain-and-mud-filled trek through the jungle to examine the crystal cave and collect some small samples without the official crystal collectors around.  Of the carefully-monitored, water-filled tank in the archive’s hidden nook that has just begun to sprout its first growths.

I told it of my happiness at seeing it again.  Of how I never got to properly thank it for taking care of me when I was at my lowest point.  Of how I hope to continue seeing it once more.

Of course, telling it all this meant that I wound up terribly late to my other commitments for the day.

When I finally made to leave, I felt the urge to embrace the nature sprite as I would any other old friend at meeting and parting, but could not quite bring myself to.  Perhaps it sensed this, for it embraced me.  An embrace that was just shy of painful.  An embrace that lifted me until my toes just brushed the ground.  An embrace that went on just long enough for me to fear I was about to be abducted before the wooden-ball-in-a-hollow purr-that-isn’t-a-purr calmed me.  And then it unceremoniously dropped me and vanished into a flurry of laughter and blown leaves.

If you’re reading this unseen over my shoulder once again, then thank you.  It was good to see you again.

But as I said, this left me late to the three other solstice gatherings I had committed myself to attending.  I suddenly found myself less disappointed that it wasn’t four, as fascinating as a night of remembrance spent with Pat and Theo sounds.  At this point I think I’ve mostly settled on being happy the old man isn’t routinely alone for solstice like I feared rather than hurt at my offer to spend it with him being politely declined.

But yet again, I digress.  I blame the lateness of the hour.

The first, of course, was with Cass’s family.  Good natured ribbing about the gall of me to skip out on a goodly portion of the meal preparations when I knew they were already going to be shorthanded with Norman and Marva at her family’s this solstice quickly gave way to concern when I explained my tardiness as being sprite-induced.  Concerns that I allayed well enough to be promptly set to work with the remaining cooking and table-setting.  Between the comfortable sense of belonging and twinge of guilt over being late, I wound up staying later than I planned; far past the initial tasting of stew and into the settling down for tale telling.  Somehow I suspect that any disappointment Cass might have felt over my excusing myself just before it was her turn to tell was outweighed by the knowledge that she’s going to be able to hold this one over me for weeks.

And thus was a basket containing a small, blanket-covered pot of stew and a bag of tea herbs shoved into my hands on the way out the door and down the road.

The sun had set and the meal had already begun when I knocked on the door of Vernon’s house where his parents were visiting him for once rather than the other way around.  I sheepishly offered up my pot of stew in apology for my late arrival, although I know I would have been nearly equally welcome without it.

Tiaho was there as well.  A mild surprise, given that unlike me she has her own family to spend solstice with.  I’ll confess to having felt a twinge of something that I’ll deny is jealously at the implication of closeness.  That twinge was softened by how happy and at ease the two of them seemed together.  Apparently, for all the gossip that I’ve heard about Vernon’s reputation for flirtatiousness, he’s never had a partner long enough to invite to family solstice dinner without it being scandalous.  So goes the least embarrassing thing his parents decided to share about him.  I like to think watching him squirm under the weight of one less-than-flattering childhood anecdote after the other was a bonding experience for Tiaho and I.  It’s an entertaining divergence from his usual demeanor to see him so flustered, especially when the ones causing the flustering are doing so from a place of love.

Of course, not all the talk was embarrassing.  They are, of course, proud of him and his work as a mediator.  Not to mention they’re just as stimulating conversationalists as he is.  It was as pleasant a meal as any I’ve had in that house, and I lost track of time until Vernon himself pointed out the late hour while retrieving the confections he and his mother had made from the fruit Maiko and I gifted him after our recent visit to the lizard island.

And thus was a pot of stew swapped for a tray of confections as I bid my farewells for the night and set off toward my final gathering of the solstice.

Thankfully, it was Lin who answered the door rather than her father.  I’m not sure why, but it seems that I’ll never be on that man’s good side, and showing up when the evening was just winding down did little to improve his view of me, even with my explanation of being waylaid by the nature sprite and offering of dessert.  Some people just aren’t compatible I suppose, and that’s fine.  Civility and politeness we can still manage.

Lin and Maiko were happy enough to see me though, and I them.  I’ve come to gather that solstice is a more somber time in that household than most.  Later, after dishes had been washed, her father had retired for the night, and the gift of Antigone’s tea had been boiled and steeped, Lin called my arrival a much needed breath of fresh air.

Not once while I was present this evening did anyone comment on the extra place set in front of an empty seat at the table.

Once we’d all thoroughly dosed ourselves on the tea, we made the thoroughly untraditional move of relocating from that house to Maiko’s tiny room at the top of the lighthouse where we made a second dinner (or perhaps fourth for me) out of snacks and desserts while we chatted into the small hours of the night.  Chatted… and perhaps had an arguably irresponsible amount of fun with rapidly swapping out crystals of different colors in the lighthouse’s focusing mirror dish.  We tried to time it as best we could with Lin’s singing, but I doubt anyone who happened to be looking outside could have identified the song by the clumsy rhythm of the color-shifting beacon.  The fun and games lasted until Lin and Maiko began giving one another dreamy looks that I took as my cue to wish them well and give them their privacy for the night.

I truly am glad they’ve found what they have in eachother.

And thus I found myself crossing paths with Theo upon a starlit street, with only wordless nods exchanged by way of acknowledgment.

And thus I now find myself within my little archive nook, pleasantly exhausted as the last effects of the tea wear off.  There’s a temptation to go upstairs and stay awake a while longer to watch the sunrise, but no, not with the plans for tomorrow (today really, if I’m being honest with myself) and the day-after-solstice tradition our little family of friends has made.  The best thing to do right now is go to bed and be thankful that the sun can’t reach me down here among my the books.

And so turns another season marked by the gathering of loved ones.

I found myself picking up an old journal volume and flipping through it instead of going to bed like I should have.  On its last written page, I found myself revisiting the message I left to my future self after my return from my disappearance a year ago.  It got me thinking.  Crying a little bit too, but mostly thinking.

I want to believe that the optimism held by my past self in that moment was well founded.  Despite the handful of travails this past year has held, I feel I’ve largely lived up to those aspirations.  I hope that the future me can continue to do so.  

Moreover, it got me thinking about these journals.  So often I’ve called them the proof of my existence, but lately, I’ve started to wonder if I still need that proof in order to believe in my own being.  The compulsion to write is more and more simply a strong habit these days, so perhaps that is some evidence as well.  Do I still need to write to make sense of myself and the world?  I’m not sure that I do.  Or at least, not on a daily basis.

But then again, I’ve made these journal entries every day of my life for literally as long as I can remember.  They are a part of me and who I am.  And yet… our past selves and histories are part of us for all that they remain firmly in the past.

Or maybe I’m once again grown maudlin with the late (early) hour.  Time will tell, I suppose, and we shall see if I once again set ink to paper on the morrow.  Or on the day after.  Or the day after that.  And should I stop for a time, there is nothing to say I won’t resume once again one day.

There is ever tomorrow.

All the same, I feel inspired to write a little something commemorative, on this wonderful solstice, halfway between the anniversaries of my arrival and my return.  Call it a reminder of how I feel in this moment and why I may have begun to outgrow the need for these journals that I so dearly love and define myself by.

