[identity profile] kent-whitman.livejournal.com
“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next." Gilda Radner

Mayor's residence, after
Mid afternoon


The house is quiet now, thank god. The last several day have gone by almost in a blur with all the people coming to mayor, of all the things that needed to be attended to, arrangements to be made... and add a God of War showing up and bellowing about why no one invited him to the apocalypse, well, it's been no less than a zoo.

Of course, the quiet that has now settled over the house serves as a reminder that it is bereft of a very vital life that once raced down the halls, laughing and causing mischief. One that we laid to rest at dawn this morning in a far corner of the cemetery at the Abbey. One that, if it is to be believed; will be back with us in some form in nine months. After the small service this morning, Wanda came home to get some much needed rest while I went with Tony... Ares. He said he knew the perfect place for us to relocate to. I told him I did not wish to risk moving my pregnant wife to god knows where without some more information. So, he showed me. It made me dizzy, the way he managed to take us from one place to the next in a manner of moments, but then I was able to see...

I think Wanda and I will be very happy there; in that little house on the edge of dunes.

I let myself in, and find Wanda lying down. One hand is on her abdomen, and in the other is clutched a very well loved purple bunny. She looks very lost in thought. I cross the room and sit beside her on the bed. I can tell by her eyes she had ben crying, but my wife manages to give me a smile in spite of the sorrow.

"Can you hear her... them? Is it like before?" I ask as I lay my hand over hers.

Closed
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
Evening; late. June 30th
The Mayor's front porch

Can't sleep. Wish I could. I'm tired. Not just 'it's been a long day' tired... no. It's a "my mind won't freakin' shut down" sort of tired. Thought sitting out here in the fresh air would help, but it's not.

Went over to the Carnival to talk to their management. At least, I think I did. I know I went over, I know I was admitted to a very normal looking wagon... and I remember walking away from it. As for the meeting? Fucked if I can recall a single damn thing we talked about. Only that some of the people working here looked... relieved when I came out.

So. I guess that went as well as I could hope?

Rose has been disappearing more and more. I wish I could chalk it up to wanting to be independent and out on her own to explore... but firstly she's three. Most other children her age would be learning to speak in broken sentences, put on their own clothes. My daughter was reading The Canterbury Tales... in middle English. Secondly---

her sire has been like a howl in my head. I have the sinking feeling she has been going to find him. Which is more worrisome than... well, everything.

Tired and worried enough that I can't shut out the music anymore tonight. Song after song filters through, but not enough to cover the howl of the desert from the North of town. With a sigh, I close my eyes and lean my head against the railing.

(Open to Rose, Kent, or anyone familiar enough with the family to drop in late)
[identity profile] kent-whitman.livejournal.com
Sunday, June 17th
Past midnight, on Silk


Continued from here

Shit. It's today. I knew it was today, what? Two weeks ago? But somehow, the fact that today is Wanda's birthday escaped me. But only slightly. I already have a present, and Rose and I planned on waking up early to make her breakfast...

but had I remembered I might not have stayed out quite so late tonight, wandering about and stopping to have a drink or four with some of the guys from my crew.

So with a bottle of strawberry meade in hand, I decide it might be time to get my sorry and bruised ass back home and to my lovely wife, silently thankful she likes to sleep in on Sundays.

Open
[identity profile] kent-whitman.livejournal.com
Saturday the 16th of June
After dark and late, the Bridge of the Pontalier


The lights of the Carnival are rather mesmerizing in the moving waters of the river. I think I've been standing here for at least fifteen minutes; slowly smoking a cigarette and staring at the dark waters. It is late enough that I am nodding and murmuring to people as they are leaving the show and heading towards their homes, and not towards the bright lights.

I am not headed anywhere in particular. Wanda got that look in her eye several hours ago. The look that suddenly changes her from 'Wanda' to 'Mistress'. Rose went to bed, and I went to the basement where I happily spent the last few hours. I have discovered that afterwards I do seem to enjoy a cigarette and a walk. Maybe I shall stop at the Tavern for a drink... once I can sit properly. The memory brings a smirk to my lips, and I take a long drag from my cigarette to keep from grinning like a loon.

Some days, particularly today, my life is rather good.

Open
[identity profile] kent-whitman.livejournal.com
Monday, June 4th
The cafe', afternoon


The waitress drops off another soda, and I flash her a smile and take a gulp before going back to my sketching. Spent the morning in my office, talking over the prospective ideas for expanding the school house. Now that the town is growing, there really is a need for more than just the one room. The question is; do we build on to the existing school, or build a whole separate building?

