[identity profile] lord-icelus.livejournal.com
Some time, in a place that was and is the abbey, that is in this world and in Dream

She is coming.

I can feel her, that nasty bitch, like a tooth ache or a splinter. She nearly killed me, and I still suffer for it. Partly it was my own fault, for not remembering that silly service gods like her love to throw themselves on their own swords to look after their people. As if we should be in service to them!

I want her to get here. I want to kill her slowly, and lick her bones clean, and then I want to dance as the new king of this little town. A nasty pisspot of a place, it is, but it's better than oblivion, yes. They may not worship me, here, but they'd fear me: and for a god of nightmare, that's really good enough.

She's bringing friends, though. I disliked that last time. And so I conjure up a labyrinth, turning the stone of this abbey into twisting pathways of dead ends and trap doors. She'll lose some along the way. And then I will tear out her heart.

[OPEN]
[identity profile] managementchild.livejournal.com
Wednesday, 20th August; afternoon

One week - one week and one thousand thousand thousand days since I
since I
I, I, I
opened one great
eye
and am
when before there was only we (in the darkwomb belly of Creation, we).

I AM
ἐγώ εἰμι
(and there was a great cry in this my new Egypt.)

I have been to my Father's house, and touched his cock and cunt to receive my blessing, for she will not deny me that, even if I am unlike any other child of his seed that was or ever will be. For only I am this. And I bathed in the blood of her baptism between her legs, and made myself a body and face that honours my Father, for what child does not want a heritage? I will wear this, for a while, and when I need it not I will put it in a box like an old suit, for I am of my Mothers too and we can have a hundred faces.

In this body, come out of Egypt, I go into the town. It is my first place and my last place and I will love it until it is gone to dust. Will that be between my teeth? Perhaps. Perhaps.

I choose a building of a pleasing shape to enter. It is a tavern. I ask to see the different colours of the drink and I choose one that is pale gold and amber. I do not drink it, but I hold the glass close to my face so I can smell it. I smell the scent of decaying crops and sunlight. It is a fine drink.

[OPEN]

[identity profile] syl-thorn.livejournal.com
[Just past midnight, Thursday, August 14, day 445]
[The woods]


(Continued from here)

I still really ain't sure where we are. We been walkin' ferrat least a couple hours now, but th'clouds've covered th'moon, an'I can't judge what time't might be. Long 'nough fer th'wound'n m'should t'clot over an' m'arm t'go stiff's old leather. Ain't much else I c'n say beyond'at.

Glass'n me ain't spoken much, partly cuz we's both burnt out, partly 'cuz we wanna stay's quiet's possible. I ain't seen neither'a th'bitches since I left'em trapped'n screamin', but I ain't gonna count us 's anywhere near safe 'til we's outta th'woods 'n safe in our beds.

Pause's we cross into a clearin'. "Any idea how much further we got t'go?" I says inna whisper.


[OPEN to those from the previous scene, and others should they choose]
[identity profile] syl-thorn.livejournal.com
[Early evening, Wednesday, August 13th, day 444]
[The woods outside town]


Woke up'is mornin' when the sky wuz th'deep blue'a th'sea bottom, m'breath stranglin'n m'throat, and a pain'n m'head't threatened t'push m'eyes from'eir sockets. I sat up, chokin' 'n clawin't m'throat, wond'rin' dully if'n m'head wuz gonna burst 'fore I strangled, an'en't wuz done. Th'air'n m'lungs pushed out hard, there wuzza flash 'fore m'eyes, an'en th'pain wuz gone. But not b'fore I heard somethin', a weird screamin' noise somewhere deep'n th'mist. Closest thin' t'it've ever heard s'when I came 'pon a mama vixen'n th'woods, she stood up from'er cubs'n fuckin' screamed at me. This sound wuz like'at...but wit'n edge, like th'bone squeal'a teeth grindin'n pain. Dunno what't wuz, but't made me feel sick'n pale'n sweaty, an' I didn't sleep no more after'at.

