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((Journal of Elodie and occasional one shots I end up writing. I think it goes without saying [even though I'm going to anyway], anything written here is for ooc only. Please don't be an ***, thanks.))
8/28/20
Dear Diary,
I knew this city was going to be odd as soon as we stepped foot. In truth, I am still deciding if I enjoy it here. Realistically, it is still better here than where we came from. The city isn't the only thing that's odd. After all, a new place will always be odd.
A piece of me is still fighting with my mind. 'It's not real' it screams. 'You're not real.' But I am. I run my tongue along the inside of my mouth. I've cut it a few times now on these new little instruments. Fangs. I should just call them as they are - fangs. I am dead but not dead. I live but not in the sun. I made that mistake already. I don't cry easily, if ever. But that night, I wept like some squalling baby. Of course in my stubborn wit, I didn't peep a word of my idiocy to anyone. Serves me right, after all. I suppose a little leeway should be given to myself. I was newly turned.
Honestly, I am still trying to find my way. I have new abilities, new senses, experiences. Papa has thrown himself into this new city and new world like he does with everything else. I'm proud of him and his ambition. No matter my caution, we'll survive and make it through. We always have and always will. Le changement est bon.
((translation: change is good.))