[identity profile] gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com
Before Dawn
The fields and woods


Of course I went to him, kneeling before him, and he blessed me with his touch and his essence. He said that I could stay if I wished, but I said no, I would run with his fire, perhaps draw them away, but I also knew that he would want to do this alone. I understand that. He kissed me, then, and told me we would go together, even if he fell, we would go together into the shadow. And I took that knowledge, that comfort, with me as I vanished into the woods.

I knew the moment the battle began, between Sugaar and the cunt from the Carnival, the miserable piece of godspawn their leaders shat out. I knew, and I gnashed my teeth and howled and gnawed at my own legs at Sugaar's pain, but I wouldn't interfere. I understand the need to fight your own battles.

But if he had died, if he had died, you fucking rancid piece of spirit-scum, you would have found me in the shadows, all teeth and rage, oh yes you would

But he didn't die. He didn't win, but he didn't die, and I stayed away when they came to him again, because I knew that he wouldn't want me witnessing his humiliation. I lay and I moaned as the fuckers came to him, and then...

He isn't dead. I would know the very moment he died, because my heart would shatter. But he is...diminished. The feel of him in this world and the next has faded, his star has winked out, leaving nothing but the flickering candleglow that the rest of the meat-beings in this world give off. And I knew. Of course. Under other circumstances I'd admire the fucking sadism.

Your soul stays with you... until the end of things. And then you can come with me into the dark.

But now the end of things had come, and there is no dark to follow my master into...there is only a dimness, a flickering flame that could be snuffed out at any time. And I am still here.

I rage in the last hours of the night. Most of the beasts have already fled, but I find the stupid, the blind, the young and the old that were left behind. I paint the forest in blood as I howl, froth dripping from my jaws, the darkness shuddering around me. Perhaps I should weep, but instead there is fury, and there is blood, and there is the dark.

Dawn is streaking the sky when I come back to myself, my fur matted with blood, strings of meat tangling between my teeth. I should take man again, but for once I see little point. It would be going into that same, crippled, half-existence no matter what form I took, and that makes me gnash my teeth and wish for more small creatures to rend and tear.

But it's then that I think. Sugaar was forced from his bright star-body into this meat form, stripped and reduced and diminished. And I can't change that, no matter how hard I wish, no matter what sacrifice I made. But perhaps there's another sacrifice I can make. A choice. It would be just like sliding into the shadow, shedding this body as a snake sheds its skin...but this time the dark would take more, as it has always wanted. And I would let it.

I remember Aatxe, lying in the mud and his own filth, staring at me with stupid cow's eyes. I remember how I hated him.

Forgive me, old friend. I understand you better now. I think, raising my head to meet the dawn for the last time.

****

And so it is, several hours later, that a great black dog with a tangled, muddy coat found the boy who wept and raged against the earth. The boy, wracked with sobs, and with furrows down his cheeks. And the dog, wagging his tail with dumb, animal hope, pressed his nose against the boy's hand and began to lick the blood from his fingers.

[OPEN to IBLIS]
[identity profile] al-shairan.livejournal.com
I hear the Rapture's coming;
They say He'll be here soon.
Right now there's demons crawling all around my room.
[x]

Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken the love you had at first. Consider how far you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first.
(Rev. 2:4-5)

Before dawn

The death of their child draws Management's attention, as I had hoped. For even in their ancient, strange heart they have room for affection, and for rage. In their fury they let their attention fall from the river, and I could see clearly my opponents. Mere humans, most of them!

I sent out what followers I have, in this place. Men, and beasts, and god-things; crawling and walking, they went out with my power in their mouths and hands, so that they breathed blood and flame. I intended them as distraction, mainly, to stop the goddess's work being done. If they were delayed long enough in their magics, the tear in the world would be too far gone to be mended. So the sky rained not just with Nanshe, but with fire and with plague, and I saw men strangle their neighbours on the banks of the Pontarlier. Gaueko came out to me, and I thanked him, and said I would take him with me when I fall for the very last time; but my immediate business could be done by me alone. He would be welcome to wait. I think a part of me is glad that though I may burn myself out of existence alone, he may follow me into the dark.

Meanwhile, Management came for me.

I knew that they would challenge me; but it seems my pride had not let me realise how very much of a challenge they are. We moved between worlds and times as we struggled, and there was a strange fierce pleasure in it, the difficulty of it. Have I ever been so pressed? Not since I wrestled with my brother and he flung me down. It took a century, our struggle, in the places between moments, and in the end I had them by the throat (figuratively, for they have never had throats) and could have cast them beyond this world for always...