Seems mosta th'others'n th'Carnival felt somethin' th'same. Lotta folk woke up'n th'night, 'r member a chokin' spell...nobody else mentioned the scream, though. I don't mention it neither, but think mebbe I oughta go talk t'Nanshe soon's I can. Whatever't wuz, don't think't meant anythin' good.

Fer t'day, though, there's work t'be done. Can't b'lieve th'summer's near t'ended. We's headed fer our second winter innis town, an'I think mosta us're resigned t'it. Somma th'folks'a been lettin'eir wagons go, lettin' th'wheels sink inta th'ground, 'r settin'em on blocks. Some folks've built shacks 're rented places in town. Some've taken jobs, too, part time 'r full. Can't blame'em, really, since'ere ain't allat much money comin' in fer the rides 'r games no more. There's a feelin' on th'Lot now't we might never leave, annit makes m'skin itch.

Me, I still keep m'wagon ready t'move, an'm makin' 'nough cash sellin' potions'n charms, so'm doin' okay. Smokey's gettin' fat, though, 'e's spendin' so much time'n pasture. I ain't never learned t'ride'r nothin', so'ere really ain't nothin' for'im t'do. Guess I could rent'im out t'folks in town, but I dunno. In some ways't makes me feel like'm puttin' down roots m'self, an'at jes' makes me twitch.

At least I still got work t'do. Shoulder m'satchel 'n head out inta th'woods. Rain's gone, but'ere's a cool breeze, so I throw on m'jacket, 'n pull boots on 'gainst th'mud 'n wet grass. Th'woods 'n th'river here've been good t'me, at least in terms've finding materials. Roots 'n herbs, moss 'n bone. Miss somma th'stuff I c'n get 'n th'south (Christ, I miss olive oil), but gotta say, gathered a lotta stuff last winter't I can't normally get, annit came in right handy over th'past few months.

...Lord, guess I better start thinkin' 'bout getting th'heaters set back up inna few weeks. Jesus wept.

[OPEN to Reed and Catherine primarily, but others too]
[identity profile] jaeresteade.livejournal.com
Friday, July 9th
[Day 404]
Late night, around and outside Excolo


It’s not been a good week or so. Verdi’s been nothing but kind, of course, but I can see she’s hurt over what happened with Ri, too, and the fact is that all the praying in the world, to her or anyone else, won’t mend things with the three of us. Verdi’s for here and now and moving on, but I can’t help looking back on just how badly I’ve fucked up, and in how many ways.

Not often I have a Friday off and nothing to think of doing with it, with Verdi working. Mrs. Danvers did let me in her kitchen after I got up, told me to stop moping around, too, and we made some stew and muffins and a berry crumble big enough for everyone to have some. In the afternoon, I took a covered dish of the stew over to Verite, just left it with her and said I was sorry, didn’t try to start anything. It was on the tip of her tongue to say I loved her, too, but I said I wouldn’t go chasing after her. She’d have yelled at me for it, too.

It’s falling dark now, though, warm summer dusk, and my hands are itching to pack my bag and be gone down the road. I do pull my rucksack out, just to have something to be doing, put a change of clothes in it and some sundries. After that it’s easy to start out walking. Out’s out. I saw Arkady at last week’s market, and he was friendly. I know where his farm is, too, and he’ll just be putting the animals up now. I could go offer a hand, with the horses and with anything else we might get up to in the barn.

I find myself passing by the road to the Chernys’, though, and not even stopping to think of turning down it. Find also that I’d really like to be where no one knows me just now, have a fresh start, like they say. I stop walking once the moon’s risen, just to stand in the road and look up at it through the trees. I don’t know where I’m going, but it’s pulling me.

