Miss Cierra recalled:

When I first saw the mother-of-pearl spires of Acadia my heart filled with joy and gratitude to those who have come before me. In my heart of hearts I held on to what was rightfully mine despite the best attempts at colonization by the alien nation of the genetically challenged. They have eroded year after year at the pillars of my soul, yet, after experiencing the joys of Aristasia (long live the Empress!) there is still fear and trepidation within.

“Am I beyond redemption?” I wearily ask myself as I prepare to meet others in my new home. “Will they genuinely love me or discard me when I’m old and gray?” Hundreds of questions torment and beat upon the ramparts of my heart. “Have they forgotten the long years of their sojourns or the scars they too bear?” 

“No,” I tell myself, “they have not.” But still I wonder, “Oh why don’t I have that self confidence I still remember of my youth. Where has it gone? Have I let them steal that too?” I cry in anguish burying my face in my hands. “I am but a pauper compared to the opulence which surrounds me,” as the ocean wells again inside. I’m clothed in well mended homespun and I marvel at the fine silks dancing in the wind never once having imagined such colors ever existed on any plane of existence.

“Could this finally be home?”

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