[identity profile] a-cheval.livejournal.com
The Library Attic, Christmas morning

Wake up late, and there's a blackbird on the library roof outside singing. Means it's light, and pretty late compared to getting up before dawn, but there ain't no Elias to be stomping 'bout downstairs, only books, and quiet. Boku's still sleeping, and I guess he's got reason to, all that travelling about seeing to Ojiisan's business. I'll wake him up soon, but not yet. Not yet. Like watching him sleep, when his hair's all messy and I know the cat in him'd have a fit to see it like that. Get up and open the window instead, even though the cold air comes rolling into the room and I can see my breath. Go out onto the roof and look over the town, and the light's real bright even though there's cloud high up, and I reckon it'll snow a bit later, but not yet.

There ain't no runs to do today. Ain't no mucking out the stables, or talking to Elias like we know each other, when we don't, not anymore, not really. And Samuel says bring Boku to lunch, like that's fine, and the pair of 'em, well, they sorta make it fine, even I still get all embarrassed to have 'em talking together. Out here, I can see the stables, and the road out of town and the water tower, even. Wonder what he does when it's Christmas. If he gets lonely.

Leave the window open when I go back in, so it's cold and it smells like snow, but the bed's still warm when I get back in and kiss Boku awake. "Merry Christmas," he says, before I even get chance to. Dunno exactly what it means to him, that, but it makes me smile, hearing him say it. I know in a moment I'll say it back, and I'll give him the scarf I got him and he'll give me whatever it is he's had hidden since last week that I ain't even looked at once, even if I wanted to. Know that's how it'll go, and the rest of the day too with lunch at Samuel's and going out with Freya and Cimarron for a bit, I know all of that.

But I don't say it yet, and for a long while it's quiet and cold and I'm smiling at him and he's looking at me with his hair all messy and it's Christmas, and that's all there is. Just that. And it's more'n enough, I reckon.

[closed]
[identity profile] a-cheval.livejournal.com
The Library Attic, Christmas morning

Wake up late, and there's a blackbird on the library roof outside singing. Means it's light, and pretty late compared to getting up before dawn, but there ain't no Elias to be stomping 'bout downstairs, only books, and quiet. Boku's still sleeping, and I guess he's got reason to, all that travelling about seeing to Ojiisan's business. I'll wake him up soon, but not yet. Not yet. Like watching him sleep, when his hair's all messy and I know the cat in him'd have a fit to see it like that. Get up and open the window instead, even though the cold air comes rolling into the room and I can see my breath. Go out onto the roof and look over the town, and the light's real bright even though there's cloud high up, and I reckon it'll snow a bit later, but not yet.

There ain't no runs to do today. Ain't no mucking out the stables, or talking to Elias like we know each other, when we don't, not anymore, not really. And Samuel says bring Boku to lunch, like that's fine, and the pair of 'em, well, they sorta make it fine, even I still get all embarrassed to have 'em talking together. Out here, I can see the stables, and the road out of town and the water tower, even. Wonder what he does when it's Christmas. If he gets lonely.

Leave the window open when I go back in, so it's cold and it smells like snow, but the bed's still warm when I get back in and kiss Boku awake. "Merry Christmas," he says, before I even get chance to. Dunno exactly what it means to him, that, but it makes me smile, hearing him say it. I know in a moment I'll say it back, and I'll give him the scarf I got him and he'll give me whatever it is he's had hidden since last week that I ain't even looked at once, even if I wanted to. Know that's how it'll go, and the rest of the day too with lunch at Samuel's and going out with Freya and Cimarron for a bit, I know all of that.

But I don't say it yet, and for a long while it's quiet and cold and I'm smiling at him and he's looking at me with his hair all messy and it's Christmas, and that's all there is. Just that. And it's more'n enough, I reckon.

[closed]
[identity profile] norn-verdandi.livejournal.com
[Julaften - Thursday, December 24 (Day 207)]
[After sunset - The Tavern of Hell]



Yesterday was a busy day for the Tavern and its residents.  Cookie spent the day cooking and baking while the rest of us put the finishing touches on the Tavern's festive decorations.  The wooden ornaments are glossy on the tree and the brightly-wrapped presents under it are a cheery sight. 

Green evergreen boughs scent the air, reminding me of the upcoming Spring and I smile, laughing to myself as I think about how much fun it was to gather all the greenery.  Lannie helped me carry the tree, this Jul's Yggdrasil, from the woods and she and I spent more time laughing at the passing looks we received than we did with the tree.  We finally made it through the snow drifts and into the Tavern, setting it up before enjoying a well-deserved break and more laughter. 

