Property of Pyrite Rose:

The sensitive information found inside this journal is private. Unauthorized reading of this material will result in immediate bodily harm.

Entry 1

My name is Pyrite Arc Rose, I am about to undergo my first year of Huntsman training at Beacon's Light Academy. Most people who were around for the fabled "Fall of Beacon" call it New Beacon. I know adults are weird about names, why even bother naming it if you're never going to call it by its name. For instance Mom and Dad call me Py all the time, never my full name, not even if I'm in trouble which I hardly ever am but that's not the point. Weirdos all of them.

I recently turned 15 last month, this is an important thing to note, because turning 15 is the event that finally allowed me to take the tests required to graduate early from Signal Academy, a full year early so that I could start true Huntress training. According to my mom, and every other teacher I was congratulated by upon acing the aptitude test, I will be the youngest Initiate Beacon has had by exactly one month. The previous record holder being my own mother who didn't test into early enrollment but was recruited through a series of events that are halfway famous by now. A fact that I've been reminded about at least once a year, our annual "Family Time, Story Extravaganza". I didn't name it trust me.

Based solely on Mom and Dad's telling of their own first day at Beacon I have two almost sacred rules about my first day at Beacon. I am not allowed to blow up on my first day, or to awkwardly throw up on my future spouse's sister. Oddly specific I know but somehow those two events are the beginning of a string of coincidences that almost caused my parents to end the world as we know it. I think I can handle just two odd rules. I am not my parents, I am too smart to be the cause of the end of Remnant.

Because of my early acceptance and this being the first time I've really been away from my parents, Dad suggested to me, in way throwing this pink glittery monstrosity of a journal in my lap, to "keep a journal". Mom swears by using the writing of letters to family and friends to stave off homesick feelings and help out when things get stressful, and Dad hinted that keeping a "Journal" is a common thing young girls and boys do to recap their day and re-evaluate what occurred and that getting the memory down on paper is a great therapy for the stress of becoming a Huntsman. Long story short Dad kept a diary when he was at Beacon and figures it would help me like it did for him. It's a better alternative to weekly reports mailed in to Mom so I didn't turn him down on the offer.

Before I even took the test and applied to Beacon Mom and Dad have been trying to add things to my life that they think I'll need to make it in the world. It's never been normal things like general knowledge of geography, map reading, or computer knowledge, no it's always social things like making friends or being kind to shopkeepers and elders(patience humility, and other such virtues everything is a social lesson with them). I had to learn all the basic things about society myself, which don't get me wrong I enjoy it immensely and I am completely okay with researching into anything to be honest. Though what does confound me at time is that while I did the whole "questioning how everything works" my parents would stop me from going for books about subjects I wanted to study and instead force me to go talk with this or that person in a friendly manner and ask what they know about it. These people were usually helpful and I followed my parents lessons with sincerity, but I always had to fact check them anyway which defeats the point of stopping me from using a book first. Seemed like a waste of time to me at first, but they were persistent that I join in or create social situations on a daily basis and I suppose it was good for my growth as a person. My family's big motto is that "strangers are just friends you haven't met yet" and after at least ten years of forced socialization I could realistically say no one in vale young or old are strangers to me. I won't call all the people I talk to friends like Mom does, but I have been forced into polite conversation with everyone in my sphere influence so far and I can begrudgingly admit that it's nice.I'm off topic, the whole of point of this is I don't make friends. I have many acquaintances and can fake polite topical conversations, yet I've never had a desire to keep people around in a friendly way or get back to anyone about "hanging out". While all of the teachers and elders that know me will call me a polite and well mannered girl. I've kept all of my real interactions in a professional manner. I don't call people back to talk about life, I don't go out other than when I'm obliged to, I just study and talk with family and anyone I absolutely have to. Otherwise I mostly just want to be alone to study and train, there is no desire to make friends.

So of course all that line of thinking does is make my parents worry when I bring it up. They think I need someone to talk, that having friends and companions is essential to life. Essential to being a Huntsman. I don't feel that way I assume having a team will be proffesional with each of doing our own job to work as a unit.

So I was given an ultimatum by dad and via proxy Mom that I write in this journal daily and at the very least try to be friends. And really I'd rather tell an inanimate object what I'm "feeling" than the therapist Mom threatened me with though, or heavens forbid the "Friendship Reports" that dad suggested. That phrase alone made me cringe in horror. Forced to make friends and send Dad weekly updates about what we did and talked about. I shudder merely at the mention of such horror.

Okay introduction over, I guess. I'm really bad at this whole writing down my feelings thing. Most likely I'm just going to use this as a log unless I feel like adding more. The tram through the city has another 10 stops before we get to the airfield from there it's a short blimp ride up to Beacon's Light, oh yeah it's literally a Lighthouse by the way.

