diary entry 3

Dear diary,

Welcome to a new plane. I rented an apartment on that city plane. It turns out I didn’t have much to worry about. When the people saw my wings, my tail, my horns, they assumed I was something called a ‘simic experiment’. I don’t know what a ‘simic’ is, but if they make people look like me, then it’s good cover. No one really seems to give a damn about anything here. It’s a refreshing change from Dominaria, where people side-eyed me despite planeswalkers being a known thing that have etched their way into history for thousands of years. Urza is still a dick if you ask me. You heard it here first.

There’s some part of me that wonders if anyone ever actually notices my coming and going. The Academy had no choice, because I would appear in that same hallway I woke up in, every time. I guess they probably don’t. I haven’t made any friends here that would notice me going missing, trying to throw myself at the multiverse. This apartment is really nice, but it’s not my palace.

I never actually thought I would miss the palace this much. I don’t even know if time passes the same way on this plane that it does at home, or even on Dominaria. For all I know, when I come back, it’ll have been five minutes. It could have been five years. How do you even quantify a year in a multiverse like this? Maybe I’m thinking about this too hard. It hasn’t been all that long from my perspective and maybe that’s what counts.

I could have sworn I saw Midnight today when I was taking a walk. She disappeared before I did, and it was like seeing a ghost. But when I looked again, she was gone. I don’t know if they have catfolk or anything even remotely similar here, but I hold out one little sliver of hope that it was her.

I’ve taken to busking outside my apartment for spare cash. It used to be what I did until I was taken by the palace guards, so it’s nostalgic. I get people who are interested just because my musical stylings are so different to everything else I’ve heard on this plane.

The civilization here seems to be centered around ‘guilds’. I’m familiar with the concept of a guild. It’s a coalition of people united through a common interest or craft. But these are bigger than the artists’ guilds in Tiecelleth, by far, as far as I know. I’m interested in learning about them, but not so sure I’m interested in joining them until I know more. From the sound of it, there isn’t room for a musician like me anyway.

I’ve heard some people speak of a ‘guildpact’, which is some sort of law of the plane, but it’s also a person. How does that work? A pact is a typically written and signed agreement between two or more parties. Did they tattoo all the guild names on his ass? Is there a constitution down his back? I know it’s a he, because the people I overheard used the term ‘he’.

I’m very homesick. The most sand I’ve found was a childrens’ sandbox. No one was around that was using it, so I burrowed myself in it as deep as I could go. While it was sunny out, things were perfect. It was warm, dry sand. A bit too coarse to be exactly like home, but it made me comfortable.

That came to an end when it started pouring rain.

It rains a lot here. Like a lot. Maybe not as much as it does in Livenslurji, and I hate that I know that for a fact because I hated having to go there, but a lot.

I cast myself out into the multiverse a little more today. Still no dice.

I miss my palace. I miss my sand.