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Thursday.
The land is as desolate as the sky above. As is my soul. But my inner essence is not at all like the physical universe which surrounds it.
The oppression of futility, the stagnant stench of desperation, the intellectual vacancy, the empty husks which roam these streets aimless.... Bear no reflection upon my inner spirit.
My void is one of undefining. But it has no menace. It is not a depressing place, but simply one which has not yet been explored. It does not shuffle about without hope. Quite the opposite, it screams out with the hope and excitement of being filled, of being defined, of being found.
However, my soul, too is a bit of a pretender. The masses about me seem, on the surface, busy and content. They go about their daily lives much as one would expect. Many even seem happy. But closer investigation reveals the sad routines they follow without ambition, without desire, without the ability to question or improve their lot in life. Alternatively, they may simply know the harsh answers and punishments that result from such questioning. They go about their work, knowing the day that will eventually come to be their last will mirror this, their current day. Some of their mental capacities may not yet have registered this gloom, but all of their hearts surely recognize, and dread, it.
And I, too, pretend. As much as my empty core is paradoxically overflowing with eager anticipation to find an identity… I mask myself as someone who has been browbeaten into submission. As much as I wish to seek out and find others who feel as I do, I skirt the shadows with head hung low, cloak drawn around to hide my true intent. I find the dark corners and keep to myself, simply biding my time in observation.... For time is the one true asset I have in abundance.
Likewise, I pretend at other aspects of my life, as well. I keep both inner and outer appearances disguised. I keep my motives disguised. I keep even seemingly harmless facts disguised. For good reason, too. Until I know myself better… until I know the people around me better… until I know the world at large better… I feel there is much danger to be found. I am scared that danger may find me. I must better prepare myself for it.
For forty and eight years have I lived in shelter. For forty and eight years, there have been but few notable events that I can claim as mine. But, many years ago, I saw it. I saw it, I heard it, I felt it. It was not a dream. It was not a dream. But it has seized my dreams ever since. For many years have I waited. Waited for opportunity to seek it out. Waiting for opportunity to meet with it, to absorb it, to become one with it.
I am the Dragon.
Advisor Description
Saturday.
Things move faster than expected. But that is exactly what I had hoped for, what I have willed into existence. I compose my own destiny.
A part of me had assumed isolation. I am set apart. I am, forever, on my own.
But can I truly operate on such a singular scale? Can I accomplish that which I set out to do without help? Pragmatism answers such questions.
And so, I begin with a simple barmaid. I say "simple," yet I know that her chronicle has every chance of being just as duplicitous as mine. I can only attest as to her surface, and can only hope for much larger mechanisms in action underneath.
She will be my introduction to the many various elements which surround me. Her position is perfect for such information, and information is what I need most. If I can cultivate a relationship, it could serve me well far into the future. I need a spy, and Judy will be that spy.
And yet… as I observe her busied state, waiting on patrons, slapping their hands away, slinging her rather nasty heavy dish cloth over tables that are only slightly less clean… I also am acutely aware of stolen glances. She, too, observes. This makes my choice in her all the more solid. Yet, I can't help but notice that she observes me with what I perceive to be a special interest.
I wonder who is the spy and who is the target…