[Session 18-19]

Dear Brother,
 
I wish I could write you more.
 
Words on parchment flow better than words on the tongue. Written thoughts can not fall on deaf ears, and more so, I know yours are always listening. So, I know you have heard what was said, and I know you know what I did. Thank you, for aiding me. It was not seen that way at the time by the others in the machine. I still do not know if they will ever see it as more than me over reacting and ‘stealing our ride.’
 
I know I did the right thing. Silas agreed without agreeing, it was good that way was not chosen, because it was surely a trap, he said.
 
Their gratitude was shown by scolding, dismissal, and a weapon pointed at the rest of us that did not agree with the ‘plan.’ Even after I tried to explain why going directly to the BRN is dangerous.
 
I know I have a lot to learn, Brother, but I know I do *not* make bad decisions. Duty, they kept saying. Logical, they kept saying. I do not understand, how risking the lives of five is a fair exchange for one person. That is simply bad math. Is that not… logical?
 
I took rough notes of Payatier’s size. I do not know how to make these things yet. I hope I do not have to. I do not want to leave them… but I do not feel safe, even inside of the invisible Sin-Dee. Right now, I do not know if I ever did.
 
We made it to Wendalee. Many people are suffering, and it shows me that there are also many innocents that do not feel safe either. I know you watched as we moved, as we found the ones that walked in the haze without problems, as gunshots fired and blood was spilled. I know you watched as we made it to the crater, as we unburied the big metal box, and as the giant Solchild awoke. Driftwind is Her name, and She is beautiful.
 
I know you watched as She let us into her belly, as She guided us to stations to help Her protect herself, and in turn, us. Ildris and Kiíellièn seemed naturally intune with the beast - perhaps they are old enough that She recognizes them; enough to heed their command of flight.
 
I do not know where we went, but it was far over the realm of Denna.
 
We spoke. Rather, they spoke. I listened. There was not much for me to add that I hadn’t already spoken earlier. Repeating myself seemed like wasted breath. There were accusations, of people not following ‘orders’ or that it was stupid for us to have distrust for one and not the other. We went in circles with pointing fingers. But… there were voices of reason, and even some humility.
 
Gidget apologized. It felt nice, to feel like someone else was actually listening. That I wasn’t just speaking for nothing; that fear is valid. Hers too. Everyone's. Maybe I did contribute to her fear by taking control of the machine. But would there not be more fear, if we had proceeded to the out-of-the-way checkpoint and been attacked by twenty men? Would there not have been more fear, trying to flee for our lives before we were overwhelmed? Would there not have been more fear, knowing that everything we have seen and done and every location, would be known by a party that is proven to work with the Deremitru? Would there not have been more fear, trying to find fuel in the acid smog when there is no highway - because we would have used too much to get where they wanted to go?
 
They kept talking about making ‘hard decisions.’ But this one was easy. This was logical. Do we want to be followed, or not?
 
Why did they answer ‘Yes?’
 
… I am sorry. I know I am stuck on what happened. She apologized and I thanked her. She wants to listen and she wants to be better. It is not fair for me to hold past mistakes over someone that is trying to learn. But… wrapping a wound and caring for it, does not mean it does not hurt, nor that it will not continue to hurt.
 
Kiíellièn spoke and Echo spoke. Their views seemed to help tone down everyone's aggression, offering observations instead of emotions. That we will never be able to work together, if we do not provide respect. Echo is not a machine. Lux is not a soldier. Many of us are not. That does not mean we do not have skills. We should be respected the same. I am hopeful that this will lean towards us opening our ears, instead of our mouths.
 
We have ironed out some wrinkles, but the table we are draped over is still cracked and unlevel. Time, hopefully, will teach us to be carpenters.
 
But time, today, was stolen from us. The Gazelle found us; found the cube. In our anger towards each other, we had forgotten to secure the cube back into its box. The Driftwind, she helped guide us, helped protect us, and we could all feel what was needed by Her and by ourselves alike. We struck him from the air like a small fly, then fled to safety. Driftwind was hurt trying to protect us. She sleeps now in Her box, where small hands from the walls soothe and stitch her wounds.
 
There is only silence in here. It is too silent for sleep, even though the Sculptor will be passing soon. My thoughts are too loud. Echo shared information. Jaxion’s superior has been dead longer than he or his parents have even been alive. He doesn’t find this strange. That, in itself, is strange.
 
And Lux… we shared control at part of the Driftwind, but she started to panic. She thought that if we knew her feelings or sensations, that we can hear her thoughts. She calmed down after we spoke. I think she has many secrets, and in truth, I am okay with that. As long as she is not hurting, and these secrets do not hurt anyone else, then there is no reason for her to bleed her privacy. I do wonder though… she was told she was insensitive about how she handles our team hitting the brink of death, and was accused of having no idea how that felt. She didn’t answer. She did not roll her eyes or scoff, or give any other quippy comment.
 
And to me that says more.
 
I hope… that she has not had such horrible things happen to her. Maybe it is why she has secrets. Maybe she tried to share, and there were consequences?
 
Like Jaxion said… it is hard to build trust when everyone is against you.
 
… I desperately need sleep Brother. I am sure cousin is already cutting trees inside the Pocket.
 
 
To Peaceful Rests,
 
Xhoya