❝𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 ❞
a bastard girl forced to dress up
as a boy for her mother's sanity
travels down the same path as she
falls for a boy that was destined
for someone else
𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐱...
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❝All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.❞ ~Arthur Schopenhauer
My name is Cyril, and I believe I am ten years of age, although I am still trying to get a good estimate of how many winters I have lived, since I was apparently born in midwinter. Should you find this journal unattended, I plead for you not to go past this page and to give it back to me, or, at the very least, to mail it to the Basilwetherestate's servants' post address.
This journal was given to me by the young master, Tewkesbury, heir of the title Marquess of Basilwether. I currently work as his aide and personal secretary. I suppose the better term would be to say that I am training in hopes to fill out that role.
I had mentioned in passing that I owned virtually no writing instruments of my own, and he was kind enough to gift me a set of beautiful writing nibs, as well as a fountain pen, and a little pocket book bound in soft leather. It fits in the palm of my hand, and is very easy to carry around. I have forgone the writing instruments, as I cherish them too much to risk exposing them to my everyday labours and tasks. I choose instead to carry around a sturdy piece of charcoal, as well as a ball of mollified sap that I had collected from the trunk of the tree where our tree house is located. It makes carrying around quite easier.
I would hate if this book fell in the wrong hands. Because I have a secret that I haven't shared with anyone. It's been almost second nature for me to hide this aspect of me away. Only those privy to the contents of this page, as well as the nuns in the asylum and my scatty mother, whose mental functioning has since deteriorated when I was of 6 years, know of this fact, and I pray to the Lord above that no one else knows.