Iago personally hung all the mistletoe, insisting on precise placement over each doorway before trying to maneuver each of us into position.  He almost caught Thomas though, making me smile brightly before I handed off the wreaths and candles to both of them and went back to the my tree. 

The hard work was all worth it and on this Julaften, the Tavern's glittering, reflecting the candlelight and the burning Yule log in the roaring fireplace.   The hot glühwein and stout juleøl are ready to be served and I smile, scattering the new menus as I take a last look around.  The new floorplan is open and welcoming and I smile wider, knowing that no matter what happens tonight, nothing will ever be exactly the same again. 

In fact, I plan on making sure of it.


[Open to everyone]
[identity profile] norn-verdandi.livejournal.com
[Julaften - Thursday, December 24 (Day 207)]
[After sunset - The Tavern of Hell]



Yesterday was a busy day for the Tavern and its residents.  Cookie spent the day cooking and baking while the rest of us put the finishing touches on the Tavern's festive decorations.  The wooden ornaments are glossy on the tree and the brightly-wrapped presents under it are a cheery sight. 

Green evergreen boughs scent the air, reminding me of the upcoming Spring and I smile, laughing to myself as I think about how much fun it was to gather all the greenery.  Lannie helped me carry the tree, this Jul's Yggdrasil, from the woods and she and I spent more time laughing at the passing looks we received than we did with the tree.  We finally made it through the snow drifts and into the Tavern, setting it up before enjoying a well-deserved break and more laughter. 

Iago personally hung all the mistletoe, insisting on precise placement over each doorway before trying to maneuver each of us into position.  He almost caught Thomas though, making me smile brightly before I handed off the wreaths and candles to both of them and went back to the my tree. 

The hard work was all worth it and on this Julaften, the Tavern's glittering, reflecting the candlelight and the burning Yule log in the roaring fireplace.   The hot glühwein and stout juleøl are ready to be served and I smile, scattering the new menus as I take a last look around.  The new floorplan is open and welcoming and I smile wider, knowing that no matter what happens tonight, nothing will ever be exactly the same again. 

In fact, I plan on making sure of it.


[Open to everyone]
[identity profile] brotherlaurence.livejournal.com
Christmas Eve Day

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6 NIV)



The crowd is better to-day, I think, than any crowd we have had since the church first opened its doors. Something about holidays always seems to bring people out--even if it is as cold as it has been lately. There is a collection of blankets and toys and gifts off to the side and I am touched by the giving nature of this community.

I tell the Christmas story, read from the Bible but with added information from other readings, and watch as some of those in attendance appear to be hearing the story for the first time. I remember the first time I heard it, myself, and I smile. Or, rather, the first time I remember hearing it, as my father read it to us every Christmas. The most memorable, I think, was the last. I smile at the congregation and lead them in prayer, then thank them for coming. No time to dwell on my own past. There is the present to celebrate.

I remind them of the luncheon tomorrow and leave the front, taking the chance to mingle with the people. My people.


[OPEN.]
[identity profile] brotherlaurence.livejournal.com
Christmas Eve Day

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6 NIV)



The crowd is better to-day, I think, than any crowd we have had since the church first opened its doors. Something about holidays always seems to bring people out--even if it is as cold as it has been lately. There is a collection of blankets and toys and gifts off to the side and I am touched by the giving nature of this community.

I tell the Christmas story, read from the Bible but with added information from other readings, and watch as some of those in attendance appear to be hearing the story for the first time. I remember the first time I heard it, myself, and I smile. Or, rather, the first time I remember hearing it, as my father read it to us every Christmas. The most memorable, I think, was the last. I smile at the congregation and lead them in prayer, then thank them for coming. No time to dwell on my own past. There is the present to celebrate.

I remind them of the luncheon tomorrow and leave the front, taking the chance to mingle with the people. My people.


[OPEN.]
[identity profile] a-cheval.livejournal.com
Sometime in December, Dry Run

Down past Dry Run, a lad don't come back after one of the long runs. Winter's come in real hard, and even if it don't snow so much down there, it's bitter cold, colder'n Excolo, and the ground's frozen into ruts. You can't take 'em full tilt, it ain't safe, but I guess he was wanting to get home. Ain't much need for telling the rest of that story, not with him caught out overnight in the cold. Means they're a rider short, and Elias has me come down to fill in. Won't be for long, he says, but in that way he's got that means there ain't nothing to argue 'bout, cause it's all decided. Boku rides down with me. Says he's got business to see to down south, so he'll come part way with me, but I reckon really it's cause he reckons it ain't safe, and I don't tell him no.