For at last I know…

I exist.

I am me.

I am loved.

I am home.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Scattered Pages: Day 643,

Somehow managed to get up bright and early as planned.  I feel a little silly to admit it, but I’ve been looking forward to playing the role of “shade” all week.

*******

Much as last equinox, Lin, Maiko, and I have retreated to the library for lunch following the dance of the “shades.”  No Vernon or Cass this time.  The last I saw them they were dancing with Tiaho and Xia respectively.  Meanwhile, the three of us have already had our fill of dancing for the day.

And, yes, that includes Maiko, much to everyone’s surprise, hers not least of all.

I’m told that Lin got caught by one of the lurking “shades” while turning a corner some half an hour before noon and, as per tradition, had to switch places and take on the veils herself.  By the time Lin had completed the awkward transfer of the costume Maiko was gone, leaving Lin to worry that the symbolic watching of someone getting taken had set her off in some way.

So, imagine my surprise being unaware of any of this when I run into the market forum at noon just as the music’s starting, tear off the last of my costume’s veils and see Lin halfway across the square picking off a black veil that had gotten stuck to one of Maiko’s horns while the two of them embraced.

Apparently Maiko’s instant reaction to seeing Lin “taken” was to find another “shade” to get herself caught in order to be with her during the first stage of the ceremony.  Truly a romantic gesture, particularly knowing Maiko’s discomfort with being the center of attention.

In a small break from tradition, Lin’s held onto that little scrap of black cloth she pulled from Maiko, instead of leaving it to be gathered up for next equinox’s costumes.  Knowing her, she’s probably planning on sewing it into some garment or another as a keepsake.  Or maybe refashion it into a neckerchief.  The question is, will the keepsake be for herself or Maiko?  I can equally well see it as something Lin would have on her discreetly or Maiko wearing openly.  I’m sure in either case whoever ends up with it will rarely go without it.

*******

In the wake of the equinox telling, Vernon’s invited me to join him and some friends of his on the beach for some manner of party involving an impromptu bonfire.  To my own surprise, I’ll be taking him up on that offer.  Just taking a moment to jot down this quick note and tuck this journal away for safekeeping in the alcove bedroom before I head down.

For once, performing in front of the entire Village hasn’t left me completely exhausted.  And Vernon was all dramatically coy about there being someone he wants me to meet.  If I didn’t know better I’d think he was trying to set me up with someone.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Scattered Pages Day 593,

There’s a part of me that’s saying I should write a bit about the island we’ve stopped at for the night, and maybe I will at the end of this entry, but for now it’s more important that I finally have the opportunity to write down what we found inside Cloud Tower.

Floors that blur the line between stone and metal.  Glowing strips of light the same colors as the Village’s crystals illuminating the walls and ceiling that upon closer inspection are filled with fluid running through them.  Insectoid machine constructs ambling about and pulling off wall panels to reveal complex mechanisms and circuitry.  Rooms with functions we could only guess at.  Things that appeared to be computer terminals… Trying to focus on some of those words I just wrote brings on the old outsider translation headaches.

I recorded more detail on all of that in my archival notebook though.  And while I still intend to do a more detailed recounting in this journal at some point, the more important thing to this personal record of mine to recount at the moment is the message Maiko’s mother left for her.

The directions on the printed message we found outside Cloud Tower’s entrance led us to a room filled with large glass (or some glass-like material) cylinders, each with what I took to be a small computer terminal at their base.  The message bid us to ignore those for the moment and to instead focus our attention on a central terminal with a large screen.  While none of us could read any of the text we found in the tower thus far, the first message from Maiko’s mother also included instructions on how to turn this machine on, how to operate it, and what options to select to bring up her second message.

The second message was a video recording.  Thankfully, my companions caught on fairly quickly to the concept with a minimum of explanation despite their lack of technological context.

That didn’t make watching Maiko’s reaction to unexpectedly seeing her mother’s face and hearing her mother’s voice any less heart-wrenching.

But on to the content of this second message.

The recording started with Maiko’s mother standing right where we were, looking into the camera embedded somewhere in the terminal and apologizing for the fact that if Maiko’s seeing this then it means she wasn’t able to tell her everything in person.  From there, she went on to tell how she came to be here.

Much like me, her first memory is of washing up on a beach in a white draping garment.  Unlike me, the island she washed up on was entirely deserted.  While she couldn’t recall specifics related to her identity, what pieces of knowledge she could remember seemed to imply that she was some sort of scientist in her past life and not a particularly outdoorsy person.  The first few months were difficult for her and she almost fell prey to both the island’s wildlife and the shades multiple times before she learned how to consistently avoid them both.  Eventually, after a fair amount of trial and error, she was able to cobble together a relatively seaworthy raft and set sail for Cloud Tower (or as she called it, simply the Tower) as the obvious sign of apparent civilization.

Of course, she found the Tower deserted save for the maintenance constructs but in lieu of any other goal or direction she set herself to the monumental task of deciphering its mysteries in order to climb it.

She never did figure out just what the Tower was or what it’s purpose was, nor why she could read one of the two unfamiliar scripts inside but not the other without painstaking translation efforts, but she did eventually manage to figure out how to work some of the Tower’s systems, some of which she found uncannily familiar as if she’d worked with something similar in her past life.  She left other recordings explaining some of her findings, but we only watched half of one of them before it got too painful for Maiko to watch and too unsettling in their implications for Lin and Cass.

Her attempts at ascending the Tower were hampered firstly by the presence of the shades forcing her to retreat outside every two weeks and secondly by the fact that on the highest floor she ever reached further progress was blocked by a mechanism that requires at least two people to operate.  And so, she returned to this room where she made the recording and hatched a plan she came to be ashamed of.

The chamber we found this message in possessed the equipment to be able to grow a person essentially from scratch.  And so Maiko’s mother used that machinery to grow a clone of herself.  A copy.  An identical twin separated by decades.

At this point in the recording the camera shifted to focus on one of those glass cylinders that in the present day lies empty and dry but back then was filled with a clear, yellow-tinted liquid.  Suspended in that liquid was a tiny crimson-skinned infant.

Maiko.

And, truth be told, both my and Cass’s initial reaction to the recording was mistaking Maiko’s mother for her until she told us otherwise.  There’s a similarity in appearance that goes beyond mere family resemblance.

However, once her mother started Maiko growing in that vat, the implications of what she’d done really started to dawn on her.  It started to seem incredibly cruel and ruthless to create a person - her daughter - for the express purpose of using her.  And so she made a decision.  Once Maiko had developed enough for it to be safe to do so she would remove her from the machine and raise her outside the Tower.  The two of them would make whatever kind of life they could in this world and once Maiko was an adult she’d tell her everything and give her a choice in the matter of whether to continue living in this world or to try ascending the Tower with her.

The recording ended with another apology for not being able to say this all in person and with a promise to Maiko that she loves her and that by the time she gets this message her mother will have had treasured every moment they were able to spend together.

