[identity profile] danashee.livejournal.com
I have not the gift of seeing what might be. And for that I am glad; for every seer I have ever known has always has a bit of a haunted look to their eyes, even that generally cheerful girl who Wanda found to help run the tea shoppe after she became mayor. Still, if one can see something coming then one can then prepare for it.

If I had known this storm was coming I would have been better prepared. As it was, this storm caught me and many others by surprise.  The sun was setting, and all was calm and then nothing was. The earth shook and the air screamed. Clouds darkened the sky and so did the rain and I would have sworn that the Wild Hunt was riding somewhere out there. It felt like the endless minutes before two armies come to blows.

Both Fiona and Adonis felt it too, though not nearly so strongly and I had to do some convincing to get  him to stay here at the house with us. I got up afterwards and worked a charm or three to protect us all. None would find their way to this house that did not have the proper counter charm. And I only made three of those. Three little rounds of wood with a complicated knot gently burned on one side. Three keys to my private little realm. Three keys to protect my heart. Briefly I wished that dared make one more. Or that it was not too late to venture out and find my little mage. I am sure that she is out there in the midst of this. And it would have pleased me greatly to able to offer her sanctuary here; even as I know that she would not be able to accept. Still, it would have comforted me to know that if she needed me, Silence could  have used that charm to come here.


We work with what we have, and there was not much time to act. So I did what I could and my heart is as safe as it will ever be. I will open the way back for us all when I think it likely to be safe.  Until then I shall keep us here in the space between the worlds. I can even use this as an opportunity to teach my god daughter how to do the same. She may need it someday.

[closed]
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
Tuesday, the 23rd of September
The Dormouse, Late morning


The sky is grey and the air is damp; it's going to rain at some point today. Good. It should rain today. The world and the heavens and all the people below it should weep. As much as Lucien would have hated it. Tonight we shall drink, and we shall laugh, and we shall surely weep; and then tomorrow we will all continue to live and laugh and love and cry without him.

It is only right that the sky open up today, for him.

I gave Romana the day off; I wanted to keep busy until tonight and waiting tables is just the right type of normalcy my life needs so badly right now. War gods in the basement, dreams come walking in the spare room, a daughter that can create with a thought and the devil in the details... my life may never be normal again but tea is a soothing constant.

With a sigh, I pin up my hair and smooth out my grey dress. I'll put on colors later tonight, I still have Lucien's turquoise shirt, that will do. I sit down at the window table with my tea and stare out the window at nothing in particular as the few tables of customers I have provide a pleasing drone of noise in the background.

Open to Mab, Fiona and Dana
[identity profile] danashee.livejournal.com
Wednesday September 17,  morning
Somewhere between Fiona's home and school




There is a feeling of danger to the air this morning so I am sticking closer than usual to my goddaughter. The town feels a bit too much like the border between the Seelie and Unseelie lands. Those shifting lands where nothing stays the same except for the danger. It is not quite the same, for not everything shifts here, though there is that sense that nothing is quite as fixed as it usually is.



Perhaps that is why my glamour slipped. I was trying to keep an eye out for the danger I sensed as well as keep track of one little girl and keep myself close to her  And unseen. That last task proved too much for me it seems.



As the little girl twirls around and I see her eyes widen and know that she has seen me.



[Open to Fiona]
[identity profile] silence-excolo.livejournal.com
Tuesday, May 18 [Day 352]
About noon
Along the river by the bridge


For too long I've been... directionless. No, that's not the right word. Letting Fate take the reins, I've had direction, but... but I've not really chosen, just followed the pull, never knowing why. Just going, knowing I'll eventually learn, eventually be needed. Part of me knows, just knows that, were my memories intact - but they're not. Knitting slowly, yes, the fragments coming together, but still so much gone.

I wish...

