Weisa — EP33 Journal

I was initiated in the rites of death and blood before I was 11 winters old. My memories hold no scenes where rage and cruelty were hidden from me. No time where I was divorced from the grit of this world. I have been initiated in the shadows my entire existence, and I have never been allowed to fear it. I can fight. I can stow parts of me away. It is what I do, isn't it? What we all do on the battlefield. How else do we function? I have always seen this as a great skill. It has kept me safe thus far. How disarming then, to go head to head with this other me. The moment I saw her, I found my weakness. How infuriating. I felt my body crave her as my blade attempted to destroy her. She begged me closer. And I found myself thirsty for her, parched, as if I was being poisoned by something invisible all my life. And she held the remedy. Closer, she said, and closer I eventually came. It struck me. Have I ever really allowed myself to come closer? Not just in camaraderie, swordsmanship, or custom, but in the fullness of intimacy. Have I allowed myself to be ripe and full with desire as publia is? Isn't this when the fright is its most the fruit is its most potent. Hasn't she taught me this already? I wasn't ready. I guess I am now. I have no idea who I am. With this epiphany stirring in me. The straight lines I once held onto now feel circular. But I do know that my love burns brighter and my skin feels more alive. I pray I have the chance to share it with Jason. This is a big key to myself, I see. But there are many others still. When will I get the piece of me back that belongs to my brother? The original intimacy that was taken from me. This I will allow myself to fully desire.