You're where the Wild Things are...

An in-character blog set in the universe of EVE Online. These are the private diary entries of Lady Ekaterina Mariya deSilvestris, a minor Amarrian Noble and Capsuleer. Other existing characters within EVE will be referred to throughout, though any opinions and views expressed are those of this character. These entries may touch on or directly address mature themes such as violence, sexuality, race and ethnicity, and mental health. As noted, any views are those of the character.

Before we begin, I feel it important to say a few words on the subject of mental health. Ekaterina, or Ekat as many call her, is something of a troubled soul. This aspect of her character is a personal choice I have made, for very personal reasons. Although EVE is a game in which the players can immerse themselves to a greater or lesser degree as they wish, mental health is a very real issue for many people. Those two simple words cover a myriad different issues and concerns that affect people directly or indirectly every day all, over the world.

If you find yourself affected by any issues touched upon in these posts, or if you face your own troubles, please know that there are people out there you can turn to; doctors, friends, family - there is ALWAYS someone. If you are an EVE player, then Broadcast 4 Reps chat is available, staffed by wonderfully kind and good-hearted volunteers. If you know of someone who has mental health issues, then please just let them know you are there. It doesn't have to be anything big, just a smile, a cup of tea, a quick phone call about last night's game - just a little thing to show they aren't forgotten.

You Never Fly Alone.
01-04-YC122

I honestly do not know what to think about Commander Adams.  Requesting my frozen body from the battlefield in Floseswin is rather disturbing when one considers it, yet to return it to me almost immediately is an act that I can describe only as considerate, perhaps even gallant.  Such a man of contradictions.

Ah, yes, my body.  I had forgotten just how long it had been since I was unfortunate enough to suffer a catastrophic capsule rupture, but then I suppose my luck could not hold forever.  If I feel nauseous when undergoing an expected and routine consciousness transfer, then waking up under more violent conditions makes me feel even worse. The memory loss does not help in the slightest, but spending a full ten minutes vomiting is distinctly unpleasant.  At least it was only one or two hours since my last back-up from a clone-jump.

Reviewing the combat holo is actually rather amusing.  Sliding into a plex into the entire Tribal patrol did not improve my chances of survival.  It must have surprised them as much as it surprised me.  It has taken me some time, replaying it over and over, but finally I see my mistake.  My D-Scan was on 90 degrees instead of 360!  How foolish.  Too eager to get into the fight, I think.

Still, it was not a complete waste.  After getting back into it - dear, sweet Riccoda for encouraging me - I was able to assist in quite a few kills, and even got another Final Blow of my own.  A couple of pods as well.  Empty, as usual, but nonetheless the feeling of vengeance was satisfying.  I only lost two Punishers and a Maller, and, all-in-all, Victory, Granted by God and The Eternal Empress, was ours.  One hopes the Tribals will finally realise that Floseswin belongs to the Empire, but I truly begin to doubt they have the intellectual capacity to come to that glaringly obvious conclusion.

I do not know if news of my "death" has reached other ears as yet.  I do so hope Lilya does not worry if she hears about it, or Constantin either.  Aside from some lingering nausea I am quite alright.  I do wonder, though, how long I shall be permitted to fight in the front lines for.

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