Sit down under a tree and wrap my arms around my pack, still studying the sky. It’s a nice night. I could sleep out and not even feel it. I’ve gotten too used to soft beds and people around me, I guess, because I can’t get to sleep. I get up and try another tree, then another. Spoiled is what I am. I start back down the road, think that the moonlight’s enough to find my way back to Arkady’s, and that if he finds me in the barn in the morning, at least he won’t throw me out.

There’re clouds over the moon by the time I get back that way, though, and I think I’ve missed the turn, anyhow, so I just keep walking, starting to think about how I have to open the bar tomorrow night, and how pissed at me Mr. Laclos would be if I just didn’t show without giving notice. Peter has a date out with that girl from the carnival too, and Adam said something about a high-stakes game, so it’s not like one of them could cover for me. And that’s three people in town to think badly of me who aren’t already. And there’s precious few of those left, God knows. I keep walking.

After a while I can see the lights of town and I sigh. Wonder what time it is. Near mdnight, surely. Not too late to go to the Tavern, but thinking of Arkady’s got me wanting a man, and I can’t think of any one in town who’d have me. That sets very badly with me, and I start back toward the Boy, footsore and hard and pissed right off.

[OPEN to Iago]
[identity profile] jaeresteade.livejournal.com
Friday, July 9th
[Day 404]
Late night, around and outside Excolo


It’s not been a good week or so. Verdi’s been nothing but kind, of course, but I can see she’s hurt over what happened with Ri, too, and the fact is that all the praying in the world, to her or anyone else, won’t mend things with the three of us. Verdi’s for here and now and moving on, but I can’t help looking back on just how badly I’ve fucked up, and in how many ways.

Not often I have a Friday off and nothing to think of doing with it, with Verdi working. Mrs. Danvers did let me in her kitchen after I got up, told me to stop moping around, too, and we made some stew and muffins and a berry crumble big enough for everyone to have some. In the afternoon, I took a covered dish of the stew over to Verite, just left it with her and said I was sorry, didn’t try to start anything. It was on the tip of her tongue to say I loved her, too, but I said I wouldn’t go chasing after her. She’d have yelled at me for it, too.

It’s falling dark now, though, warm summer dusk, and my hands are itching to pack my bag and be gone down the road. I do pull my rucksack out, just to have something to be doing, put a change of clothes in it and some sundries. After that it’s easy to start out walking. Out’s out. I saw Arkady at last week’s market, and he was friendly. I know where his farm is, too, and he’ll just be putting the animals up now. I could go offer a hand, with the horses and with anything else we might get up to in the barn.

I find myself passing by the road to the Chernys’, though, and not even stopping to think of turning down it. Find also that I’d really like to be where no one knows me just now, have a fresh start, like they say. I stop walking once the moon’s risen, just to stand in the road and look up at it through the trees. I don’t know where I’m going, but it’s pulling me.

Sit down under a tree and wrap my arms around my pack, still studying the sky. It’s a nice night. I could sleep out and not even feel it. I’ve gotten too used to soft beds and people around me, I guess, because I can’t get to sleep. I get up and try another tree, then another. Spoiled is what I am. I start back down the road, think that the moonlight’s enough to find my way back to Arkady’s, and that if he finds me in the barn in the morning, at least he won’t throw me out.

There’re clouds over the moon by the time I get back that way, though, and I think I’ve missed the turn, anyhow, so I just keep walking, starting to think about how I have to open the bar tomorrow night, and how pissed at me Mr. Laclos would be if I just didn’t show without giving notice. Peter has a date out with that girl from the carnival too, and Adam said something about a high-stakes game, so it’s not like one of them could cover for me. And that’s three people in town to think badly of me who aren’t already. And there’s precious few of those left, God knows. I keep walking.

After a while I can see the lights of town and I sigh. Wonder what time it is. Near mdnight, surely. Not too late to go to the Tavern, but thinking of Arkady’s got me wanting a man, and I can’t think of any one in town who’d have me. That sets very badly with me, and I start back toward the Boy, footsore and hard and pissed right off.