Truth is I reckoned I'd not be sad 'bout getting a break from Excolo, but a week into being at home again there's nothing I want so much as to be up in the attic above the library sleeping in with Boku, or having tea with Miss Miao, or seeing how Johnny is. Hell, I'd about kill for one of Samuel's breakfasts about now. Just about anything but here. Bloody Dry Run.

Weeks of it then. Sure I'm up and down between Excolo and Dry Run, but further south too, doing twice the run cause the bottom leg ain't got no one to run it no more, half the week. 's cruel weather to be doing it, and I feel real sore by the end of the day, and bloody tired too, but there's something to being out in the winter I like. Something to feeling the cold air on you, like it's something solid, when you're riding fast. Boku come over the sea to where we are, I know. Bet it's like this, crossing the ocean, real cold and a strong wind in your face the whole way.

's Christmas, soon, first one I ain't been home for. Mum ain't so keen on that. She's still fussin' over me like I was some kid, even if Elias tells her not to. Like he can tell her what to do. Like he's dad, almost. I don't say nothing, even if I don't like it. Ain't told 'em about the flat I got neither, nor what's in it. I guess that'll sit till after Christmas, and then...

I been thinking, out on the road, how maybe it's best to give stuff to the folks as needs it, and use the stuff as can be used, even if some of it I never thought to touch in my life. No harm learning. No harm doing. And as to keeping things for folk who ain't coming back, like some museum, well, what's that make me? I ain't no museum keeper.

Feels real good to ride fast in the cold air with the road still white in front and behind, and there's none of that if you're waiting to find footprints to follow. Hell, me'n Freya ain't never needed tracks to follow before, and we don't need 'em now.

[closed]
[identity profile] a-cheval.livejournal.com
Sometime in December, Dry Run

Down past Dry Run, a lad don't come back after one of the long runs. Winter's come in real hard, and even if it don't snow so much down there, it's bitter cold, colder'n Excolo, and the ground's frozen into ruts. You can't take 'em full tilt, it ain't safe, but I guess he was wanting to get home. Ain't much need for telling the rest of that story, not with him caught out overnight in the cold. Means they're a rider short, and Elias has me come down to fill in. Won't be for long, he says, but in that way he's got that means there ain't nothing to argue 'bout, cause it's all decided. Boku rides down with me. Says he's got business to see to down south, so he'll come part way with me, but I reckon really it's cause he reckons it ain't safe, and I don't tell him no.

Truth is I reckoned I'd not be sad 'bout getting a break from Excolo, but a week into being at home again there's nothing I want so much as to be up in the attic above the library sleeping in with Boku, or having tea with Miss Miao, or seeing how Johnny is. Hell, I'd about kill for one of Samuel's breakfasts about now. Just about anything but here. Bloody Dry Run.

Weeks of it then. Sure I'm up and down between Excolo and Dry Run, but further south too, doing twice the run cause the bottom leg ain't got no one to run it no more, half the week. 's cruel weather to be doing it, and I feel real sore by the end of the day, and bloody tired too, but there's something to being out in the winter I like. Something to feeling the cold air on you, like it's something solid, when you're riding fast. Boku come over the sea to where we are, I know. Bet it's like this, crossing the ocean, real cold and a strong wind in your face the whole way.

's Christmas, soon, first one I ain't been home for. Mum ain't so keen on that. She's still fussin' over me like I was some kid, even if Elias tells her not to. Like he can tell her what to do. Like he's dad, almost. I don't say nothing, even if I don't like it. Ain't told 'em about the flat I got neither, nor what's in it. I guess that'll sit till after Christmas, and then...

I been thinking, out on the road, how maybe it's best to give stuff to the folks as needs it, and use the stuff as can be used, even if some of it I never thought to touch in my life. No harm learning. No harm doing. And as to keeping things for folk who ain't coming back, like some museum, well, what's that make me? I ain't no museum keeper.

Feels real good to ride fast in the cold air with the road still white in front and behind, and there's none of that if you're waiting to find footprints to follow. Hell, me'n Freya ain't never needed tracks to follow before, and we don't need 'em now.

