halfbrokenwings

[Her heart feels like a stone weighted in her chest and her stomach couldn't quite decide if she was going to be sick afterwards or not. Her face is red from embarrassment and shame and she certainly has the apology written across her features. ]

Yesterday. I- I need to apologize to a good many people for yesterday. I was horrible. And mean. I-I'm sorry.

[She lets out a breath she was holding and while she's talking she's not quite looking at the journal.]

I do not know if the words alone are enough but, I am sorry for what I have said, or what I have done. I- I had no real control over it.

[She swallows visibly. She doesn't know if she should name names, just in case someone does not wish to accept her apology. There was quite a number of people she messed up with that day. A number of them, like Sollux. She'll seek out personally to apologize for her rotten behavior.]

I'm sorry.

[_{ooc: You can reply as a video here, or perhaps you want the bard to deliver a personal apology? She'll be wandering the grounds looking for people to express her deepest regrets to. Open to anyone and everyone! Have at!}]

With all of the people- please. If anyone sees a shadow dragon around- would you let me know?

[She's allowed to hope for a familiar face right?

The half-angel will be wandering around on the grounds taking in the strange sight of so many new faces. She can found just about anywhere, except for the hot-springs or the forest.]

[The bard is a little breathless when she comes onto the journal. She's had one of the frights of her life, appearing back where her and Tumnus had walked into the dark. She can't see very well still, her eyes not being used to the light or seeing at all. She's having to squint and shield them to make out shapes.

It hurts so bad, being able to see again, tears are running down her face.]

Is-Is everyone b-back?! Sollux? Is it ov-er?

[Though, she is not one to pray very often, there is a silent prayer on her lips that begs that it is.

She has to wait until her eyes adjust somewhat to the light to move at all from where she's at. When Isabella does move, it's as quick as she can manage without breaking something.

Weak from the lack of water and food she's still taking the stairs, two at a time. The bard is headed to her room to kill two birds with one stone. The stall with the water falling- as cold as it is, will both be welcome relief from the filth of the torturous stay in the dark room- and she could drink it as well. She's hungry, but that could wait, the thirst and that dirty feeling was stronger for the moment.

She'll emerge after a shower, and clean clothes to search for the people she knows, specifically one she went in after.]

Who: halfbrokenwings and brynkitten
What: all the cuffs stuck together!
When: backdated to the night it all went down-
Where:Barracks!

[Though, the halls were rather creepy at night, and outside even more so- the bard had no choice with the time of night that she entered the halls. She'd gotten her wings wet while bathing and that takes hours to dry.

So it was past suppertime when she was wandering through the halls. A cuff was dangling on her wrist, that she couldn't explain. In her other hand there was a key- and the key did not fit to the cuff. She was not inclined to mess with it overly much after the fiasco with the pumpkins. If she'd ignored it, it would go away eventually- right?

Everything else had.]

Sollux, Zhaneel.

Sycora is going to work on my wings in just a few moments. I'll be alright. I'm in the infirmary right now.

[Blast these journals- she doesn't really want to broadcast all of this...]

I wanted you to know...

[There's a flash of Isabella's face, wings, and her room as she turns the video on of her journal and points it at a curious object upon her nightstand.

It's a framed photograph of a young teenage boy with dark hair and green eyes.]

This appeared, in my room, while we were asleep and-

Who the fuck is this?

[There's a pause, in which the other speaker will be receiving a wry look. So eloquent her roommate is.]

Yes. That.

_{[[ooc: There's a picture there that should be very noticeable to someone in the Keep. The yellow text is Sollux. 8D]]}

She was practicing the violin in front of the Bower, sitting against the wall. Head bent over the strings and plucking notes. It was disjointed but possibly, if anyone had spent any amount of time playing the video games in the library, the tunes would become recognizable. She was puzzling through the fingering. The bard could not get the sounds exactly right on the violin, though she could get it closer than the limited sounds on her tin whistle.

