Warnings: Non graphic mentions of eyes being sewn shut
Themes: Family, adventure, new friends, exploring

Memory One You are home at last!

"Master!" you call out cheerfully after one more lungful of air scented with both ocean and smoke. The familiar smells of Gilman Isle. "Master Horowitz!! We've returned, my lord," she sing out cheerfully. But no reply comes. Odd. You leave Goligan in the hall and walked into the kitchen. No one is there… You open the tea canister. Full enough that he was here recently. It all smells fresh. "Master?" you call.

"He's not here!" Goligan, the man faced cane says, balancing himself in the entry way to the kitchen. "Perhaps he is out on an errand."

"That's terrible," You say, opening a rounded case. "I mean, him not being here when we just got home and all--"

Goligan hops his way around the corner and spies what you are doing, cutting off your words, but not your actions, with his shout. "AH! Sneaking into Master Hotowitz's secret snack jar again!! You'll find yourself in a fix if he finds out!!"

You smile brightly and lift two happy faced star cookies to your mouth. "No worries! I'll just make sure I don't leave any evidence behind."

Just as you are taking the first bite however, something heavy slams down in front of you, throwing you back and damaging the sturdy wood flooring. Goligan wasn't kidding! You’ve never known Master Horowitz to be this angry! You throw your hands over your head as you hit the floor, already begging for forgiveness, eyes squeezed tight. You know he is probably just planning to scare you a little, but this is scaring you a lot! "I'm sorry! I'm sooooo sorry!" This punishment was going to be the worst yet! Another training camp out? Heavy lifting? A thousand duels without break?

When no angry retort comes, you roll onto your back and pushed up a bit, opening your eyes. And blink, not quite sure what to make of a ship's anchor taller than you are that has bisected the floor in the kitchen nearly from wall to wall.

"Master Horowitz's anchor (anger), get it?!" you ask, startled.

"THIS IS NO TIME FOR UNPLEASANT PUNS!" Goligan yells from right beside you. When had he gotten so close? You follow his gaze and see dark shapes dropping at you from ropes that dangled from... Was that a boat? IN THE AIR? Not for much longer! It is descending quickly! You scramble to your feet, grab Goligan and flee. Just in time as she felt something huge crash into the floor behind her. What was going on?!

She glanced back and saw that the huge ship had a black flag with a skull and crossbones. She also saw that they were now being chased by the figures who had landed. Fish-headed bipeads in ragged shorts and striped shirts with large swords. "P - PIRATES?!" Why were pirates attacking them?!

Memory Two Your little hands grab the sides of something that was both ceiling and floor at the same time. You stretch upon your tiptoes off the top step, then pull yourself up carefully. You are excited. You've never stayed anywhere with an attic before. Most of the time when you and father found a place to stay at all, you don't have even half a roof. So a room in the roof is an exciting unknown! You are eager to explore. It is like some of the abandoned buildings you'd stayed in, that same sense of wonder and exploration that usually comes from running from room to room trying figure out what the rooms had once been used for.

Those abandoned rooms were nothing like this attic though. There is no wind blowing through the walls to tell you what the weather is like outside. You can't see the sky. You know the sun is up, because it isn't lunch time yet. But can't see it. What you can see is stuff. You never imagined so much stuff could exist, let alone that it could all be in one place.

First you find a mirror. For a moment you look at your own small form, your dress has a bit of decoration at the top, but that is it. You love it. You know that it is meant to be an shirt for someone bigger, but it fits like a dress since it is sleeveless and the only patching on it is the sewing at the neckline to keep it sitting right on your shoulders.
Your earrings, each almost as large as your head, tap your shoulders as you tilt your head this way and that, peering at yourself. Your hair sticks out behind your head from a ponytail like a jagged pointed finger of ice, except that it is jet black. You lean closer to the mirror, watching as your finger meets its opposite. You touch the cool surface but unlike a pond it doesn't ripple.

You have seen mirrors before, but not often. So while it it is fun to look for a moment, your attention wanders. Near the mirror is a painting of the man you now lived with, your new Master, Master Horowitz. You couldn't have looked more different. His skin is pale pale pale where yours is dark. His hair is ice white where yours is jet black. Your eyes are purple and his... Well you don't know. The eyelids are sewn shut. You wonder why. But you give the painting less time than your reflection. After all, you rarely see yourself, but you see your new Master all the time now. He is training you.

Bouncing on your bare toes you pivot and go to explore the odd roof room. It is wonderful. There is an odd grey dirt over a lot of things that feels soft to the touch. Oh! It is dust! You've seen dust before but usually it is more like grime. This is like touching a cloud. You grin and draw your finger through it then marvel at the trail your finger leaves. Overjoyed you begin to draw in the dust on various surfaces. You giggle, then see that there is dust gathered on your finger tip. You study it. There is no adult to tell you not to put it in your mouth and you don't know what dust tastes like. Will it taste like fresh air and summer skies, like you used to dream clouds would taste like? Or more like mud. You glance around again to be sure you are alone then bring your finger to your face. You give it a quick sniff... Then sneeze. And then sneeze again. When your eyes stop watering, you notice most of the dust is gone from your finger. You consider gathering more when you notice something else. An odd stick. Your stomach growls, and you wonder if lunch will be soon, but asking would mean leaving this wonderful place. Besides, you know that sometimes chewing on sticks and branches could fool your tummy into thinking you were eating. Your dad showed you that trick one night and they you'd had fun telling each other all night what you imagined you were eating.