But at least there's work, & people for company when I need it. Zahn, although I've not seen much of her lately - she seems a bit off, somehow. Syl, whatever we may be. Not enemies, at least. Dana... And there's Nu- Ptah-Naunet, but she likes to be called Nu, & we had missed him so much more than I'd realized. I watch the river bubble & ripple & think of them. People I never thought I would need.

I mean, for the longest time- heh. For the longest time I knew nothing of myself beyond that day I woke up & saw everything burning, smoldering. Everything I knew was gone, which I couldn't understand because I didn't know anything. I just... knew. And for the next century I wandered, following one path after another, trying so hard to find something, anything that could lead me somewhere, but I didn't know if it was to... or away. 100 years... & there's still so much missing! I wish I could speed it up, somehow pull my mind together faster. Maybe I'd finally understand what drew me here.

I know I'm here for a reason, some purpose I've not yet discovered. But will I know in time? Will I know before... it ends? Because everything ends. Eventually.

Will I know before the end?

[Open to Dana]
[identity profile] silence-excolo.livejournal.com
Tuesday, May 18 [Day 352]
About noon
Along the river by the bridge


For too long I've been... directionless. No, that's not the right word. Letting Fate take the reins, I've had direction, but... but I've not really chosen, just followed the pull, never knowing why. Just going, knowing I'll eventually learn, eventually be needed. Part of me knows, just knows that, were my memories intact - but they're not. Knitting slowly, yes, the fragments coming together, but still so much gone.

I wish...

But at least there's work, & people for company when I need it. Zahn, although I've not seen much of her lately - she seems a bit off, somehow. Syl, whatever we may be. Not enemies, at least. Dana... And there's Nu- Ptah-Naunet, but she likes to be called Nu, & we had missed him so much more than I'd realized. I watch the river bubble & ripple & think of them. People I never thought I would need.

I mean, for the longest time- heh. For the longest time I knew nothing of myself beyond that day I woke up & saw everything burning, smoldering. Everything I knew was gone, which I couldn't understand because I didn't know anything. I just... knew. And for the next century I wandered, following one path after another, trying so hard to find something, anything that could lead me somewhere, but I didn't know if it was to... or away. 100 years... & there's still so much missing! I wish I could speed it up, somehow pull my mind together faster. Maybe I'd finally understand what drew me here.

I know I'm here for a reason, some purpose I've not yet discovered. But will I know in time? Will I know before... it ends? Because everything ends. Eventually.

Will I know before the end?

[Open to Dana]
[identity profile] fairy-fiona.livejournal.com
Thursday, May 6th, late afternoon
Main Street

School was okay today because Trina wasn't there. And Daniel was back from being sick and he moved his seat so he was right next to me so I could look at him the whole day! But I'm still glad it's over so I can go outside again.

But now I'm bored! Daddy's working and so is Miao and just about everybody, and Kitty's out wandering or hunting or something, and I don't want to do homework yet.

Where should I go?

Maybe I'll go visit Miss Wanda at the tea shop? I don't know. It's fun to visit, but I kind of don't want to talk to Miss Wanda right now 'cause I don't want to make her feel bad even though I have to tell her sometime that there's something wrong with the baby. It's sad because the baby is really cute and I like playing with her! And Miss Wanda was so nice to help out with my birthday party, too! She had enough fairy wings for everyone to wear.

No! I'll go visit Sparkle instead! I know I can't ride her without someone to watch me, but I can talk to her and braid her mane. I think I have some ribbons in my schoolbag left over from the last time I visited. I hope they let me visit her...

[Open to Dana, Cece, and Mab]
[identity profile] fairy-fiona.livejournal.com
Thursday, May 6th, late afternoon
Main Street

School was okay today because Trina wasn't there. And Daniel was back from being sick and he moved his seat so he was right next to me so I could look at him the whole day! But I'm still glad it's over so I can go outside again.

But now I'm bored! Daddy's working and so is Miao and just about everybody, and Kitty's out wandering or hunting or something, and I don't want to do homework yet.

Where should I go?