The rest of the day, and the days since, have been… difficult.   Maiko’s been swinging back and forth between shutting us all out and practically clinging to Lin.  Meanwhile, although no one’s explicitly said anything, the rest of us (for varying reasons) are disturbed by the host of implications and new unanswered questions.  If Cloud Tower can grow a whole new person, what else can it do?  What does that imply about the nature of outsiders?  Could we use that place to decode Iole’s book that I’m increasingly convinced is an operating manual for some system or another in there?  Why did Maiko’s mother go over two decades without ever telling her all of this?  Did something happen that changed her mind?  If so, what?

What’s Theo going to do to us when we get back home?

 I don’t know the answer to any of that, and frankly I’m torn between being afraid to find out and horrifying curiosity.  I need to find something else to focus on if I’m going to get any sleep tonight.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Scattered Pages: Day 590,

I assume it’s the next day anyway.  Lights in here haven’t changed all night.   Heading up the stairs as soon as Lin and Cass finish breakfast.  They actually seem a little better now that we’re inside, although not by much.  The mechanical and electronic alienness of our environs is surely off putting enough for them without any need for “tower fear”.

Truthfully, I don't even think I saw anything like this in my past life outside of works of fiction, but at least I have those memories of stories for some tremulously grounding reference.  That and the irrational outsider urge for exploration egging me on just as surely as the western siren’s song urged me to run wild.

We’ll all need to watch one another to make sure we don’t lose ourselves here.

*******

We found the second message from Maiko’s mother.  It seems Maiko was born here, in that room.  I refuse to use any other word for it lest I imply that she’s any less of a person. 

I’m keeping this entry short for the same reason as last night’s. I’ll write a more thorough summary once we’re back outside.  Unless Maiko changes her mind we’ll be leaving in the morning.  We’ve spent little enough time here that we can afford to make the journey to visit Iole afterward.  I don’t think any of us are ready to go home right now anyway.  Not after this.  

Oh Maiko… I can hardly imagine what she’s going through right now. 

[thearchivistsjournal]

Scattered Pages: Day 589

We finally found a way into Cloud Tower.

As much as Maiko and I want to go on in, Lin and Cass insisted that we take a break for lunch outside first.  As much as Lin insisted it was because exploring an unknown space on an empty stomach is a bad idea (and, to be fair, she’s not wrong), it’s obvious that she’s stalling.  And I can’t say that I’m surprised or entirely blame her.  That semi-irrational “tower fear” has been hitting both of them pretty hard since we landed at the base of this impossible structure - even harder than when we rode the floating island close to it.  

I said it yesterday and I’ll say it again: It’s unsettling  watching two normally vibrant, courageous people go from being excited to go on this venture to being uncomfortable looking up from the ground.  Just as unsettling is that pull that Maiko and I are both feeling, even stronger now than we’ve found the entrance.  I shudder to think how I’d have reacted to it were I not already practiced in recognizing such influences from the nature sprite and… other things.

But as to our discovery.  I’m not sure what’s more surprising, that the entrance was so hard to find (and figure out how to open) or the way that we found it.  

No, it’s definitely the latter.

We found a pile of rocks that were obviously artificially stacked.  Honestly, I half suspect they may have been dragged over from the main island given how flat and bare this mossy rim of an outcropping is.  But that top rock of the pile had words scratched into its surface.

“For Maiko”

We were stunned by that development, to say the least.  Maiko was the first to recover, if “recover” is an appropriate word to describe the ensuing frenzy of removing stones from the pile to find what was hidden beneath.

And what was beneath was a shiny brushed metal box, untouched by dirt or moss.

And inside the box were folded papers finer and whiter and more regular than any the Village has ever produced.

And on those pages were words in a script so even so regular that they could only have been typed and printed.

And in those words was a message.  From Maiko’s mother to her.

She’s not let go of the papers since she opened the box, so an exact transcription will have to wait.  Even now she’s sitting away from the rest of us, rereading the words over and over again without even touching her lunch.

Truth be told, I owe the length of this rambling entry to her (understandable) absorption in her mother’s message and to Lin and Cass’s stalling.

But as for the content of the message, I can at least summarize.

It seems that Maiko’s mother meant to bring her here one day and she had hoped the message we found would be unnecessary.  But if not, then she left another message that promises to explain more inside and instructions on how to find it, assuming the internal layout hasn’t changed.

The instructions included a warning that the shades do not consider the inside of Cloud Tower a home, and while they still obey their regular schedule, she will not have the mists inside as a warning before they begin to appear.  She also advises bringing several days’ worth of food and water on the way in, just in case she gets lost, but once she finds the room with her mother’s second message there will also be instructions on how to acquire food and water from inside the tower.  Also, the room with the second message is two floors up, so it may take some time to get there.

The message also speaks of machines inside the tower - “constructs” she calls them at one point - that appear to maintain the tower’s inner workings.  Allegedly they are harmless so long as you do not try to harm them or the tower and will even stop what they are doing to allow one past or for inspection, ignoring people otherwise.  Still, she advises against poking or prodding at them too much lest you accidentally lose a finger from getting caught in their mechanical limbs.

She ended the message with an apology to Maiko for not being here with her and an affirmation that she loves her.

I’ve drawn this entry out too long.  I shouldn’t make her wait anymore.

*******

Camping for the night at the foot of stairs.  Or as best we can guess is night.  It seems to always be evenly lit in here.  We’re all tired enough though.

Just making a short entry to jot down status.  Promised Cass that I would give my full and undivided attention to keeping watch for my shift.   Took notes in my other notebook as we went anyway.  Will write down more detailed impressions later.

This place is equal parts amazing, alien, and unsettling.  Hoping next floor will be better.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Scattered Pages: Day 555,

Look at that number.  It’s a good number.  Maybe not quite as wonderfully self-referential as three hundred thirty three,  but aesthetically pleasing all the same.  I still think I’d rank it below one hundred eleven  but higher than two hundred twenty two or four hundred forty four.

*******

As planned, we had our post-solstice gathering of friends.  Our second, chosen, family.  Myself, Cass, Lin, Maiko, Vernon, and - most recently - Tiaho. 

 I’ll confess, it’s taken longer than I care to admit for me to get used to the idea of having someone that regularly works with Theo around, and even this morning I was nervous about her being here for discussions we planned to have.  But, if I’m being honest with myself, she really has come to seem like someone who’s more likely to help run interference for us than she is to go reporting back to him with our plans for poking around at things he’d rather us not.

I think Lin still thinks I’m more jealous than suspicious, but that is definitely not the case.

But anyway, Lin and Maiko arrived first with Cass (in her words) “escaping her parents” shortly thereafter.  There were pleasantries exchanged asking one another about the previous night’s activities, although I refrained from pressing about too much detail.  I’m still finding myself unsure how to talk about the topic of Lin’s mother, although Maiko must surely also be aware by now.

We’d all gotten fairly well settled in by the time Vernon and Tiaho showed up an hour or so later.  It wasn’t so much a big lunch or dinner as everyone bringing leftovers and/or food that they’d set aside in advance that we all sort of grazed on throughout the day while hanging out.  Hanging out and planning.

Once the usual funeral and birth at the end of the rainy season are done with (as well as this last week of school classes since this solstice wasn’t on a market day) we’re finally going to set out to Cloud Tower.  Hopefully the birth will follow the funeral closely enough that we’ll be able to maximize the days between mist nights.  Not that we plan to spend all that long out or ascend very high.  Just poke our heads inside to see what it’s like and then leave.  Probably.

