[identity profile] hermia-sophia.livejournal.com
We knew it would come.

For four years, ever since the dream of the red city and the blue, we knew it would come. For three months, ever since the dream of Nanshe telling me what we must do.

And yet we always thought we would have more time before we had to be ready.

We very nearly were ready, that night that the earth shook.

I gathered up everything that I had been crafting and collecting, and went to find my family. I hugged Marie and Luc very tightly, and told them that I loved them. And then I told Valmont, and held him for as long as I could. We were both so full of fear and hope and love that we could barely find words, but we did not need to speak to know how the other was feeling. "I love you," I said once more, and kissed all of my family.

I dared not think of what might happen if I did not come back, what might happen if I failed. I could not think of that.

And then I ran.

Down to the river I speed, between the crashes of thunder and tremors of the earth. 'It is already raining,' I think, with a giddy, hysterical gasp of laughter. Do the Adversaries know that they have done some of the work for us? Do they care?

I know that I do not need to send word to Syl or Chester or any of the others who have been working on this great spell. Our magic has been twined so closely together over the last few months that I can sense them all, if I listen hard enough, and I know that they are all coming.

One by one we arrive at the banks of the river, just as we have planned to do for so many months. A little thrill still runs through me when I see everyone gathered. There are so many! So many who have come together for this cause, who never might have even spoken to each other were it not for their love of Excolo, and desire to keep it safe. Even if we are not all friends with each other - for Syl and I still are not, even though our respect for each other has grown as we worked together - we all love Excolo, and that is enough.

I have brought silver and mistletoe for protection - the same things that Chester taught me about in my very first lessons with him! I spread them in a wide circle around us to shield us from as much harm as possible while we work.

Our magic winds together, and we start to draw Nanshe's essence out of the earth, out of the water…

The instant that my magic touches the river, I can tell that there is something different. Not just Nanshe's essence that we have been concentrating in the water - there is something else. More divinity, more power. Something new and fresh, something that feels like spring and growth and fertility. I do not know its source, but I know at once that it is good. The new power flows into our spell, filling it with new life.

I am so deep into the spell that I do not even notice the thunder anymore. I see nothing but our threads of Power; I feel nothing except the growing magic and the rising tide of Nanshe's essence, each of us adding our own strand to the spell. Water and earth and fire and air and divinity, all coming together as one.

Air is mine - as we draw Nanshe's essence into the sky, I send out more and more threads of my own Power. We bind our Power together to make a bridge between the earth and the heavens, between the water and the sky.

The bridge is Nanshe, and the rain is Nanshe, and the earth is Nanshe. And now we are Nanshe too, as her divinity washes over us in the rain. I smile as the rain touches my skin, for now I know that we will succeed.

We have helped Nanshe give the gift that she wished to give to the people of Excolo: herself.

Est deus in nobis.

[Open to anyone working to stop the apocalypse]
[identity profile] hermia-sophia.livejournal.com
Thursday, June 14
Valmont and Hermia's Garden


Well. This is going to be awkward.

But a bit of awkwardness is well worth the trouble, and worth the greater good if we can turn Mab aside from the path that she is on. If we can win her back to the path that I know she wants to follow, but has gone astray. This person who delights in violence and bloodshed - that is not my friend. Not the person who took me in when I first stumbled into this town; not the person performed my wedding.

If there is any chance that I can possibly call Mab back to herself, I must do it.

And, in truth, I should have done it long ago.

So we are setting out tea and cakes and lemonade in the garden, and sending Luc up for his nap a bit early so that he will be out of the way.

(Well, more precisely, we are sending him up to his room. Whether he will sleep is another question entirely. More likely, we will come up to find a very awake littleboy amid a maze of pillows and blocks and a long elaborate story about what it is. But at least he will not be here.)

I waddle about the table (dear gods, I did not think I could get any larger, but apparently, I can!), setting napkins and silverware in their proper places while Valmont fetches the food. And the wheels of my mind spin, and I wait.

