From a Journal…

I begin to wonder if I should not leave Fallen London for a time.

So much here now is stagnant. I cannot continue in my quest to gather the players for the Marvellous, the way is blocked. Life at court is banal and useless beyond imagining — ironic that I feel this just as I have achieved some peak in personal power, charisma, and allure! My studies of the Correspondence have gone as far as they might go, and life at the University is in its own way as limited as life at court. My work on the Parabola Equation is likewise stymied — I am not truly a theoretical mathematician, my equations now resolve themselves in circular fashion. My friends all seem to want to speculate endlessly upon the collective nightmares we have, as if mere speculation can provide answers — I do not wish to be short-tempered with them, but such endless maunderings…!

In other ways, I am left with unpleasant choices: Deal with Feducci or the spider council, in Wolfstack Docks. I wish to do neither, I never came to this city to earn a name as a fearsome fighter, or a conqueror of beasts from a child’s worst nightmares. And yet I cannot escape Feducci’s… imperative, I am justified in terming it. He will have an answer…

…as will Randall Ross, in the Flit, I suppose. Each time I return, if I stop to catch my breath even for a moment some agent of his is at my elbow, whispering in my ear about the allure of a life of high-crime., about the theft of a major work of art, as if I am the only person in Fallen London who might attempt the crime. As I am no warrior, I would not be a thief — for me the Flit is an escape only, or was. Now it has become yet another wall, an obstacle to my progress, a bar which I must either negotiate or destroy.

I cannot help but feel that this stagnation, this thwarting of purpose has contributed to the choices I’ve made concerning dear Henrik, and inevitably Theodor. Would I have been tempted at all, had I had my Heart’s Desire to focus upon? Their entry into my life coincided so closely with that d—able 38:11 moment that I can no longer separate the two. Ah, but grandmother did say there were no coincidences — only minds which have not grown large enough to see Purpose, instead. Well, dear Grandmother, in whatever Heaven you came to reside, I freely confess I cannot see Purpose in any of this. I can barely remember what it was like to have a Purpose here…

I have invitations here from the Brass Embassy, and from the Royal Bethlehem, each mentioning residential suites available. I have avoided alliance with either Hell or with Madness, and I am sure I only consider them now for mere diversion, as if diversion alone could provide the purpose I have lost. I am not dear Narciso, a life of such pursuits was never meant to be mine. That I am seeking diversion tells me clearer than words that something must be done.

Henrik… ah, dear man… if I leave, you will have Theodor, there in your shared rooms above the bookshop. Nothing much will change for you, really, should I go for a time. I do believe you love me, in your way — you are too honourable to toy with me even if such things are the fashion at Court just now. I do not know if I can be content with what part of yourself you can offer me, in turn. In truth, the purposeless days and nights here are simply too long for me to bear them alone, anymore.

And Scarlet… you are so fierce, so strong, so ambitious, so determined! I do not know what causes you to seek the Marvellous, but I do know that you still have far to go in your seeking, and that will sustain you if I go…

I must find some use for myself. That has become imperative, clearly. Perhaps I should have Dr. Mason over for dinner some night very soon, so he may tell me more of this other life he knows…

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