In the meantime Maiko’s going to start setting up a cache of food and supplies at the northernmost tip of the island so that when it comes time to leave we’ll be able to just grab the boats and set out without attracting undue attention.  While we made the new boat large enough to hold three, Vernon’s ultimately decided not to join us in favor of staying back to attempt to minimize whatever backlash Theo might cook up after realizing that we’ve “gone digging for answers” again.  Cass was quick to point out how well that went for him last time, but he brushed it off saying that he doesn’t intend to do anything quite so rash this time around.  And besides, he has Tiaho with him now.

We all refrained from mentioning the “tower fear” aversion to going that doubtless played a part in his decision.

So then, it will once more be Lin, Maiko, Cass, and myself going on this expedition.  In hindsight, writing all this down is probably reckless, but then again Theo will almost certainly know what we’re up to anyway the moment we get close to the Tower. And we’re set for having our own boats, so that rules out the main way he could hinder us.  Probably. 

We also debated whether to make the (admittedly lengthy) detour to check on Iole while we’re out.  Not for investigative reasons, just to check on the old woman living by herself.  It was mostly Lin who pushed for it, and she made a good point that it would make a good “official” reason for our leaving.  Depending on how our supplies are doing and how long we end up spending in the Tower, we’ll probably head out her way afterwards. 

That’s not to say the day was all serious planning.  There was a fair bit of more lighthearted conversation and catching up as we’ve all been busy these past few weeks.  Around noon or so Lin suggested that we all go down to the beach since the weather was clear, and then afterward we went upstream to the spring to clear the salt off.  I think I’m finally getting over my aversion that I’ve had to that place ever since my disappearance.  I think seeing Tiaho in awe of that bottomless well of life for the first time helped ease some of that anxiety as well.  

The highlight of the evening though (for me at least) was finally getting to make use of the game board and rulebook that Maiko and I have been assembling in our spare time over the past few months based on her memory of her mother’s game.  Sure, it took us a while to get going with it and I think Vermon was still fuzzy on the rules at the end of the night, but after a rough first game subsequent rounds seemed to go more smoothly.  I know Maiko was nervous about it (and to be honest, I was too, at least a little) but once she hit her stride with it that was the most expressively happy I’ve seen her in some time.

I know she doesn’t have much left of her mother, and even less of whatever world her mother came from, so I’m glad she was able to connect with her in at least this small way for solstice.

Heh, it seems I am once more growing maudlin with the late hour.  Or perhaps it’s the drink that Tiaho brought with her.  Not that I indulged much myself (nor did I allow Cass to) but I have little tolerance for such beverages.  Or maybe it really is genuine sentiment.

Whatever the case, Lin and Maiko have long since retired to the guest bedroom and the others have even longer since gone home for the night.  I should follow their example.  Particularly with the last week of school for the season starting tomorrow morning.  This time I intend to be fully present for that.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Scattered Pages: Day 554,

It’s the Solstice once again.  I should probably head out already, but I’m taking a moment to drag out this extra little bit of quiet time to myself.  It feels significant somehow that this will be my first solstice fully healthy and… well, “present” let us say.  I’ve been looking forward to this for the past couple of weeks about as much as I have finally being at the library for the last day of school for the season.

But I suppose I should get moving before Cass shows up on my doorstep wondering what’s keeping me.

*******

Taking a brief breather in an empty-for-the-moment room at Cass’s family’s house.  It’s been a good day, but this many people in an enclosed space for hours does still get to be a bit much at times.  Funny, you’d think I’d be more used to it with teaching the kids, but it’s not quite the same.

I should keep this aside short though, seeing as I’m expected to be helping with dinner preparations.

“You’re not a guest, you’re family.  And family helps cook.”

I almost cried when Antigone said that a couple hours ago, shoved a knife in my hand, and set me to chopping vegetables.  At least I don’t think she noticed.  I can just imagine her voice teasing me about vegetable chopping not being that bad a chore.  Cass’s voice too.  I’m starting to see where she gets it from.

Yeah, I really better stop before I get choked up all over again.

Family…

*******

I really should be sleeping right now, but I once again made the mistake of taking Antigone up on her offer of tea.  Not that it was that much of a mistake.  It was pleasant staying up and chatting with her while everyone else was winding down for the night.  I just hope I don’t end up sleeping in late enough to interfere with tomorrow’s plans as a result.

Even with the tea though, I’m finding myself pleasantly exhausted.  I was up early enough that I actually beat Norman and Marva to the family home.  Upon arrival I was put to work assisting with the dinner preparations.  Just as much as Antigone’s words I think it was that act of going through the motions of helping with a big family holiday meal that really got to me emotionally.  I’ve long since resigned myself to never being able to recall any specific or personal details of my past life, but this seemed achingly familiar.  At the time I just made myself focus on that sense of belonging that the ritual brought me and kept my mind focused on the series of small tasks set before me and the swirling filial banter that I’ve slowly learned to at least partially keep up with, but now, alone in my home once more waiting for sleep to catch up and take me, I’m feeling a nostalgic pang of loss that I’ve rarely felt before.

I’ve often gotten the impression that whatever relationship it was the past me had with my past family, it was a good one.  Close and loving.  Now I’m more sure of it than ever.  Standing there in the kitchen was the closest I think I’ll ever come to a real memory of my past life.  And now I find myself torn between smiling at the joy of that memory and weeping for its loss.

Maybe I’m just growing maudlin with the late hour though.  Still, I don’t think that makes it any less real.  Perhaps I’ll talk to Lin and Maiko about it tomorrow.  I like to think they’d understand.  A little at least.

But back to today (probably technically yesterday by now if I’m being honest with myself).  Norman and Marva arrived less than an hour after I did.  I did eventually admit to curiosity about them spending solstice with Marva’s family and they told me they’d spent the morning with them already but would probably spend the next solstice dinner or two with them instead.

The rest of the morning and the early afternoon was a whirlwind of meal prep activity.  It seems the family goes for a bigger, more elaborate meal when it’s hosted here instead of in the Village proper.  It was actually the break in tasks while most of the food was in some state of setting, rising, cooking, or boiling that made me start feeling the need for the break I took to write my prior entry.  I’ve come to realize about myself that without specific tasks in front of me to focus on I get overwhelmed more quickly and that which I’d managed to tune out before catches back up with me.  I must have sequestered myself for longer than I meant to though, with the teasing from Cass and Manfred I got asking if I fell asleep in the chair again.  I really will never live that first visit down.

Dinner itself was good, if earlier to start than I expected, but it was spread out over a long period and after I helped pitch in with the cleanup we moved to a fire pit out back behind the house for drinks and dessert.  And stories.  Tellings from Cass and myself of course (I swear she’s been practicing despite the change in apprenticeship), but also more intimate family stories.  Childhood anecdotes and doings of ancestors.  Folklore passed down.  Tales of the Village and the island that never seem to end up in the archive.

Come to think of it, I think this was the most I’ve heard anyone other than Pat speak of the dead outside of funerals.  Was the last solstice dinner I attended like this and I was just too out of it from everything else that was going on at the time to notice?  Or is this a sign that I’m being treated as part of the family in a way I wasn’t before?

