On wounds and first aid.

It will become nessecary that you become familiar with the process of first aid, and it will be one rapidly apparent that most people do not act rationally in high pressure situations. That's fine, humans are not by nature rational creatures. The important thing is DON'T PANIC. Remain calm, assess the situation, make a call. In the case of first aid and triage, they're gonna be vital.

If there is a weapon in the wound, leave it there. It's keeping the blood inside your body. You need blood. Or, well, most people do.

I was panicking, I knew some basic first aid of course, but when it comes to a large kitchen knife in someone's abdomen, I was wildly underqualified to do anything. Luckily for me, my sister was always smarter and faster than me.

"Get off. I can fix this." She grunted out, obviously in pain, but remarkably calm. Then she pushed me off, and did the ONE thing I knew you weren't supposed to do, and pulled out the knife.

At this point most people would begin bleeding out, getting poisoned by their own gut microbiome, and generally dying in some of the worst ways possible. My sister had passed through the veil however, and she was not most people. A layer of crystalized blood formed over the wound, sickening slurping sounds forming a macabre duet with the cracking of dried blood as it expanded and contracted, tying together blood vessels, skin, and what I assume was at least a few ruptured organ walls. I'm not ashamed to admit I turned and vomited. It was one of the worst things I had ever seen or heard, and I was popping corpse-baloons yesterday.

My delightfully evil sister on the other hand, merely laughed at me and passed out. In the future we would learn to be more careful with our ability usage, we'd of course learn to NOT exhaust ourselves to the point of collapse, but this was all new, terrifying, and exhilarating at the same time.

Astrea is interjecting yet again to force me to share some information you may find useful. The abilities you will hear described in this record may or may not be similar to ones you will develop. Doesn't matter in the slightest in my opinion, as far as I can tell there are no weak abilities, just people who don't use them creatively. Met a guy once who could make plants grow slightly faster and literally absorb all light. He was the scariest fucker I ever had to kill, and the only reason I survived is because he slipped and knocked himself out. That's another thing, don't be a dumbass and die to something so mundane as slipping.

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If you've ever been in a stereotypical rich person's home then you'll know that they tend towards the gaudy. Extravagant layouts, art, gilding, WAY too much marble, and yet somehow manage to feel utterly sterile. Unlived in. Dead. My parent's home was like that. Cold, clinical, overly decorated. The fact that it had practical features such as a wall around the property, windows that could be easily blocked by overbuilt bookshelves, desks, and chairs, and the utterly overkill, multi-inch thick front door were some of its only redeeming qualities. I swear, there's a point to this rant, and it's not just that I despise the home I grew up in. When the world is invaded, chopped up and stiched into the vast, incomprehensible monstrosity that is your future reality, securing a home like this will allow you to eventually sell it for a relatively huge amount of money.

We didn't know that however, and we were idiots of course, so we just used it as a fortress for a few days while Morgana recovered. It was dull, the weather was grey, foggy and dripping, and Astrea, Morgana and I merely spent the time eating, sleeping, talking, and preparing some emergency supplies in case we had to bug out, that ended up being useless as a pack of overly intelligent squirrels are them all. I'm not joking, those squirrels are the spawn of evil incarnate, and NOT to be trusted.

Now on to another rant.

I should clarify some things. My parents are incredibly wealthy due to their parents investments into the space elevator program, funneling funds and weapons to the Desori Revolution in the early days, and actively decrying the excess of the monarchs that had ruled Desori for hundreds of years. My parents themselves are socialites of the "nobility", at least those who saw the writing on the wall and supported the revolution, and thus survived Crimson Sunday. My parents have done nothing to earn their place in society, and will continue to do nothing. They exist to socialize, make connections, and judge their children for not being perfect. I realize I have an inherent bias given my history with them, and thus may be considered an unreliable narrator in this instance.

Astrea (who has known me for most of my adult life), would like to clarify that technically my parents have not lost any money, maintaining the family accounts through international deals and whatnot, and I would like to clarify that it doesn't matter. For fucks sake, they named me Excalibur and my sister Morgana. Who names their kid after a Welsh sword renamed by a French guy so his self insert OC Mary Sue (look it up, Lancelot is the original fan fiction bullshit) can have a reason to lose? Goddamn psychopaths. That's who. Regardless, this entry is getting long enough, and doesn't have nearly enough survival tips, so I'll probably delete it from the final transcript. You don't need to hear me bitching about first world problems.

In a forest no human has ever seen, on a world no human would believe is possible, orbiting a star no human could actually visualize without copius hallucinagenics, sat a small, androgynous creature vaguely understandable as a faery. Quiet, still, sitting on nothing as the deafening roar of soft silk sliding together covered the landscape in an impossible blanket.

The eyelids ever so slightly lift, the face crinkles into a grin, and a gentle humming fills the air, overwhelming the sift of silk. The song is strange, beautiful in discordant harmony, dozens of voices humming different songs from a single throat.

"Let's kick things off, shall we?"