[closed]
[identity profile] john-thiess.livejournal.com
Day 147, Sunday October 26th
Just ready fer dinner
The Tavern of Hell

It's - it's bin an okay week. That Damien guy seemed pretty nice, though I haven't seen much 'a him since. I saw him buskin' with his guitar, which dunt seem like real work, 'specially in harvest season, but that's his business, I guess. I wanted t'go out t'the Carnival this week t'see if that Vic woman went out t'see Zann, 'cause I think they'd get 'long real well, but it's bin busy 'n I ain't had a chance.

I met three new people this week and if it hadn't bin fer Friday it would 'a bin nice. But I got a feelin' like the hound-god ain't too pleased with me fer carryin' off that girl. Mr. Laclos said her name was Alice, and he was real glad at me bringin' her back like that. He invited me in fer a cup 'a coffee, but I wanted t'get as far from the Silk Road as I could, knowin' the hound-god was out on the street. I skipped out the side 'n near ran all the way back t'my room.

Saturday I was workin' again. Mr. White wanted t'be greetin' people and doin' the councilman thing, 'n Rob was needed fer bakin', so it was me mindin' the stall at the market. It was okay, 'cept I could really go anywhere. I did chat with a few folk - I think the townies 'r gettin' more used t'havin' a couple 'v us wanderin' 'round. I dint see much 'a Tess though. She's bin spendin' lots 'a time with her friend Kate. I dunt think she's even really looked 'round fer a place t'stay 'r work t'do.

Sunday's my day, and I'm grateful fer it. I went t'the church this mornin'. It was okay, but way different than home. And their book's got some stuff that's different than the Book. I ain't sure theirs is a proper Bible, but I dint say nothin'. Spent the rest 'a the day cleanin' my room 'n loungin' 'bout on the bridge, just watchin' the water go by.

By the time the sun's started towards the horizon I'm hungry 'n ready fer food. I ain't gone t'the Tavern in ages, but I should be able t'get somethin' t'munch on and maybe a beer. They dint said nothin' when I was there with Luke, 'n I figure they dunt mind me bein' there. So off I go, steppin' into the dim room with the jukebox playin' in the back 'n one 'a the bartenders workin'. I order up 'n find myself a table near the door.

[Open]
[identity profile] john-thiess.livejournal.com
Day 147, Sunday October 26th
Just ready fer dinner
The Tavern of Hell

It's - it's bin an okay week. That Damien guy seemed pretty nice, though I haven't seen much 'a him since. I saw him buskin' with his guitar, which dunt seem like real work, 'specially in harvest season, but that's his business, I guess. I wanted t'go out t'the Carnival this week t'see if that Vic woman went out t'see Zann, 'cause I think they'd get 'long real well, but it's bin busy 'n I ain't had a chance.

I met three new people this week and if it hadn't bin fer Friday it would 'a bin nice. But I got a feelin' like the hound-god ain't too pleased with me fer carryin' off that girl. Mr. Laclos said her name was Alice, and he was real glad at me bringin' her back like that. He invited me in fer a cup 'a coffee, but I wanted t'get as far from the Silk Road as I could, knowin' the hound-god was out on the street. I skipped out the side 'n near ran all the way back t'my room.

Saturday I was workin' again. Mr. White wanted t'be greetin' people and doin' the councilman thing, 'n Rob was needed fer bakin', so it was me mindin' the stall at the market. It was okay, 'cept I could really go anywhere. I did chat with a few folk - I think the townies 'r gettin' more used t'havin' a couple 'v us wanderin' 'round. I dint see much 'a Tess though. She's bin spendin' lots 'a time with her friend Kate. I dunt think she's even really looked 'round fer a place t'stay 'r work t'do.

Sunday's my day, and I'm grateful fer it. I went t'the church this mornin'. It was okay, but way different than home. And their book's got some stuff that's different than the Book. I ain't sure theirs is a proper Bible, but I dint say nothin'. Spent the rest 'a the day cleanin' my room 'n loungin' 'bout on the bridge, just watchin' the water go by.

By the time the sun's started towards the horizon I'm hungry 'n ready fer food. I ain't gone t'the Tavern in ages, but I should be able t'get somethin' t'munch on and maybe a beer. They dint said nothin' when I was there with Luke, 'n I figure they dunt mind me bein' there. So off I go, steppin' into the dim room with the jukebox playin' in the back 'n one 'a the bartenders workin'. I order up 'n find myself a table near the door.

