Did you know there was once a group of scientific terrorist who tried to make a spell that would turn thoughts into bombs? It was a well recorded case used in advanced magic study to teach students the difference between creativity and stupidity. How did we thwart these mind bombs you ask? We didn't.
Fillydelphia police were asked to investigate the smell coming from a house. Upon entering they discovered the rotting corpses of the terrorists in the basement, their heads missing and almost everything grotesquely painted. This was quickly published to keep anyone else from getting such a bright idea ever again.
Why is this relevant? Because my head hurts. I've given control over my office to a young apprentice anthropologist so that I could spend more time helping with the dimensional problem. Thanks to the Princesses' concern for this project, we've had no end of supporters and help. Various colleges and fringe groups have been lending us their aid. Not the first time I've seen machines that enhance magical properties, but not something this powerful.
But it's still making no difference. I look forward to heading home everyday so I can sleep off the migraines I've been getting from exerting myself so often. Though, I don't want to neglect the family, so I pop a few aspirin in the bathroom and give them my attention. Then I promptly fall asleep amongst my plushies.
* * *
Someone tried to firebomb the front gates of Princesses' palace today. Thankfully, it was unsuccessful and the poor man who attempted it wasn't harmed. A father, who wants to get back home really bad. Darn it. That's only the fourth one this week. You think that's bad? well, consider the fact that there are only two casualties so far.
Both suicides. However, this is less than the expected.
Let's face it. That was bound to happen. Humans come from a very hard world, and if they think their trust has been betrayed, they can lose control. And I can't stand it.
Even in the testing area, there is talk of all this being a lost cause. I refuse to believe it. It can't be true. I, for one, will not give up. Even if my horn explodes from overuse. That can't really happen, right? Great, now I'm going to have to look it up.
* * *
I caught him crying. Henry, that is. He was crying in his room, under his bed, trying to hide it. He didn't even notice I was in the room with him until I slipped under the bed to give him a hug. He vehemently denied it afterwards though. I know he must be missing his family something awful, but, I'll have to do for the time being.
Quietly, I brought it up with up Bonny and Notes, so they could be aware of and help with the situation. I made them swear not to tell anyone else, not even Twist. They were willing to comply and promised they would help keep his spirits up in this time of trouble.
Just gonna pop some more aspirin here and go to bed. These headaches are getting worse.
* * *
The postcards I've been receiving from Mark Smith aren't even cheering me up anymore. Though it is a very nice thing. I've written back to him plenty. I don't feel there is any need to keep secrets from him. Strange I know. I always feel as though I can tell him anything, and it'll all come out for the better. Really feel like a little filly because of that. But I can't seem to help it.
These headaches may be a factor though.
Well, as for my daily report on Henry, he's no longer hiding. From me, at least. He's actually seeking me out to cry now, I guess because I bring him comfort. I don't mind, I can ignore these headaches as long as I can make one human feel better. In fact, I've tucked him into bed with me for tonight, this way neither of us have to be alone.
I care about him. That much is obvious. But, more. Almost more than any other human I've cared about before. I'm not supposed to get attached like this. This is one of those things we're supposed to be trained against. The Florence Nightingale Syndrome has no mercy, or sense of appropriateness, it would seem. He's going to be sent home. I swear it. He's going to be with his family, and i'm not going to give up. Ever.
I'm very tired. My writing is definitely showing it with the over dramatization. But, I mean it. He's going home. He deserves a family. He deserves to be with the ones he loves.
Tomorrow is a big day. It's the day we succeed. Mark my words. We're going to tear open the fabric of space and time. No one needs be stranded here in an unfamiliar world.
I promise I'm going to make it all better. Even if everyone else gives up. Everything is going to be better.
Goodnight.