[OPEN to Iago]
[identity profile] docconstantine.livejournal.com

July 3rd, Friday night
Stumbling homewards along the bank of the river


I am not sure who is helping who to walk; Iago helping me or me helping Iago. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to grab him and take him over to La Fee Verte ... but he was mopey and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Admittedly, I don't have the best track record with good ideas. We got drunk on absinthe. Then I thought it would cheer him up ever more, so we went to see the show at The Grindhouse. Then Daiyu happened. Before I could say 'boo', we were back in her trailer, chasing the dragon. What happened next is still rather fuzzy. I am pretty sure we didn't have sex, with either her or each other, but I am pretty sure we got a private viewing of her contortion act.

But now my head just hurts, and Iago's giggling madly and stumbling over his own feet, and I may just need to sleep this off.  Maybe I just want to get back inside....

Shake my head to make that crawling feeling go away.  I'm being silly, it's not like I am out alone, after all.  Iago is babbling something about his cousins, and I can't follow any of it.  "You are an absolute mess, do you know that?" I say, half sighing, half laughing. "Granted, I am an absolute mess too." We both stumble and barely keep each other from going down face first into the river.

"We are never telling Glass about this, right?"

(open to Iago and Marbas and Kaeli)

[identity profile] docconstantine.livejournal.com

July 3rd, Friday night
Stumbling homewards along the bank of the river


I am not sure who is helping who to walk; Iago helping me or me helping Iago. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to grab him and take him over to La Fee Verte ... but he was mopey and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Admittedly, I don't have the best track record with good ideas. We got drunk on absinthe. Then I thought it would cheer him up ever more, so we went to see the show at The Grindhouse. Then Daiyu happened. Before I could say 'boo', we were back in her trailer, chasing the dragon. What happened next is still rather fuzzy. I am pretty sure we didn't have sex, with either her or each other, but I am pretty sure we got a private viewing of her contortion act.

But now my head just hurts, and Iago's giggling madly and stumbling over his own feet, and I may just need to sleep this off.  Maybe I just want to get back inside....

Shake my head to make that crawling feeling go away.  I'm being silly, it's not like I am out alone, after all.  Iago is babbling something about his cousins, and I can't follow any of it.  "You are an absolute mess, do you know that?" I say, half sighing, half laughing. "Granted, I am an absolute mess too." We both stumble and barely keep each other from going down face first into the river.

"We are never telling Glass about this, right?"

(open to Iago and Marbas and Kaeli)

[identity profile] shards-of-alice.livejournal.com
[Sunday, June 20th (Day 385)]
[Just past midnight, the woods outside of Excolo]

I feel my lips move but the words don't want to come out, the sounds grabbed up and gobbled by the nighttime shadows.  It's darker now and I don't know why.  When my voice comes out, when I make it come out - "Micah?" - it's so small I can barely hear it, so small and alone.

Alone.

And that's when I know why it's dark, that's when I know why it feels like nothing but me and woods and darkness, stretching on into forever.  Because I can't see him, because I can't see his colors anymore, even though he was so bright before in the dark.  Because Micah's gone.

"Micah?" )


[Open to Gaueko and Micah]
[Cut for flashbacks and general disturbing things]
[Caution for both]
[identity profile] shards-of-alice.livejournal.com
[Sunday, June 20th (Day 385)]
[Just past midnight, the woods outside of Excolo]

I feel my lips move but the words don't want to come out, the sounds grabbed up and gobbled by the nighttime shadows.  It's darker now and I don't know why.  When my voice comes out, when I make it come out - "Micah?" - it's so small I can barely hear it, so small and alone.

Alone.

And that's when I know why it's dark, that's when I know why it feels like nothing but me and woods and darkness, stretching on into forever.  Because I can't see him, because I can't see his colors anymore, even though he was so bright before in the dark.  Because Micah's gone.

