To Rhial

33

Vetia

Adam, look up you dumb fuck, I'm waving at you. Oh well. Maybe I am in my own isolated little world up here, and I can just fly away whenever I want. Hah, that'd be nice. Running off, living in the woods, hunting, eating, being free from this collar.

Usually I'd zone out and daydream about whatever the hell I wanted when nobody was fighting or training, because otherwise they'd just sit around gambling while the other two worked. Those two being Adam and the guy who seemed like he would be the type of kid to wear a trench coat to school every day and sit glaring at everyone in the cafeteria during lunch, so everyone tried to stay on his good side, y'know, just in case. Everything seemed so dull, like there was a film grain over my vision that made everything unfocused and exhausting to look at. Voices and words just passed through my ears, never being worth listening to.

My mind would wander so much, remembering high school, college, it had me feeling all nostalgic. I missed my old life, but that might've been in comparison to being collared up and stuck using all my jzanmah fixing people. I kept telling myself that I could make it work in this world, I just had to get out of here. I'd sit and plan. Nobody here really even came into this room unless they needed to be fixed up. They wouldn't even tell me when food was ready to be served. I had to go out and check, and even then people would tell me there were no more bowls or spit in the stew scraps. Not that food really did much for me, but being hated- no, not hated- less than human, sucked. I got along with just about everyone in my old life. Then again, I never had to deal with being an untouchable in my old life.

Not everyone likes me though. That's just how it is now. I've been saying that too much lately. It is what it is. God, what the fuck was I thinking, pushing Simira so much and thinking I'd be able to get away with talking to Tarynn. Where did I mess up? Like, was I in the wrong? Because undeniably, objectively, she was a total bitch, but I didn't think I really pushed it aside from when she started shit. Maybe I should have just let him die so this would have never happened. Sure, she would have thought I was a random hussie across from her at one of the worst moments of her life, but at least I wouldn't be the one that was all up on her brother.

Damn, I gotta stop thinkin about all that. I can't live as a nervous wreck. I gotta fuckin' stay alive because Ms bitchypoo decided I'm a little too goofy to have rights and I've got a promise to make and keep. Doesn't she know that jesters are oft prophets?

What's it been, like a few weeks? Somethin' like that, I think. I still don't know shit about shit, and I can't really listen in on anything because people don't talk around me other than when servants need me to check if they're pregnant 'cause they had an affair with a guard, or they'd talk about arena bets, or who they wanted when the brothel visits. Do people talk about anything other than fucking and killing here? No good plays? No neat clouds? No family drama?

Alas! Just you wait, my keenly observing audience, drama is but a season away. Cause I've been telling every cheating servant that she's not actually pregnant (almost all of them are). I can see it already!

"You lied! You said I wasn't pregante!"

*Mimes stupidly, as a stupid animal as myself does, because something as stupid and speechless as me obviously can't understand them*

"Have at thee! Wicked shazgadj!"

"Oh nooooooo???!!!! What??? You're beating me again??? But that would make it three times today! My quota that I surely must meet is the usual seven!"

These hoes gonna be mad.

If I start pretending I'm into getting beat, maybe they'll stop. That or I might just end up with an unwanted trauma fetish.