Maybe I'll go visit Miss Wanda at the tea shop? I don't know. It's fun to visit, but I kind of don't want to talk to Miss Wanda right now 'cause I don't want to make her feel bad even though I have to tell her sometime that there's something wrong with the baby. It's sad because the baby is really cute and I like playing with her! And Miss Wanda was so nice to help out with my birthday party, too! She had enough fairy wings for everyone to wear.

No! I'll go visit Sparkle instead! I know I can't ride her without someone to watch me, but I can talk to her and braid her mane. I think I have some ribbons in my schoolbag left over from the last time I visited. I hope they let me visit her...

[Open to Dana, Cece, and Mab]
[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.
[identity profile] npc-excolo.livejournal.com
Time has little meaning here, though your body back home may disagree.

Dream.

A forest.


A forest of the oldest sort, thick with brambles, trees snarled with centuries of life. It stretches for miles, many of them very dark, because the trees grow so close that it is hard to see. From a high vantage point, on one of the hills of the forest, one may glimpse a tower at the heart of the forest, a great graceful column of grey stone. Here and there there are clearings, bright with sunlight, and streams running with clear water. But mostly there is dark.

In the distance, the howl of a wolf.


[OPEN TO ALL]
[identity profile] npc-excolo.livejournal.com
Time has little meaning here, though your body back home may disagree.

Dream.

A forest.


A forest of the oldest sort, thick with brambles, trees snarled with centuries of life. It stretches for miles, many of them very dark, because the trees grow so close that it is hard to see. From a high vantage point, on one of the hills of the forest, one may glimpse a tower at the heart of the forest, a great graceful column of grey stone. Here and there there are clearings, bright with sunlight, and streams running with clear water. But mostly there is dark.

In the distance, the howl of a wolf.


[OPEN TO ALL]
[identity profile] valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com
March 18th, lunchtime

It's a bright breezy day, a day that feels like spring, clear sky and a cool clean smell in the air. And - the world has not ended. I found out yesterday that Wanda had her baby, even sooner than I expected, and there was no rain of fire, no earth shaken open. It doesn't mean there won't be, further down the line, but for now we are safe.

There are daffodils in the park, and in bunches outside the florist's. I buy a bunch and take it, with a box of baked goods from Edmund's, over to the Dormouse. I'll have to find something for the baby at the Saturday market, but for now this will do - food always comes in handy, since I doubt Wanda will be in the mood to cook. I ask Romana to pass them on when she sees Wanda, and then I walk back out into the sunshine.

I'm in no mood for sitting indoors, and so I buy a coffee to go from the cafe and take it to the park, where I find a bench and light a cigarette. I will be working in the bar tonight because Peter's off - a death in the family, I don't know the details - but...

I think about that old story of the Angel of Death, and wonder if this is what it felt like the morning after, when people looked at the blood on their doors and knew that it had worked. Safe. For now.

[closed]
[identity profile] valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com
March 18th, lunchtime

It's a bright breezy day, a day that feels like spring, clear sky and a cool clean smell in the air. And - the world has not ended. I found out yesterday that Wanda had her baby, even sooner than I expected, and there was no rain of fire, no earth shaken open. It doesn't mean there won't be, further down the line, but for now we are safe.

There are daffodils in the park, and in bunches outside the florist's. I buy a bunch and take it, with a box of baked goods from Edmund's, over to the Dormouse. I'll have to find something for the baby at the Saturday market, but for now this will do - food always comes in handy, since I doubt Wanda will be in the mood to cook. I ask Romana to pass them on when she sees Wanda, and then I walk back out into the sunshine.

I'm in no mood for sitting indoors, and so I buy a coffee to go from the cafe and take it to the park, where I find a bench and light a cigarette. I will be working in the bar tonight because Peter's off - a death in the family, I don't know the details - but...

I think about that old story of the Angel of Death, and wonder if this is what it felt like the morning after, when people looked at the blood on their doors and knew that it had worked. Safe. For now.

