Journal 2: 12 Network, 643

10 Network, 419 G.Y. 12 Network, 643 G.Y.

I've decided to begin recording these solely in the modern calendar of this place. The dates and times of my homeland hardly apply, after all. We far predate the discovery of the elements that term our months, the birth of the Founders that term our days, the imperial era by which I count my years. 11th Hell, 3550 IE, a date that holds no meaning to any here but myself, and those to whom I have told of the time of my birth and who happened to remember. The trappings with which I seek to anchor myself have no relevance here.

So, on this tenth day of Network ... no, I'm sorry, I may yield on the calendar but numbers are numbers, and just writing it down that way feels wrong. On this twecth day of Network, I sit and reflect upon the events of the day. The lesson that I gave, or attempted to give, and the brief interview before it began. A cacophony of missteps. I have well and truly fucked it, and this state of affairs simply cannot continue. It will tear us all to tatters.

I offered our visiting journalists the interview they hoped, or at least a facet of it, and they did not take to it. Thought me a charlatan, riding on word association and abstruse algebra to patter my way past the voice of reason. Could be no further from the truth, but I could think of no good way to prove that. If even such a proof is possible, without the completion and demonstration of the work.

But that is not where it all went wrong today. Bej came in for lessons, and I do mean Bej, not Persephone. I don't know what she was thinking, and I don't know why she did not pick up on my admonishments to let Persephone take lead, but she didn't. Exposed a shocking ignorance of elementary elemental theory, and did even worse when I offered them a quick practical. The conjuring that she produced would have set her arm on fire with two of the castings, produced roiling and noxious gas on the third, and I cannot imagine her fish sauce and pomace compote would have been potable to any but herself. It was a mess, and I grew angry at her, not just for robbing Persephone of a valid lesson but for so blatantly ignoring the instructions she was given.

And in that anger, I said much that I should not have. Much that I think serves only to further alienate her. And hells, worst of all, I was so engrossed in admonishing Bej that I completely failed to notice Dythea's breakthrough. I'm so ashamed, to give my panic at the thought of losing her such weight that I actually begin to drive her away. That is no good for anybody. And it was certainly unfair to her, as proud as she was to succeed in front of me, only to find me focused on relitigating my previous relationship.

We land at Koschei tomorrow, if all goes well, and by the time we do, I need a better answer than what I've been doing. I need to force closure, if I cannot find it on my own. Perhaps I'll enlist some aid and empty out the ship, and put that long and painful year to rest for good. If I tell myself that that's what I'm doing, who knows, I might even begin to believe it. I have to try. For the sake of this crew, and the sake of these women that I ... care for, deeply. I have to find something that works.