Personal Book of the Vestale
This book belongs to Saethi Vrabiz. This book contains events related to the person to whom the book belongs. It contains various pressure tactics towards some people, the written record of some event marking the life of Saethi Vrabiz, her most intimate thoughts and reflections on the system governing her life and the remembrance of all those who have been , are and will be dear to her heart.
I don't know why I began to write this diary. Maybe because my soul hurt for being so harsh? I think I never know the answer.
They are plenty of day since I be what I am now. I am a lowblood, plus a mutant, who live and act like a highblood. Every one fear me. Every one want me to let them alone; because I know things, I know plenty of things.
The Secutor, for exempe. A good friend of me at the beginning. But some events separated the both of us. I heard she fight in the arena for her live. She betrayed her master to save my live, to give me the information I needed. Less personnal things, she betraye her matesprit, one day, with an oliveblood. I'm sure he doesn't live enough to regret what he did.
The feeling of the whip on my flesh was horrible but once I know what he did, my master released me and give me a status. Status I improved over time.
This morning, I saw my reflection in the mirror. I looked exactly like always but a thing was different. It was my skin, my freckles, my strokes in my hairs but my eyes were differents, they had changed. They became less warm, more harsh, more disinterested. When I saw that, I feared. I was afraid of myself, of what I become.
Did I become like my master? Did I really act like a highblood?
Did I do the thing I promise to my friend, almost my moirail, not to do? Did
Did I became a monster?
I buy a slave today. The Enslaved for being more precise. I heard it, one day, I cannot forget. His voice was marvellous, enchanting. His voice was the voice of a god. Not a Messiah like this horrible cult. A good thing, a beautiful gift.
He never thing anymore. I overheard a rumor who say he was tortured by psyonic powers. It was a new torture, a thing who hurt the body but also the soul. My marvellous singer. My silent slave. I can still feel his first gaze on me, the surprise for my blood, the admiration for the beauty who gave me a youth full of tears and whip. A cold beauty, now.
I also see the other slave for sale but I take my decision earlier, I only buy one slave. He was so expensive, but having him at my side would improve my position. At first, it was what I think. It was an horible lie. But it was soething I can't tel. Nobody have to heard that. Never. Or it will be my end.
Rumors, again and again. Since the death of the Signeless, the lowblood wants their own liberty. They don't want to be culled anymore, they don't want to be put into slavery. I think it's a good way to think but they are so vehement, so impetuous.
I can only think that this will end badly
I wrote less and less. I worry more and more. I heard that they want to culled all the highblood in the town. It can't be. If it's true, they also want to killed my Enslaved. I don't want to. Because I never tell him what I feel for him.
My Gardian is here, I worry less when he was near me. He'll protect me and the Enslaved. I know he had a name but I can't. I can't say it. it doesn't show me as a weak, but it would confirm for the other I care a lot about him. I can be a target for those who want me to suffer.
I think it's today. I can heard the murmur of the crowd, who approach to my house. I feared a lot. I know I die today because I dream a lot of this event. I say I dreamed? Because it's true. I sleep less and less into my recuperacoon, and it make me dream.
I heard them
I heard the crowd
they are here
I have to found him. I have to found the on who belong my hemopumper.
I hope Archbolt would forgive me.
If I die, I think I just ask someone to burn this diary. He contain so much of my life, of my expectation, of my fears. It contain information on people, on highblood. On HER, also. Just one thing. She had a weakness. I can't say it in this book. I bring it with me in my grave.
Archbolt, if you read this, if I tell you to burn this book before my death and your curiosity make you read it, I just wanted to say
If he survive, bring him with you and flee. Don't tell him I wanted to became his matesprit. This will only make him more sad.
finally, he had read it. He overstepped the last orders of his mistresses, her last will. He knew things now, shameful secrets, mostly on people he knew, he saw every day. He did not know what to do with this information, but this book was the last thing that belonged to the woman he respected, who had given him his honor, a goal. He was not going to burn. It was impossible to do this. This fine writing and untied, her full and graceful shapes, he would keep with him. He would hide it, keep it as a treasure. Not to forget. It certainly forget her voice, her way of thinking when bending the head or the mania to pout when something annoyed her. Then he took the book, the small stack fell and a book, a notebook more precisely, fell to the ground, open to the last page used. And he saw his eyes go. The tears flowed again. His mistress was very talented in drawing to have obtained a report on him as realistic as the flowers on the walls.