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Letters to Master Log-Log; The diary of Darya J. Varun
Topic Started: Aug 19 2006, 05:33 PM (121 Views)
Darya Varun
Unregistered

Disclaimer: Certain places and people referenced to in Darya’s log, including the majority of characters from Mooncoal, but as they are an important part of her history, I am loath to take them out.


Dear Master Log-Log,

You must be the most difficult, contradictory, and rude diary in the world. I was looking for you all over the tower yesterday, but were you anywhere to be found? No. Finally I discovered you lurking under my mattress. What on earth would you be doing down there? Hmph.

Okay, I admit, I’m in a horrible mood. You can’t walk, I put you there, I fell victim to my dysfunctional memory. I apologize.

But I just came back from writing a rather lengthy letter to Matthias, and I’m worried about both him and Mattie (yes, all right, the owl was named after the boy). I haven’t heard from Matthias in years, though that’s really my fault, and I haven’t the foggiest where he is or what he’s doing. I’m not sure whether or not Mattie’s up to the journey. But I really need to patch things up with him!

My less than graceful departure from Mooncoal has been eating away at me, and I really miss all of them, especially Matthias. He was my best friend, and I don’t want him to remember me as how I was the last weeks there. I can’t believe I wouldn’t talk to anyone, even him. He could’ve helped a lot, though I know why I was like that. I was an angsty 14 year old mad at the whole world, and I didn’t want to miss Mooncoal too much. Bad strategy. I missed it, and all the people there, even more.

Curiosity killed the cat’s cousin. Katri could’ve just kept shut about her findings, but no, she had the spill all to her mother, who in turn spilled all to Them. And of course, They just had to have what was “best” for their darling Darya.

So here I am now, 18, in university, stranger to practically everyone, with an old diary to confide in. What a lovely picture. And I know what you’re thinking: Why doesn’t the girl just go and meet some people and make friends and make the best of an inevitable four years here? Well I can’t! I just know that as soon as I open my mouth, all the bitterness and irritation is going to spill out onto whomever I talk to. Better to be alone than to make enemies like that.

And I know that for a fact. Know why? It’s happening with you and me, right now. I’m mad about what I’m writing, and I’m writing to you, so in turn, I’m getting mad at you. And because I’m mad at you, you don’t like me at all, do you? I thought so.

Maybe Cassidy was right about running away. If I had left as soon as I could, I wouldn’t be in this state now. I could’ve applied to Juilliard in peace and not bothered about what They thought. Of course, he’s only barely making it, while… Hmm. The truth comes out. He at least has a steady job, but me? Only in the summer, just enough for groceries. Sylvie pays the rent.

There I go. Maybe you’re good for something after all. I’m still dependent on them. That’s why. Or is it the other way around? I’m still dependent on them because I couldn’t find the strength to tell them no and fly the nest? Oh, I don’t know. Stop confusing me!

Facts. Facts will help my straighten things out. Darya Jennis Varun, female, 18, Potions major at Elysion University, former student of Olympus Academy, Mooncoal Academy, Victoria Institute, and the Francis Parker #23, owner of Sir Itsy I-IV, Mattie, Titania, Puck, Portia, and Caliban, unfortunate sister of Cassidy, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Varun, cousin of a lot of people, housemate of Sylvie, etc, etc, etc.

Class. I’m out.
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Darya Varun
Unregistered

Dear Master Log-Log,

So I have returned from my summer sojourn considerably rested and refreshed. I do apologize for the dust, but I have a very simple and I believe perfectly acceptable explanation for why you were left in the dorm over the summer. You look identical to all my other notebooks. And in the frenzy of exams and other end-of-the-year niceties, I just forgot to check. Eh. You'll forgive, I'm sure.

Where to begin with my turbulent summer? (I say rested and refreshed because it was a lovely change of scenery.) Sylvie, responsible Sylvie, threw a fit over the rent issue. I mean, we did agree, she was rent, I was everything else. But the idiot Packard had to go and raise the damn thing! Well. Looks like I have two options. Find myself a second job, or raid my childhood savings. Neither choice particularly appeals to me, but alas. It is the tax of life. I suppose we don't get anywhere without a bit of suffering first.

Senorita was as abominable as ever. Sergio, the bastard, kept up a steady stream of "compliments." Insults, more like. And the whole company knows he's only there on his mother's charity. That woman has too much influence. Just too much. As eccentric and blundering as Cap, Mrs. Cummings, Ed, and Maggie all are, I'm sure if they banded together they could easily overcome The Evil One. And everyone else would back them; tech, crew, actors. Everyone.

What's worse, I think she actually encourages Sergio. She's the one who has all the keys (Well, Mrs. C, but she's never there), and guess who happened to burst into our dressing room, waving that big ring of keys, just as I'd gotten my shirt off? Yeah.

So, after many mishaps, much trial and not much triumph, Speckled NY ended its summer season and I headed north for a family visit. They’re all as usual. Mom anxious, Dad loud and working, Cassidy far away, Nikolai back in Germany, Kat and Olivia home in Italia, the Varun Family II cheerful and eternally shocked at our antics, Mom's family scattered all over the west in a chaotic jumble, and the pets... well, the pets are hungry.

I think, even after just two months home, I'm experiencing culture shock all over again. After living most of the year in Greece since fifteen? Yes, even after that. I mean, it's not like we get to see much of it, holed up in the castle all the time, but it's not just the Greek culture. It's the magical culture. It felt so good to go home and have pencils, phones, a TV, a computer, and now here I am with inkpots, quills, parchment, and all that stuff. And I can find my stash of pens. Hmph.

The quill's giving me a blister, so that all the time I have for you today, I'm 'fraid.
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