[Open to Valmont and Mab]
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
Tuesday, the 23rd of September
The Dormouse, Late morning


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

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

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

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

Open to Mab, Fiona and Dana
[identity profile] regal-vigilante.livejournal.com
Somewhere in the Dark Forest

I don't know where I am.

I've been wandering around this forest for what seems like forever. Can't find my way out, and no matter how many times I stop to wipe them off, my hands are covered in blood from the wound on my side. The flow's mostly stopped, but it keeps trickling. Gonna need stitches once I get back to Town.

there's something inside of me- trying to break free
can't hold it in anymore


I would've brought Sagert back with me.
Really.
But the ground ate him.
I couldn't stop it.

so much more convenient without the body

Maybe Glass'll come back with me. Maybe she can put him to rest from outside the forest.

it's better if no one else comes in here
no one else sees...


It was right to do it.
Justice had to be passed.

Lady, i can hear them
hear them drowning your words out


He was bad.
I had to do it before he hurt anyone again.

ididntmeantoreallyitjusthappenedandimnotsurewhereiamorwhattodoanymoreandthiswasnevertheplanitwasntsupposedtobelikethis

but it felt so fucking good
felt so fucking right
this is what i was made for



i can hear a woman screaming
i scream with her.

and i run
[identity profile] regal-vigilante.livejournal.com
Regrets collect like old friends
Here to relive your darkest moments
I can see no way, I can see no way

And all of the ghouls come out to play
And every demon wants his pound of flesh


Wednesday Morning
Mab's Apartment, and then out to the Dark Forest


I woke up this morning to voices in my apartment. And for some reason it wasn't strange at all- no, it seemed perfectly normal. Perfectly reasonable for my parents to be in my kitchen. Parents do visit their children occasionally, I know.

Of course, mine have been dead for more than half my life. So it was a little strange to see them again.

It was more disturbing that it took me nearly half an hour to realize that they shouldn't be here. The sodden clothes really should have given it away faster.

Went back into my room to dress. So very calmly, I put on my leathers and my coat. Gathered my kit and buckled on my sword. Went out and kissed them both, then left. Stood in the hallway a full minute before I could make myself move. Stood there and listened to the noises coming from inside as I looked out the hall window.

I distinctly recall there being no forest near my yard yesterday.


I'm out of the building and on my way into it before I even think to leave anything resembling a note.
Time to get to work.

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


(Continued from here)

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

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

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


[OPEN to those from the previous scene, and others should they choose]
[identity profile] regal-vigilante.livejournal.com
And I hope that you are having
The time of your life
But think twice
That's my only advice

The Dark Hours Before Dawn, Thursday, August 4th - The Streets of Excolo

My boot heels hit the road with a steady rhythm.
    
Quiet. Quietly now.    

Feel each step echo through me. Each step brings me back to myself. Each one drives home the rightness of it all.

    Slip down this alley, be waiting in the shadows at the mouth of the next one.     

Feel my hands open and close. Fingers clenching around the empty air before I notice and shove them into my pockets.

Hands shoot out of the darkness. Faster than he'd have expected, even if he'd known to look for them. Fingers dig into the underside of his arms and drag him back and away from the light. Back where no one can see.

I smile as I make my way through town. Hell, my mood's so good I'd whistle if it wouldn't be too loud.

It's so dark. Can't see anything, but her smile is something you can feel. If a tiger could smile, it'd look like this

Walk by the Miskatonic. Maybe I'll swing back in after I finish my rounds.

At first it sounds like meat being tenderized. It can only get worse from there.
 -------------------------------------------------- 

I decide to just go straight home when I'm done. After all, it has been such a busy night.

