Onwards

I am Starchild, Orchid's Jester. There's no way around it, this is an adventure. I hate every second of it.
I'm taken from my comfy bed, out in the Wyld beyond reality, where nothing exists but what I imagine, to Creation, where things are a lot less compliant.
I meet with these 'normies', I'm sure they're fine, for normals. But I'm a Raksha, a Fae, one of the Fair Ones. Well, I am turning into one, anyways. It's not so bad, as diseases go, to become 100-Marwolaeth-trefnydd(condition:ab8a7de8-8cc0-445e-acd6-4b28aa70f78c), it's like learning to properly digest food, in a sense, you earn more nutrition from your environment, and digest gossamer. Then you become 200-Bywyd-trefnydd, and learn to read the currents of the Wyld. Then you become 300-Nodyn-trefnydd and others start to respect your voice, as if!
Wee, an adventure, they said. Meet with the acolytes, they said. Acolytes are emissaries, mostly, but some just hung out with some powerful being, out there. A rare few have hung with two such beings, and are thought to be the more powerful for it.
My skin crawls just being in the room with any of them, but the one with the spiders? Who speaks in rhymes, and always hints that she can see my nightmares? She's a nightmare herself!
But no remedy for it, I gotta go. The higher ranks don't let us newly elevated Fae alone long, and especially when there's visitors, these aren't acolytes though, apparently some undead summoned the ancient pacts of sanctity of ambassadors.
He's creepy, I mean death's always creepy, but that's how I earned my Bywyrd-trefnydd, I saw a compatriot's demise to the Hannya, how their spark fled them, and reunited with the Wyld Weather. It really takes some thinking to understand how you catch these viral ideas, and they infect you, but as they do, you become 'better'. Well, altered, at least.
I've earned five of these distinctions now, if I earn a sixth, my 600-Golau-trefnydd, I'll be able to come and go as I please, I won't be stuck being the jester and recorder of the court!
But it's hard, how am I supposed to learn something from just recording everyone's actions and words faithfully? Ugh, it's so irritating, but I've only been doing this for two months, and some of my comrades say you can do this for years, maybe even centuries, not that time matters in the wyld. Time is an invention of creation, an invasive species.
There's five of these normies! And they're so different, besides the undead, there's the brooding green-tinged one, the smiling gold-hued one, the little brown one that acts like she's their recorder... And the one that looks,... bored, except when he's taking care of his pet. But that pet's not from creation either, well, it is from a more pure Creation, an elemental one, it's far from its element though.
Now that I'm Nodyn-treffnydd, I can hear the waves of the pole from here, it's thousands of leagues away. This sea is odd though, it's caught between the influence of the World Tree and the great Volcano Tzaderrak. They call it the Dreaming Sea, but the Raksha Court of Dreams claims it not, their territory is closer to the pole of earth.
At any rate, I'm stuck with these mortals, these humans, ugh, they remind me what I was, 'wee, an adventure!' I sound fake even to myself.

— Diary of Starchild, orchid's jester.