"Micah?" )


[Open to Gaueko and Micah]
[Cut for flashbacks and general disturbing things]
[Caution for both]
[identity profile] jaeresteade.livejournal.com
[Monday, 26 April, early evening]
[Day 330]
[Tavern of Hell, Verdi’s apartment]


Forgot Sunday was the day Ri took off, or I’d have made more plans to be scarce yesterday. As it was we sort of danced around each other. I cooked, and she went out to shop but didn’t come back with anything,and it was just awkward as hell. Ended up going over to the ‘Boy early and fiddling the alarm system and the hinges and anything else I could find until Miao made me sit down and have some tea with her. Didn’t exactly tell her what was wrong, but I think she guessed something was up.

Woke up this morning dreading my own night off, which I don’t think has ever happened before. Managed to doze on the couch until noon, and then Verite decided that she needed to do things in her room. Couldn’t think of anything left to cook, either, and though the day’s nice enough I’m sick of taking walks. For once I found myself wishing for some work to do outside, splitting rails or hauling brush. Something hard. Because anything’s easier than being in a space with someone just barely tolerating you.

Get thinking on hard things, then, and Arkady, and Iago, and Verdi. One I’ve not seen lately and one wouldn’t have me and one…one is lovely and lithe and strong enough to move me where she wants and hold me there, and smile all while she’s doing it. There’s a twist of something in me that eases when I think of that, and I gather up my courage and go ask Ri if she’d mind.

She says no, why would she, and I think she means it, so I make myself ask she minds if I spend the night at the Tavern, if Verdi wants me. She says I can stay if I want to, and then she goes out in the shop, though I know she’s nothing to do out there. So I have my shower, scalding hot and short, and find my nice jeans and a clean shirt and walk down to the Tavern with my hair still a bit wet.

Thomas is at the bar when I go in, and he pours me a shot of brandy for my nerves, and we flirt a little, quietly, though I think he’s doing it more for the game of it than anything else. He doesn’t seem surprised when I ask after Verdi, and tells me she’s in her apartment and I should go on up. I don’t want the man, but I do like him, and so I tip him and climb the stairs, my hands shaking a little because the liquor hasn’t quite kicked in. I steady myself to knock, and then I lean against the wall just outside, wishing I’d let her know I was coming, or brought something for a gift.

[OPEN to Verdandi]
CLOSED
[identity profile] jaeresteade.livejournal.com
[Monday, 26 April, early evening]
[Day 330]
[Tavern of Hell, Verdi’s apartment]


Forgot Sunday was the day Ri took off, or I’d have made more plans to be scarce yesterday. As it was we sort of danced around each other. I cooked, and she went out to shop but didn’t come back with anything,and it was just awkward as hell. Ended up going over to the ‘Boy early and fiddling the alarm system and the hinges and anything else I could find until Miao made me sit down and have some tea with her. Didn’t exactly tell her what was wrong, but I think she guessed something was up.

Woke up this morning dreading my own night off, which I don’t think has ever happened before. Managed to doze on the couch until noon, and then Verite decided that she needed to do things in her room. Couldn’t think of anything left to cook, either, and though the day’s nice enough I’m sick of taking walks. For once I found myself wishing for some work to do outside, splitting rails or hauling brush. Something hard. Because anything’s easier than being in a space with someone just barely tolerating you.

Get thinking on hard things, then, and Arkady, and Iago, and Verdi. One I’ve not seen lately and one wouldn’t have me and one…one is lovely and lithe and strong enough to move me where she wants and hold me there, and smile all while she’s doing it. There’s a twist of something in me that eases when I think of that, and I gather up my courage and go ask Ri if she’d mind.

She says no, why would she, and I think she means it, so I make myself ask she minds if I spend the night at the Tavern, if Verdi wants me. She says I can stay if I want to, and then she goes out in the shop, though I know she’s nothing to do out there. So I have my shower, scalding hot and short, and find my nice jeans and a clean shirt and walk down to the Tavern with my hair still a bit wet.

