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The Journal of Nadya Petulengro

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adara
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PostPosted: Tue Sep 17, 2013 4:37 pm Post subject: The Journal of Nadya Petulengro Reply with quote

(Note: the drawings, pictures, etc. that are depicted will be given credit where it is due by leaving the signature active - personal edits will be noted.)


*This book is kept in her satchel - the binding worn, pages water marked, and metal clasps rusting in places. The writing is fairly plain - with no note of personal signature as to the nature of the author.
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adara
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PostPosted: Tue Sep 17, 2013 4:38 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

I will do the memory of my father justice by not forsaking this book. Instead, I shall write my very being into these pages in the hopes that by doing so he will receive them. Last eve was my first overnight stay in Britain in over a year. It is a stark contrast to the eerie peace of my current home - the sights, smells, sounds all came rushing back. It was as if I had never left. I was given a tour and genuinely surprised to find that I did not know the city half as well as I had assumed. But, they don't often let Rom venture onto the finer West side. I am a wolf in sheep's clothing with my new finery. They look at me as if I am an entirely different person all together. There are no disparaging looks, muttered comments, or rude remarks.

My mother must have predicted this - the new life I would make for myself away from the oppressiveness of the Rom patriarchy. I plan to spend the rest of my time here becoming more cultured.. books, art, music.. that is what I will fill my heart with. I only hope that it is all strong enough to chase away the shadows from my past.
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adara
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PostPosted: Tue Sep 17, 2013 4:38 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

My trip to Britain was quite surprising overall.. I spent much of my time consumed with the written word. I believe it was fated that I would find the most crucial piece of information in a book I only happened to pick up by chance. "The Burning of Trinsic" speaks of sandstone walls, being near the sea, and frequented by gypsy camps. It may be a false lead but I intend to pursue it as soon as I am rested. For some reason it just feels.. right..

I bear my father's amulet though have no clue to its origin or meaning. My mother never spoke of him for fear of my grandfather's ears. He hated the man because he was not akin to us. He was not Rom. I assumed he was dead but what if he merely vanished? Returned back to this obvious safe haven for him? These ideas are bouncing about in my head, jumbling my insight. I will rest for now for I am still weary from my journey.
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adara
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PostPosted: Wed Sep 18, 2013 9:28 am Post subject: Reply with quote

I was finally able to unearth the nature of my father's amulet - triquetra. Even the word sounds strange, rolling off the tongue in an alien manner. My source informed me that it is a fairly prominent symbol among my people but my eyes have never laid upon such. He chalked it up to myth, or superstition, believing the nature of the object and its power to emanate from the wearer themselves. That he felt no power pulsating from it.. is startling.. why would my father give it if it was just a trinket. And why would my mother not have worn it if it was such?

More questions.. and I have no answers.
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adara
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 30, 2013 9:34 am Post subject: Reply with quote

My mind is like a dam in the river, breaking underneath the overwhelming pressure of last weeks memories. I did return to my grandmothers residence the following day, at her behest, but it was not nearly the soul shocking visit I expected. The normalcy of the whole situation surprised me.. *pen pauses a moment* we drank tea, lounged in the garden, speaking of her beautiful city. I expect she is a noble of some sort. Her name giving perfect insight into her bearing and manners - all is undertaken with a gentle grace. She offered a room for me and was quite taken aback at my adamant refusal but I cannot drag her into my own affairs and sordid past. I prefer to think of her here, isolated in her own little haven - tending the garden or drinking tea.

Yet she has shown me the darker side of my father's family - magic. She claims that I must be taught despite my reluctance, that if not I may very well succumb to that dark pull that so easily consumed my father. I have agreed to return, for a few days at a time. Grace has given me a sketch of my father, from his days of youth. And I enclose it here, among these pages, in the hopes that it will bring focus and clarity to my new path.
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