[closed]
[identity profile] npc-excolo.livejournal.com
Sunday, February 14th
Valentine's Day


I sit on my bed with my legs crossed, writing real careful in my notebook. MRS CLARA GRANGER I write, all tidy, then underneath I practice my signature. Clara Granger. That nice man at the market swore it wouldn't take too long for him to propose after he drank the potion. After I practice my signature a few times I write our names together. PETER AND CLARA, and I put them inside a nice big heart.

I hear Momma shouting for me and I sigh. I know she won't approve when Peter and I get together, cos he is a bunch older than me and she says seventeen is way too young to settle down. But I know she married Pop at nineteen, so she's just a hypocrite. And Peter's a real good catch - got his own job, his own place. There's that Maya of course to worry about, I think, and I push my pencil a bit too hard into the page and the point breaks. But once Peter's had the potion he won't remember that he likes her. I just need to work out how to get it to him.

Momma shouts again.

"Coming!" I shout. I know she wants me to go to that dumb Valentine's market and help her sell quilts. Ugh. But Peter might be around town, so I check my hair is nice before I go down.

***


This punch just don't look too appetising. I sigh and shout for Clara again. What is that girl doing? Probably dreaming about that barman. She thinks I don't know she's moony about him. I'm just glad he's got a sweetheart, or else he might go for my Clara - she's real pretty and men like adoring girls. He's much too old for her. I taste the punch and it's real nice, course it is, made from our fruits, but the colour just don't pop. Feeling a bit guilty, I get out some food colourant and drop it in, and it goes a nice reddish colour. That's about right for Valentine's, ain't it? I stopper up the barrel. Clara comes down.

"Get those quilts in the cart, will you?" I say, hustling her out and then getting the punch on the wagon. Roads are clear, so we get set up easy. Just a few stalls for this - jewellery, flowers, all kinds of novelties. I put out the prettiest quilts - maybe some guy'll think one'd make a nice present for his wife, and more practical than earbobs - and set up the punch.

"Free punch, sir?" I say, holding out a cup. After a bit of prodding I get Clara dishing up punch too. Hopefully it'll be a good day.

[OPEN]
[Closed]
[identity profile] npc-excolo.livejournal.com
Sunday, February 14th
Valentine's Day


I sit on my bed with my legs crossed, writing real careful in my notebook. MRS CLARA GRANGER I write, all tidy, then underneath I practice my signature. Clara Granger. That nice man at the market swore it wouldn't take too long for him to propose after he drank the potion. After I practice my signature a few times I write our names together. PETER AND CLARA, and I put them inside a nice big heart.

I hear Momma shouting for me and I sigh. I know she won't approve when Peter and I get together, cos he is a bunch older than me and she says seventeen is way too young to settle down. But I know she married Pop at nineteen, so she's just a hypocrite. And Peter's a real good catch - got his own job, his own place. There's that Maya of course to worry about, I think, and I push my pencil a bit too hard into the page and the point breaks. But once Peter's had the potion he won't remember that he likes her. I just need to work out how to get it to him.

Momma shouts again.

"Coming!" I shout. I know she wants me to go to that dumb Valentine's market and help her sell quilts. Ugh. But Peter might be around town, so I check my hair is nice before I go down.

***


This punch just don't look too appetising. I sigh and shout for Clara again. What is that girl doing? Probably dreaming about that barman. She thinks I don't know she's moony about him. I'm just glad he's got a sweetheart, or else he might go for my Clara - she's real pretty and men like adoring girls. He's much too old for her. I taste the punch and it's real nice, course it is, made from our fruits, but the colour just don't pop. Feeling a bit guilty, I get out some food colourant and drop it in, and it goes a nice reddish colour. That's about right for Valentine's, ain't it? I stopper up the barrel. Clara comes down.

"Get those quilts in the cart, will you?" I say, hustling her out and then getting the punch on the wagon. Roads are clear, so we get set up easy. Just a few stalls for this - jewellery, flowers, all kinds of novelties. I put out the prettiest quilts - maybe some guy'll think one'd make a nice present for his wife, and more practical than earbobs - and set up the punch.