And I saw Tezcatlipoca die. My Night Wind. Not dying as a god, but as a boy, as stupid simple Micah, falling crumpled to his knees, and although I know the end is coming for us all I still cried out, a high keening sound that broke the windows of the abbey one by one.

Management had me under them, then, their fist curled into the heart of me, the spark of creation in the palm of their not-hand, ready to be blinked out

My dear, he told you he would betray you, they said, all laughter...and I realised they had deceived me. It was a cheap ruse, a false vision. And so Tez has betrayed me again, though not by his action, no. It is my feelings for him that have betrayed me, and if I have ever been a fool in my thousand thousand years on this earth it is overshadowed by this moment.

"That seems to be stretching a technicality," I say coolly, and their laughter is broken glass and bells. I am thinking of how to free myself, for surely I can; I am al-Shairan, إبليس, Iblis, He who Brings Despair; I have thrown over civilisations. I was most Beloved, and now I am most Feared.

But I feel that the tide of the battle has turned, and the moment has been lost. There will not be another moment aligned like this for centuries, perhaps millennia, and all these weary years I have waited have been for nothing.

"Do it, then," I say, with the weight of my despair behind me. "You have won. Crush me and be done." Part of me is relieved, that I can be done, even if I have failed. For I have always known in my secret heart, have I not, that I would fail? That I am Despair, and I can have no success, not in the end.

Kill you? Blot you out? Our dear friend, whatever makes you think we are merciful?

It takes a long time, what they are doing, and it is very terrible. But I am used to pain, and if they want to torture me before they kill me, I can endure.

And then I realise what it is they have done to me. I feel nothing beyond the boundaries of my own flesh; I can hear nothing but with my ears, and my sight is clear and small. I feel the press of flesh around me like a prison.

We bless you, they say, still laughing, with long life, and a natural death.

I scream, then, until my throat is torn, and I have scratched my face open with my nails. But it is not a scream that breaks glass, and my skin does not heal when I will it. I am just this. Only this. Man.
[identity profile] tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com
I felt her die, the girl. Beginning.

The end of worlds. Part of me knows this. But there's always been another after, and this time there won't be. And I should be glad. But the part of me that's young and saw some of the world with the Carnival and had that day with Brant and loves - too many people - I don't know. But I am tired. So tired, since that day. And this was what Management brought me back for, and what I was meant for from the beginning.

All of the parts of me, thought - the old god, the man who was Tez, and the me that's Micah - know where I belong, though. He always said that I'd betray him. I always thought I'd have a plan. Instead there's just rain, and me wondering whether, if we'd had a child, if would have been that one that'd died to begin this.

I wonder what Management will do. I can feel them in the night, as I can feel the dead goddess in the rain. None of this is very well organised. I wonder where Genny is, and Valmont.

I could make the earth shake again under my feet as I go, if I wanted. I could be the spaces beneath the earth and between the stars. I'm not. I'm just getting wet. But I know where he is. I always know.
[identity profile] atrarosa.livejournal.com
The time we have been waiting for. After sunset.

I put on a purple dress, to help me be brave. I grew out of my favourite one - I grow out of everything so fast - but Mama got me a new one. It's meant to be for going to parties, but I won't be going to any more of them. But I don't want to think about that right now. It makes my stomach hurt.

Mama made me go to bed not too long ago. She says that even though I'm a big girl now, I still need lots of sleep. I always argue with Mama about bed time, so I made sure to argue this time too, so she wouldn't think anything was strange. And I made my mind quieten down when I was lying in bed, so she'd think I was falling asleep. Mama's clever. But I know lots of tricks now. I can hide my thoughts, if I want. So I got up, and I got dressed, and I snuck out. Father told me I would know how to, when I needed to, and he was right.

So I go out of the house, and I go towards the tower. I have to walk through the field to get there, and the grass is so high. It looks creepy in the dark. But I know nothing will happen to me, because Father is watching. He wouldn't let anything happen, not before I do what he wants me to do. But I'm still scared, all the same.

[Open to Iblis]
[closed]
[identity profile] al-shairan.livejournal.com

An August Evening; The Tower

My daughter is ready; and so am I. Matters have come into alignment. There have been various points throughout the history of this little lump of rock when stars, skies, oceans, calendars, however one marks time, have read that this is a time of Ending, rather then Beginning. Many have tried to make use of those times to bring about the end of all things, because ever since Man was made, he has longed to kill himself and others. But despite all the rumours to the contrary, I have not put my shoulder to the wheel of Apocalypse before now. Things have been done in one of my many names, but I have not led those attempts. Now is the time for finishing, and I will begin it. With blood, of course. It is always blood. It will be when the moon is darkest. That time comes soon.

