Home | Yasmin Leigh

This is a warning to you all. Don’t play with coffin nails. I got my hands on a particularly rusty set of nine, very old coffin nails, and the experience has been harrowing, albeit thrilling. Since I used them, the light has been peculiar. I keep hearing the faint clang of cutlery? And I keep smelling wafts of cooking meat, like steak in a pan. Am I scared? Mildly. I fear I have prodded at something very grumpy that now fast approaches us. However, nothing I can’t handle.

In other news, I broke the back of some work last night that has been hanging over me for months. Now I have time to dedicate to the grimoire - which the Community has been waiting on since last year, and although I understand it is my duty to share the knowledge that has been passed down to me, it is wasteful to rush such things. And it’s a lot of pressure being born the only Time Keeper. The grimoire must be a fail-proof guide. Potentially dangerous cracks in the ground will reopen and Lord forbid that be thrust into the hands of an ill-prepared.

I’ve suggested going out for a curry tonight. I’ve been craving one all week, and I always try to read my impulses deeply so I can source the real incentive but I humbly surrender to this one without any further explanation.

Some herb updates:

The dill plant has seeded, I’m delighted.
The basil, not so successful at this present moment. Perhaps my lovely basil plant further along the windowsill is now too large and powerful to allow any fellows in sharing this apartment with her.
The sunflowers (which I planted for no reason other than romanticism) are upright and fluffy and adorable.
Rosemary is flourishing, as is the mint and parsley.

I am certainly missing some sage in here, and I have been in touch with the Community to get a pot of moon-grown variety over to me asap. Also on its way is the verbena I was promised. I do not regret moving further down south but communication is sometimes trying. On the other hand, I need isolation to write, and I prefer the ever so higher temperature at the edge of the Dust Bucket. I haven’t dared actually go wandering through the Bucket yet, but I will consider this when the wind is down again, as I’ve heard there are some healthy looking Century Plants a bit further out.

Speaking of gossip, there are whispers of a cambion in Haven. This was something I predicted many years ago but had only ever shared with my closest circles. The prediction was so grand, awesome, petrifying, that I even began doubting myself. To hear rumour of a cambion inner city, has reestablished confidence in my abilities. There is no way that such a rumour could have been concocted from imagination. The people here have no knowledge of cambions. I will have to meditate on how to approach what could be the end of times. And yet, I can’t help feeling that as one era ends, however sadly or violently, a brighter one will begin.

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