R&R, please.
1st October
Diary! Dear, dear diary!
How I've longed for these pages!!!
Where to begin?
Aamina has not disappointed (visually, at least). I will allow that, even though I will surely be miserable here. The streets are wide, cobbled, and clean. The palace—which can be seen from the balcony of my room—is gorgeous. It is made, I believe, out of sandstone, which means it has numerous hues of earthy oranges, beiges, browns, etc. All the towers and spires have billowing flags of vibrant reds and yellows, each bearing the seal of the nation. I am told the gardens are beyond extraordinary. The contrast of cool, verdant greens against the backdrop of the warmer colors of the palace walls must be breathtaking. I hope to see it soon.
Too bad I am to be cooped in this miserable manor, which is decorated in an impersonal, stuffy, extravagant way.
I became reacquainted with my cousins Astraea and Enile yesterday. I had not seen either in four or five years, which is how I prefer the state of things. (Perhaps I am being unfair… they are not that bad… not as bad as their mother, at least.) Enile is a spoiled young boy, who (surprisingly) is as thin as a beanpole and almost as tall as me. He is seven.
Needless to say, that depressed me very much. I hate feeling short.
His first words to me were: "You're cousin Adareia?"
And then he wrinkled his too-long, too-wide nose and pouted, looking quite like a disgruntled two-year-old.
"You're not as pretty as Mother or Astraea."
I was torn between tears—pathetic, I know—and insulting his appearance with a vehemence that would probably have himin tears. But I composed myself and said nothing.
Then Astraea came flouncing down the stairs, her dress skirt swishing perfectly. She was lovely, and I hated her at once. Yes, I know superficiality works two ways, but really. It isn't right for anyone to be as pretty as she. I don't think it necessary to launch into some in-depth description of her gold-flecked forest green eyes and her pretty, pointed face and upturned nose… Erg.
She smiled at me, and I could not tell whether there was any thinly veiled superciliousness. "Adareia! It's been so long!"
I gritted my teeth and steeled myself for some obligatory hug. She did not hug me, though. She simply stood in place, arms akimbo.
"You look just as I remember! Do I?"
"Do you what?" I replied indifferently, hardly bothering to hide my indifference.
"Do I look different?" she inquired pertly, widening her eyes in suspense.
I imagined that she was looking for me to tell her how pretty and womanish she had become. I shrugged.
"You look… pretty much the same."
Enile looked at me dully. "I don't remember how Adareia looked before. I don't remember ever meeting her."
Astraea waved him off. "Are Mother and Father ordering the servants about again? They cannot help critiquing everything anyone does. Mother can't, at least. I'd bet three gold AJ's that they're telling Olio that he's not removing your trunk from the carriage properly. Oh well. Would you like to see my room?"
She said this all flippantly, and I could not tell whether she was seriously criticizing her parents.
"Why not?" I replied. Well, there was no reason not to. I decided to be brave and not surrender to my antisocial impulses.
"You'll be sleeping in your own, of course," Astraea informed me, starting up the spiral staircase. "That is, unless you wish to stay with me."
It sounded as if that was her desire. I said nothing, and followed her as she led me down a corridor cluttered with too many 'elegant' paintings and antiques. I realized after a moment that Enile was tagging behind me. I suppressed the desire to 'accidentally' kick him in the shin.
The corridor was excessively long. I decided to ask them something that had bothered me since arriving.
"Did you two know that I was coming?" I inquired.
Astraea said nothing, but smiled contritely. Enile shrugged a shoulder.
"Lovely," I cried angrily. "The two of you knew I was to be your housemate even before I did. Is it your mother's life goal to ruin my life?"
Astraea shook her head with an amiably sad expression. "Mother seeks to control everyone she can. Don't let it get to you. If you play along, it makes it much easier. My room is here."
And thus she seamlessly altered the topic to her room. It was as terrible in décor as the rest of the house (undoubtedly the product of Ahtia's influence), but dispersed throughout were little trinkets and articles that seem to represent Astraea—if she is as sweet as she seems. There were dried flowers hanging from the window, and an old, misshapen sunhat with a seafoam green ribbon lied on her armoire. Sketches of the palace, flowers, and her family members were scattered over her vanity. I bent over to appraise them while Astraea hovered behind me sheepishly.
"They're not very good, I know," she mumbled uncomfortably. "Perhaps you'd like to see my wardrobe?"
"I don't care about your wardrobe," I retorted tactlessly. "And they're lovely!"