I’d dwell on it more, but I think I’m finally starting to crash following the tea’s wakefulness.  And I really should sleep seeing as I’ll be doing similar over again tomorrow.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Scattered Pages: Day 512,

I don’t think I was asleep for an hour before I woke back up again.  My memory of what happened is hazy.  No, not hazy, for the parts that I can remember are incredibly clear.  More like disjointed.  Vivid moments with gaps in between.  That said, most of what I’m about to recount comes from what Lin and Maiko told me this morning. 

We’d given up on waiting for the eclipse and gone to bed, me in my room and the other two in the bed we finally got in the spare room last season and then never really used.  As it turns out, Lin had stayed up a little bit later writing a letter to me, so she wasn’t fully asleep yet when she heard me leaving the house.  And then her getting up to investigate woke Maiko. 

They found me outside the back door of the house, halfway to the edge of the woods beneath the red eclipse, wearing the fur mantle that (as far as they knew) I hadn’t donned since the day they found me wrapped in it on Siren Overlook and not much else.  The nature sprite was waiting for me at the treeline.  This was the first time Lin had ever seen it.  They watched as I calmly walked over to the sprite and took its proffered hand.  They were expecting another dance like I’d engaged in during the last eclipse, only to be caught off guard when the sprite and I took off into the woods, laughing together as we bounded away.

Both of them immediately gave chase, although Lin was quickly outpaced and left behind in the jungle underbrush.  The other sprites were out in force, glowing eyes all around and making their usual cacophony.  Doubtless they found the entire spectacle terribly amusing.

Writing that now, I just had a terrible thought.  I sincerely hope that neither Lin nor Maiko were found entertaining enough to haunt.  As… complicated… as my relationship to “my” sprite is, I can’t say I would wish it on anyone else.  And the fact that it would be because they were trying to help me

We had reached and crossed the road, my sprite and I, and were about to pass into the inner forest on the other side when the sound of Maiko calling my name caused me to stop and turn to see her emerging from the outer forest behind us.  

Lin’s scream caused me to let go of my sprite’s hand.

As Maiko and I ran back to her, it dimly registered in some semi-coherent part of my mind still running on instincts and nameless rhythms that the scream had been one of anger more than fear.  As we got closer the noise of the gathered sprites grew louder until the groan of a bent tree abruptly cut out all other sounds.  We found Lin looking down at the ground with a large stick at her feet and the Wandering God standing over her.  Trying to hold Maiko back from running in and trying I-don’t-even-know-what is one of the memories from the night that I can most clearly recall.

Later we learned that Lin had been swinging the stick at sprites that revealed themselves to her and got between her and us.  That was the scream we heard.

After far too long of us all holding in tense, still, silence the Wandering God departed with the eclipse and the rising sun.  A rising sun that was soon filtered through grey clouds.  The true mists began to rise then, forcing us to hold back the night’s pent up emotions until we returned to the house.

And when those pent up emotions were released…  No, I don’t think I can bring myself to recount it all in detail so soon.  I’m not even sure I should.

There was… a lot.  Talking, and crying, and holding one another.  Getting things out.  Working through things.  And for once, it really was talking.  Actually communicating everything with someone else instead of attempting to excise it by myself in this journal or exchanging letters with Lin about things we couldn’t normally bring ourselves to say to anyone else aloud; it hit in a way that - for all the talking we did, all the writing I’ve done - I can’t find the words to do it justice.  Not now anyway.  

All this was eventually interrupted by Vernon and Cass showing up.  Lin’s distress had resonated through the bracelets and woken them up.  Not that we (well, I and I’m presuming the same for Lin and Maiko) weren’t glad to see them or feel like we can’t share things with them, but when you’re having a moment and someone shows up unexpectedly it does rather disrupt the flow of things.

We (mostly Lin) explained what happened and that, while it was understandably concerning, all three of us came out of it safe and sound.  I dare say that sounds far more convincing coming from three people in agreement than my usual insisting that I’m fine after something I’m probably not actually fine in the wake of.  Ultimately, Cass and Vernon stayed as long as they dared before the mists got too thick to safely make the trip back to the Village.  Or in Cass’s case, to her family’s house.  She said something along the lines of her parents being likely to appreciate the rainy-season visit with market day having been thrown off by both eclipse and mist.  I’m not sure she would have done that a year ago.

Lin and Maiko stayed though.  They wanted to make sure that I’d be okay if there was any kind of interaction between what happened last night and tonight’s dreaming.  My reflex was to try to reassure them that there wouldn’t be, but I managed to stop myself.  The truth is, we really don’t understand any of it.  We’re faced with possibly unanswerable unknowns and working through them the best we can.  I’m glad not to be alone for it.

We never got back to quite that same level of openly spilling our hearts out to one another, but the ripple of it, a sort of quiet intimacy, persisted the rest of the day.  It was nice.

Maybe it will keep me safe in my dreams too.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Scattered Pages: Day 511,

Mists are out this morning.  It’s got me thinking again about the idea of intentionally staying up through the night so that I can use the Catacombs flashbacks to try to translate the cathedral chanting.  With the way those dreams have changed since going under the black lake, I want to think that I’ll be able to handle it better now.  

The harder part will likely be convincing the others that it’s not a terrible idea.  I know how against it Lin was before.  

*******

It looks like we’re in for another lunar eclipse tonight.  The mists have stayed low to the ground all day.  

Lin and Maiko have shown up to check on me.  I’m told Cass had wanted to come too, but Lin and Vernon talked her out of it.  They didn’t explicitly say why, but I gather that it’s because they don’t want her to see me like I was during the last eclipse (if that even happens again).  Funny, I don’t remember telling anyone else about that night, but maybe I did and forgot about it.  Not that it would matter if I didn’t, seeing as how Maiko definitely did when I disappeared.  Not that I blame her.  I would have done the same in her position.  Probably would have wanted her to while in my own position even, had I been lucid at the time.  

The point is, they’re here with me now out of concern for my wellbeing.  Worried that when the moon goes red I’m going to go running off into the woods to join the sprites and never come back.  Not that they said that in so many words, but the implication was clear enough.  Or maybe I’m projecting again.  It’s a possibility that’s been on my mind ever since I realized the mists were staying low this morning.  

Is it wrong that I almost hope something like that will happen?  Not that extreme of course, but just a taste of it.  Now that I put it to paper, that outlook is a little concerning.  Mostly I think it’s because I haven’t had an encounter with the nature sprite since it brought me back from the pool.  I never thought I’d say this, but I miss it.  Just when I felt like I’d finally really accepted it as a permanent part of my life was the last time I saw it.  

I should talk to someone about those feelings.  Try to work through them instead of letting them fester.  Probably Pat.  I’m not sure the others would be able to really understand without worry for me clouding their comprehension.  Okay, wow, that sounds self-centered and pretentious.  And ungrateful.  

I really am happy that Lin and Maiko are here right now.  Here, on the porch late at night waiting for a moon that doesn’t seem to want to turn red after all.  At this rate it’ll be nearly morning by the time the eclipse starts.  And that’s assuming we haven’t all somehow misinterpreted the weather and this isn’t just regular ordinary condensation spread across the yard.  We’ve been waiting out here long enough for conversational small talk to run its course.  Hence this writing.

