Jason walked out on the balcony and found Nesrin there reading one of her journals, apparently one of the early ones, since the volume was a parchment scroll. He and Nesrin smiled at each other and she returned to her reading. He sat down and started reading a news article on his phone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Nesrin start to lean forward and hold the book closer to her face.
“Oh wow,” she exclaimed, “the plot took a turn.”
“Funny, I just assumed that book was your journal.”
Jason tilted his head.
Nesrin smirked. “You’re used to Isabelle journalling just to process her thoughts. My journals are like a squirrel’s nut hoard. I gather my memories as they happen like a squirrel gathers nuts and stash them away so that when the centuries push them out of my mind, I know where to find them. Sometimes my backstory surprises me. Listen to this:
“I watched with interest from the top of Father’s house as Dinah leapt across the street onto Ceylan’s back and clamped her fangs into Ceylan’s neck. My amusement rotted in my chest when Ceylan didn’t fight back, but worry only truly began to blossom when I realized Ceylan’s skin was turning pale. I felt like someone other than myself when I grasped Dinah by the hair and ripped her off Ceylan. They both told me later that I could have chosen a more pleasant method of rescue.
“I thought I stayed out of their fights, and I certainly don’t remember Dinah carrying it that far.” Nesrin got a far off look. “I wonder how they remember that moment.”