When the old Beacon was destroyed instead of another radio tower the kingdom of Vale decide that with air travel becoming the predominant method of moving between kingdoms a physical "Beacon" showing ships the way through the wilderness, so now we have a giant lighthouse, on top of a cliff, shining out towards the surrounding wilds, and it happens to house the kingdom's largest advanced Huntsman Academy. It's the tallest thing for miles sitting on a sheer cliff towering at the same height as the Bespoke mountains far off toward Mistral. Airships don't even need physical landmarks anymore, technology has mapped out the world and navigation software is so advanced it's impossible to get lost if you even have a simple scroll let alone the navigation computers on ships. They don't even need the towers anymore the maps are so detailed you could turn off your connection to the network and still be fine. Though that is an air code violation, hazardous to other ships and so forth.

I ramble. Great. Didn't know I rambled. In my head it seemed like everything is perfectly in line, I was just writing my thoughts as they came but reading it back… it's a bit messy and jumbled I'll have to work on that. Once I get to Beacon and I have cool things to write about I can work on my structure and leave the introspective stuff out since it just rambles on like that.

Uh. Soooo. I started using some of the packing tape I kept in my pack to strip off most of the glitter. I think I'll repaint you gray or a bland gold like my namesake. Just need to get ahold of some spray paint. Maybe a dappled pattern of pale gold and gray to match my hair. The people of Remnant have this whole thing about your apparel matching your hair, semblance, and aura self expression and such. So I should follow along, anything really would be better than this weird fuchsia color. Pink is disgusting in my opinion.

My hair used to be a shiny gold like color up until I turned 12. My semblance awakening along with my aura prematurely grayed my hair in splotches. I would have freaked out about my hair alone if not for a few important details. I was already freaking out about how slow everything was moving around me(that's a story for later though), and I personally think my hair looks better this way. It's not vain if my unique hair coloring is cool as hell.

Mom had a mission to prep last night meaning she couldn't take the day off to see me out to the airship, so it's just me and Dad sitting in the window aisle of our tram. He's been reading and tapping on his scroll since I began writing in my new journal. Based on his worried expression I assume he is texting Mom, he worries anytime she goes off on a mission without him. Mom said she just has to make a trip to Vacuo with as an escort. Something about making a protected land route between the kingdoms and scouting checkpoints or something. To be honest I am a little upset she had to leave this morning before I even woke up, but that's part of the Hunter life, early and erratic hours with lots of travel. Still I wish her the best of luck and pray to Crescent Rose that she keep Mom safe.

This journal wasn't the only new luggage I acquired, before we left it was impossible to miss that Mom had added a sturdy looking wooden chest with shiny metal slats sitting on top of the duffle bags and two suitcases Dad carried for me. As if he'd let me carry anything for myself, I barely got to keep my combat pack with his "I am your father, therefore I carry all heavy objects until you have a boyfriend that can take them from me." I want to scream over the oddities that are my parents sometimes.

The new box looks like our normal treasure boxes and is tied with many different strings in a criss crossing chaos that could only be the knot work of mom with a white tag on top that says "Under penalty of tickles do not open until your Team Leader has been decided. Yay Team _!". I kid you not, this has been a recurring theme with my mom, she tends to go overboard with gifts and surprises. Any kind of important even in my life has seen one of these treasure boxes waiting for me. Since my 5th birthday(pirate themed) I've received these boxes as surprises. I was little and pirate adventure novels were my fixation for the year. I was so in awe about the whole thing my reaction to a treasure hunt for my presents was … intense to say the least. My emotional outbursts to the special treasure chests have long since been curbed to nonexistence as the ritual became tradition, but seeing the surprise waiting for me still brings a feeling of excitement and curiosity.. I know I don't show the same wonder I used to at these gifts or hyperactive joyopening them, but I love my parents dearly for keeping this up. Opening this box will be just… awesome! That is the only word I can use to describe my anticipation.

The box did look cumbersome and ponderous but dad didn't seem to care about that, he just balanced it on the rest of the boxes like he wasn't carrying a hundred or more pounds of clothes, books, ammo, months worth of snacks, a pillow and blanket set, camping gear with sleeping bag, and 3 monogrammed towels(it was a gift from Aunt Blake, I couldn't just leave them at home to collect dust), and my dyi smithy kit.

Now that I think about it, maybe I packed too much. I'm basically moving though, so I'm bringing my stuff with me. Yes, I am totally justified in taking all of this with me.

I'm going to stop here for now, need to help load my bags and get on the ship. I'm nervous. But now about the whole starting a new life thing, I'd come terms with that by the time I took my tests. No I'm just really bad with flying. I didn't eat anything all day yesterday and today so I couldn't get queasy like I did for that Atlas trip we made last year. That was a nightmare I don't want to repeat. I'll update you next chance I get.