Keina

*The young girl sat down and in a fluid movement crossed her legs and balanced a small open red book on her knee. Tilting her head slightly to the side to align it with the angle of the pages she dipped a brand new pale grey feathered quill into the small pot of black ink and began to write in a steady flowing, soft style with language beyond her mere eight years*

Day One:

Not a technically correct heading as it is hardly the first day of my life, or of my life on the surface, but it is the first day of my decision to write down my daily thoughts and actions. Katina, with her first pay cheque bought me this book and a new set of stationary along with some coloured charcoals that I've wanted for so long. Now I'll be able to draw my pictures in more colours than black, green and red.

The other day, Katina and I finally got our citizenship paper which means I will be able to go to the Trinsic School. That is when they employ teachers to fill its walls, but I am not worried as I am learning from people that are kind enough to give me their time. First and foremost the mysterious sempai who is teaching me Tokonese culture, practises in daily life such as how to eat and drink the strange foods as well as my favourite, the language of his home land.

We now live in the back room of the Trinsic tailors where Katina works, it is part of her pay and is quite lavish with a large double bed which Katina insists I have whilst she sleeps on the floor, if she sleeps at all. Not that I have had much use for it lately.

~Scribbled in a child's style on the remaining half of the page is a large block of black, dusty charcoal in the vague shape of a stocky man's torso and legs, a large rimmed hat is in replace of its head with the outcrops of a large collar either side, as if he has tucked his head into a large coat. Red eyes peek from the blackness, too large for its face and unnaturally slanted upwards~

*Staring at the picture she had scribbled without really thinking about it, Keina wrinkled her nose in distaste and rubbed her eyes tiredly, making them water in protest from the charcoal smudges on her fingers. After a while of using her sleeve to clear out the particles, she carefully placed her treasured colours back into their small wooden box and replaced the decorative lid with the "Trinsic Toymakers" logo expertly etched into it and then stained with a red ink to make it stand out from the background.

Getting to her feet as gracefully as she had left them, the child smiled and closed the small diary, placing it on the shelf along with the steadily growing collection of odd's and ends that people had kindly given her, such as a tambourine, a small poorly crafted wooden flute and an orange hued lantern that seemed to burn and burn without needing, so far at least, refuelling*

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