And I have so much to plan for now.
[identity profile] kira-galliard.livejournal.com
{Early Evening- Tuesday, 29th June ~ Day 394}
{Crossroads DanceHall}


Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time
I feel alive
And the world turning inside out, yeah
And floating around in ecstasy, so
Don't stop me now
Don't stop me
'Cuz I'm having a good time, having a good time


It is finally time to open the doors.
The lights are on- thanks to a couple folks from the fair who came out to help me with 'em. And the musics' done warming up now- sounds of instruments tuning and and the player's psyching each other up have given over to songs playing and feet stomping along.
A few brave souls have opened the dancing and there are mostly smiles all around.

So far so good.

A lot of the younger set know me by now from hiring them for the clean-up, and I put up some signs around town, so hopefully we'll have a good turn out.
And now that the greater part of the haying is done, people are in a good mood. People like to dance and come out and see each other when they're happy. Even in a strange town like this that holds true.

Smooth my skirt as I circle the floor towards the drink stand. I'll probably take a few turns of my own tonight, but mostly my job is to meet people who don't know me yet and get them to like me enough to come back. If the night continues like this, I do think it'll turn out fine.

The band starts another song, and I find my smile is genuine.

(The DanceHall is open to all! Come on in and have fun!)
[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] fairy-fiona.livejournal.com
Thursday, May 6th, late afternoon
Main Street

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

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

Where should I go?

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

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

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

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

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

Where should I go?

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

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

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


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

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

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

I have nothing to fear from dreams.

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

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

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


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

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

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

I have nothing to fear from dreams.

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

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

[Open as discussed]
[identity profile] hermia-sophia.livejournal.com
Sunday, April 4
The garden behind the Whitechapel Inn

We awoke in each other's arms, both terrified. Valmont, because he feared that I was being attacked; I because I felt something wrong in the world, something beyond the long sleep and painful thirst and weakness. Some ripple of Power that was twisted and wrong. But under it all I could sense Nanshe's presence helping to set the dream-world right again. And Valmont and I had each other, and we were safe, and despite everything, that makes the waking world right.

And neither of us wanted to postpone the ceremony. We wanted - no, needed to continue. Needed to make some new beginning, needed to make life go on as it was supposed to.

And so, still shaky, we went to the abbey this morning at dawn.

Valmont said that I was the one guiding this part of our wedding solemnities, for I was the one closer to the gods. So I arranged the offerings for us to burn on Nanshe's altar: two little bundles, both the same. Not hair. Not incense. Not anything that would be in an Athenian wedding offering to the gods. We are making our own way, here.

So there are herbs from the garden that I planted and he cooks from. The first lilacs that Valmont gave me, and the lilies I gave him, both now dried into fragrant shadows of themselves. Splinters of wood from an empty keg for his profession; scraps of paper from an old book for mine. (Lydia offered me a book that was falling apart anyway; I would never have taken a page from a book otherwise! She gave us a gift, too: a lovely leather-bound and gilt-edged volume of Yeats.) And cotton candy - even though it made everything terribly sticky and I feared it would melt, I had to put cotton candy in there, for the memory of that first night that we soared above Excolo on the ferris wheel and felt as if we were flying. And because it made both of us laugh when I put it in, and we should begin our life together with laughter.

We smile as we light our offerings, and as we smell the fragrance as it floats up to the heavens.

Now, back in the garden behind the inn, I smile again as I wait to take my place next to Valmont and in front of Mab. I've found more lilacs for the bouquet, white and purple both, standing out against the shimmering deep blue fabric of my gown.

I have no parents to bring me to the altar, and neither does Valmont. We just have ourselves, and are giving ourselves to each other.

There they all are. Our friends - all of the people who have grown dear to us in the last year. Our Alice, looking lovely and more grown-up than ever. Mab, tall and serious. And Valmont, who looks so magnificent that my heart leaps at the sight.

I feel a nervous thrill run through me as I step out. Dear gods, I'm getting married! For an instant, I'm terrified, as I stare down that long aisle. But then I realize, why should I be afraid? At the end of the aisle is Valmont. I have nothing to fear as long as he is there.

At the end of my long journey, he was here waiting for me.

So I take a deep breath and step forward, towards my new life.

