Disclaimer: I really don't own any of the characters or anything, so... yeah don't sue!
Journal
When I started writing this journal I did it for my own sake. It was for my own thoughts and feelings, hoping that I could read through it again at some point and figure out the things confusing me. Now it seems that this small book has become a means of communication, and oddly enough: one that I keep close to me at all times. It's weird, feeling sentimental about discussions with entities that are people you know hiding behind masks. But it's easier to talk that way, isn't it?
This way we don't have to watch each other while we're talking, or conceal an emotion or two, because we are safely tucked away behind masks of mystery, innocence and truce. I know I find myself staying up late and re-reading this by the firelight simply contemplating its contents. Then I realize that this probably keeps you two from your responses. So, I set it down next to my bedroll and fall asleep, hoping that one of you will write.
My Okugi, where have you been? Have you had such a hard time finding us? I thought it would have been an easy task for you. Or, have you some pressing matters to attend to? You and your dark secrets that spread on my pages are, (though I find myself loathing to admit it) very much missed. I can talk with Zelgadiss during the day, but we somehow managed to avoid mentioning this leather-bound book in any way. I hope you write soon, even if I am talking to the mask of a ghostwriter, it's better than praying to a God that never answers.
The fire is starting to hiss now, because it's started to mist heavily. Every night since we've left Filia's house it's rained. The chimera looks to me every time it starts, and somehow I think that it is because of me that it's raining so much. Not that I'm upset about it: actually I'm very grateful for it. It's a daily monotony that in some way breaks the daily monotony of life. Humph, there I go again, with poetic babble.
I think I heard our Chimera cough a little on his side of the fire. Looking up, I'm completely shocked by how worn he looks. The fire highlights his face in way that for a moment makes him seem more tired than the old man down the road from Filia. Old man… this realization struck me like a lightening bolt, I think I physically jolted because he glanced up at me. It's been decades since my battle, and although I haven't (and surely the demon and golem residing inside him) experienced the ravages of time; the human inside him must be weakening and growing older with each passing year.
That worries me, Zelgadiss has turned into a close friend, and although his demon and golem sides can live throughout time, his human side will eventually die off. What will happen when (hopefully if) the human dies? It is the human part, or at least the human minded-Zelgadiss that we know. I wonder how much will change. Obviously, he will have to start sustaining himself on emotions and the like, but will it just be a shell of him, or will his mind stay with us?
And why am I worried about him dying? Death has never fazed me before. I'll suggest that he gets to sleep first. Still, is it that I'm worried for the simple fact that he's human? Have I let that stupid speech they gave me go to my head? Humans really do live such short lives, and his echoes mine as yours parallels it. Maybe there's something I can do to help him, but I don't know what. I have very few choices on the subject of saving someone from death.
Of course I have holy magic, but I'm no priest, and even if I were, it's nearly impossible to convince Lord Cepheid first to let his power be used in such a way. But also, the process itself is long and hard, painful enough for even Zelgadiss to choose death as an escape from it. And I am no Dark Lord, nor do I know any that would help. So, turning him fully mazoku is out of the question as well. Unless you have any ideas on the subject, I doubt we'll have him for much more than 20 more years.
There is a pain building inside my chest, and I know what it is, but still cannot understand it. Death is an escape, redemption; a way out of this fucking shitty existence. Isn't this what I wanted in the first place? He would have been one of the first to die. …So why is it bothering me now?
I've let my mask slip, I can tell, because just before he was going to close his eyes he stopped and looked at me. Gods, I don't how much longer I can stay in this perpetual limbo. My mask has left, I can't replace it, and a fear is tearing at me now. Yet, also a strange calmness, a relief that it's gone. A tear trails my cheek, and I think how alien it is for my to have even on tear on my face.
Now he's worried, even after I've been trying so hard not to do that to him. As long as I keep writing, though, he won't say anything. What- I think he just smiled… Now I'm even more confused than before, and the shattered remains of my mask won't fit back into place in time for me to hide it. Please write back soon, I have some thinking I need to do.
-Valgaav Aira
Sweet rain; wonderful dissention of my soul.
