Twelve Suns After the Fall
Every single face was foreign to her. She sat on one of the benches in Limsa, her small leather-bound journal and pen in hand and her leg bouncing gently up and down nervously. She scanned faces, clothing, voices and everything was a disjointed blur to her. She gripped the journal tightly and sighed.
The good news for her was the journal worked. She indeed woke each day since she'd gotten it not knowing who she was but the journal was always there and she always started her day reading it, getting her mind calm before she engaged in anything. She was currently testing herself; how long she could wait before her panic and curiosity took control. The wind had tousled her hair and she gave off a hushed frustrated growl, opening the journal and taking a deep breath as she saw her name. She flipped the pages and saw the names she'd seen in an appointment book in her room, still unfamiliar despite having looked at them so many times. She mumbled them quietly as her fingers traced over the names, as if willing the mystery people to emerge straight from the book. "Nebula....T'caska....Vetiver.....Floria...." She closed her eyes trying to imagine who they could be and nothing came. It was a blank white space where something should have been.
She closed the book and as the wind swept her red hair again she stood up, slipping the journal inside of her jacket. Her fingers brushed the ring inside her pocket and she closed her eyes. A smile crossed her lips. "Time f'r a drink. Least it'll help me relax." She headed to the Drowning Wench and as she passed the Yellowjackets, the courtesans and other escorts, she felt something in her mind. Not knowledge....familiarity. And this bothered her, because she couldn't pinpoint whether it was a negative feeling or not.
Sitting in the Wench...more drinks and notes in the journal.
And the hours rolled on as she waited for the time to come.
The time to return home and sleep. Where she would lose it all again.
Every single face was foreign to her. She sat on one of the benches in Limsa, her small leather-bound journal and pen in hand and her leg bouncing gently up and down nervously. She scanned faces, clothing, voices and everything was a disjointed blur to her. She gripped the journal tightly and sighed.
The good news for her was the journal worked. She indeed woke each day since she'd gotten it not knowing who she was but the journal was always there and she always started her day reading it, getting her mind calm before she engaged in anything. She was currently testing herself; how long she could wait before her panic and curiosity took control. The wind had tousled her hair and she gave off a hushed frustrated growl, opening the journal and taking a deep breath as she saw her name. She flipped the pages and saw the names she'd seen in an appointment book in her room, still unfamiliar despite having looked at them so many times. She mumbled them quietly as her fingers traced over the names, as if willing the mystery people to emerge straight from the book. "Nebula....T'caska....Vetiver.....Floria...." She closed her eyes trying to imagine who they could be and nothing came. It was a blank white space where something should have been.
She closed the book and as the wind swept her red hair again she stood up, slipping the journal inside of her jacket. Her fingers brushed the ring inside her pocket and she closed her eyes. A smile crossed her lips. "Time f'r a drink. Least it'll help me relax." She headed to the Drowning Wench and as she passed the Yellowjackets, the courtesans and other escorts, she felt something in her mind. Not knowledge....familiarity. And this bothered her, because she couldn't pinpoint whether it was a negative feeling or not.
Sitting in the Wench...more drinks and notes in the journal.
And the hours rolled on as she waited for the time to come.
The time to return home and sleep. Where she would lose it all again.