For now, I see one of my acolytes cross the field to speak with me. This man thinks he wants an end to all things, but he barely understands what it is he serves. Poor fool. I am not much given to looking human, at present, but I put on something that will serve. A man's body, aristocratic in bearing. Flame lies just beneath the surface of its glassy skin. I will not be contained for long.

[open to Foxton]
CLOSED
[identity profile] al-shairan.livejournal.com
Evening of Tuesday, 12 June; The Tavern of Hell

It is these pauses that are our undoing. It is then that sedition enters the fortress and our troops rise in insurrection. Once before he had paused, and love with its horrid rout, its shawms, its cymbals, and its heads with gory locks torn from the shoulders had burst in....

I wore this body here once. It was a wet night; I remember how this body stumbled, a knee going down into the dirt. The witch's mouth on mine, tasting of cigarettes. I was grieving for the Night Wind then; I am always grieving for him, it seems. Or myself. It is a fine line.

That grief was for how he had betrayed me, what he had made me feel. This grief... If I did not know better, I would say it has a taste of regret to it. That is a different savour than other sorrows; a bilious feeling, a sick pain under the ribs.  (Bodies are so useful for these articulations.) Something that feels regret can feel remorse, and that can lead to reconciliation; and those are things I will never have.

I thought I had known sorrow; but these feelings are - different enough in a way that is... unbearable. I have endured for so long. But not for much longer. I have decided to move matters on apace, faster than I planned. I had thought to wait until Rose was ready for her first blood; the symbolism appealed. But though I think she would reach that in three years, I am impatient now, as I have not been in a long time.

Come, reap.

I pick up my glass and drain it.

[Open]
[identity profile] al-shairan.livejournal.com
From here. Iblis freed Micah!Tez from his bond to Management, and then gave him an unexpected gift.
*
"You had a riding crop once. I remember."

I drop my head forward again, and I look at him through my lashes. I remember looking at him like before.

"I don't remember that. But I would like to, I think." I eat my pie, tart berry and sweet pastry. "Eat your pie," I say, smiling, "and then find somewhere you can remind me of lots of things like that."

[ac: sex, some blood, as you might expect. Schmoop warning! ;)]
[closed]
[identity profile] tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com
The Carnival
June 3


Three years. Nearly, anyway. I've been angry the whole time.

I wanted to know why we left. I wanted to know why he didn't come and find me. I wanted things to be alright with Syl again. I wanted - want - to find a way to punish Management for what they did. I wanted things to be right. I wanted to go home.

The Carnival used to be home. It's not any more. I realised that soon after we left town. Leaving hurt, like something tearing in me. And even if I wasn't missing - people - things weren't how they used to be. I can't do the sort of show I used to, and if I could I don't like people looking at me, now. Working as a roustie's been different from being a turn.

I couldn't leave, so I wrote. Letters to Valmont and Alice, long and rambling, talking about what I saw and some of what I felt. And I sent - things, to Iblis. I started writing to him, one night in some nameless place when I missed him so much it hurt, and when I touched the paper after I could feel that pain throbbing out of it. I burned it and buried the ashes, but a while later I put that same longing into a carefully-pressed flower, a reminder of another time, and sent that.

I never got a reply, but I sent other things, from time to time. My anger like a spring-coil in a page torn from a book. Fear, as a kind of dry joke, in a handful of dust. I never sent any letters, just - moments. Pieces of myself. I don't know if he got them.

And now I'm back here and he's still caught in me like a fish-hook. And I want to see Valmont and Alice, and Glass as well (I stole a book for her once and sent it, delicate drawings of herbs). Other people, maybe. His child. I'm twenty now, in this body at least, and I look more like a man.

And I think I know why we've come back. I have my own plans now.

[OPEN]
[identity profile] al-shairan.livejournal.com
Sunday, 21 September
The Dormouse

Now our luck may have died and out love may
Be cold but with you forever I'll stay
We're goin' out where the sand's turnin' to gold
So put on your stockings cos the night's getting' cold
And maybe everything dies
That's a fact but maybe everything that dies
Some day comes back

Something curious happened. Not the disruption to the world from the breach into Dream; that, while unusual, is hardly an unknown event, and the resulting chaos was mundane. No, I mean something more interesting, and pertaining to my daughter. Wanda's hapless dream of Kent - her abiding devotion to a phantom would be touching if I did not find it pitiable - meant a little aspect of myself turned from conjured flesh into real man, like Eve born from Adam's bone. But my daughter unstitched him from the fabric of dream... And gave him a soul. Not much of one, true, but he is no longer a mere flesh doll that walks and talks. There is some spark inside him that means he is nothing of me any more. How very curious.