All those musing aside, it’s actually been a pleasant day today.  The usual rainy season market day activities of rest and laundry, but now with company.  I’ve been missing that, what with Maiko spending the days off from helping me teach with Lin.  That and the fresh fish.  But mostly the company.  It’s been cute seeing how they’ve rubbed off on one another.  And probably rubbed off on me too, if I’m being honest.

I’m rambling now.  Probably best that we all just call it a night while there’s still any kind of sleep to be had.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Scattered Pages: Day 465,

Another equinox come and gone.  And so the seasons turn.  

A shame though that we didn’t have time to actually use the boat for much more than a test run before the rains come.  Then again, this gives us all rainy season to plan and prepare for the expedition.  And we’ll need that time, seeing as we’re still trying to be quiet about our plans to keep Theo from interfering.  

I wonder if the fact that Vernon’s now dating (is that term/activity really accurate in this place?  “Seeing” perhaps?  “In a relationship with”?) Tiaho will change his intent to join us.  Oh yeah, that was a surprise last night that I didn’t get around to recording.  I’ll confess, I’m still sorting out how I feel about it.  On the one hand, I’m genuinely happy for him and hopefully it will help him move on from certain unspoken feelings that have threatened to make things weird between us on a handful of occasions.  On the other hand, I don’t really know her all that well and there’s a selfish, possessive part of me that fears the prospect of our friendship falling to the wayside in the wake of romance.  

I try not to spend too much time hating myself for the things I feel these days though, and I’d like to think that I have more faith in our friendship than that.  Afterall, I’m still close with Lin and Maiko.

Speaking of, the closer we get to it the stranger it feels to think that it’s going to be Maiko assisting me with the teaching this season instead of Cass.  Sure, it’s been some time coming, what with Cass spending so much time this past dry season learning from Lin, but now that the equinox is over it feels much more immediate and real.  Time and experience will tell, I suppose, where her passions end up laying.  As for Maiko, I doubt that she intends to ever make archivist work a full time thing - spending most of her time out in the woods on her own and returning to the Village to help out with the occasional odd job seems to be working out too well for her for that - but, in her own words, she’s gotten too used to having a roof over her head when it rains and it would be a waste to not make use of the lighthouse now that the plumbing is fixed.

Yes, seasons turn and things change, but some things may ever be relied upon.  Somehow I don’t fear the change as much as I once would have.

Hmmm… I should probably write more detail about the festival yesterday - Maiko’s reactions to her first festival, meeting Xia, my telling going well, being properly coherent during Pat’s speech for once, watching Lin and Maiko dance by lamplight, seeing Vernon and Tiaho walking up to us arm-in-arm… - but frankly I’m tired right now from spending all day today making the official archival recordings of yesterday’s happenings.

Tomorrow then.  There is ever tomorrow.

[thearchivistsjournal]

Scattered Pages: Day 464,

Morning thought: I’m actually awake before anyone’s come to get me, how about that?  Chock it up to being excited about the equinox festival I suppose.  Or nervous.  Both I guess, but moreso the former.  

Well, at any rate, I’ve had time to eat a spot of breakfast and review my notes for tonight’s telling.  I should probably head out and meet up with Lin and Maiko.  

*******

Back in the library.  Brought lunch with us.  Or rather, I loaned Lin the key to take Maiko back and while Vernon and I picked up food to bring to them.  While Maiko’s mostly gotten used to the Village crowds, the extra influx of everyone from the outskirts for the festival was getting to be a bit much for her.  And if I’m being honest, I welcome the reprieve as well.  

If Lin’s disappointed that she wasn’t able to get Maiko to dance with her following the ritual of the false shades, she’s doing a good job of not showing it.  She mentioned the other day that she had been looking forward to that, but she was also the first to pick up on the fact that having nearly the entire Village’s population crammed into the market forum was making Maiko anxious.  She was actually the one to suggest coming back here.  Why here and not the lighthouse I don’t know.  Then again, the library’s been a sanctuary for all of us at some point or another.  

Maybe they’ll get that dance later this evening in some more secluded courtyard.  

And there goes Vernon.  Says he’s got mediator duties to get back to but he’ll try to catch us again later.  

As for Cass, she ran into Xia earlier in the day and I’ve not seen the two of them since.  It was… interesting meeting her former(?) best friend, but I’m glad to see them apparently patching things up.  I only hope for her sake that no old wounds get reopened in the process.  

*******

The evening ceremonies will be starting soon.  I’m nervous, as usual (is three enough of a sample size for “as usual” to apply?), but Vernon’s reassurances have helped.  Such nerves are the price of dropping pretenses of “remembering” and choosing to truly write tonight’s tale from scratch, I suppose.  

Okay, enough of that.  I’ve got this.  I’ve practiced plenty of times for everyone and made appropriate adjustments.  I can do this.  I’ll be fine great.

*******

It’s been a long night, but a good one.  

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 380,

I feel better after a night’s sleep and a morning’s breakfast.  Things are still strange though.  I’m writing this sitting at the kitchen table at home, morning sunlight coming in the window and the rest of a plate of fish and fruit Maiko gathered and Lin prepared for me just an arm’s length away.  They’re over on the couch together right now.  Cass and Vernon both said they’d be by sometime later.  I’m starting to wonder if any of them are going to let me out of their sight again.  Not that I mind.

I suppose I should start from the beginning.  Try to cover as much as I can remember from yesterday.  It’s not like I have any other plans for today, except maybe take a walk down to the beach for some sun.

The first thing that I was aware of, that I can remember, was the feeling of water rippling around my legs.  Then the sound of rain.  Not sure if the warm drops falling on me or the cool stone I was lying on registered next.  Which is all a fancy way of saying I work up in a daze at the edge of the spring not knowing how I got there.

I was more than a little damp, soaking wet really.  If I’d somehow floated up from the depths I hadn’t been lying there long enough to dry out, and if I’d come from the forest I’d been there long enough for the rain to inundate me.  Not that I was quite lucid enough at the time to put that together, this is just me looking back trying to puzzle things out.  I was naked.  My only covering the furry hide of some beast, seemingly black but slowly washing out into the spring to reveal itself as white.  Afraid to think too much on where I got that.

For that matter, I couldn’t (and still can’t) remember a great number of things, what had happened or where I’d gone chief among them.  I wasn’t even sure how long I’d been gone.  Had I just wandered out for the night?  Had it been days?  Years? 

It didn’t help that my own body felt subtly off once I finally got up and tried moving.  Like all of my limbs were trying to reflexively settle into a slightly different posture and gait than I was consciously used to.  Not to mention the scratches and bruises all over.

Looking back, it’s probably a good thing I was so out of it at the time.  I probably would have panicked pretty bad.

*******

Took a break from writing to do something I’d been avoiding since I got back.  Took a look at myself in the mirror.  I’m still me.  Cried a little in relief.  For some reason I kept expecting to find someone I recognized but wasn’t me.  I think I worried Lin a little with it, but I told her it was a happy sort of crying.  And it was.