[Open]
[identity profile] shirlee-b.livejournal.com
Day 141, Tuesday, October 20th
Post Office Paddock


I look off into the setting sun's fading colors as I sit on some wooden fence at the back of some barn in town. As I lean forward, my feet secure my balance against the rails while my elbows prop up the rest of me. All of it held up by the bottle of alcohol in my hands. I swallow down the swollen throat and stinging eyes. Down where it belongs and deserves to be. Fucker keeps rising no matter how many times I swallow. My eyes focus on the clouds above the distance hills. The clouds are a beautiful bloody orange from the fading sun. So beautiful... The chuckle that escapes sounds too much like a sob.


We traveled so much. All I remember in the beginning was traveling. I was born into it. That's all life was to me. The caravans and climates changed frequently. Sometimes we were even on foot. Fuck that 'sometimes'...always. I didn't understand what she was doing at the time but now as I think back, bile rises. I still can't do it like her. My face is filled with rage when I do those things. Her's was so calm. No thought, just gutting a fish as fast as you can so you can move onto the next one. I stood in the over-sized cloak she made me wear on the road, frozen with more than just the frigid air as she knelt next to the men she ran through. Going through their pockets and belongings while they lay helpless, their eyes wide as they watched it happen while choking on their own blood. The men would mouth pleas as she snapped their fingers at the base of the hand. Do that, and the rings come off a lot easier when you cut off the fingers with a knife. I was always learning, no matter where we went.


I stand off to the side, enough behind my mother that I have to lean to see around her. The temple is cold, but warmer than the road. I am not even tall enough to reach her hip. I know this because I remember reaching up for her. Trying to at least grab her hand. She would swat me away, her whisper harsh as she tells me how rude and weak it looks. Instead I stand, throat swelling as she talks with men. Men with long white facial hair, just sitting and listening to her. Always with eyes on me. As if they have never seen a child before. None of it made sense. It never did. What were they talking about? I can't remember. They only thing I do remember...was her telling them, "I want her to look as she is supposed to, not like a fucking freak."


The night comes and its cold enough to make a fire out in the field. Never could understand why people need a fire at night if it's warm. People always act so differently when the sun goes down. Most of the time to my advantage so who the fuck cares.

I passed the time by smoking and spitting every other drink I took into the fire for cheap entertainment. I don't remember what was so funny, but I was laughing a lot, falling onto my back while I was sitting at the fire. I don't remember why I was angry, throwing my empty bottles off into the night. I remember looking for that fence to sit on again, instead I walked right into it, falling forward over the fence and on the other side onto my back. I must have passed out pretty hard. I hope I didn't land in shit... I start to balance myself up with my elbows as I realize how thirsty I am. For fuck's sake, I swear those birds sound different in the morning. They pierce into your brain deep enough that you wanna kill yourself. Oh shit that just made me think, I hope I didn't drop any of my weapons.



Sun rises, pierces my head more than the fucking birds. I'm left looking at the colors of the dawn's sky. The swelling in my throat builds, I try and spit the taste of bile out of my mouth but it's too dry. What fucking ugly colors...

[Open to Luke]
[identity profile] shirlee-b.livejournal.com
Day 141, Tuesday, October 20th
Post Office Paddock


I look off into the setting sun's fading colors as I sit on some wooden fence at the back of some barn in town. As I lean forward, my feet secure my balance against the rails while my elbows prop up the rest of me. All of it held up by the bottle of alcohol in my hands. I swallow down the swollen throat and stinging eyes. Down where it belongs and deserves to be. Fucker keeps rising no matter how many times I swallow. My eyes focus on the clouds above the distance hills. The clouds are a beautiful bloody orange from the fading sun. So beautiful... The chuckle that escapes sounds too much like a sob.


We traveled so much. All I remember in the beginning was traveling. I was born into it. That's all life was to me. The caravans and climates changed frequently. Sometimes we were even on foot. Fuck that 'sometimes'...always. I didn't understand what she was doing at the time but now as I think back, bile rises. I still can't do it like her. My face is filled with rage when I do those things. Her's was so calm. No thought, just gutting a fish as fast as you can so you can move onto the next one. I stood in the over-sized cloak she made me wear on the road, frozen with more than just the frigid air as she knelt next to the men she ran through. Going through their pockets and belongings while they lay helpless, their eyes wide as they watched it happen while choking on their own blood. The men would mouth pleas as she snapped their fingers at the base of the hand. Do that, and the rings come off a lot easier when you cut off the fingers with a knife. I was always learning, no matter where we went.