I've already sketched out the general idea for building the addition, and set that to the side. But there's a old barn not more than half a mile past the Dormouse. With the right floor plan and enough work, I think it could be converted into a beautiful school, probably for the older children. I find a clean piece of paper in my bag, and start tracing out the general shape. A large, open room, plenty of light, yes.

Besides the school expansion, I also have a meeting later this week with the Abbey. The Titus family just moved out of town, leaving behind their old mill up the river. No one has bought the property yet for it needs work, but if the abbey is looking to expand their cider production, I am sure a arrangement can be made all around. My mind is whirling as my pencil moves across the paper, the soft scratching of the graphite making a pleasing sound...

"Another soda, Kent?" What...? I look up at the waitress, only to realize a good hour has passed and I finished off that glass. "Yes, and may as well bring me a sandwich, too." I say as I sit back a bit to study what I've come up with so far. Not bad, not bad at all. I almost cannot wait to start actually building it.

Open
[identity profile] kent-whitman.livejournal.com
Though my soul may set in darkness, It will rise in perfect light. I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

Saturday Night, June 2nd
The Mayor's office, then elsewhere


The day started out fine enough; a bright, sunny day filled with promise and no real obligations. Wanda wanted to wake early enough to go to the market to talk to the vendors, Rose was babbling something about strawberries, and since I had no pre-set plans I was more than happy to tag along with my two beautiful girls.

And for a hour or so, it was just as I imagined it would be. Rose's dress and fingers stained red, Wanda chatting and animated... then the first person trotted up to talk to her in worried tones. Then the second. Before long the whole market was abuzz with the news; the Carnival Diabolique had returned. I had no real memory of it, but it seemed that everyone else did, and those memories were not of the kind variety. With a false smile and a tightness around the eyes, Wanda abandoned the market to head to her office and assess the problem...

that was roughly twelve hours ago. Now it's my turn to do damage control. Tommi was happy to come over and watch her favourite 'Niece', and after a story and a goodnight kiss, I grab a bottle of meade and head over to fetch my wife.

The front of the building and main room is dark as I let myself in, but I see a light from the private office in the back. I shake my head and push her door open.

"Madame Mayor, I believe quitting time was several hours ago. Racking up the overtime on the tax payers dime, are we?" I ask with a mock stern look as I lean in the doorway.

Closed
[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] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
When we are dreaming alone it is only a dream. When we are dreaming with others, it is the beginning of reality.

After the storm, back at the Dormouse

After making sure everyone else was okay, and that Damien would be looked after, I slipped away from the Abbey. From happy tears and reunions. There will be none of those for me.
I need to go see if I can find Lucien. I need to make arrangements, if I can find him. I need---

I need to check on Rose. Make sure she's okay. She's sleeping, I know that much, but now that the dreams have stopped leaking into reality, Kent will--- Rose will be alone.

Too much loss for one day. Too much. I need to find Lucien but...

I need to change. I need to shower.
I may need to have a nervous breakdown.

Cut around to the backdoor, glad to see the graveyard is gone. No purple bunnies either. Rose will be quite put out, once she realizes they gone. Amongst other things. Lock the door behind me, drop the plated armour to the floor and start to wrestle myself out of the riding coat as I climb the stairs.

"Rose sweetling..." I call softly, hissing a bit when the coat peels away from the gash on my arm. I'll have to have Lu-- no. I can't, can I? "Mummy's home. Are you alright?" I turn the corner, and stop dead. Rose is still asleep, that is not what shocks me.

Kent, not my ex-husband in the Kent form, but Kent Whitman, is holding her. The dreams have receded, and Kent is... still...

"Rose said 'Ent 'tay... the world went bright... and here I am." He informs me simply.

"Oh, I see." I reply just as simply.

Then the world goes bla

Closed
[identity profile] kent-whitman.livejournal.com
Meanwhile... back in Excolo
The Dormouse


I am not sure how much time has passed... granted; I am not sure how time is passing. A year might have passed outside this house in the past hour, but I am not tempted to venture past these doors to see for myself. It is much safer in here, it must be.

Wanda has been gone for so very long, so it seems. Long enough for me to start pacing the bedroom and staring out the windows; long enough for Rose to become agitated and whiny. She's been alternating between demanding to be held or to be set down because she's beyond comforting. She needs to nap; but she won't. I need to eat; but I can't.