It is easy enough for me to shrug on a new version of him, of course. The idea of Wanda having to deal with the two of us at once is vaguely amusing to me. And I want to see my daughter. So I cross through the town and knock gently on her door.

[Open to Wanda's household]
[identity profile] goddessnanshe.livejournal.com
Morning of 21st June

It's still raining, though not as heavily as earlier, but I couldn't wait any longer to come out here and see what has happened. I was wakened in the early hours of Sunday by a strange feeling of pressure and brilliant light, but my cell was completely dark. I walked through the abbey, and all was still and shadowed. Anyone else would say I had just had a dream - but I know there is no just to dreams.

In the afternoon, one of the novices came back from gathering in the woods to say that there was the strangest sight: a charred circle, as if lightning had struck and destroyed a neat section of the forest. Something about this oddity set my teeth on edge, and I was resolved to see it; but I had duties at the abbey in the evening, and I would not shirk them.

Today I woke to a downpour, but I have borrowed a raincoat from Sister Dove - she is slighter than me, and so it is a little tight, but it will do - and wrapped up my hair with a scarf to help shield it from the rain, since carrying an umbrella into the woods seems foolish - and I start walking the couple of miles to where Novice Diana said she saw the circle.

[OPEN][closed]
[identity profile] goddessnanshe.livejournal.com
Morning of 21st June

It's still raining, though not as heavily as earlier, but I couldn't wait any longer to come out here and see what has happened. I was wakened in the early hours of Sunday by a strange feeling of pressure and brilliant light, but my cell was completely dark. I walked through the abbey, and all was still and shadowed. Anyone else would say I had just had a dream - but I know there is no just to dreams.

In the afternoon, one of the novices came back from gathering in the woods to say that there was the strangest sight: a charred circle, as if lightning had struck and destroyed a neat section of the forest. Something about this oddity set my teeth on edge, and I was resolved to see it; but I had duties at the abbey in the evening, and I would not shirk them.

Today I woke to a downpour, but I have borrowed a raincoat from Sister Dove - she is slighter than me, and so it is a little tight, but it will do - and wrapped up my hair with a scarf to help shield it from the rain, since carrying an umbrella into the woods seems foolish - and I start walking the couple of miles to where Novice Diana said she saw the circle.

[OPEN][closed]
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com

Continued from here )
Another Wednesday rears it's ugly head in Excolo.  Wanda, in a fit of melancholy, finds herself pining for her husband, and examining her own changing feelings for him.  It calls to him, and Iblis shows up in Kent form.  As always, she is lulled into the fantasy when he is kind to her, and finds her mood and morning much improved.

Unfortunately, Micah!Tez happens by, and Iblis decides to have a bit of fun at both their expenses.  Manages to make both of them jealous, which ends in a very pissed off Wanda Micah and hauling him away.  Mab shows up and takes Micah away, leaving Wanda to deal with Iblis.

Finding herself right back in the mood she started the morning in, and having her worst fears confirmed.... she asks for a divorce.

"I used you, Wanda. Initially for my own amusement, and then to get the child that I wanted. The sooner you accept that, the better you will fare, and whilst it matters little to me I would rather you were well for the sake of our daughter.  I quite liked you, before you fell in love with me. Perhaps you should find that old strength again. I will never love you, but I respect you more now than I have done for some time."

(Open to Iblis, Tez and Mab)

[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com

Continued from here )
Another Wednesday rears it's ugly head in Excolo.  Wanda, in a fit of melancholy, finds herself pining for her husband, and examining her own changing feelings for him.  It calls to him, and Iblis shows up in Kent form.  As always, she is lulled into the fantasy when he is kind to her, and finds her mood and morning much improved.

Unfortunately, Micah!Tez happens by, and Iblis decides to have a bit of fun at both their expenses.  Manages to make both of them jealous, which ends in a very pissed off Wanda Micah and hauling him away.  Mab shows up and takes Micah away, leaving Wanda to deal with Iblis.

Finding herself right back in the mood she started the morning in, and having her worst fears confirmed.... she asks for a divorce.

