1st Sun of the First Astral Moon
If you want me to keep coming back, getting huffy and refusing to speak to me for several minutes after calling upon me is not the way to do it. Wynn should not have to chastise you; that is not their job. I don’t bite… Hard.
“Fine, fine.” You waved away Wynn, who stuck their tongue out at you. “I’m… sorry I haven’t been asking you to write as much recently. I’ve been— do I have to?”
“It’s YOUR journal! It should have details about your journey!”
“Even… The stuff that’s been happening recently?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. I’ve been having some troubles recently. I’ve been working at this place in Ishgard a couple of times a week, and I haven’t been able to travel much overseas because of it; not that Sharlayan would let me, since they realized that I know more people in Eorzea than I do elsewhere, meaning I’m more effective here or something. Hells, I can barely make it back to Sharlayan once a moon… Researchers have been using the linkpearl to put in orders, and the most I’ve done is put said orders on a ship with a label. Here and there, here and there, it never stops. I love running around, but I’m getting sick and tired of Eorzea and its surrounding areas. I barely even have time to do the things I want. For example, some gleaner mentioned seeing an odd chocobo being chased in Dravania by some hungry dragon… One that fit the description of Mosse. I was close by enough that I thought I could catch them, and, well, I did. I also managed to catch the dragon’s claws, too. The fucker dug them into my shoulder and threw me like a ragdoll into a wall.” You stomped your foot and let out an angry growl. “And now I don’t know where Mosse is, yet again. He’s still out there, and he’s still unsafe. Between that and the other things I’ve been dealing with… I’m tired. I’m frustrated. Nothing is simple anymore.”
“And?”
“And what? That’s it.”
“No it’s not. Where’s the story about you having to get carried to bed by your friend because you fell asleep on the floor in front of him?”
“Wh- how do you know about that?”
“I read the note he left!”
“It’s not worth mentioning. It was nothing.” Your blush was brighter than a summer rose.
“It was the first time you’ve slept well and weren’t knocked out, it’s absolutely notable.”
“No it’s not, sleep isn’t notable. Ever. This journal is for documenting major events and occasionally personal things.”
“If that was the case, you would have like a dozen entries about your mother.”
“Why would she-”
And so on and so forth. I don't think you need the rest of this transcribed.
— Fyrne