Continuity sucks. If something doesn't quite match up with what happened in the animated show, my answer is "That never happened," okay? Okay. Further, although I'm reading the transcripts now, I'm still unable to watch the show in it's animated glory, so my fics diverge from sometime after Season 2, although this one sorta parallels Season 3 at points, okay? Okay. Now, feel free to tell me what sucks, and I'll try to correct it. I kind of play up Raven's mysticism and demonic heritage, but don't worry: it doesn't really get in the way of the story. Also, take none of the mythology mentioned for granted because I twisted it all to fit my own ends. Okay? Okay.

Disclaimer: No claim to Teen Titans or anything related to it. I wrote the story, but I really don't have claim over that either. At least lemme know when you pilfer it, okay? Okay.

This is ongoing--the first of about five. The second chapter should be up in about two weeks, maybe sooner if I can actually manage to own a computer of my own.

The Diary

"Oh, how nice," Raven blinked, flipping thought the leather-bound book. It was a deep purple, nearly black; the pages were blank and the cover was nondescript, with no title or name. She closed one eye, trying to think. Several possibilities came to mind: Sekhmet, Bast's lioness cleric would write her anthologies in milk, which, when burned by fire or mysticism would appear on the seemingly blank pages. The cults of Mounikhia would occasionally curse their texts rendering them invisible to the uninitiated. Margaret of the Hidden Face would hide her writing under false sheets of vellum. But where would Starfire find such works? "Um...whose diary is this?"(1)

"It is yours," Starfire answered, her expression clearly saying she suddenly doubted her friends ability to comprehend the simplest concepts. She folded her arms across her chest and looked down the hall. "I hereby gift it to you."

Raven returned the look, "Where did you get it?"

"The store. Have you not encountered a log before? It is for you to record in."

For Raven to write in? She was a fairly advanced adept, but still nowhere near the level to write anything appreciatively informative in her own texts. Besides, her own specialty in the arts was of such a dangerous nature, no one had written of them in eons--one never knew in whose hands the information would land. "What could I possibly write about?"

Now Starfire was sure Raven had been hit in the head or something. "You write about your day, " she said slowly, as if explaining to a child, an idiot, or Beast Boy.

Raven blinked. Write about her day? "Um...what does that do?"

Starfire blinked back. "Nothing."

"Hn." Raven looked at the diary dubiously. Maybe it was a Tameranian ritual...

"You do not like the gift?"

"Oh, it's nice," came the hurried reply. The first cardinal rule of Titan Tower was that you never hurt Star's feelings. She was easily hurt and impossible to console once she got started. The last such incident, caused by a random barb of Raven's, was only resolved, ten hours later, when the entire team ate a huge bowl of appropriately-named "Pudding of Sadness" or some such crap. "I just...I don't...it's nice..." she finished lamely.

And then Star hugged her. Seriously. The girl was touched in the head, or something.

(oooo)

It had been two hours already, and the page was still blank.

You write about your day, Starfire had told her, and Raven had the impression that it would be a simple task to perform. But now, as she attempted it, she was stricken by the abject meaningless-ness of it. Write what about her day? Surely this wasn't a play-by-play of where she went, what she ate, and how she discovered tapioca didn't agree with her physiology? She'd seen written accounts, journals, before, but these were the testimonials of people with something important to impart--what did Raven have to say? What would it mean when she was no longer even bones? The idea that she should justify herself and her life with this book was daunting now that she didn't even know how to do so.

So for the past hour she had been pacing--not a habit of hers. The quiet swish of of her cloak swirling around her ankles followed her as she traced and retraced a path in the center of her room; her steps muffled by the combination of her soft shoes and the thick carpet under her. Sometime your environs were unsuited for writing, so she nervously readjusted various trinkets lying atop her desktop, knowing that she was merely fidgeting. It was her favorite time of day, and the setting sun's light barely filtered through the heavy curtains, bringing a dull glow to her otherwise dark room. The fierce statue of Brynhildr guarded the darkest corner of the room; adjacent to that, the giant wolf spider which prowled the room as she slept. All was safe--so why did she feel so uncomfortable just now?