"I used you, Wanda. Initially for my own amusement, and then to get the child that I wanted. The sooner you accept that, the better you will fare, and whilst it matters little to me I would rather you were well for the sake of our daughter.  I quite liked you, before you fell in love with me. Perhaps you should find that old strength again. I will never love you, but I respect you more now than I have done for some time."

(Open to Iblis, Tez and Mab)

[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com

Wednesday, late morning, June 9
The garden of The Dormouse


I should not be awake.  I should still be in bed sleeping, like Rose is.  Romana is here, I could go back to bed.  I may give into that urge.  After all, I spent half the night sitting on this very bench, singing to the snow and stars.

Rose went to bed easily last night, and I should have followed... but I could only stare out the window at the snow, glinting in my yard from the soft glow of the lamp.  Before I could think better of it, I was outside.  Wrapped in my comforter, I sat for hours under my willow, staring up at the crystal clear sky.  I also turned on the faerie lights, glad to see they still worked.  There I sat, the stars and the lights glimmering above me, the world's noise muted by a blanket of snow.  And then I sang... quietly at first.  Letting my voice merge with the quiet tones, Gabriel's Message, White Christmas, I'll be home for Christmas, lovely and low songs.  As the music swelled, so did my voice.  I sang Silent Night; first in English, then switching to the Gaelic my Grandmother taught me.  My soul swelling with joy, I continued to O Holy Night, my voice spiralling to the stars and next to God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. 

O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy!

O, star of wonder, star of night,
Star with royal beauty bright
,----

With that, my voice locked in my throat.  Star, my star, my fallen...
The stars shone that night too, as the snow lay on the grown, pure and crisp and even.  The faerie lights glimmered in the trees, and my heart swelled, and then stopped. 

With a suddenly heavy heart and my voice fled, I went back inside and curled up in my bed; alone and suddenly cold.  I fell asleep curled in that bloodstained ruin of a comforter.

And woke too early to sunshine, birds singing and warm air.  Rose woke up, and seemed just as confused as I.  She fed, I ate, we spent some time together, then she went down for her first nap.  Again, I ventured outside.  The roses seem none the worse for wear, the blooms opening to red and pink and white and peach.  No more black, save one small bush near the back of the property.  I will probably never have the black ones again save that one shoot.  The grass is damp, and the air feels humid.  It feels like it should, like early June.  With a sigh, I drop back on to the bench under my tree, and draw my knees up to my chest.  The melancholy I went to bed with hasn't left yet, and it slips past my lips as only it can sometimes.

Long ago, in someone else's lifetime
Someone with my name, who looked a lot like me
Came to know A man and made a promise
He only had to say,  and that's where she would be.
Lately although the feelings run just as deep
The vows that she made has grown so difficult to keep
And yet I wish it wasn't so
Will he miss me if I go?


I doubt that very highly. 

So why do I feel like I am failing him for feeling this way?

(Open to Iblis and Tez, hell; anyone else at this point)

[identity profile] jaeresteade.livejournal.com
Monday, May 31
Day 365(!), early afternoon
Out and about on Silk Road


I rolled over this morning to find the bed beside me still warm and Ri pulling her clothes back on and gathering her things. Managed to wake up enough to ask her if she wanted me to walk her home, but she said she’d manage. I would have been glad to do it, too, but I do like my sleep. And she did kiss me before she slipped out.

The raw, inked skin over my heart pulled as I settled back in bed, and everything underneath it pulled as well. I’m doing my best to love the girl, and I guess it's not going too badly if she wants to see me two nights in three. Not doing too badly at anything these days, with my hand healed and both jobs going well. The only thing I’m having a hard time getting out of my head is what the hell I’m going to do about Verdi.

I can’t help walking past the Tavern most days, and so many of them I’ve come close to putting my head in the door. Can’t think she wouldn’t be happy to see me, at least at first, but then what? How the hell do you start talking about blood and lies with someone like her when you’ve got, well, whatever’s between us? Just can’t see how to manage it, or how it could ever come out well in the end.

Most of a month this has been festering in my head. Just can’t put it away. Guess I could maybe run some errands, get something to eat, and then maybe, maybe see if I can’t talk to her. And if it’s the last thing I do, well, at least I don’t have to work tonight.

OPEN
[identity profile] jaeresteade.livejournal.com
Monday, May 31
Day 365(!), early afternoon
Out and about on Silk Road


I rolled over this morning to find the bed beside me still warm and Ri pulling her clothes back on and gathering her things. Managed to wake up enough to ask her if she wanted me to walk her home, but she said she’d manage. I would have been glad to do it, too, but I do like my sleep. And she did kiss me before she slipped out.

