Devan was here earlier in the week to resupply on drones. I teased him about his occasional tendency to leave his drones behind—how many have gone rogue by now?! He laughed and was embarrassed. It’s cute how he tries to look after them and feels guilty when they’re lost, almost like pets.

We’ve been keeping in touch quite a lot the last two months but it doesn’t compare to seeing him in the flesh. I almost couldn’t get off campus at all. I thought capsuleer training was intense before! In the last few months things have ramped up so I have almost no time to myself, even to write up logs. Several of my squadmates have washed out of the program, just burnt right out. Some days I wonder if I am about to follow suit.

Devan makes the stress easier to manage. He still doesn’t like me being in the navy but he supports my desire to be a capsuleer and encourages me to push on. I really do spend almost all my time in my pod now, to the point even my own bed feels alien. This was worse in Devan’s quarters where I found it difficult to sleep at all but he was patient and understanding. Not that we really had sleeping on our minds anyway…

He brought his pride and joy with him this trip, the ship he built and promised to show me. It was easy to fawn over it this time; the Morkeleb is a Hyperion-class battleship and a rather fine-looking hull compared to the Dominix (though I think most everything is fine-looking compared to the Dominix!). I do like the look of the Megathron as well, but the Hyperion certainly has class. And he built this one from scratch, spent months mining the raw materials for it… It’s his personal flagship, and I can appreciate why.

Devan brought me a gift as well, an oboe. And not just any oboe…my oboe. It has the engraving on it from Mom and Dad. I don’t know how he managed to find it considering it was among the belongings I sold three years ago. I remember being reluctant to let the instrument go, yet relieved, too, in a way. I haven’t played since before the Serpentis attack, just like I haven’t sang. The wood feels cool and familiar in my hands, and as soon as I picked it up my fingers found the right position on the keys, but…

It was a tremendously thoughtful gift and I am grateful to him. I’m just not sure I can play anymore. There are memories tied to this instrument, things I haven’t thought about for a long time. I know his intent was not to remind me of that pain; Devan just knows I miss my music, and I think all he wants is to encourage me to find that part of myself again. I really want to, but more and more I wonder if that chapter of my life is simply over forever.