Annunu studied the blank parchment in front of her, quill in hand, sorting through her thoughts with a precision that had eluded her in the time since the failed raid on Castrum Centri, since Master Gogonji was laid low by the soul fragments that still struggled within him for supremacy.
In some ways, much had happened since then - he was now slowly recovering, having mastered two of the fragments and brought them under his control, and he was waking up more frequently, speaking more easily. But in other ways, she had ignored the passage of time outside of the medbay in Coralhaus and had ignored what must be percolating outside of those walls. Their discovered surveillance the one time they had exited the house was just one indication that ignoring the outside world was not an option. And Master Gogonji's gentle chiding at her lack of a plan for dealing with the inevitable repercussions of her own impending arrest weighed heavily on her mind.
She had never considered herself to be a martyr, and yet as he had pointed out, that was her tactic, her plan for dealing with threats that came his way. Instead of defeating them, she absorbed them - hurling herself bodily in front of problems and sacrificing bits and pieces of herself along the way. Her carefully crafted persona of the "Cherry Blossom Socialite," armor that had served her well for the years since her father's death, her wealth, her reputation, her position in society, her relationship with her fiance, her home, and then, finally, even her own life, her body, her well-being. Had Master Gogonji come to dominate her thoughts so utterly that she would continue to whittle away her very self to serve him?
And it wasn't even as if he'd demanded such sacrifice - he'd never asked her for it. He rarely asked her for anything, in fact. And the other day, he had urged her to reclaim some of that which she'd lost.
Still, the knotty conundrum remained of why she had allowed things to devolve to this extent. She held the unsullied quill under her nose, frowning slightly in concentration, the long feather making it seem as if she had a very unusual mustache. The only answer she could think of was that, even before the raid on the Castrum, she had permitted her service to Master Gogonji to take each piece of her in turn, ignoring the consequences just as she was now ignoring the way time continued to move outside of this house. He loomed so large in her mind and in her life at present that she had neglected every other facet of her life - even her own sleep and food at one point. And given his stable of enemies and her own, to ignore was to be vanquished.
So now what? Move her eyes from him to reclaim her life? So he had asked her to do, but she felt herself strangely hesitant, reluctant. Perhaps it was because, other than her estrangement from Chuta, none of the rest felt very important or worth reclaiming. Her wealth, partially inherited and grown by her own efforts, felt like little more than token chips to count how many jobs she'd taken, how red her hands ran. It kept score and maintained the cover persona of the rich, airheaded socialite. And yet... was it ceding too much of her own agency to neglect herself to the point where she would lose absolutely everything? Was she even a person anymore if she did so? Was this some sort of strange ritual of self-loathing, self-punishment, to allow herself to be unpersoned by her own actions?
Impatiently, she shoved those thoughts away. Sometimes it felt as if Master Gogonji had made a tangled skein of her inner workings, bringing long-buried thoughts and feelings to the fore. But in the end, she knew she had only herself to blame if she faltered. It wasn't his fault. But if she succeeded... Perhaps Chachanji and his attitude that a support system made you stronger had some merit. Even Master Gogonji had acknowledged that they needed others.
She dipped the quill in the inkpot. She had maintained armor, cover, and wealth before she had met Chuta or Master Gogonji. Even if it was simply in obedience to his order to retake what was hers, this was a good first step. She felt her lips tug into a small smile. And the first step was to make herself worthless for anyone to marry. Who in Ul'dah wanted a broke bride, after all?
She began to write the authenticating words to her customary money launderer, and felt some of the weight lift off of her mind. It turned out that funding a failed mercenary organization was quite the expensive endeavor for an airheaded heiress.
In some ways, much had happened since then - he was now slowly recovering, having mastered two of the fragments and brought them under his control, and he was waking up more frequently, speaking more easily. But in other ways, she had ignored the passage of time outside of the medbay in Coralhaus and had ignored what must be percolating outside of those walls. Their discovered surveillance the one time they had exited the house was just one indication that ignoring the outside world was not an option. And Master Gogonji's gentle chiding at her lack of a plan for dealing with the inevitable repercussions of her own impending arrest weighed heavily on her mind.
She had never considered herself to be a martyr, and yet as he had pointed out, that was her tactic, her plan for dealing with threats that came his way. Instead of defeating them, she absorbed them - hurling herself bodily in front of problems and sacrificing bits and pieces of herself along the way. Her carefully crafted persona of the "Cherry Blossom Socialite," armor that had served her well for the years since her father's death, her wealth, her reputation, her position in society, her relationship with her fiance, her home, and then, finally, even her own life, her body, her well-being. Had Master Gogonji come to dominate her thoughts so utterly that she would continue to whittle away her very self to serve him?
And it wasn't even as if he'd demanded such sacrifice - he'd never asked her for it. He rarely asked her for anything, in fact. And the other day, he had urged her to reclaim some of that which she'd lost.
Still, the knotty conundrum remained of why she had allowed things to devolve to this extent. She held the unsullied quill under her nose, frowning slightly in concentration, the long feather making it seem as if she had a very unusual mustache. The only answer she could think of was that, even before the raid on the Castrum, she had permitted her service to Master Gogonji to take each piece of her in turn, ignoring the consequences just as she was now ignoring the way time continued to move outside of this house. He loomed so large in her mind and in her life at present that she had neglected every other facet of her life - even her own sleep and food at one point. And given his stable of enemies and her own, to ignore was to be vanquished.
So now what? Move her eyes from him to reclaim her life? So he had asked her to do, but she felt herself strangely hesitant, reluctant. Perhaps it was because, other than her estrangement from Chuta, none of the rest felt very important or worth reclaiming. Her wealth, partially inherited and grown by her own efforts, felt like little more than token chips to count how many jobs she'd taken, how red her hands ran. It kept score and maintained the cover persona of the rich, airheaded socialite. And yet... was it ceding too much of her own agency to neglect herself to the point where she would lose absolutely everything? Was she even a person anymore if she did so? Was this some sort of strange ritual of self-loathing, self-punishment, to allow herself to be unpersoned by her own actions?
Impatiently, she shoved those thoughts away. Sometimes it felt as if Master Gogonji had made a tangled skein of her inner workings, bringing long-buried thoughts and feelings to the fore. But in the end, she knew she had only herself to blame if she faltered. It wasn't his fault. But if she succeeded... Perhaps Chachanji and his attitude that a support system made you stronger had some merit. Even Master Gogonji had acknowledged that they needed others.
She dipped the quill in the inkpot. She had maintained armor, cover, and wealth before she had met Chuta or Master Gogonji. Even if it was simply in obedience to his order to retake what was hers, this was a good first step. She felt her lips tug into a small smile. And the first step was to make herself worthless for anyone to marry. Who in Ul'dah wanted a broke bride, after all?
She began to write the authenticating words to her customary money launderer, and felt some of the weight lift off of her mind. It turned out that funding a failed mercenary organization was quite the expensive endeavor for an airheaded heiress.
People have forgotten this truth. But you mustn't forget it. You become responsible forever for what you have tamed.
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