The raw, inked skin over my heart pulled as I settled back in bed, and everything underneath it pulled as well. I’m doing my best to love the girl, and I guess it's not going too badly if she wants to see me two nights in three. Not doing too badly at anything these days, with my hand healed and both jobs going well. The only thing I’m having a hard time getting out of my head is what the hell I’m going to do about Verdi.

I can’t help walking past the Tavern most days, and so many of them I’ve come close to putting my head in the door. Can’t think she wouldn’t be happy to see me, at least at first, but then what? How the hell do you start talking about blood and lies with someone like her when you’ve got, well, whatever’s between us? Just can’t see how to manage it, or how it could ever come out well in the end.

Most of a month this has been festering in my head. Just can’t put it away. Guess I could maybe run some errands, get something to eat, and then maybe, maybe see if I can’t talk to her. And if it’s the last thing I do, well, at least I don’t have to work tonight.

OPEN
[identity profile] dorian-excolo.livejournal.com
[Thursday, May 27th (Day 361)]
[Late afternoon, out and about in town]

The power went out a few minutes ago. It's one of the downsides of living in Excolo, though I can't complain over much. I've lived in much more primitive places, especially just after the downfall of everything pleasant and civilized.

It'll come back on soon enough and it's still light outside, but I decide to go out anyway. Things are getting a bit cramped in the shop, I haven't been out much since the little fiasco with Glass and Kate, and boredom has started to set in.

Boredom. The absolute bane of my existence.

There are a fair number of people out and about. I imagine they have places to go; far too many people spend so much of their lives between one place and the next. It's as though they've forgotten how to do a bit of nothing, now and again. Pity.

I opted for a light jacket, in red, more for the pop of color than the warmth. It's a nice day out, honestly, though a little overcast.

Of course, as soon as I've wandered about for a few minutes I realize there's absolutely nothing going on. Just my luck. It won't stop me from my stroll, though. I'll make a bit of excitement in this little town, if it comes to it.

[Open to anyone]
[identity profile] dorian-excolo.livejournal.com
[Thursday, May 27th (Day 361)]
[Late afternoon, out and about in town]

The power went out a few minutes ago. It's one of the downsides of living in Excolo, though I can't complain over much. I've lived in much more primitive places, especially just after the downfall of everything pleasant and civilized.

It'll come back on soon enough and it's still light outside, but I decide to go out anyway. Things are getting a bit cramped in the shop, I haven't been out much since the little fiasco with Glass and Kate, and boredom has started to set in.

Boredom. The absolute bane of my existence.

There are a fair number of people out and about. I imagine they have places to go; far too many people spend so much of their lives between one place and the next. It's as though they've forgotten how to do a bit of nothing, now and again. Pity.

I opted for a light jacket, in red, more for the pop of color than the warmth. It's a nice day out, honestly, though a little overcast.

Of course, as soon as I've wandered about for a few minutes I realize there's absolutely nothing going on. Just my luck. It won't stop me from my stroll, though. I'll make a bit of excitement in this little town, if it comes to it.

[Open to anyone]
[identity profile] al-shairan.livejournal.com
[From here.]

I hear his ribs crack as he hits the wall, and I think he may have dislocated his shoulder. He crouches on the floor, and his nose has started bleeding again.

"You're welcome."

Insolent. You were always insolent, Tepeyollotl. I cross the room, faster than a boy could move, and I lift him up with one hand and pin him against the stone wall.

"What is wrong with you?" I say, exasperated. I am holding him above my head, and blood from his nose drips onto Brant's white shirt. And then I start laughing, because this is ludicrous, and I drop him onto the floor. "Of course you always have had a death wish."

[Open to Tez]
[closed]
[identity profile] al-shairan.livejournal.com
[From here.]

I hear his ribs crack as he hits the wall, and I think he may have dislocated his shoulder. He crouches on the floor, and his nose has started bleeding again.

"You're welcome."

Insolent. You were always insolent, Tepeyollotl. I cross the room, faster than a boy could move, and I lift him up with one hand and pin him against the stone wall.

"What is wrong with you?" I say, exasperated. I am holding him above my head, and blood from his nose drips onto Brant's white shirt. And then I start laughing, because this is ludicrous, and I drop him onto the floor. "Of course you always have had a death wish."

[Open to Tez]
[closed]

January 2014

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