Raven sighed, which was also something she didn't do often. She didn't want to disappoint her teammate. Behind her, the ticking of the four-eye clock of Shaitan (one of her father's many many names), reminded her of the passing time. She spared a glance at an old photo of the team, sans Raven (she wasn't fond of photography, being deathly afraid that she wouldn't show up in them), thinking how Starfire had a habit of asking too much of her. Looking at the photo, just then, her thoughts went elsewhere. She wasn't in it, of course. The fifth person, in her stead, was Terra.

xx/xx/xxxx

I don't care what Beast Boy says, she suddenly wrote. Terra was a monster. I'll never forgive her...

The writing continued, unbidden. The venom poured forth for twenty minutes, two pages, until Raven was sleepy, her hand was cramped, and her throat was choked with tears. She stared at the pages staring back at her, wondering distractedly where they came from. She couldn't show Starfire this. The alien would just have to trust that Raven was writing and appreciated the gift, and hopefully Star would forget it ever existed.

At some point during the writing, the clock had malfunctioned, her walnut wardrobe had distorted, the wood twisting out of shape. Testing the door, Raven found that the door held. She pursed her lips, considering. It was fine; better to leave it than to try to fix it. On her knees, she rummaged through the folded clothes she never wore and pulled out her mirror. Going to sleep with her mind in such a state was asking for trouble.

(oooo)

In the morning she still felt pretty much like crap. Not in a psychic sense so much as physically. A sort of muggy sense without any real tell-tale symptoms to diagnose. Her stomach didn't hurt, but she felt as if she would vomit if she tried to eat anything more substantial than tea. A quick glance at the calendar told her there was nothing for it. She did have an unusually late night, pacing about, and then that writing outburst and spending half the night consulting a void, searching for a manifested source to her unexplainable anger to no avail.

Leaving her bed unmade for the moment, she half-walked half-stumbled into the washroom (the girls each had their own, the boys shared one that Robin complained no one ever cleaned) and set the dimmer lights very low. Remnants of last night's headache still lurked and she wondered if a quick shower would be safer with her feeling ill, or would taking the longer bath be more rewarding. She didn't feel dizzy or too nauseous, better to shower and have to put together a nostrum for her mild symptoms.

Running the water and letting it heat up, Raven muttered a few syllables and drew a symbol into the air and the air wavered until her reflection appeared before her (lacking normal mirrors, of course). Looked worse than she felt, certainly. Her eyes were a bit dullish, and the skin under them was puffy and discolored. Her hair was limp and stuck to her forehead from sweat she didn't feel. Because of a stupid book from Starfire. Nice.

The shower was enough, though and perhaps she'd have some saltines with tea. By the time she had dressed and wrapped herself in a fresh cloak, the symptoms had dulled and her mood lifted minutely. And that was fortunate, for that was about when there was a pounding on her door and the heavy thumping of what could only be Cyborg running off. It could be a stupid game or it could be serious. Not chancing it, she steeled herself for the worst (stupid game) and followed the racket outside the hall. She could do this. She felt okay. Actually, deep down, even, she was...happy.

(oooo)

Cyborg was kicking Beast Boy's green butt, if he did say so himself.

"I can't believe this..." BB whined after the thirteenth loss in a row. He always won at Street Fighter--what happened?

"Believe it, salad-head!" Cyborg taunted, turning his head to see who was walking by. "You two don't want to stay and watch me slaughter this kid?" He called out as Starfire and Raven left the lounge area.

"No, but I do appreciate your offer, Friend Cyborg," she refused. "It is getting late: perhaps you should take care not to compete in the street fighting until sunrise again?"

"Yeah, I'll be done with this soon," Cyborg waved them goodnight. It was a full second before he realized and ran into the hall after the two.