"Right little Miss, let's read some poetry, shall we?" I sigh, sitting us down on the bed with a book of poems from Wanda's collection. Started with a few I could recite from memory. The Raven, Sonnet 29, I carry your heart with me... I am not sure if she understands what I am saying, but I think Rose does like the sound of my voice. After some Neruda, I find a lovely little poem more suited to little girls and quite apropos given where we--- she lives.

There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And all the day long he'd a wonderful view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

A Doctor came hurrying round, and he said:
"Tut-tut, I am sorry to find you in bed.
Just say 'Ninety-nine' while I look at your chest-----


My recitation is cut short by the howl from outside. I all but drop the book and race to the window. The screaming is coming from the direction of the Abbey, and sounds so very far away, but its still raises the hairs on the back of my neck. That is Wanda screaming, I know it is. Down to the marrow in my bones, that bellow of utter rage and despair is hers. "Oh my god, what is happening there? Rose...?"

I turn to look at the little girl whom I left sitting on the bed. Wanda said they could hear each other, I pray she was not lying. "Is your Mama alright?" Rose looks off at a point past my head, outside the window...
and suddenly she wails, tears springing to her little green eyes.

'Ooooooooooh-en!!! 'Ooooooooooo-en! No! 'Tay! Ooooooooo-en!!!! Rose's little body falls backwards, and she begins kicking and wailing. I have no idea what's going on, but right now I am terrified. "Rose, Rose... where's your mama? Is Mama okay?" I all but beg, picking up her shaking body and trying to comfort her from some tragedy I cannot see or feel. She still cries and sniffles, but goes quiet again. Mama... Mama... yes. Mama mad... Mama...tafe...

Tafe? Tafe.... "Mama's safe?" I ask, and she nods, but continues to whimper. "Rose... Rose... call your Mama home. Please, I do not know what is going on, but she needs to be here with you. Please darling. I do not know how much long I shall... shall be here... so she needs to come home now. Tell her that." I ask her, hoping she can understand me. "Rose, please my little sweetling, she needs to be here when I leave----"

NO! Rose screeches, all but drowning out the keening in the distance. No! No! No! 'Ent 'tay! I pass a hand over my eyes, feeling powerless to help Wanda, powerless to comfort a child, utterly powerless. "Rose, I want to, you know this but---"

'Ent 'tay! 'Ent 'tay! 'Ent----- Rose smacks her tiny hands against my chest, and it feels like all the air gets sucked from the room. I gasp for air as my lungs burn and---

'TAY!!!

The room goes blinding white and it feel like I was thrown against the wall. The world goes black

then comes slowly back into focus. There's a ringing in my ears, and there are stars in my eyes. The taste of ozone is thick in the air. I blink several times to realize I am prone on the bed with Rose sprawled out on top of me. "Rose..." I croak, and struggle to sit up. "Rose... what did you do?" She lifts her head and looks at me with exhausted eyes.

'Ent... 'tay... She smiles at me, then lays her head back on my chest and falls promptly asleep.

"Rose... what did you do?"

Closed
[identity profile] kent-whitman.livejournal.com
Thursday, September 18th
The Tavern of Hell, late afternoon


I stood in front of that damn water tower for hours before the sun rose, staring up the rickety looking stairs to the door. All I wanted to do was go up, kick the door in, and prove to myself that it was just a old, empty husk of a water tower. That Wanda and everyone else in this backwards little town was wrong and just spooked by stories told to keep children from playing on a structure that should be torn down---

but I couldn't bring myself to get closer than a hundred yards. The air felt weird, thick the closer I got. Like someone, or something was watching me. With a muttered curse I turned and went home; half annoyed that it bothered me so, half spooked out of my wits.

The rest of the night passed quietly, Wanda was already asleep when I crawled into bed near dawn, and up and bustling about with Rose when I finally tumbled out of bed. I sat on the porch and watched the world go by for a bit, some people giving me puzzled looks, others too preoccupied with tiny dragons or the cemetery out back or bushes made of cotton candy---

None of this seems right. Nothing. Makes my seeming out of the ordinary down right normal in comparison. Everything is off, dreams have leaked into reality, at least that what Wanda believes. Dreams like me.

Too many troubling thoughts, and they are making my head ache. With a word through the door to Wanda, I leave the porch and head down to the Tavern. I suppose I might find the name just a tad ironic now, if I believe what Wanda told me. I order a glass of whiskey and find a dark corner to hide in and...

and what?

open
[identity profile] kent-whitman.livejournal.com
Thursday, May 20th.  Mid afternoon
The Park


Rose lays comfortably on her back along the line of my legs, looking up at the trees above our heads and gurgling in contentment.  Wanda waved us out about a hour ago, bidding us to spend time together in the fresh air.  We walked around for a bit, then found a shady tree to sit under and watch life go by.  A few people have stopped to say hello and admire Rose, who seems to have a smile for everyone.  Today has been perfect...

so why do I feel so unsettled?

