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(281) Martinet

I still fear death, and that is a problem—I need to overcome that. I’m still too tense, still refuse to trust the flow—even now. What do you have to fear? On the rational plane, nothing at all—and yet to be alone in the darkness, it does put me on edge; just close your eyes and go to sleep…Impossible! There is something there…the cat, the beast. It wants to eat me—supernatural entities too (fine, stay at the end of the field and disappear when I approach—I’m just a bit nervous about when you sneak up on me).

Look, I’m a tense person, okay? I let a student chiropractor have a go at me once—and I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t shake the conviction that he was about to break my back—or my neck. I wouldn’t trust a masseur (or a masseuse, for that matter). I’m edgy—and, frankly, I think I have good reason to be edgy. It’s just I’ve seen a lot of what those humans get up too—it’s basically rape and murder (just politely covered up—and if you mention the particulars they drag you out). Plus—there’s birds and beasts (not a real threat in Britain, admittedly) and supernatural entities to deal with….

You worry too much…Well, they say that as young baby, practically from birth, that I would chuckle to myself (daemonically)—but somewhere along the line I got edgy, some latent constitutional development (not experience, though experience was bad enough). I need to train myself up a bit—sit in the woods all night alone a few times, drift off to sleep…of course, it’s then, when you’re confident, they’ll get you. I might do a sigil, just pass it over to magic—crush the fear with a symbol, become someone who eats death. It’s essential, I think—if I’m going to spend 40 days on my own in the wilderness I’ll need to take the edge off, just to get some sleep.


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