# Jacket Potatoes
^757e2b
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>_<center><div class="info"> [[Vindarr]] ✦ Entry 6 ✦ 01/03/4361</div></center>_
>**<center>[[Session 18]] - Monkeying Around</center>**
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>[!journal|torn vindarr]
><div class="vindarr">01/02/4361
>
>
>Doctor told me exactly what I had predicted.
>
>It's hard to tell, if my discomfort there had been from the whole 'infernal' thing, as if being in the mere presence of a priest was enough to cause a sting. Couldn't imagine the holy being upset at anything else I could've possibly done. The weird art didn't help, either, and I'd have guessed they might've been bordering on blasphemous if I was in the place to say anything.
>
>
>Diletta visited and brought a cucumber - for <u>me</u> specifically - oddly enough. She apologised, also, which I frankly didn't expect - I didn't think she'd have stayed upset at me forever, but I suppose I didn't imagine an apology was warranted, let alone something considered. I'd have chalked it up to her just being trying to be polite, if she didn't also waggle her finger a little too often to insinuate my "appendages" weren't in working order.
>
>
>Still, admittedly, I had prepared myself for the defensive, especially after her tiff. I had run through in my head since, what I would say, how I'd say it, but I blanked at every avenue of thought at what she, or anyone, might've asked about Mendekua. I had thought carefully for her response, ~~if I was so lucky~~ if I were again granted the right to be spoken to again. Truthfully, I still have yet to think of that response.
>
>She said nothing of it, though. Instead, she asked me if I still prayed, or, was still religious. Unsurprisingly, she is rather opinionated on the topic, and she reminded me a lot of specific yet common type of Lavitrian that would come in just to egg on their 'philsophical debates' to any preacher willing to answer, back when I was still allowed in Pacé.
>
>
>Her bitterness was unique, though - she felt sure in her thoughts not as a contrarian feels assured in their thought to 'outsmart' me, ~~but as someone who~~
>
>
>No, this was different to the contrarious - more accurately she reminded me of the grieving. Unlike those others it felt less so self-righteous, or argumentative, or - in her usual manner - intending to spur a rise out of me. It felt instead a way I can't describe but I could recognise, albiet far more exacerbated. She reminded me of the mothers of stillborns, or the hungry beggars, the despondent prostitutes, or the hopeless anhedonics, the type cling to the railings of the cathedral and ask me, with bitter solemn, '<u>why</u>'.
>
>
>Grief, while I know it like a friend, feels minuscule compared to what I can only imagine are behind her convictions. Fiends and demons alike, my worst years were spent in the worst of their company, but I at least had the comfort of my clothes, my loved ones, the sheets on my bed, the guiding hands of my fathers, and the knowledge that it would end, come the setting of the sun - In a world filled with misery and uncertainty, it is a great comfort to know that, in the end, there is light in the darkness. But, there is much to be skeptical of in this world, so it no longer surprises me to learn how many people, and her, don't really believe in anything.
>
>
>I also spoke of my father, briefly. It was the most I had spoken of him since he passed. It was nice.</div>
^83def9
>[!cite|transcript]- Transcript
> 01/02/4361
>Doctor told me exactly what I had predicted.
>
>It's hard to tell, if my discomfort there had been from the whole 'infernal' thing, as if being in the mere presence of a priest was enough to cause a sting. Couldn't imagine the holy being upset at anything else I could've possibly done. The weird art didn't help, either, and I'd have guessed they might've been bordering on blasphemous if I was in the place to say anything.
>
>
>Diletta visited and brought a cucumber - for <u>me</u> specifically - oddly enough. She apologised, also, which I frankly didn't expect - I didn't think she'd have stayed upset at me forever, but I suppose I didn't imagine an apology was warranted, let alone something considered. I'd have chalked it up to her just being trying to be polite, if she didn't also waggle her finger a little too often to insinuate my "appendages" weren't in working order.
>
>
>Still, admittedly, I had prepared myself for the defensive, especially after her tiff. I had run through in my head since, what I would say, how I'd say it, but I blanked at every avenue of thought at what she, or anyone, might've asked about Mendekua. I had thought carefully for her response, ~~if I was so lucky~~ if I were again granted the right to be spoken to again. Truthfully, I still have yet to think of that response.
>
>She said nothing of it, though. Instead, she asked me if I still prayed, or, was still religious. Unsurprisingly, she is rather opinionated on the topic, and she reminded me a lot of specific yet common type of Lavitrian that would come in just to egg on their 'philsophical debates' to any preacher willing to answer, back when I was still allowed in Pacé.
>
>
>Her bitterness was unique, though - she felt sure in her thoughts not as a contrarian feels assured in their thought to 'outsmart' me, ~~but as someone who~~
>
>
>No, this was different to the contrarious - more accurately she reminded me of the grieving. Unlike those others it felt less so self-righteous, or argumentative, or - in her usual manner - intending to spur a rise out of me. It felt instead a way I can't describe but I could recognise, albiet far more exacerbated. She reminded me of the mothers of stillborns, or the hungry beggars, the despondent prostitutes, or the hopeless anhedonics, the type cling to the railings of the cathedral and ask me, with bitter solemn, '<u>why</u>'.
>
>
>Grief, while I know it like a friend, feels minuscule compared to what I can only imagine are behind her convictions. Fiends and demons alike, my worst years were spent in the worst of their company, but I at least had the comfort of my clothes, my loved ones, the sheets on my bed, the guiding hands of my fathers, and the knowledge that it would end, come the setting of the sun - In a world filled with misery and uncertainty, it is a great comfort to know that, in the end, there is light in the darkness. But, there is much to be skeptical of in this world, so it no longer surprises me to learn how many people, and her, don't really believe in anything.
>
>
>I also spoke of my father, briefly. It was the most I had spoken of him since he passed. It was nice.
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