Thomas is at the bar when I go in, and he pours me a shot of brandy for my nerves, and we flirt a little, quietly, though I think he’s doing it more for the game of it than anything else. He doesn’t seem surprised when I ask after Verdi, and tells me she’s in her apartment and I should go on up. I don’t want the man, but I do like him, and so I tip him and climb the stairs, my hands shaking a little because the liquor hasn’t quite kicked in. I steady myself to knock, and then I lean against the wall just outside, wishing I’d let her know I was coming, or brought something for a gift.

[OPEN to Verdandi]
CLOSED
[identity profile] westin-sagert.livejournal.com
[Late evening of Wednesday, April 21 (day 325)]
[Approaching one's goal, or the end of one's rope, in the less reputable part of town]


It was the soup spoon, oddly enough. An accidental jostle of the draining rack while I was washing up after Sunday dinner, and I saw it start to fall and reached out on simple reflex to catch it easily out of the air. And then I stood in the kitchen for a moment, looking at it and turning it slowly between my fingers, which did not tremble or break.

I know--I have known quite well that the dreams are only that, even a shared phantasy is still only smoke and mirrors, but they have affected me quite strongly; I have been haunted by the uncanny clarity of the memory of my hands burning and shattering, and the lost and crumbling words of Bethlehem. And sometimes I will wake in the night and I am unwilling to reach for a light, out of fear that touching something will make my hands fall to pieces. I can certainly keep my home and person presentable, but my movements and grip have become taut and awkward when I pay any attention, as if I feared (so foolishly!) that whatever I was touching would turn to hot brass and sear me to the bone.

But I am well again, I have been since I reached my agreement with Morningstar. I know this, and while I am certainly willing to grant that there are things I do not fully understand, that does not excuse such unthinking and unnecessary avoidance of my calling. A man may accept that he does not possess the sum total of all knowledge without being reduced to a superstitious coward.

I have nothing to fear from dreams.

And it has been months since I worked properly on something.

So I have nerved myself to come out, and come looking for raw material. The streets south of my home are pleasant enough for a short distance, but as you go further and towards the west, a certain dilapidation grows. If I do not find someone, then there will be other nights--perhaps during the weekend, Market always seems to bring in rather a crowd--but I am rather optimistic.

[Open as discussed]
[identity profile] westin-sagert.livejournal.com
[Late evening of Wednesday, April 21 (day 325)]
[Approaching one's goal, or the end of one's rope, in the less reputable part of town]


It was the soup spoon, oddly enough. An accidental jostle of the draining rack while I was washing up after Sunday dinner, and I saw it start to fall and reached out on simple reflex to catch it easily out of the air. And then I stood in the kitchen for a moment, looking at it and turning it slowly between my fingers, which did not tremble or break.

I know--I have known quite well that the dreams are only that, even a shared phantasy is still only smoke and mirrors, but they have affected me quite strongly; I have been haunted by the uncanny clarity of the memory of my hands burning and shattering, and the lost and crumbling words of Bethlehem. And sometimes I will wake in the night and I am unwilling to reach for a light, out of fear that touching something will make my hands fall to pieces. I can certainly keep my home and person presentable, but my movements and grip have become taut and awkward when I pay any attention, as if I feared (so foolishly!) that whatever I was touching would turn to hot brass and sear me to the bone.

But I am well again, I have been since I reached my agreement with Morningstar. I know this, and while I am certainly willing to grant that there are things I do not fully understand, that does not excuse such unthinking and unnecessary avoidance of my calling. A man may accept that he does not possess the sum total of all knowledge without being reduced to a superstitious coward.

I have nothing to fear from dreams.

And it has been months since I worked properly on something.

So I have nerved myself to come out, and come looking for raw material. The streets south of my home are pleasant enough for a short distance, but as you go further and towards the west, a certain dilapidation grows. If I do not find someone, then there will be other nights--perhaps during the weekend, Market always seems to bring in rather a crowd--but I am rather optimistic.

