This o8ject is, at a glance, my journal. This is its primary talent. The cover 8ears the same severe cut, the same dark hide, the same tasteful fittings. The clasp rests where it should. The spine even 8ends perfectly. The little a8rasions along the corners have 8een reproduced with enough effort to flatter any artisan of proxies. It has the posture of an heirloom, dresses like a confidante, and the confidence in its likeness. I almost would 8elieve it to 8e my own lineage 8efore my own journal. It is far too new. It isn't just well-kept. It's new. Its leather has not learned my hand. The pages have not savored the pressure from my pen. The hinge has no memory of my haste or anger. It cannot tell the difference 8etween 8eing shut with a finger as opposed to a hasty 8laded fist. It lacks those small, intim8 injuries 8y which it proves ownership. Most damning of all is the smell. My journal should smell of ink, old hide, sea damp, candle smoke, perfume, and the faint metallic ghost of 8lood transferred from my own pores during these l8 evenings. It smells of none of that. It does attempt to counterfeit the musk, 8ut it is more akin to the notes one might find with a perfumer's stand than the final product. The pages are too eager. They do not wait to 8e written upon, they wait to 8e fed. I have seen many traps in my time. Most are undone with patience, this one included. This one is clever to wear the guise of privacy, 8ut not clever enough to know I know my own goods too well. I am informed this may 8e something referred to as a 'juju' to some of you. It will learn to scar over my delic8 touch soon enough.
Lot of danger in using a juju, Marquise. Even for someone with your experiences.
This is a prudent warning, Lorn Ryder. I do not dismiss it, as much as that may surprise you. I may 8e arrogant at times, 8ut I am not stupid. I handle cursed o8jects, imperial heirlooms, weapons of devotion, and much worse tools than a journal such as this. The most clever of o8jects such as this one w8 for ha8it. I will never confused its leash for jewelry. It is dangerous, it hungers, it mimics, and it knows of my priv8 possessions. Yet, it is not a strong enough argument against use. The question is not whether it may harm me. The question is whether it 8elieves its harm should 8efall me to provide ownership or is it a strike of re8ellion? Should it attempt to answer this, I will teach it the same old lesson I have shared with artifacts, lovers, rivals, and even some self-professed gods. A thing may touch the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang. It may not keep her.