I stand off to the side, enough behind my mother that I have to lean to see around her. The temple is cold, but warmer than the road. I am not even tall enough to reach her hip. I know this because I remember reaching up for her. Trying to at least grab her hand. She would swat me away, her whisper harsh as she tells me how rude and weak it looks. Instead I stand, throat swelling as she talks with men. Men with long white facial hair, just sitting and listening to her. Always with eyes on me. As if they have never seen a child before. None of it made sense. It never did. What were they talking about? I can't remember. They only thing I do remember...was her telling them, "I want her to look as she is supposed to, not like a fucking freak."


The night comes and its cold enough to make a fire out in the field. Never could understand why people need a fire at night if it's warm. People always act so differently when the sun goes down. Most of the time to my advantage so who the fuck cares.

I passed the time by smoking and spitting every other drink I took into the fire for cheap entertainment. I don't remember what was so funny, but I was laughing a lot, falling onto my back while I was sitting at the fire. I don't remember why I was angry, throwing my empty bottles off into the night. I remember looking for that fence to sit on again, instead I walked right into it, falling forward over the fence and on the other side onto my back. I must have passed out pretty hard. I hope I didn't land in shit... I start to balance myself up with my elbows as I realize how thirsty I am. For fuck's sake, I swear those birds sound different in the morning. They pierce into your brain deep enough that you wanna kill yourself. Oh shit that just made me think, I hope I didn't drop any of my weapons.



Sun rises, pierces my head more than the fucking birds. I'm left looking at the colors of the dawn's sky. The swelling in my throat builds, I try and spit the taste of bile out of my mouth but it's too dry. What fucking ugly colors...

[Open to Luke]
[identity profile] a-cheval.livejournal.com
Saturday, sometime around closing

Saturday comes round and it ain't in me to keep from work no longer. Samuel don't tell me off for being quiet with folks that come in even. Sometimes I reckon coming away from Dad and Elias's done him as much good as it's done me. Wonder if he gets as nervous over Elias coming up next week as I do. Sorta hard to picture Samuel nervous over anything, but I bet he does. Means going back to what we was for a few hours. I dunno. Don't like moving backwards. Pretending when I finally got round to not pretending. Guess we'll see about that closer to the time.

Mostly weighing and checking. 'm thinking 'bout that night we went and slept out by the river, just cause. Seemed sorta weird at the time. Or else him kneeling up at the windfarm with the turbines all turning faster. Sometimes I wonder if he was a god at all. Don't mean it to sound bad. Just that for all the fuss over it, he never much acted like one round me. And he died. Don't strike me as the sort of thing they go round doing that often.

Still real warm even past four when the market's packing up. Turn the sign on the door round and think 'bout going to see Freya and maybe taking her out, but somehow I ain't in the mood for it. No bloody good moping, Luke, you done enough of that. Next door Mr Klavec's shutting up the butcher's, or getting ready to. Ain't really got much of a reason for going in, but folks talk, don't they? "Hey Mr Klavec." Push my hands in my pockets and wonder 'bout what he did with the rest of his stuff. Think of that key on Boku's windowsill and that whole apartment full. And this place. Well. Reckon I know what he'd've done with this.

[closed]
[identity profile] a-cheval.livejournal.com
Saturday, sometime around closing

Saturday comes round and it ain't in me to keep from work no longer. Samuel don't tell me off for being quiet with folks that come in even. Sometimes I reckon coming away from Dad and Elias's done him as much good as it's done me. Wonder if he gets as nervous over Elias coming up next week as I do. Sorta hard to picture Samuel nervous over anything, but I bet he does. Means going back to what we was for a few hours. I dunno. Don't like moving backwards. Pretending when I finally got round to not pretending. Guess we'll see about that closer to the time.

Mostly weighing and checking. 'm thinking 'bout that night we went and slept out by the river, just cause. Seemed sorta weird at the time. Or else him kneeling up at the windfarm with the turbines all turning faster. Sometimes I wonder if he was a god at all. Don't mean it to sound bad. Just that for all the fuss over it, he never much acted like one round me. And he died. Don't strike me as the sort of thing they go round doing that often.

Still real warm even past four when the market's packing up. Turn the sign on the door round and think 'bout going to see Freya and maybe taking her out, but somehow I ain't in the mood for it. No bloody good moping, Luke, you done enough of that. Next door Mr Klavec's shutting up the butcher's, or getting ready to. Ain't really got much of a reason for going in, but folks talk, don't they? "Hey Mr Klavec." Push my hands in my pockets and wonder 'bout what he did with the rest of his stuff. Think of that key on Boku's windowsill and that whole apartment full. And this place. Well. Reckon I know what he'd've done with this.