"Free punch, sir?" I say, holding out a cup. After a bit of prodding I get Clara dishing up punch too. Hopefully it'll be a good day.

[OPEN]
[Closed]
[identity profile] danashee.livejournal.com
Tuesday Feburuary 9th (day 254)
Just before Dawn
Dana's room at the Whitechapel Inn

Running. Running through corridors and tunnels. Through old faded tapestries and cobwebs and dustsheets. Always running, never slowing or stopping. Can't stop! Oak and ash, I cannot stop! To stop is to get caught and to get caught means never getting out, never being free.

I hear the calls behind me, they are getting closer, I must move faster. Hounds belling and worse, the chime of harness bells and clatter of horses hooves. Above that the ceaseless, remorseless whispers. Telling me it's my turn. That I'm next. They did it, for love the Queen and  the fair Summerlands and now it's my turn. Don't you love Her? Don't you love your home? Don't you love us?

I run faster but  still they follow, still they are catching up, I feel the hot breaths of the horses on my neck. Cu sith nip at my heels, and a hand touches my shoulder; cold as the grave. I know whose hand this is. My sister, gone these last seven years.. Gone to Hell. I duck my shoulder out of her grasp and dart down a new passageway that has just opened up for me. It it short and narrow, I have to bend double under earthen roof and squeeze through on my knees. And still the hounds follow. Tears run down my face and I am gasping for air but still I press onwards.  I reach the end of the tunnel and murmur the charm that opens the door.

It opens! But too slowly, the first of the hounds reaches me and I kick backwards in fear and panic. Tumbling out amid yelps and barks onto the riverbank. I cannot utter the words of the closing charm. A cu sith has pounced upon my chest and I cannot breathe. Cannot utter the words. We grapple and roll like puppies but the fight is deadly earnest. Finally I tear him loose and roll downhill to the water.

Blood soaks my hair and dress;  hot, thick, wet and nearly chocking me. I struggle upright and  a voice, kindly like a favorite aunt or grandmother says, Strip those wet things off, dear.  And hand them over. That's a good girl. My fingers shake as I do as I am bid.  The wind that strikes is cold, burningly so, it cuts through my shift as if said garment was already off. Worse than the wind in the Excolo, this wind is Winter's Breath and it chills me all the way through. I summon fire to me and the hag at my side sucks in her breath and smacks the back of my head so my ears ring.

None o' that me dear! She cries at the top of  her lungs it seems, Don't be wasting your fire on that. Save it for a real emergency! The cold creeps down from my head freezing me in place til I can't feel my toes despite the previous heat of the blood river.  My lungs hitch as the very breath in them freezes solid and I realize I am stuck. A statue of myself. I cannot move and never will again. I  am doomed to stand right here, so near to the freedom I sought  but unable to reach it and unable to die because statues don't die and neither do fae unless the right conditions are met. These are not the right conditions. My last breath sighs out of my lungs and the last tears slide down my unfeeling cheeks. The final darkness closes in on me and I feel despair rise in my heart.

*                *                                   *                                *                                   *                           *                              *                 *
                                                                                                                                                         

My eyes snap open and I suck in a deep breath. The air is a bit chilly but nowhere near as cold as Winter's Breath, I shiver and burrow deep into the blankets of my rented bed.  I look to the window and she by light it is dawn. Slowly I relax. It was a dream, this did not happen. And here in  the Iron World it cannot happen. Not like that.  But I will not go back to sleep, I think. Not just yet.

                                                                                                 [closed]
[identity profile] danashee.livejournal.com
Tuesday Feburuary 9th (day 254)
Just before Dawn
Dana's room at the Whitechapel Inn

Running. Running through corridors and tunnels. Through old faded tapestries and cobwebs and dustsheets. Always running, never slowing or stopping. Can't stop! Oak and ash, I cannot stop! To stop is to get caught and to get caught means never getting out, never being free.