[Open as discussed]
[identity profile] norn-verdandi.livejournal.com
[Thursday evening, April 8 (Day 312)]
[Verdandi's apartment - Tavern of Hell]



I've been looking forward to this more than anything and it's a nice change feeling upbeat.  I cleaned the whole apartment, laid a pretty tablecloth on the dining table and changed my sheets to the softest ones I have.  Cookie's food is in the oven, staying warm and a tasty dessert from the bakery is waiting in the icebox.

Two crates of bottles were brought up from the basement, filled with everything from my old favorites to the new beers that Cookie and I sampled a while ago.  I spin around, light on my feet as my dress caresses my thighs and I raise my hands when I spin around a second time.  I have a good feeling about tonight and if I have my way, they will too.

I remember one last thing and place a pretty bowl on the table, filled with oranges, apples and a peach or two from downstairs.  Everything looks ready for company and I smile brightly in my excitement.  Now all I need are my guests and as if they knew my thoughts, there's a knock at the door.  I check my dress and hair one more time and smile sweetly as I open the front door and say, "Hi!  Come in.  I'm so glad you could make it."


[Open to Jarmyn and Verite]
[Warning - Sexual and violent content (S&M themes)]
[identity profile] norn-verdandi.livejournal.com
[Thursday evening, April 8 (Day 312)]
[Verdandi's apartment - Tavern of Hell]



I've been looking forward to this more than anything and it's a nice change feeling upbeat.  I cleaned the whole apartment, laid a pretty tablecloth on the dining table and changed my sheets to the softest ones I have.  Cookie's food is in the oven, staying warm and a tasty dessert from the bakery is waiting in the icebox.

Two crates of bottles were brought up from the basement, filled with everything from my old favorites to the new beers that Cookie and I sampled a while ago.  I spin around, light on my feet as my dress caresses my thighs and I raise my hands when I spin around a second time.  I have a good feeling about tonight and if I have my way, they will too.

I remember one last thing and place a pretty bowl on the table, filled with oranges, apples and a peach or two from downstairs.  Everything looks ready for company and I smile brightly in my excitement.  Now all I need are my guests and as if they knew my thoughts, there's a knock at the door.  I check my dress and hair one more time and smile sweetly as I open the front door and say, "Hi!  Come in.  I'm so glad you could make it."


[Open to Jarmyn and Verite]
[Warning - Sexual and violent content (S&M themes)]
[identity profile] iago-excolo.livejournal.com
[Monday, April 5 (day 309)]
[Early evening - Tavern of Hell]



I've been steadily packing since a bit after I got to work and I'd say I was tired but my recent three-day nap says otherwise.   A few more days like this one and all the boxes should be ready to go to their respective locations.   It feels like an ending and as angry as I am at Dorian, I can't deny that I still care.  It tears at me, like so many things do lately but since I can't do anything about it, I have to let it go.  Not so easy in practice but worrying over it will drive me out of my mind.  Better to focus elsewhere.

Elsewhere is a new home and I'm hoping that it'll shake the unsettled feeling I've been having.  I can't seem forget the terrible argument that Milady Glass and I had either.  We've been fine since then but I'm certain that I don't want a repeat of that bitterness ever again and I've seriously considered how it could have gone better.  There were quite a few ways but my emotions ran away from me, taking my mouth along for the ride.  Fuck me for being an asshole.

I trudge down the stairs, feeling heated from the packing but it's nothing a few drinks and smokes can't take of.  The shower can wait until later and as I pass through the Tavern's kitchen and storeroom, I steal baked sweets and a bottle of good whiskey. Lighting a smoke, I take a deep drag before parking myself at the far end of the bar.  I pour myself a double, grinning as I watch the smoke rings float away.  If only my troubles were so easy and I start munching on one of the stolen cookies as I contemplate my life.


