Dear Journal,
Another year passes, and yet, here I am.
What can I say?
I am holding up my end of the bargain I made with Miss Mara and, whether it is a blessing or a curse, I am now learning to cook passable meals. I shall not make the mistake I made on Christmas Day again. I am still hesitant about being dragged into the politics of her kind, but I hold out hope that it will all come to my advantage at some point.
Mr. Footman has hired a new employee. I have explained to him that my hesitation stems not from jealousy (as he has implied) but rather from hesitation. Miss Gizzzy and I have become thick-as-thieves, and I think none would fault me for wishing it to stay as it has been. Nevertheless I think the new employee shall fit right in with our peculiar company, especially given her new years gift to me.
Mr. Underby, somehow, continues to stay just out of reach. It is vexing, but I must say I appreciate the challenge. I do hope it is not the wine talking when I say that, under different circumstances, he and I should have been powerful allies.
The experiment with he Immortalis serum draws closer. I have not revealed to Mr. Footman, nor shall I, my real reasons for wishing to be brought so close to death. He has been very kind about the process, explaining to me that I shall not truly die but rather my heart will slow to such a rate that it would seem as though I am dead. He went on to explain something about some culture somewhere…but to be honest I was distracted by a stain on the hem of my skirt.
I am sure everything will be fine, what could possibly go wrong?
I see the New Year draws close. My hearths are cleaned, my books arranged. All business from the aging year has been closed. I look the dawning of the New Year in the eye with hope in my heart.
~S. MacB.
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