I hear the calls behind me, they are getting closer, I must move faster. Hounds belling and worse, the chime of harness bells and clatter of horses hooves. Above that the ceaseless, remorseless whispers. Telling me it's my turn. That I'm next. They did it, for love the Queen and  the fair Summerlands and now it's my turn. Don't you love Her? Don't you love your home? Don't you love us?

I run faster but  still they follow, still they are catching up, I feel the hot breaths of the horses on my neck. Cu sith nip at my heels, and a hand touches my shoulder; cold as the grave. I know whose hand this is. My sister, gone these last seven years.. Gone to Hell. I duck my shoulder out of her grasp and dart down a new passageway that has just opened up for me. It it short and narrow, I have to bend double under earthen roof and squeeze through on my knees. And still the hounds follow. Tears run down my face and I am gasping for air but still I press onwards.  I reach the end of the tunnel and murmur the charm that opens the door.

It opens! But too slowly, the first of the hounds reaches me and I kick backwards in fear and panic. Tumbling out amid yelps and barks onto the riverbank. I cannot utter the words of the closing charm. A cu sith has pounced upon my chest and I cannot breathe. Cannot utter the words. We grapple and roll like puppies but the fight is deadly earnest. Finally I tear him loose and roll downhill to the water.

Blood soaks my hair and dress;  hot, thick, wet and nearly chocking me. I struggle upright and  a voice, kindly like a favorite aunt or grandmother says, Strip those wet things off, dear.  And hand them over. That's a good girl. My fingers shake as I do as I am bid.  The wind that strikes is cold, burningly so, it cuts through my shift as if said garment was already off. Worse than the wind in the Excolo, this wind is Winter's Breath and it chills me all the way through. I summon fire to me and the hag at my side sucks in her breath and smacks the back of my head so my ears ring.

None o' that me dear! She cries at the top of  her lungs it seems, Don't be wasting your fire on that. Save it for a real emergency! The cold creeps down from my head freezing me in place til I can't feel my toes despite the previous heat of the blood river.  My lungs hitch as the very breath in them freezes solid and I realize I am stuck. A statue of myself. I cannot move and never will again. I  am doomed to stand right here, so near to the freedom I sought  but unable to reach it and unable to die because statues don't die and neither do fae unless the right conditions are met. These are not the right conditions. My last breath sighs out of my lungs and the last tears slide down my unfeeling cheeks. The final darkness closes in on me and I feel despair rise in my heart.

*                *                                   *                                *                                   *                           *                              *                 *
                                                                                                                                                         

My eyes snap open and I suck in a deep breath. The air is a bit chilly but nowhere near as cold as Winter's Breath, I shiver and burrow deep into the blankets of my rented bed.  I look to the window and she by light it is dawn. Slowly I relax. It was a dream, this did not happen. And here in  the Iron World it cannot happen. Not like that.  But I will not go back to sleep, I think. Not just yet.

                                                                                                 [closed]
[identity profile] dorian-excolo.livejournal.com
[Wednesday, February 3rd (Day 248)]
[Mid-day, the Sacred Whore]

I believe I've gotten out of the habit of working for a living.  Not that it's ever been an real necessity, of course, but there was at least some joy to be found in the simpler things - organizing the shop, doing a few custom orders, trying to force the barest semblance of style onto ill-educated farmers and their homely wives.  Now?  Well, seeing as my customers have been elevated in my mind to something barely above pigs in rags...

Maybe I need a vacation.

True, I haven't actually been at the shop in a good while, but a break from work isn't what I mean.  A real and proper vacation, not just a few lazy days spent shacked up at the carnival.  As much as I may like to think whiskey and a good roll in a hay can solve all my problems, a nice break from Excolo is probably what I actually need.  Get away, forget for a while, and

And the look on Glass's face at that, well, it's enough to keep my suitcase under the bed for the time being.  As it is, I'll be lucky if she's not through the door with her hands around my throat any minute now.  Probably what I deserve but if that's the way the world worked, I think my life would have gone a little different, yes?

