7th Entry: The Earthquake

Researcher Annotations:
"It felt as if the mountains were the teeth in the gaping maw of some giant world eating beast a millennia-in-slumber... and it has awoken..." Related to the Cataclysm painting done by Noba.

I have heard that one's vision going black is relatively common in extremely traumatic situations. It is the mind's way of protecting us.

Another thing I'd like to point out is the way Noba is holding the brushes. My source tells me this is a traditional Mureian/ Mauaev style that takes advantage of multiple aspects of mark making and brush control, as well as keeping the mind sharp by alternating between the two grips as one becomes tiresome.

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​I have never once in my life regretted coming to this University until today. I never once questioned nature’s power, and yet—… Amira, flow steadily through us all... the University has been— an earthquake. It felt as if the mountains were the teeth in the gaping maw of some giant world eating beast a millennia-in-slumber... and it has awoken to take my son... my beautiful Somin, Light of my life and everything I held dear. I did not want to believe that the shakes I felt were real when they happened… something within me fought with every fiber not to move, not to believe it was anything worth worry, and to just wait until it was over so I could continue my walk with my son… I feel I dishonor his memory by being unable to recall in slow seconds exactly how it is he was taken from me; the direction the floor shifted, the way he leaned when it threw him off balance, out of my grasp and out of the open archways… I hate myself for not being able to remember that simple sequence. The truth is I never saw him fall, but I knew.

I remember his sharp shriek… the moment his hand slipped from mine, I remember how everything went black. I vaguely recall someone taking my arm and leading me somewhere. I could hear them talking to me, but they sounded so far away. I was content to stay that way at the time, I remember thinking that. I felt soft pats on my face, heard the thunderous growling of stone and earth, and distant wailing and whimpering, but it was another child ’s scream that brought me back my sight, or what sight I had that was not drowning in watery tears. How suddenly every moment I spent with Somin seemed to zip past me, and suddenly I was fighting a group of five or so people with everything I had to go back to where I was, where I had let Somin fall.  They spoke in soft tones and hushed me, though my arms are bruised from their firm grips. I think I hurt one or two of them, I cannot recall. I have no clue where that desperate strength came from, but it frightened me…

After the quakes ceased, and I was securely prevented from jumping after my son, a few people stayed with me as the rest surveyed the damage. I preferred to write in my journal, to attempt to sort out my thoughts in my head... One man, he said his name was Noba, tried talking to me for a little while, looking for kinship in the loss of a loved one, but left after I refused to talk. I felt a heavy stab of guilt as he sighed and walked away. How could I talk right now…? If I dare utter a single word, I somehow know I will not be able to hold any of my tears back.

The man returned and sat a bit away from me and began to paint. He softly asked if he could use some inspiration from the words he saw in my journal, and I just nodded. I should have said yes… I should have spoken to him, but I cannot. I physically cannot, because I am afraid. I know I am. I do not want to feel such a deep and hollow ache as the kind I know by instinct is waiting for me the moment I open myself to consolation. I am not accustomed to pain, but neither is anyone else. That man is trying to be brave and embrace his loss and fear. I wish I could be that brave…


~V