[closed]
[identity profile] fairy-fiona.livejournal.com
Friday, October 16, mid-afternoon
Outside the stables


It was a weird week.

Somebody gave me a PONY and I don't know who and Daddy got all grumbly 'cause he didn't know who and he was worried that it might have been somebody mean or another bad-wish pony but it wasn't it was real and it was MINE!

Her name is Sparkle and she doesn't have shoes yet so I can't ride her but that means that I can spend as much time with her as I want without having to worry about the iron making me feel itchy and I can hug her and brush her as long as somebody is watching and I don't squeeze too hard.

And then a couple days ago I woke up and looked out the window and there were extra-sparkly raindrops in the yard like I was still dreaming but they were real till they went away. And then Miss Kaeli got sick and then later I heard there was a big fire and Miss Anushka died and so did the big loud man that worked at the butcher's. I was sad but Miss Anushka was always sad too. It made me think of all of her mothers and grandmothers and she didn't have a daughter that looks like her to do what she did.

I had bad dreams that night too. They're getting better but I still have them sometimes. And I still miss Aunt Vicky and I still need to tell her that I'm sorry but she's always busy when I go to visit.

I go to the stables every day after school and somebody always helps me take Sparkle outside so I can brush her and braid her hair. Today I brought ribbons! Yellow and blue and pink. I think she likes the pink ones best.

[Open to Chester and others]
[identity profile] fairy-fiona.livejournal.com
Friday, October 16, mid-afternoon
Outside the stables


It was a weird week.

Somebody gave me a PONY and I don't know who and Daddy got all grumbly 'cause he didn't know who and he was worried that it might have been somebody mean or another bad-wish pony but it wasn't it was real and it was MINE!

Her name is Sparkle and she doesn't have shoes yet so I can't ride her but that means that I can spend as much time with her as I want without having to worry about the iron making me feel itchy and I can hug her and brush her as long as somebody is watching and I don't squeeze too hard.

And then a couple days ago I woke up and looked out the window and there were extra-sparkly raindrops in the yard like I was still dreaming but they were real till they went away. And then Miss Kaeli got sick and then later I heard there was a big fire and Miss Anushka died and so did the big loud man that worked at the butcher's. I was sad but Miss Anushka was always sad too. It made me think of all of her mothers and grandmothers and she didn't have a daughter that looks like her to do what she did.

I had bad dreams that night too. They're getting better but I still have them sometimes. And I still miss Aunt Vicky and I still need to tell her that I'm sorry but she's always busy when I go to visit.

I go to the stables every day after school and somebody always helps me take Sparkle outside so I can brush her and braid her hair. Today I brought ribbons! Yellow and blue and pink. I think she likes the pink ones best.

[Open to Chester and others]
[identity profile] a-cheval.livejournal.com
Friday, late morning, the Library attic

He's been awake for hours. Been watching him and not watching him at once, just lying still, just lying real still like I'm asleep. Should be halfway to Oakridge by now. The light's all grey slanting in past him, but that don't matter. Still good for riding. Still good for riding, but I ain't. Wonder if Samuel's fretting or pissed. Probably both.

He's got the big map I gave him rolled out on the table and he's making notes. If he knows I'm awake he ain't showing it, but he looks real serious, and he keeps frowning down at the papers and the map like he's thinking real hard. Maybe they're all talking in his head. I could ask him, but I don't. Just lie here curled up and watching him.

When he smooths the paper flat the noise of it's like flames shooting up.

"I think your friend killed Ares," I say. Might be an hour later. My voice sounds all rough, and my head's pounding, from all that crying I guess. "Or else he killed her, or they they killed each other."

[closed]
[identity profile] a-cheval.livejournal.com
Friday, late morning, the Library attic

He's been awake for hours. Been watching him and not watching him at once, just lying still, just lying real still like I'm asleep. Should be halfway to Oakridge by now. The light's all grey slanting in past him, but that don't matter. Still good for riding. Still good for riding, but I ain't. Wonder if Samuel's fretting or pissed. Probably both.

He's got the big map I gave him rolled out on the table and he's making notes. If he knows I'm awake he ain't showing it, but he looks real serious, and he keeps frowning down at the papers and the map like he's thinking real hard. Maybe they're all talking in his head. I could ask him, but I don't. Just lie here curled up and watching him.

When he smooths the paper flat the noise of it's like flames shooting up.

