[A physical copy exists in game, in the form of a hidden paper in Slip’s burrow. If you read it IC I will consider that as you knowing everything in this journal, and you may reply to the thread that your character knows.]

[TW: Slip has a bunch of messed up struggles upstairs. Please take care when considering: his drama, self loathing, self harm, family issues, occasional suicidal ideation, and much more.]

[A tangle fiber bound book lies on the counter: written in an impeccable cursive. There are so many marks over the pages, that it seems near impossible that it’s still intact. Claws, teeth, fur, berry juice, slight unknown splatters of red, and tears.]

Decorum, decorum, decorum Slip. Take your time with every line, every rhyme, take your time, or bleed your ink and pour your poor pouring well out onto the page.

Must I be blamed for my birth? Oh what am I saying, of course I must. A runt, and a betrayal borne myself from the ether, only to never be given the mercy of wasting as a pup. My father, a liar and a disgrace, but I am worse tenfold so says my mother matriarch—I know not of my birth mother—and why should I doubt her? I shouldn’t, she could have killed me, but she spared me. I must be grateful. I Must Always Be Grateful. ALWAYS____[the page ends with a single red drop, and five claw marks.]