You creep closer to the stick. It is pretty. Fancy. Not like a branch. It is all smooth with a cap on the near end. You go down to all fours, since your legs are getting tired from toddling around. Your eyes travel up the stick to the other end and you gasp. There is a face! It reminds you a little of your new master, its eyes closed, long white whiskers coming from under its nose.

You crawl closer then sit down near the top of the stick. You poke the cheek a few times but nothing happens. You sigh. You had thought maybe it was a card that had been summoned or some sort of creature. Some sort of new friend. But it is just a stick. Your stomach growls, reminding you why you were interested in the stick in the first place. It is huge, and the head carving is heavy. But you manage to lift it enough to wrap your arms around it. Holding it with all the strength in your little arms you set about chewing on the wood. It tastes like any other stick, though it has less splinters. You tell yourself you are chewing on a huge leg of some beast, then it is a giant celery stalk as big as a house.

You are so busy chewing that you don't notice knocking over a stack of books, don't notice when the eyes of the staff opened. Then you hear something screaming in pain and the staff starts shaking in your hands. Before you can figure out what is happening, the door you came through opens and your new Master sticks his head and shoulders up into the space that had seemed huge when you had been alone, but now seems cramped. He has a cloth folded over his hair to keep it out of the food, and his earrings looked tiny against the wrinkled sides of his face. He is holding a ladle.

"Najaran!" despite his eyes being sewn shut he seems to be staring right at you, but you are used to that by now. "I told you not to play in the attic!" Then he stops, his wrinkles furrowing slightly. "Mmm? What devilry are you up to?"

You hold up her discovery. "My stick is screaming," you tell your master. He'd explain it, right? More importantly, he'd be too busy explaining it to be angry with you, right?

"I see that," he says, seeming almost amused. "Come here, and bring the stick, let's get a closer look at this thing while lunch finishes cooking, shall we?"

You nod and crawl over to him, dragging the stick with you. He leaves the ladle on the floor and gathers you in one arm, taking the stick in the other. As he descends the stairs he explains, "If a stick is carved smooth for holding, it is generally called a staff or a cane, Naja."

You nod, glad he is explaining instead of yelling. And then when he sets you down in the hall outside a door you are even less allowed to play in than the attic you feel a thrill run through you. You love your Master's workshop. It is filled with all sorts of interesting things and it is where your cards live until she are ready to use them.

Happily, you follow him in when he opens the door. He doesn't rebuff you, which for is the same as inviting you in. Your eyes skim over the map of Rakan on the wall, past the odd inhuman skeleton on its stand and the shelves of creepy head statues, one of which has its eyes sewn shut like your Master's own eyes. Instead you focus on the desk. The odd glass tubes with different coloured liquids in a wooden frame. The odd oversized blown glass jar in which sits what seemed to be a fairy that watches everything that happens on the desktop. The papers, the inkwells, the long tapered pens, the measuring tools. He even has a ruler that is curved instead of straight.

You sit in the chair across the desk from your master, up on your knees, bouncing happily as you watch him sketch the cane and take notes as he asks it questions. He has a ring of glass in metal in a short pole he holds in his hand over the staff. When he puts it down you risk darting a hand out to study the odd glass and metal thing. When you look through the glass, things on the other side seemed distorted and big. When you turn the glass over to see why an eye winks back at you. You grin but quickly put the glass thing down.

You listen as her Master gets to what seems to be nearly the end of his questions. "So, Goligan is your name, eh? What else do you remember about yourself?" At least these questions you understand. Before they had been talking about all sorts of complicated things.

"Nothing, I'm afraid," Goligan says, laying on the desk, staring up. "I remember almost nothing."

"It looks as though you are quite knowledgeable about cards and creatures, though," Master Horowitz says. "You must have been created as an advisor for a Cepter." You bounce more. Your father had told you you'd be a Cepter one day, just like him! "Yes... Created by someone extremely skilled and knowledgeable!" You lean closer, putting your elbows on the desk and your chin in your hands as you peer at the old man face carved onto the staff. "'Til now, I thought you were just a carving on top of the cane. What, I wonder, made you come to life again?"

You find yourself getting excited again. You tap a finger on your klip wondering if you dark ask for what you want. Then you decide to just do it. "Master, Master!" you beg, reaching out to touch the mustache on the cane. It is real hair! It felt just like your own. "Can I keep him?" you ask, bouncing happily in your chair.

"Mmm...." Your master sets down his pen. "Perhaps God sent him here to help keep Naja focused on her training. Okay," he tells you. "Just make sure you take good care of him."

"WHEEEEEEE!!!!!" You exclaim happily, clinging to your new bestest friend ever!