Enile leaned against one of the posts of Astraea's showily carved mahogany bed. "She always says that, and everyone always says that she's good. She's fishing for compliments."
Astraea glared at him. "Am not."
"Are too," Enile retorted, contorting his face into a mocking expression.
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"I bet you're just bitter because you can't draw, Enile," I interjected, studying Astraea's charcoal drawing of her mother. (It captured quite prolifically her self-satisfied spirit, whether that was the intent or not.)
I don't know why I was defending her so intently. I hardly knew the girl. For all I knew, Enile was right.
But he was rude and insensitive, and Astraea at the very least acted nice.
She smiled at me glowingly. "Would you like to see your room?"
"Don't you want to show me yours first, Enile?" I inquired with false sweetness.
"No. I don't like you," he answered simply.
"Good," I sang out. "For I don't like you either."
Astraea rolled her eyes and started towards the hall, while Enile stood smiling.
"You're odd," he observed bluntly. "But that's not bad."
I shrugged and followed Astraea down the hall. She gestured grandly to a door, upon which some dried flowers were hung.
"This is your room," she informed me brilliantly.
"I put the flowers there," she added as an afterthought, turning the handle.
Part of me expected it to be no larger than a closet. I was surprised (and pleased, I suppose) to find a moderately sized, tastefully furnished room. (Tasteful, at least, in the fact that it was sparse, and therefore not overcrowded with Ahtia's flamboyant ornaments.)
I sat on the bed and looked around me. "It's nice."
It is nothing to home, of course, but I was surprised to find that I would not be turned into a scullery maid.
Astraea grinned. "Oh, I'm so glad you like it! It's not very much at the moment, but we could hang a few drawings of mine if you like, and—"
She tittered nervously. "You look tired, Adareia. How insensitive I am! Enile and I will let you alone."
Enile looked around. "I don't know why mother decided Adareia should stay in this room. We have much nicer guest rooms."
Astraea flushed. "Really,Enile. Do you ever think before you speak? Come on. Adareia would probably like some time alone."
She managed to steer her brother out of my room, while I shook my head at Ahtia. Of course she would give me her blandest room. Unfortunately for her, I like it.
After standing on my balcony for some time, I at last settled into writing in you.
I miss home. I miss Mother. I do not miss Father, but I miss Eirene. I miss many things. I feel as if I could cry, yet at the same time there is a quivering of excitement in my chest.
I—ADAREIA, WHO HAS NEVER BEEN ANYWHERE—AM IN AAMINA, THE CAPITAL OF AYORTHA! AT ANY MOMENT I MIGHT MEET SOME FOREIGN NOTABLE, AN ELF, A GNOME…
It is almost too much. I think I might take a nap.
-- Adareia
2nd October
Diary,
Have yet to meet an Elf. I'm sorry I did not write after my nap. I slept well past dinner (no one had the decency to wake me), so I had to sneak down to the kitchen to forage for food. Unluckily, Ahtia told the servants NOT to give me anything.
A plump old woman shrugged an indifferent shoulder. "Mistress says if you want to eat, you eat with the rest of the family."
I could hear the witch saying that in her nasally voice. I whimpered.
"I was sleeping. No one bothered to tell me they were eating. I can see you're an understanding woman, uh… What's your name?"
The servant is named Ellee and she is mean. She shook her head—"You heard what Mistress said."—and sent me back to bed. (Humph!)
I could not sleep at all. I could also think of nothing to write in you. I fiddled with my quill, sketched a (bad) self-portrait (see above… or not. I've scribbled it out.), and drafted a letter to mother, which I promptly tore from your binding, crumpled up, and tossed under my bed.
After that, I wandered through the halls like a ghost. I even moaned a bit, hoping that if I could not eat, I could at least scare Ahtia or Enile or Astraea—whom Ithought would be kind to me. (That's a lie. I didn't moan. Truth be told, I was frightened by the darkness myself. But that's our little secret.)
I returned to my room and fetched a cloak from my chest. In the midst of my insomnia, I was feeling strangely bold. (Beside the being afraid of ghosts bit…) It occurred to me that I might go through a stroll in the streets to soak in the sights of Aamina, unfiltered by what Ahtia deemed important or not. It seemed a brilliant idea, really.
The manor is perhaps a ten or twenty minute walk from the city. It all seems quite ridiculous now—who knows what characters are milling around in the middle of the night?—but then it seemed perfectly delightful. And it was remarkably easy to slip out of the house. I just picked a window, heaved one leg over, then the next, and there I was: standing on dewy ground. You know, it would be a breeze to run away from this place!