There is no reason for it, none that I can pinpoint at any rate.  True to her word, Wanda laughed at her silly notions Wednesday morning, and the day proceeded as it should.  Every once in a while, though, I would spy a worried look on her sweet face as she chewed her bottom lip, but she would just shake her head and smile it away.  And Rose would occasionally look at me so strangely that I would swear she did not know me.  But I have been working so much in her short life, of course she might not recognize me as she would her mother.  I will have to rectify that. 

Wednesday night, Wanda was able to get Mrs. Esterly to watch Rose.  She claimed that we were going to go to dinner, then maybe for a bit of dancing at The Tavern.  Which, of course, was a lie.  I am sure the woman knew we wanted some 'alone time', but I am quite sure she had no idea what exactly that entailed.  And oh, how I missed my Mistress!  In those hazy moments, where the pain and pleasure blurred, my Mistress reminded me why I wear her marks, why I have come to love her.  Hours later, after Wanda washed away the flecks of blood on her skin and went to fetch our daughter, I lie sprawled on the upstairs bed, content and sated.  My girls came home, Rose was fed, and we all fell asleep together.  All was well with the world.

Except for the nagging feeling that it is not.  And the headache that will not abate.  Wanda has suggested that if I am no better by Friday, I should go see Lucien.  I have no love for the man, but he is a doctor, and took a oath to help all in need.  Still I hope there will be no need for it.

Rose makes a coo'ing sound, drawing me out of my thoughts.  "Shall we go see what your mother is doing, dear one?"  I ask her, and her chubby legs kick in answer.  It is a strange notion, but I would swear she understands more than a child of her age should.  That throb starts again, and I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose until it passes.  "Come, I think it is naptime for both of us."

I just need more rest, I am sure.  All will be better after a few more days at home.

(Closed)

[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
The Dormouse, Wednesday May 19th
Sometime after midnight after Rose (finally!) goes to sleep.


I suppose I should move her.

After the Dormouse closed, I cooked us dinner, and Rose woke up from her nap.  We ate as a family.  Such a small thing, but so dear to me.  I was almost giddy, sitting at the kitchen table, Rose on my shoulder as I tried to eat.  Afterwards, we went for a walk in the park, Rose happy to be carried by her father.  True to his word, Kent gave our little imp her bath, and came away quite soggy for his efforts.

Normally this would be when Rose would take her last feeding and settle down for the evening....
but she would have none of it.  She wailed until Kent retrieved her from her cradle and held her.  I tried singing to her, a trick that almost always works, but after a hour, I gave up.  Rose was just too entralled with her father.  So I left them, Kent reclining on the bed, Rose listening to the story he was telling her.  I went downstairs to do the dishes and get things ready for business tomorrow.  I also made a list of things I would need from the butcher and the store now that my husband was home, and maybe a few new items from The Sacred Whore.  I hadn't really realized over a hour had passed, but I realized I no longer heard my love's rough velvet voice wafting down from the stairs.  Smiling, I go back up to the bedroom....

and there lies my husband, propped up against the pillows, fast asleep with our daughter sleeping against his chest. 

I should move her, but I can only stand there in the doorway, a smile on my lips and my heart bursting at the scene before me.

(Closed)
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
The Dormouse, Wednesday May 19th
Sometime after midnight after Rose (finally!) goes to sleep.


I suppose I should move her.

After the Dormouse closed, I cooked us dinner, and Rose woke up from her nap.  We ate as a family.  Such a small thing, but so dear to me.  I was almost giddy, sitting at the kitchen table, Rose on my shoulder as I tried to eat.  Afterwards, we went for a walk in the park, Rose happy to be carried by her father.  True to his word, Kent gave our little imp her bath, and came away quite soggy for his efforts.

Normally this would be when Rose would take her last feeding and settle down for the evening....
but she would have none of it.  She wailed until Kent retrieved her from her cradle and held her.  I tried singing to her, a trick that almost always works, but after a hour, I gave up.  Rose was just too entralled with her father.  So I left them, Kent reclining on the bed, Rose listening to the story he was telling her.  I went downstairs to do the dishes and get things ready for business tomorrow.  I also made a list of things I would need from the butcher and the store now that my husband was home, and maybe a few new items from The Sacred Whore.  I hadn't really realized over a hour had passed, but I realized I no longer heard my love's rough velvet voice wafting down from the stairs.  Smiling, I go back up to the bedroom....

and there lies my husband, propped up against the pillows, fast asleep with our daughter sleeping against his chest. 