*******

Back to yesterday.  I only managed a few steps before falling back down.  Soon, I heard a comforting wooden-ball-in-a-hollow purr-that-isn’t-a-purr.  I let my eyes stay closed as I felt the nature sprite pick me up, fur cloak and all.  As it carried me, an inner voice chuckled about how we matched now with the cloaks.

Wrapped in my mantle and gently rocked back and forth as we walked with the white noises of the not-purring and rain, I drifted off  to sleep again.

I woke up briefly when it set me down.  Just long enough to register that I was next to the rectangular pool on Siren Overlook and feel the nature sprite’s hands brushing my hair and cheek.

The sun was out when I woke up again.  It was the voices that woke me up though.  The voices and the shaking.  Cass was shaking me to wake up.  Lin, Maiko, and Vernon were standing behind her.  I think one of them was telling her to calm down.  Probably Vernon.  Yeah, it was Vernon.

I faux-grumbled a bit, and sort of laughed as I said I was awake and getting up.

A whole lot of crying and hugging followed.  All at once it hit me that, wherever I’d been, it’d been bad but somehow I was back and everyone was here and it was going to be alright.  I tried thinking back more to what had happened.  It seemed safer to do there, especially surrounded by the people closest to me.  And they wanted and deserved to know too.

The parts I remember clearest are the Catacomb Depths.  Being on the osseous shore of the black lake.  In the throes of the hunting rhythm.  Spike in one hand, club in the other.  That other that I’d felt before, especially after funerals was there.  I’m still not sure what it looked like, even though we finally found one another.  When I try to picture it all I can think of is that blinding pulse of light and dark of those Depths.  We tried to hurt one another.  Did hurt one another.  For a long time.  Eventually I chased it into the lake.  Or did it drag me in?  Black and red and fear and thrill and pain and rhythm followed.  That lasted even longer.

And then stillness.

My memory gets hazier still after that.  It wasn’t always still, but it usually was.  Sometimes I felt like drowning, sometimes like floating.  It was never truly silent, for that rhythm never ceased, only rose and fell.  At its loudest there was red too in the black and the sense of thrill returned.  Then it quieted and I felt fear and revulsion.  At its quietest the straining to make it out was maddening.

Mostly, I felt terribly, terribly alone.

Sometimes I didn’t though.  Those were the times that felt most like floating.  Those were the times I could tune out the rhythm.

And now I’m back.  I have no idea if I somehow physically went to the Catacomb Depths and then floated back up through the lake and into the spring, or if I just spent two weeks feral in the woods with the nature sprite looking after me until I woke up, or something else altogether.  And I’m okay with that.  For now anyway.  Some mysteries don’t need an answer.  Some mysteries don’t have an answer.  Some mysteries have an answer but may as well not because we have no way of finding out.  I don’t know which one this is, and maybe later I’ll care, but that’s not what’s important right now.

Right now what’s important is that I’m back.  I’m still here.  All those things I said I was going to do and try to get better about I still have a chance.  And everyone else is here too, making that possible.  I don’t have to be alone.  I never did.  I never was.

But, big feelings aside, I should probably still give at least a cursory recap of the rest of yesterday.

As I said, much hugging and crying and relief happened.  Then as we all finally took a moment to breathe my lack of anything besides the fur cloak I had wrapped myself in finally started to register.  Embarrassment was had all around, but thankfully I don’t think anyone actually saw anything.  Vernon didn’t have his mediator coat on him, but he still gave me his shirt, keeping his bright red face turned away the entire time until I had it on.

Afterwards, we all agreed that it was time to get out of there and get me home.  Happy as I was, I still really didn’t feel like dealing with anyone else yet and we took the long way around the Village, off the main road and trails.  We got back.  I took a bath.  Cass went to her house to bring back food.  Lin examined my still-unidentified scratches and bruises and determined nothing was serious enough not to just let heal on its own.  We had dinner.  Vernon and Cass went home.  Lin and Maiko spent the night.  I tried to write a bit, and then I went to sleep.  It was pleasant and dreamless.

And then it was today.

Vernon and Cass will probably be back soon, so I’ll try to wrap this up.  Lin let slip something about a surprise when they get here.  Something related to me having been here a year now.

And that’s a good point to wrap up on before I run out of pages in this journal.  I’d wanted to make another milestone retrospective, but the way things worked out I missed the date.

So, one final note before I close out this volume to whomever reads this journal, whether a future archivist, a future outsider, or my future self.  Or perhaps the nature sprite invisibly reading over my shoulder as I write.

To the my nature sprite: I don’t know that I’ll ever really understand you.  Sometimes you’re awful and seem to exist only to torment me.  Sometimes you protect me and get me through hard times.  Sometimes you simply make life annoying.  Sometimes you simply make life interesting.  Sometimes I hate you.  Sometimes I love you.  Even still, I don’t think that I’ll ever be rid of you, and I’m not even sure I would if I could.  I don’t know that I’ll ever really understand you, but I think I’m starting to accept you.  Thank you.

To future archivists: I hope you’ve found some use,  or at least entertainment, in all you’ve read.  Please remember though, that I’m not a reliable narrator.  This  is not a record of events as they happened but as I experienced them.  It’s not history, it’s the story I tell myself to make sense of things.  I cannot hope to portray the full depths of anyone else’s personality or experiences.  Even those closest to me I only ever see my own biased sliver of their lives at any one time.  That’s the most any of us sees, but that doesn’t mean we can’t understand one another to some degree or that communication isn’t worthwhile.  This isn’t The Truth (if there even is such a thing) but it is my truth.  We all have one.  What’s yours?

To future outsiders: Your experiences won’t be the same as mine, but I hope this still helped.  By our nature we have at least some things in common.  You might feel like you’ll never truly belong and that you’ll always be different in some fundamental way that keeps an invisible wall between you and even those you do manage to make a connection with.  And maybe that’s true to some degree, on some level.  But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.  And you’ll never know for sure if you don’t try.  And just because you feel a little extra bit of distance that doesn’t mean the connections you make still aren’t valuable or worth making.  The world is a big and confusing place, and it’s okay to feel lost.  It happens.  Sometimes for a long time, but you’ll find your way eventually.  Or else you’ll make one.  Or else someone else will find you.  Don’t be afraid to take their hand when that happens.

To my future self:  Look at how much of a mess you were at the start.  Look at how much of a mess you still were a year later.  Look at how much you grew in just a year.  How much have you grown since now?  Are you letting your friends help you yet?  I bet they’re still there for you.  Are you having a bad day?  A bad year?  I bet it wasn’t as bad as the week I just had.  And you got through that.  Did you ever make that trip back to the lake of stars?  You should go again anyway.  Have you made it to Cloud Tower yet?  Or explore the old castle?  Or some new island?  The edge of the world?  How was it?  I hope you took lots of notes and made some good drawings.  And made even better memories.  What does Iole’s book say?  How many classes of students have signed your book?  Or has Cass kicked you out and taken over the library by now?  Or is she a doctor now?  I’m sure she’s insufferably great at it whatever she’s doing.  Are Lin and Maiko still together?  What am I saying, of course they are.  I wonder what Maiko settled on doing with her days in the Village.  Whatever it is, I hope she found something she has a passion for.  Did Lin ever start humming again?  I hope so.  She always seemed so happy when she was doing that and I don’t think that was ever a mask.  And how’s Vernon?  Still his charming, perfect gentleman self I assume.  I left things off with him kind of weird before I disappeared, but I’m glad you patched it up with him.  What new stories have you and Pat shared?  Any good local ones like The Girl From the Forest that you’ve transcribed?  Have you made up any new ones?  I’m sure you have.  I can’t wait to find out what they are.  And I know I was a little glib about it earlier, but if you’re in a rough spot right now - and I’m sure you’ve had a few since you were me - don’t lose hope.  You’ll get through it.  You’re loved.  You’re surrounded by people that care about you.  You’re not actually useless.  You might feel broken, but that can be fixed.  It hurts every time and it’s hard, but remember you’re not alone.  You exist and that’s a wonderful thing.