I won't, because I wouldn't want Mother to catch wind of it and worry herself to death. (I do care about her, no matter how much I don't want to.) I'd write her first to tell her my plan, and even if she disapproved she'd let me come home. Probably without Father's knowledge, but that's for the best. All this is beside the point, but I refuse to run away until something interesting has happened to me.
Anyways, I slipped out without a care in the world and headed down the road. Simultaneously unnerved and encouraged by the utter silence, I decided to sing theAwada Uryau, my favorite ditty, at the top of my lungs. I was strolling along quite happily when I heard the thundering of hooves coming from behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Two young men (idiots, if you ask me) were racing towards me, as fast as the wind, whooping and guffawing and MERE SECONDS AWAY FROM TRAMPLING ME TO DEATH.
Luckily, I threw myself out of their way before they could SENSELESSLY MURDER ME.
They skidded to a stop a quite a bit after the place where they would have—I'll refrain from lapsing into capitals—killed me.
One young man, a (seemingly) tall, freckled fellow (whom I REFUSE to call handsome), breathlessly called to his friend in Kyrrian: "Ask her if she's alright, will you?"
The other one, a man of classic Ayorthaian looks (whom I also refuse to call attractive), turned to look at me with a scowl.
"Are you hurt?" He asked petulantly in Ayorthaian, annoyed with having slowed his horse for a creature a lowly creature like me.
He was annoyed, and yetI was the one sitting in a rut on the side of the roadway!
"Yes, perfectly," I answered in Kyrrian. (I didn't want them to think I was some ignorant provincial!) I stood, unabashedly brushed off my bottom, and turned to the freckled man. "Don't mind us Ayorthaian folk. I'm sure in Kyrria it's custom to callously crush any fool who happens to be in your way."
He just smiled. It was not twenty seconds before they both had kicked their horses' sides and were flying towards Aamina once more.
I, exhausted by my near-death experience, shuffled back to Ahtia's manor, climbed back in a window, went to my room, and fell asleep. I suppose, in hindsight, near-death by possible trampling is better than real death by thief in Aamina.
Not that there are many thieves, I wouldn't think.
I shall have to ask Astraea, whom I've decided to forgive. After all, she and I are to share a governess, and I want to know how to get in her good graces. (If I must suffer, I should at least suffer as little as possible, no?)
It is well past breakfast (which I slept past… feh) and is very near lunch, so I'm going to loiter around downstairs so there is NO POSSIBLE WAY I miss that meal. I also plan to inquire after the character of my governess from Astraea.
-- Adareia
2nd October
Diary,
I feel stupid. The governesslives in the manor. I suppose I would've known that, had I actually been at dinner or breakfast…
She looks stern. She is in her forties at least, has black hair, gray eyes, and a striking widow's peak. She also did not smile once during lunch. Things are not looking promising.
Lessons begin tomorrow. I kept stealing glances at her, hoping she'd smile warmly or wink, or give some indication that she's not as bad as she seems. But she didn't. If anything, she glared.
Oh. I'd almost forgotten. Her name is Madame Innai.
I have the feeling I will have to be very sneaky about my inquiries to Astraea. I have the feeling that Madame Innai knows everything that transpires in this manor. Part of me worries whether she witnessed my slipping out last night…
Oh dear. I hope not.
-- Adareia
4th October
Diary,
First day of lessons were brutal. Second day were no better. Do not wish to recount much. Madame Innai was strict. She criticized my every movement, word, and even—I kid you not—insisted that I not THINK myself above her lessons. Well, they're silly and petty, and I can't help but think that! Sewing, dancing, etiquette, and singing are all that are covered. And what's better: Kyrrian manners are in fashion these days.
Bleh. Kyrrians are so rude and obnoxious. I prefer Ayorthaian manners, thanks.
Needless to say, my rigorous study of languages will not be continued here. Master Emilie's hard work is to be wasted, unless I take it upon myself to practice my languages. And at the moment, I'm too tired to even think about it.
I asked Astraea if she had any secrets to surviving Innai. She said, and I quote, "Oh, Adareia! She's really not so bad. You just have to try your best, and she'll see that."
Brilliant. That was the worst advice I'd ever received.
I'm too angry and frustrated to write much more.
But Diary, listen to this: after being abused by Innai, I must also endure abuse at Ahtia's hands for not instantaneously exhibiting proficiency in my lessons!
The world is cruel. I've yet to enjoy the city. I've yet to see an Elf. So far, I've had no adventure at all.
I want to go home.
-- Adareia