She's got a number of them stuck in her head. They're simple and yet very addicting tunes, and the only sure cure was to play it enough until she was sick of it.

The first sensation she registered was a growing burning sensation in the middle of her back. It was uncomfortable and quite quickly growing unbearable. Eyes opened and she scrambled to a sitting position. She did not know why she was in the room, or even who she was, but she knew that something was wrong with her wings. Instincts made her unfurl them to ease the hurt, like an eagle spreading his in a stretch before a flight.

What came unexpected was the sudden explosion of pain from her left shoulder. There was the sound of bone grinding on bone and a scream tore it's way from her throat. Between one second and the next she very briefly lost consciousness and ended up on her side. Her wings were bound in some contraption and something was wrong with at least one of them. She didn't know why. Tears of pain clouded her vision and she clawed at the buckles of the bloodstained harness that bound her body and wings. The bone in her shoulder resettled at an unnatural angle and caused more pain-filled whimpers.

Frantically she yanked at the straps around her body, crying out occasionally. She fought like a wild animal that was caught in a trap- against a contraption she didn't understand but with the driving force to be gone and away from the thing that was causing her so much pain.

[[ _{ooc: She died ...if so inclined you'll hear a scream throughout the barracks and possibly right outside of her window.} ]]

[There is the distinctive sound of a violin being tuned coming from an area near the thermal springs. Or is it more inside? First one note sings pure, then the next. Finally, the bow drags across the strings in harmony.

Before the sounds of it had faded away, a song begins.

Isabella is in the happiest place she could be at the moment, fully enthralled in the music and no longer feeling the pains of her wings thanks to the medicine from Sycora. Her eyes are half-closed and she steps into a dance that matches the tune of the strings, while continuing to play.

Little exists in that place of music but the notes of the song and the motion of the body for the bard. There is a smile on her face, if anyone is watching, and it reaches to the deepest parts of herself. This was home; with a fiddle in her hand and playing the songs in her heart.

She had finally found a violin with a richness of sound that matched the one she lost, and she felt a little more whole in acquiring it. Worries, fears, and any doubts that she had melted away as she continued to play. Then there was a pause, and a beat later where the song picks up, she laughs. Now begins a celebration. A sure boldness is in her motions and is evident in how she moves and plays. Different this was than, from the polite, submissive gestures that she seems to carry everywhere else.

Besides the frogs, does she have an audience? Will they approach? ]

[She was nervous to be doing this but, she was clearly out of options. When she had gone to check the fit of the dress she had altered by looking in a mirror- she found an unsettling surprise in the reflexion.

She had at first tried to rub it off, it refused to move. Then, she went to the pools and soaked until she was pruney- and still her reflection bore the same images. She rubbed her throat until it was almost bleeding, trying to get it off of her neck.

Wearing her crippled wings was one thing. Being marked with a tattoo around her throat- with words that seemed to change, in a language of magic she did not recognize? That was something else entirely.

She finally ended back at the thermal pools. She was not feeling up to face to face confrontations- and this seemed a good place to not receive it should something go sour. It was also easier, perhaps to ask one question of many, instead of many questions to many people.

This way she would not have to keep facing one person after another. Just say it once, and it was done. Except it was hard to say.

So that is why she had to have a Letter of Address.]

Hello and good evening.

I have a inquiry and would dearly appreciate any information at all regarding it. Please bear with me as I am not making any accusations, only questioning possibilities and hopeful answers.

Before I was invited to the keep, I had no marks on me other than minor scars.

[There's a pause in the writing, as though she is taking a breath.]

Only now, I have recently glanced upon a mirror and it revealed a rather large blackened tattoo marking around my throat.

I have no memory of the time I fell asleep in my tent- to the time where I have awoken here. If anyone has any information about this, or could perhaps interpret the lettering and words, you would have my eternal gratitude.

I understand if you do not wish to answer this letter, as public as the Record is. I would be more than willing and eager to meet in person.

Thank you for your time.

Respectively,
Isabella

[She lets out the breath she was holding... and watches.]