I should move her, but I can only stand there in the doorway, a smile on my lips and my heart bursting at the scene before me.

(Closed)
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
The Dormouse Tuesday, May 18th
Lunchtime


It's one of those busy days in the shoppe, where Romana is harried enough that I finally pass Rose off to Mrs. Van Meter-Boudreaux so I may jump in and keep things moving.  Funny, I can't recall the shoppe being so busy on a Tuesday morning.   It seems most of my regulars are here, and talking excitedly, but I am too busy to pay what's going on around me much attention.

"You look tired, Miss Wanda.  Rose keep you up last night?"  Romana asks as she comes into the kitchen for another batch of finger sandwiches.  No, she did not, but I am not really minded to disclose that I was up half the night staring at the walls and feeling lonely.  "The house was creaking last night, and I couldn't settle for a while."  I lie easily, arranging the sandwiches on a tray for her.

"Bet you'll be glad when Mr. Whitman's home, and you're not here on your lonesome with Rose."  Romana says, taking the tray and returning to the tea room.  My smile slips the second her back is turned, and once I am alone, I sit down cradle my head in my hands.  "I wish Kent Whitman would come home.  The Kent I knew before..."

The sound of the door out front bursting open and Mrs. Esterly's voice snaps me out of my wishful mood.  I shudder, not knowing why and I get up to see what all the noise is about.  Tommi's out there, in her hat, waving a letter about and just about as excited as I've ever seen her.

"Nellie!  Nellie!  Oh it's wonderful!"  She exclaims, dropping into the chair next to her friend and stealing her cup of tea, downing it quickly.  Mrs Van Meter-Boudreaux arches her eyebrow but holds her tongue and passes Rose back to me.  "Callie wrote me!  She's pregnant!  Finally after all these years of trying!  My little girls gonna be a mother!  I'm gonna be a grandmother!"  Tommi's so overjoyed there are tears in her eyes.  There's a happy round of congratulations, and Nellie goes so far as to lean over and hug her friend.

"That settles it, in honour of Mrs. Esterly's growing family, lunch is on me today."  I annouce.  Sharing in Tommi's good fortune seems to snap me right out of my useless, melancholic wishing, and I pass Rose to her, telling her she can practice her doting on my daughter.

OPEN
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
The Dormouse Tuesday, May 18th
Lunchtime


It's one of those busy days in the shoppe, where Romana is harried enough that I finally pass Rose off to Mrs. Van Meter-Boudreaux so I may jump in and keep things moving.  Funny, I can't recall the shoppe being so busy on a Tuesday morning.   It seems most of my regulars are here, and talking excitedly, but I am too busy to pay what's going on around me much attention.

"You look tired, Miss Wanda.  Rose keep you up last night?"  Romana asks as she comes into the kitchen for another batch of finger sandwiches.  No, she did not, but I am not really minded to disclose that I was up half the night staring at the walls and feeling lonely.  "The house was creaking last night, and I couldn't settle for a while."  I lie easily, arranging the sandwiches on a tray for her.

"Bet you'll be glad when Mr. Whitman's home, and you're not here on your lonesome with Rose."  Romana says, taking the tray and returning to the tea room.  My smile slips the second her back is turned, and once I am alone, I sit down cradle my head in my hands.  "I wish Kent Whitman would come home.  The Kent I knew before..."

The sound of the door out front bursting open and Mrs. Esterly's voice snaps me out of my wishful mood.  I shudder, not knowing why and I get up to see what all the noise is about.  Tommi's out there, in her hat, waving a letter about and just about as excited as I've ever seen her.

"Nellie!  Nellie!  Oh it's wonderful!"  She exclaims, dropping into the chair next to her friend and stealing her cup of tea, downing it quickly.  Mrs Van Meter-Boudreaux arches her eyebrow but holds her tongue and passes Rose back to me.  "Callie wrote me!  She's pregnant!  Finally after all these years of trying!  My little girls gonna be a mother!  I'm gonna be a grandmother!"  Tommi's so overjoyed there are tears in her eyes.  There's a happy round of congratulations, and Nellie goes so far as to lean over and hug her friend.

"That settles it, in honour of Mrs. Esterly's growing family, lunch is on me today."  I annouce.  Sharing in Tommi's good fortune seems to snap me right out of my useless, melancholic wishing, and I pass Rose to her, telling her she can practice her doting on my daughter.

OPEN

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