Work Text:
Sunday
We held a lottery to decide who was going to hunt the troll. I was among the lottery winners. Between the lottery and volunteers the total was 18. Of those 18, 5 are dead.
I cannot help but wonder if that number would be any lower if my name had not been called. It seems all I could do for anyone was blow my glass whistle and become violently ill. At the very least, the blood of Miss Danica Quincy is on my hands. If I hadn't fumbled with my torch, Miss Quincy would have perhaps escaped the troll’s wrath.
What use is someone who cannot hit, cannot aim, cannot do anything but offer empty words and prayers?
We were only in the cave for an hour, but it was the longest hour of my life. All I want to do now is pray and reflect.
Tuesday
We held a wake for the people who died today. The service was flawless, as expected from Father Katz.
I thought I saw Mrs. Baird in the corner of my eye, however when I turned to look closer all I saw was my own reflection. Mrs. Baird is one of the mourned, so I suppose she has been on my mind. I must be tired. I am planning to ask Father Katz for relief of my duties for today.
Friday
I bid farewell to Pernell today. Pernell has been a dear friend to me, so I found it difficult to see him off. Pernell has decided to go on a pilgrimage to take an Oath. He seemed determined to better himself through his devotion to Wake. I did not stop him.
As much as I care for Pernell, I must admit he surprised me when he initially brought up the subject. Pernell never struck me as the particularly religious type, despite working as an usher for as long as I can remember. He has changed so much because of what happened in the cave. I suppose we all have.
Monday
I know it is good practice to write an entry the day of the event so that it is still fresh in the mind, but you must forgive me. I was not exactly
in my right mind.
During service I became emotional and I left. Something in the sermon stuck a cord with me, and all the emotions I have felt since killing the troll had all pushed to the front of my mind. I tried
I wash
As I lifted my head, having bent over the basin to splash water in my face, I saw them I saw them I saw them
Jenkins The Bairds Jesabelle Danica I saw them one by one they wore my expressions my grief my horror Iam so
I just wanted it to stop, but when it did
My skin, my eyes, my hair. There is no color. I t is an endless white. The person in my reflection is not me. It is not anybody.
My color has slowly started to fade back in since yesterday, but it is touch-and-go. I fear some malady has befallen me. Wake, protect me.
Tuesday
I have come to the conclusion this is a punishment of some sort. Perhaps it is a result of the spores of those mushrooms in the cave, or an undocumented side-effect of Troll Stink. Or perhaps Wake Himself has stuck me with a curse.
It does not matter. What matters is that I have failed my flock and I will spend the rest of my life atoning for this. For what I have done, and what I have left undone.
Amen.