About The Scarlett Kite
Hi! I'm Scarlett Kiteway, I'm 20 years old, a journalism student in Perplex City and this is my blog all about the excitement over the search for the Cube. I'll be keeping track of what the media over there is saying about it, and maybe a little bit about my life as well!
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Tuesday, October 10, 2006
A year on
Category: me, 05:12 PM
It's been a year, almost to the day, since I first came to Viendenbourg. Then, I was with my boyfriend and my friends and a strange man called Allain who knew more about the place than he ought to have done. But I didn't know how important that was yet. A year ago I was camping in these woods with my friends and we built the campfire high and told ghost stories and took pictures of each other posing in front of the splinterwood trees and the towering crowns of purple hawksblossom. A year ago I hadn't even put anyone I loved in danger, let alone, well. Let alone killed someone.
I haven't said any of this to Violet. I know she's noticed that I've been quiet. I haven't wanted to say much about anything much since Lancewood and I guess she knows why. But coming here, coming back here and remembering everything that happened last time I was here... if I were to tell her to go back she wouldn't listen, and if I were to explain to her what I'm thinking she couldn't help. But the hawksblossom's blooming again and I'm a little sad, and a little frightened.
We brought the car this time - can't bring it through the woods of course but we've taken it as far as we can and have set up camp in the forest. Kurt took us shopping for a whole new camouflaged tent, with smart-skin which blends into the surroundings. We're taking precautions. He's also rigged up the same bafflers Allain and I had last time, this time super-streamlined, extra-safe, highly-monitorable. Violet says she doesn't know when he gets time to sleep for doing all of this. I think maybe he didn't sleep at all this weekend, just got by on a bunch of Ceretin but I don't know if she knows that either.
I had a conversation with Kurt on Saturday night. Vi and I were at his apartment. She was asleep on the couch and Kurt had his soldering gun out, creating some kit for us.
He carried on working as we talked, in that careful meticulous way he does.
"So that was quite bad, what happened at Lancewood."
I nodded slowly.
I said: "It's difficult to talk about."
Kurt fiddled with a few more connections and pulled out a thin-beamed laser to fix a lattice-work of tiny wires in place.
"Yup," he said. "It's, um, it doesn't get much easier."
I nodded again.
"A bit easier," he said, still looking at his work, "these things are, you know. It's better if you can work out how to talk about them."
"Do you?"
"I've talked to Vi a bit about it. Sometimes. Look, um,"
"Yes?"
He frowned at his circuit board, retrieved a tool that looked like a tiny button-hook and used it to twist two minute screws in place.
"If you ever want to talk. About Lancewood, you know, and I guess. You can talk to me."
I don't know if Kurt's going to be the person I'll want to talk to about all of this, but I really appreciated the thought. Vi hasn't really known what to say so she's sort of ignoring the whole I-killed-someone part of our expedition and is concentrating on the we-have-to-get-to-the-bottom-of-it element. Which is fine. It's good to have a project.
So, we're back in the forest. We have our special anti-confusion-field gizmos. And tomorrow we're going back to Viendenbourg to find out what's going on. And in my pocket, I have Major Jake Maine's dogtags. Just to remind me why we're doing this.