One day I’m going to be you.  I’m looking forward to it.

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[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 379,

I guess I’m still alive.  Maybe writing it down will help make sense of things.  Of myself.

………/\/\/\/………………………./\/\/…………_______________

Still can’t think straight.  I’m too tired for this.  I’ll try again in the morning.

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[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 378,

Come back to us.

We’re waiting for you.

We will always be here for you.

We miss you.

We love you.

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[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 377,

Pat gave me this.  The girl’s plan is foolish romanticism, but it has more ground than it has any right to. I won’t read anything you wrote.  Even I have standards. I was acting as substitute teacher the day you arrived.  I announced after the noontime recess that there would be no more class for the season because an outsider had arrived and Pat and I would be busy dealing with that.  I still kept them until the end of the normal school day. I kept an eye on you for a time after that.  You struck me as fairly normal for an outsider.  Curious.  Poking around.  Asking “Why?”  Going places best left well enough alone.  Dragging others along with you.  Maybe not to the same degree as some - you’re on the timid side - but within normal parameters enough to potentially be a bother. I still think that of you.  This right here is a bother. It’s unusual that you went so deep into the Catacomb Depths so quickly, but you all have something unusual that happens.  Almost a constant that there will be at least one randomized outlying factor. But no, I don’t think you’re that special.  You have pain?  Inner turmoil?  Social problems?  Welcome to being human.  Everyone has something and you’re hardly the first or only one to have your particular set. And that’s why I don’t think you’re done here yet.  Outsiders don’t normally come and go this quickly and you’re not that special.  Unless things are far worse than I calculated, and I don’t think that’s the case. So get your outlying factor over with already and go back to being a standard issue bother for me.  The mists will be back tomorrow.  Will you?

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[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 376,

Lin brought me this journal of yours and explained her plan.  I don’t know that it will do what she hopes it will, but it could help you in other ways.   This isn’t the journal I gave you either.  How many of these have you filled?  There’s barely any space left in this one as it is.  I give one to everyone that washes up, but I can’t remember the last time an outsider stuck with journaling for this long.  Not to pat myself on the back too much, but I did a good job naming you Archivist. It wasn’t just because you said you liked books and stories when I asked you on that first day that I suggested the role to you though.  Lots of people like those things but that doesn’t make them a good fit.  It was how you reacted to your situation.   True, mostly you were confused and in a daze.  Your mind still wasn’t fully working yet.  Everyone always has that reaction, but underlying it there’s usually another emotion at play.  Joy, fear, excitement, relief, denial, acceptance…  For you, it was wonder.  Every little detail seemed amazing to you, an endless source of fascination interrupted only by the next wondrous thing.  You were overwhelmed but kept drinking it all in anyway.  You weren’t trying to force yourself to question everything through the haze.  You were happy to just simply see and be.  Questions could and would come later - you weren’t without curiosity - but even then the asking and the finding was more important than the answers. I’m sorry some of the darker parts of our world - and likely parts of yours whose scars still linger in you - have so often made it hard for you to feel that wonder.  You’re in one of those darker parts now, I think, but I don’t believe you are lost there forever.  You’ll find your way back out, whether back to us or out to the other side, but you’ll get out one day.  You may well hurt afterward, maybe even for a long, long time, but I believe you’ll find wonder again.  It may start as only the tiniest scattered sparks in what feels like an endless, starless night, but you’ll find a way to use them to light your way.  One of them you’ll catch and hold to you.  You’ll nurture it to a flame and find warmth and light again.  It will lead you to other flames and others lost in the night.  Some of them you’ll stay with, others you’ll part from, but eventually all of you will find morning. That’s what I like to believe.

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[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 375,

I actually made a point of avoiding you when you first washed up, especially after I heard you were going to be Archivist.  I still missed the old man and had a lot of tangled up feelings with all my good memories of the archive being tainted by sadness over his loss.  But I couldn’t avoid the place forever and I missed it as much as I did him, so I finally got my courage together and made myself go down there.

I was so nervous about how it was going to go, seeing someone else in his place, watching over our books, intruding in my place to hide from the world.  But then I got down the stairs and you looked ridiculous.  I know I should say I’m sorry for laughing like I did, but I’m still not.  I don’t mean that in a mean way though.  Seeing you there, looking nothing like him but drowning in his clothes like you were his kid that had gotten into his closet and surrounded by an utter mess was just the right kind of silly to get rid of those nerves and make me feel better about, well, a lot of things really.  I know you were embarrassed but please don’t be when you look back on that.  Under the exact context that you couldn’t have known, I don’t think you could have made a better first impression.

And I’ll admit, seeing all the books out of place and hearing they were going to be reorganized felt wrong at first.  The archive means a lot to me, and who were you to change something so important?  But then as you were talking you just got so into it.  Talking so fast you were stumbling over yourself and repeating things but smiling the whole time.  Here was someone else who really cared.  I was afraid you wouldn’t.  

As we got to talking and while I settled back into my old reading spot I started thinking maybe rearranging everything wasn’t so bad.  It was a fresh start.  A way for the archive to keep what it’s always meant to me without reminding me of what I’d lost.

From there, it wasn’t hard to start thinking of you as a fresh start.  Someone who didn’t have any prior history or associations with me to poison the present.  Someone I could do things right with.

You know I’ve drifted away from all my other old friends.  Some of the reasons I’ve told you, some I think you’ve figured out, and some you probably have an idea of now after all that other stuff I wrote.  I’ve had my problems in the past.  Still do.  But I’ve gotten better.  And I’m still getting better.

I know it was never your intention, but thank you for giving me the opportunity to try being a good friend again.  For being any kind of friend again.  I think we both know you can be alone without being lonely, just like you can be with others and still be lonely.  I was definitely the latter for a long time.  Longer than I realized, and you were my first step to getting out of that.  

Okay, yeah, I did have that weird friendly-messing-with-each-other-acquaintanceship with Cass even before you showed up, but that was really just another part of the masks until mutual friendship with you was able to catalyze it into something else.

I wrote something to this same effect before, back when you were sick, but maybe once you return we can start talking more about this stuff.  Help each other out of the holes we dig ourselves into.  We’re both bad at talking about it though.  Maybe we could try writing each other letters.  That was something in a story I read once.  Writing letters to say the things we can’t in person.  I think you’d like that one.

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