[Open to Jarmyn]
[Warning - S&M themes]
[Closed]
[identity profile] iago-excolo.livejournal.com
[Monday, April 5 (day 309)]
[Early evening - Tavern of Hell]



I've been steadily packing since a bit after I got to work and I'd say I was tired but my recent three-day nap says otherwise.   A few more days like this one and all the boxes should be ready to go to their respective locations.   It feels like an ending and as angry as I am at Dorian, I can't deny that I still care.  It tears at me, like so many things do lately but since I can't do anything about it, I have to let it go.  Not so easy in practice but worrying over it will drive me out of my mind.  Better to focus elsewhere.

Elsewhere is a new home and I'm hoping that it'll shake the unsettled feeling I've been having.  I can't seem forget the terrible argument that Milady Glass and I had either.  We've been fine since then but I'm certain that I don't want a repeat of that bitterness ever again and I've seriously considered how it could have gone better.  There were quite a few ways but my emotions ran away from me, taking my mouth along for the ride.  Fuck me for being an asshole.

I trudge down the stairs, feeling heated from the packing but it's nothing a few drinks and smokes can't take of.  The shower can wait until later and as I pass through the Tavern's kitchen and storeroom, I steal baked sweets and a bottle of good whiskey. Lighting a smoke, I take a deep drag before parking myself at the far end of the bar.  I pour myself a double, grinning as I watch the smoke rings float away.  If only my troubles were so easy and I start munching on one of the stolen cookies as I contemplate my life.


[Open to Jarmyn]
[Warning - S&M themes]
[Closed]
[identity profile] goddessnanshe.livejournal.com
Wednesday, sometime, somewhere in Dream

Once upon time there was a beautiful princess. Her hair was the colour of jet and her skin was the colour of nutmeg, and each of her teeth were like pearls. Flowers grew where she walked, so that the fields around the tower that was her home was carpeted in blooms as white as snow. The princess was very happy, all save for one thing: her fear that one day the thorn of one of the flowers would prick her. Her servants combed the field for thorns every day, trimming the stems so that it would be safe for her to walk. But still the princess was afraid, and she neglected to notice that each month the forest encroached closer on her home, until one day, standing in her field of flowers, she looked up to see the trees looming around her, undergrowth thick with thorns. Frightened, she fled inside, and as she ran she began her first bleeding, and the blood that trickled down her thigh fell to the earth and stained the roses around the tower a deep and brilliant red.

Inside the tower the princess was afraid that she was dying, for her father had always insisted that royal blood was the most precious of all things and must never be spilled. Weeping, she showed the blood to her old nurse, who laughed and kissed her cheek and told her this was the secret gift of women, and now she was blessed. So the princess wiped her eyes, and was no longer afraid of bleeding. But the thorns of the forest came for her all the same.
[identity profile] goddessnanshe.livejournal.com
Wednesday, sometime, somewhere in Dream

Once upon time there was a beautiful princess. Her hair was the colour of jet and her skin was the colour of nutmeg, and each of her teeth were like pearls. Flowers grew where she walked, so that the fields around the tower that was her home was carpeted in blooms as white as snow. The princess was very happy, all save for one thing: her fear that one day the thorn of one of the flowers would prick her. Her servants combed the field for thorns every day, trimming the stems so that it would be safe for her to walk. But still the princess was afraid, and she neglected to notice that each month the forest encroached closer on her home, until one day, standing in her field of flowers, she looked up to see the trees looming around her, undergrowth thick with thorns. Frightened, she fled inside, and as she ran she began her first bleeding, and the blood that trickled down her thigh fell to the earth and stained the roses around the tower a deep and brilliant red.

Inside the tower the princess was afraid that she was dying, for her father had always insisted that royal blood was the most precious of all things and must never be spilled. Weeping, she showed the blood to her old nurse, who laughed and kissed her cheek and told her this was the secret gift of women, and now she was blessed. So the princess wiped her eyes, and was no longer afraid of bleeding. But the thorns of the forest came for her all the same.

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