L.T. File: 078: Thɞùl r̈aùl-Quill-Girl
Imagine being forgotten so completely that anyone who blinks forgets your existence, every time they close their eyes or look away. That is the supposed situation for Quill-Girl. Completely forgotten by everyone who has ever met her, as far as agents are capable of ascertaining. No one knows how long she has been like this, truly, the only records of her are maintained by the Lexicon Tranquilus.
People find ink-stains on their fingers, missing food, or strange notes in their own handwriting in their pockets. Strange lapses of memory. Most throw away these papers, as far as can be told, so how much information has been lost about Quill-Girl cannot be ascertained, but what is known has been garnered by the few who thought the papers were odd enough to share with their therapists, and the small number of those that made it from that point to the Hands of the Tranquil shadows.
Her name is always blotted out or simply missing, but what the notes seem to hint at is that she is scared, alone, and always carried an ink quill and ink well in the hopes that someone will be willing to write down information about her. We know she craves Aulvenoid contact, and that her face is often streaked with ink and tears. She appears to be an Aulvi and in her early to mid second century.
She is someone's daughter, though that name, too never comes through. Names never do. Always smudged. Or missing. Whoever's daugher she is, however, has no recollection of her, as far as can be told. One note mentions her eyes. The author of the scrap (who could not be found, as the scrap was discarded, and by serendipity found by a member of the Tranquil Shadows, mentioned that her eyes were incredibly sad, and her irises were a watery pink.
Another scrap mentions that her hair was teal.
A third said that she was wearing a ring.
Another, this one by a therapy client mentioned that she had a scar on her collarbone.
More and more small facts emerge, many corroborating others. All hastily written. Everyone brought in was mentioned as having no memory of its creation. No clues as to the girl's heritage.
Worse yet, operatives have a terrible habit of forgetting about the case itself, and stumbling upon the pages in the Lexicon is often reported as feeling like íb̧ùl ṭṣáb̧ (deja vu), despite having read it before, though the pages simply feel as though they've been read before. this has led to multiple accounts of the operative writing eerily similar notes, only to later find their older noted reflecting the same thoughts, some even reflecting that this has occured multiple times. No one has been harmed by this as far as we can tell, but if it were infectious... we might never know. Danger level Moderate-High (for uncertainty of transmissability and repetitive action) Reccomendation: maintain information under strong wards, debrief procedures to be noted whenever looking into this work to prevent further repetitive acts.
Found Fragments (abbreviated selection)
“Her hair was teal and she looked so—” — Aulvi merchant, 3rd pyramid-town.
“She touched my hand and the ink—” — Anadi seamstress, outskirts of Gënlèul- Land of Dawn .
“She smiled like she hadn’t in a long time, her eyes—” — Human baker’s apprentice, pyramid-town #17.
“She kept pointing at the page, like she needed me to—” — Aulvi caravan guard, south road.
“Pink eyes, watery, like she was about to—” — Human dock-worker, unnamed port city.
“Her fingers shook as if the quill was too—” — Anadi brewer, Gënlèul- Land of Dawn tavern district.
“She mouthed something, maybe a name, but the ink—” — Aulvi student, Library of the Son .
“There was a scar just here on her collar—” — Human pilgrim, pyramid-town #42.
The Longest note in evidence
“She gives me her quill, her hand shaking. Her cheeks are streaked because she keeps wiping her face with ink-stained fingers. Her hair is teal, falling into her eyes. Her eyes are pink, wet, she looks so tired. She says she is afraid she will be gone forever if no one writes her down. She tells me she used to have a family, but they do not know her anymore. She says her name, over and over, but the ink will not hold it. She says she is cold, she says she is hungry, she says please, please don’t forget, please just—” --Recovered from a Human traveler’s journal. (unfortunately, the traveller had been devoured by an ooze, and his personal effects were recovered postmortem)
Field Operative Report – Operative Ashen Bough- Kerian
“This is the clearest account recovered to date. The subject is heard directly, not merely inferred. She speaks, and though her words are plain, they are devastating: she fears erasure, she remembers a family who no longer recalls her, she begs for survival through writing.
The account verifies earlier fragments — teal hair, ink-stained tears, scar at the collarbone — but adds the detail that she knows her name cannot be captured. She repeats it, but the page refuses to hold it, suggesting the erasure is active, not passive. It is not just forgetfulness; it is an enforced absence.
Most striking is her litany of needs: cold, hunger, fear. These are not the words of a specter or a wraith. They are the words of a living girl. She is still someone’s child. That we cannot find the family she remembers only deepens the horror.
Recommendation: classify this testimony as Priority Red within the Lexicon. She is not an incident — she is a prisoner of her own vanishing. The Tranquil Shadows exist to hunt anomalies that threaten our kind, but we must also defend those devoured by them. I submit that Quill-Girl is not only our charge. She is our responsibility.”
Field Note (Operative Fatine-River Veil , pyramid-town #11)
(Hastily scribbled notation)
“I hugged her. She was trembling, ink on her face and hands. She clung to me, whispered ‘please don’t leave me,’ like she had been waiting forever. I didn’t write enough before, I didn’t say what happened. She needs someone to hold her, someone to remember her even for a moment. I write this fast, so it—”
(entry terminates abruptly in a streak of black ink crossing the page)
Supervisor’s Annotation – Director Sashine- Onyx Wind
“Operative Fatine-River Veil, your note captures what is perhaps the most crucial element of this encounter: the human connection. That you recognized the necessity of the hug, and acted to give her warmth, speaks to your integrity and empathy. I would have done the same in your place.
That said, the brevity of your record leaves much unsaid. The Lexicon depends on our ability to preserve every detail, however fleeting. Your personal witness — the act itself — is not enough. Her voice, her words, her state must be documented alongside the comfort you provide.
Consider this guidance, not rebuke. The Tranquil Shadows function as a family, and you acted as such. But even within a family, we must also remember the work that protects those who cannot protect themselves. Preserve both her story and her safety. Both are acts of care.”
Response to Annotation, Operative Fatine
“Director Sashine-Onyx Wind,
I have reviewed your annotation regarding my field note from pyramid-town #11. I understand your concerns and the importance of preserving every detail; I acknowledge that my initial record was sparse and left much to inference.
I want to clarify that the act I recorded — the hug — was not performed lightly. In that instant, I must have recognized that documentation alone would not suffice: she needed contact, warmth, acknowledgment. The quill alone could not hold her; it was our hands that carried her, if only briefly. I write this to ensure that this choice is understood alongside the note.
I accept the guidance to prioritize thorough documentation in future encounters. I will continue to act with empathy, but I will also redouble efforts to maintain professionalism in my note-taking procedures.
This girl needs to be remembered, and I will not allow my actions to deprive the Lexicon of her story. Compassion and diligence can coexist, and I will ensure they do.
Respectfully,
Fatine-River Veil”
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