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Journal Writing at Briar Rose Cottage

July 22, 1891.

Five weeks ago when I last wrote in this journal, I believed my life had settled into a rather predictable routine. Longing to leave the strange, dark London, yet not imagining how it would be possible, I resolved to make the most of my life and to enjoy what I could to my utmost ability.

Much has changed since then and new possibilities are on the horizon. With the temporary assistance of an Apothecary apprentice, I moved forward with the lotion crafting. We gathered seaweed from the shallow waters in TornOak and also went salmon fishing in the streams. My injuries from slipping on the rocks have healed and I’ve been moving about quite well.

My home at Number Ten, Beyond Darkness is gone, as is Foxtrotter and Grey’s, Katherine’s flat and other familiar places that have been a part of my life. My belongings have all been transported to my cottage here in TornOak, including the fishing equipment I’d ordered from Jackson Barnes, my scrying ball and this journal.

I cannot help but wonder if I’d left this journal behind, and if it had survived the rift and landed in some other place and time, would it be considered as fiction or the ramblings of a madwoman? Perhaps it would be as a note in a bottle thrown into the ocean? No matter, it is here with me now.

My goodbyes were said including to Borris, the spectre and gentleman who always had a cordial word for me at The Black Rose Cafe. He told me he is retiring to a place where fashionable men’s clothing is always available. When I inquired if he tells a different story to everyone, he remained silent in answer. We embraced, I disentangled my hair and necklace from his clavicle and ribs and then went on my way.

Life has been peaceful here of late. I commune with the goddess and go about my days with the small ways I so enjoy. Sometimes small ships come to the shore and I converse with those from far away. It was a great surprise to discover the occupant of one such vessel was someone I’d known in Northern Africa when we’d worked for the trading company.

A textile merchant who escaped with his life as did I after the troubles there, he told me of news that had never reached me and much of it is quite amazing indeed. I fear it has stirred my Roma blood and caused me to wish to travel the worlds even as I know it’s quite dangerous for a human alone.

That makes me laugh–I must get used to not speaking of races other than human if I’m to travel to Algiers. I must seem quite odd as it is already.

I’ve questioned some of the crews of the other small ships to determine if I might indeed safely travel. While Northern Africa seems quite a daunting destination at this time, I’ve heard references to a place called Serenity Falls. When I become fretful in this place and crave a bit of adventure, I might pack my small scrying ball, some lotion bottles and travel there in order to utilize my business skills. Dearly, I would love to see some of the lands I’ve only but read of.

My Avian companion, Lucas is well and continues to return to me. The sunshine and fresh produce here has given me a robust sort of health and my emotional pains are fading. It is a grand thing indeed to have the gift of life and choice.

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