Damien is off running errands with Winnie come down with a nasty cold and so I'm left in the shop by myself, perched on the counter with a book and a glass of wine, trying my best not to think on anything at all.  Especially not the idea of little Winifred curled up in my bed where I left her.  Couldn't have the silly girl tending a cold in the pantry, even if she's still intent on pretending she doesn't sleep there.  No matter, she's sick.  No point in even dwelling on it.  Daydreaming, now that was perfectly acceptable.

[Open to Jarmyn and anyone else needing to look fabulous]
[identity profile] dorian-excolo.livejournal.com
[Wednesday, February 3rd (Day 248)]
[Mid-day, the Sacred Whore]

I believe I've gotten out of the habit of working for a living.  Not that it's ever been an real necessity, of course, but there was at least some joy to be found in the simpler things - organizing the shop, doing a few custom orders, trying to force the barest semblance of style onto ill-educated farmers and their homely wives.  Now?  Well, seeing as my customers have been elevated in my mind to something barely above pigs in rags...

Maybe I need a vacation.

True, I haven't actually been at the shop in a good while, but a break from work isn't what I mean.  A real and proper vacation, not just a few lazy days spent shacked up at the carnival.  As much as I may like to think whiskey and a good roll in a hay can solve all my problems, a nice break from Excolo is probably what I actually need.  Get away, forget for a while, and

And the look on Glass's face at that, well, it's enough to keep my suitcase under the bed for the time being.  As it is, I'll be lucky if she's not through the door with her hands around my throat any minute now.  Probably what I deserve but if that's the way the world worked, I think my life would have gone a little different, yes?

Damien is off running errands with Winnie come down with a nasty cold and so I'm left in the shop by myself, perched on the counter with a book and a glass of wine, trying my best not to think on anything at all.  Especially not the idea of little Winifred curled up in my bed where I left her.  Couldn't have the silly girl tending a cold in the pantry, even if she's still intent on pretending she doesn't sleep there.  No matter, she's sick.  No point in even dwelling on it.  Daydreaming, now that was perfectly acceptable.

[Open to Jarmyn and anyone else needing to look fabulous]
[identity profile] danashee.livejournal.com
Early evening
Monday February 1st
Bank above the Pontarlier river


 Oak and Ash, that was close!  I hurry down the deserted corridor heading for a door I hope no one else remembers, or at least is thinking of.  I press my right hand firmly against the blank wall in front of me and mutter the opening charm under my breath, keeping one ear out for anyone coming this way. I can feel the tingle that means the charm worked and the door is opening but the opening of the way is hardly instantaneous and so the danger remains. I slip through as soon as I can, reversing the charm as soon as I'm on the other side. 

I stand up on the low grassy bank and take in the scene. Twilight and the sky is a lovely shade of blue fading into indigo as night comes on. There's a river running below the bold angular strokes of a bridge farther down. There will be a road nearby and a town. I take  a breath of air, damp with recent rain and crisp with winter's fading bite, I  start moving towards the bridge and its promised road. It would not do to stand around waiting for someone to discover me. Hopefully I'll reach town tonight, otherwise I'll keep moving.  The Iron World is said to be many things, tonight it is cold.

I slip down to the river just before I reach the bridge to look for pebbles. I find and take a  double handful of the smooth round stones and drop them into my belt pouch. If it's not too late when I get into town I can find the inn and pay for a place to sleep. As I come back up the bank heading for the road I pull on a basic glamour, the only changes the things I need to make me seem human. Including the addition of a nice thick cloak. I know it won't actually cut the chill from the air but a good glamour covers all senses and I have no wish to to feel the true state of things so I make no exceptions for myself. Instead I pull my illusory cloak a little tighter and walk a little faster as I reach the bridge and stand there looking around to get my bearings.

[Closed]

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