I did not sleep well last night. Straw and hay are not the most comfortable of bedding materials, for all that rural romances might say otherwise. And horses are not the best of night time companions, particularly the rather friendly one that kept trying to eat my hair.
My sense of time has become somewhat twisted since the time I spent in London, in that Isle of Legacies, so I have no idea of the time or the date. At least here, there does appear to be some difference between day and night. Like the village of Brightwyck, the sun here does no seem to bother me. Whether this is due to some particular quality of the sun in this place or some falsehood in the lore I have been told about my kind, I do not know. Just in case, I have noted the whereabouts of shelter, should I need it. Aside from the assorted buildings, there appear to be some mine workings under the hill on which the castle stands. That may prove useful.
This place continues to present me with puzzles. In lieu of anything better to do, I wandered back down to the dock where I originally landed. There, seated at a table with a pot of tea, I encountered an angel. Yes, an angel, complete with wings and some kind of sceptre. It says something of my time in London that I found this not at all surprising. Of course, given my current state of mind, the presence of an angel did not help in dissuading me that I have passed over somehow, even if I am fairly sure that winged angels were not a usual thing to find in Hades. She seemed most amiable, if a quiet conversationalist. At least I now know that this place is called Jasper Cove, and that the rulers are King Alec and Queen Isabella. From the description, these may be the people I saw arguing about death the other day, on the steps of the castle. Racia, for that was the angel’s name, told me that they were good and kind rulers, and that I should make myself known to them as soon as I could.
And then, then came the biggest puzzle of all. Another young woman approached, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. I could not help but gasp, for she was, in aspects that I could tell, the exact double of my dear Anna. How this could be, I do not know. Even the voice was the same. Yet, she seemed not to know me, or show any recognition of anything I said. It tore my heart to be speaking as strangers, for I was fond of the Anna I knew. I had taken some little comfort that she had left London with Brigitte and had not, therefore, been taken by the Nexus, but this double was almost too much to bear. Seeing her reminded me of all the friends I have lost, either gone away, or swallowed along with London. After a while, the pain was too much, so I excused myself and found a quiet spot overlooking the harbour, where I could sit and reflect on the past, and what future I might make here.