The hall was dimly lit only by ambient light from the lounge and the girls were bathed in the soft blue of Cyborg's circuitry, throwing off colors to bizarre effect on Star. "Is there trouble, Friend?"

Cyborg didn't answer immediately, giving Raven a suspicious once-over. Finally he muttered, "Nothing. It's just...I thought...nothing." Sparing her another odd-glance before going back for one more game.

Resuming their walk, Starfire's hand found the panel that would turn on the lights for this section of the hall. "I do not think I've ever seen you in pink before, Friend Raven. The color suits you."

"Thank you; you're pretty cute yourself."

Tossing her head, Starfire waved her hair behind her shoulder, "Ah, you must be in a pleasant mood today, Friend. May I assume it was my gift?"

Raven smiled, "Ha. Yeah, I got some things, off my chest, alright. Don't tell me that, though."

Starfire didn't know what that meant, but that was nothing unusual. Turns of phrase were still quite strange to her--especially "turn of phrase."

Stopping at the entrance to her room, she gestured for Starfire to follow her.

(oooo)

Raven herself worked at trying to forget about the wretched diary--and failed somewhat--until she retired to her room for the day. "Your idea is completely asinine, Beast Boy."

Beast Boy was adamant about getting a moped, but never had time for a job. The answer, he figured, was to scheme someone else's money. Of course, that probably wouldn't be the words he'd choose. He made a disgusted noise and waved off her opinion while speeding up the pace of his steps to keep her from escaping. "I'm just saying," the youngest Titan tried to explain, "this Titan stuff is expensive. Why not make, like, public Titan stock for, like Bill Gates to invest in and--"

Because there'd be no profit for investors?" Raven pointed out, reaching her door and finding it unlocked. She had totally forgotten about that with the condiment fight in the hall this morning. Life with boys...

"--like, charge people for saving their lives?" Beast Boy finished.

Not bothering to even dignify that with a reply, Raven was content to just stare at her teammate severely until he slunk away, muttering that girls knew nothing about money. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, she stepped into her room, finding an oblivious Starfire stretched out on her bed reading that damn journal.

"Um, wow. If this isn't the mother of all invasions," Rae snapped, making the alien startle. It wasn't true: BB and Cy once sneaked into an allegorical manifestation of her mind, but Raven didn't feel the violent fury then as she did now. "Star, what the hell?"

Star, for her part, managed to look afraid, confused, and bewildered at once, "W-what?"

She didn't even know what she did!, Raven ranted internally. Her rage was quickly mounting beyond her control, and of all the techniques to ebb it, she went with the most mundane and satisfying. She picked up the nearest book and hurled it at the other girl.

Like a shot, Starfire flew off the bed, and Dante Alighieri's Commedia bounced impotently off the bed and fell open-faced on the floor. "Raven..." she whined, looking a lot like a reprimanded puppy.

"Shut up! Have you ever once been invited in here? And here you are reading that damn...Get out, Star!"

Starfire blinked, still confused, "I-I just--Raven, I do not--"

"Are you deaf?" She interrupted. Raven reached for another book to throw and Star finally got the message and scurried from the room.

Immediately, the young mage's rage crested and was replaced by shame and embarrassment. How could Star have read that? What a heel Raven was, the poor girl didn't even get what she did wrong and--by YHWH, she threw a book at her!

Tears coursing down her face, Rae spent the rest of the night huddled in a corner, trying to get a hold of herself; the grinning mask of Trigon and the agitated wolf spider keeping their silent vigil.

xx/xx/xxxx

If there's anyone worse than Terra,though, it's definitely myself...

(1)Sekhmet, in reality, was not Bast's cleric. She was Upper Egypt's war goddess. Bast was Lower Egypt's war goddess. I abused the association in a fit of creativity. Suffice to say that in this little fictional world, Raven's right and people are wrong, because who would know more about the history of magics? In Mounikhia, there was a cult to the Greek goddess Artemis, not to someone named Mounikhia.