"I think your friend killed Ares," I say. Might be an hour later. My voice sounds all rough, and my head's pounding, from all that crying I guess. "Or else he killed her, or they they killed each other."

[closed]
[identity profile] a-cheval.livejournal.com
Don't go to Boku and I don't say nothing to Samuel. Don't go to Miss Miao neither, cause she's got enough to worry about and she'd know something was up, even if I didn't say nothing. Don't know Johnny well enough, not really, not well enough for when I feel like this. I should've been nicer to Eris, never mind running off. Course she's upset. Course she ain't happy with me. Who the fuck would be?

Grooming and cleaning and sorting. I dunno. I dunno how I feel, how I'm s'posed to feel. I felt so guilty when Eris said it was my fault but I just- I can't see him doing that cause of me. I just can't. There's something I just ain't seeing. Just ain't fucking seeing it, too fucking stupid to understand all this, too fucking stupid, and the worst is I'm so angry, I'm so fucking angry with him and I don't even know why. (Cause there's always something I don't understand. Cause I'll never escape him. Cause even now he won't get out my fucking head and leave me be.)

Then there's a letter for me. I know his handwriting, but it don't say nothing. Just this key and an address and I know it's daft, I know it is, but I tear round there ready to yell at him for making me think he was dead, making folk think he was dead when he wasn't, ain't right to do that, it ain't right, why won't he just say what he means and not just leave me to work it out when I can't, I don't fucking know what it all means, and I'm running before I know it, running and running and trying to find the place and my head's spinning, then I'm there, this big flat round the back of Main Street and I'm running up the stairs and fumbling with the lock -

He ain't here, course. He's dead.

There's books. Just this room full of books, on and on. I don't understand. Everything's quiet. Noise of my feet on the floorboards is too loud, and the next room: more books, all of his books, and his desk, and his armour and his swords. 's when I get it.

He ain't here, he ain't coming back. He's giving it to me.

Stand there a good while with my hands pressed on my mouth like something big might tear itself free inside me and claw its way out. He must've known which book I'd go for, cause there's a letter in it. I try and read it from the start but I can't take it all in, the words're all swimming on the page, and I keep losing the thread of it.

Cut for Length )

Can't see the rest. Just sit down on the floor and cry. There ain't no noise from outside to cover it, there ain't nothing in me to quiet it. Just this horrible crying going on and on and on.

[Closed]
[identity profile] a-cheval.livejournal.com
Don't go to Boku and I don't say nothing to Samuel. Don't go to Miss Miao neither, cause she's got enough to worry about and she'd know something was up, even if I didn't say nothing. Don't know Johnny well enough, not really, not well enough for when I feel like this. I should've been nicer to Eris, never mind running off. Course she's upset. Course she ain't happy with me. Who the fuck would be?

Grooming and cleaning and sorting. I dunno. I dunno how I feel, how I'm s'posed to feel. I felt so guilty when Eris said it was my fault but I just- I can't see him doing that cause of me. I just can't. There's something I just ain't seeing. Just ain't fucking seeing it, too fucking stupid to understand all this, too fucking stupid, and the worst is I'm so angry, I'm so fucking angry with him and I don't even know why. (Cause there's always something I don't understand. Cause I'll never escape him. Cause even now he won't get out my fucking head and leave me be.)

Then there's a letter for me. I know his handwriting, but it don't say nothing. Just this key and an address and I know it's daft, I know it is, but I tear round there ready to yell at him for making me think he was dead, making folk think he was dead when he wasn't, ain't right to do that, it ain't right, why won't he just say what he means and not just leave me to work it out when I can't, I don't fucking know what it all means, and I'm running before I know it, running and running and trying to find the place and my head's spinning, then I'm there, this big flat round the back of Main Street and I'm running up the stairs and fumbling with the lock -

He ain't here, course. He's dead.

There's books. Just this room full of books, on and on. I don't understand. Everything's quiet. Noise of my feet on the floorboards is too loud, and the next room: more books, all of his books, and his desk, and his armour and his swords. 's when I get it.

He ain't here, he ain't coming back. He's giving it to me.

Stand there a good while with my hands pressed on my mouth like something big might tear itself free inside me and claw its way out. He must've known which book I'd go for, cause there's a letter in it. I try and read it from the start but I can't take it all in, the words're all swimming on the page, and I keep losing the thread of it.

Cut for Length )

Can't see the rest. Just sit down on the floor and cry. There ain't no noise from outside to cover it, there ain't nothing in me to quiet it. Just this horrible crying going on and on and on.

[Closed]

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