[Open to wedding guests!]
[identity profile] hermia-sophia.livejournal.com
Sunday, April 4
The garden behind the Whitechapel Inn

We awoke in each other's arms, both terrified. Valmont, because he feared that I was being attacked; I because I felt something wrong in the world, something beyond the long sleep and painful thirst and weakness. Some ripple of Power that was twisted and wrong. But under it all I could sense Nanshe's presence helping to set the dream-world right again. And Valmont and I had each other, and we were safe, and despite everything, that makes the waking world right.

And neither of us wanted to postpone the ceremony. We wanted - no, needed to continue. Needed to make some new beginning, needed to make life go on as it was supposed to.

And so, still shaky, we went to the abbey this morning at dawn.

Valmont said that I was the one guiding this part of our wedding solemnities, for I was the one closer to the gods. So I arranged the offerings for us to burn on Nanshe's altar: two little bundles, both the same. Not hair. Not incense. Not anything that would be in an Athenian wedding offering to the gods. We are making our own way, here.

So there are herbs from the garden that I planted and he cooks from. The first lilacs that Valmont gave me, and the lilies I gave him, both now dried into fragrant shadows of themselves. Splinters of wood from an empty keg for his profession; scraps of paper from an old book for mine. (Lydia offered me a book that was falling apart anyway; I would never have taken a page from a book otherwise! She gave us a gift, too: a lovely leather-bound and gilt-edged volume of Yeats.) And cotton candy - even though it made everything terribly sticky and I feared it would melt, I had to put cotton candy in there, for the memory of that first night that we soared above Excolo on the ferris wheel and felt as if we were flying. And because it made both of us laugh when I put it in, and we should begin our life together with laughter.

We smile as we light our offerings, and as we smell the fragrance as it floats up to the heavens.

Now, back in the garden behind the inn, I smile again as I wait to take my place next to Valmont and in front of Mab. I've found more lilacs for the bouquet, white and purple both, standing out against the shimmering deep blue fabric of my gown.

I have no parents to bring me to the altar, and neither does Valmont. We just have ourselves, and are giving ourselves to each other.

There they all are. Our friends - all of the people who have grown dear to us in the last year. Our Alice, looking lovely and more grown-up than ever. Mab, tall and serious. And Valmont, who looks so magnificent that my heart leaps at the sight.

I feel a nervous thrill run through me as I step out. Dear gods, I'm getting married! For an instant, I'm terrified, as I stare down that long aisle. But then I realize, why should I be afraid? At the end of the aisle is Valmont. I have nothing to fear as long as he is there.

At the end of my long journey, he was here waiting for me.

So I take a deep breath and step forward, towards my new life.

[Open to wedding guests!]
[identity profile] npc-excolo.livejournal.com
Time has little meaning here, though your body back home may disagree.

Dream.

A forest.


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

In the distance, the howl of a wolf.


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

Dream.

A forest.


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

In the distance, the howl of a wolf.


[OPEN TO ALL]
[identity profile] docconstantine.livejournal.com
Monday afternoon, March 29th
The Sheriff's office

The wind whips about, tugging stray hairs from my ponytail to dance about my face.  Look up at the sky, wondering if the heavens will open up before my errands are done.

Just came from Wanda's.  Since the shoppe is closed Mondays, figured I'd find her in bed.  Rather surprised to see her in the kitchen, rolling out dough for scones.  She looked tired, but not in a bad way.  That normal tired that comes from being up three times a night.   Rose is... I don't know what I was expecting, but it was not a lovely little girl who has her mother's eyes.  I felt a pang, a fleeting regret as I held her, recalling the twins mentioning a girl with red hair and blue eyes... but Rose smiled... she smiled and wrapped her tiny fingers around mine, almost as if to comfort me.  Oh yes, her mother's daughter.  Stayed for a little bit and tried to get details about the birth itself, but Wanda was evasive.  Which can't be good, but she's still here, and none the worse for wear that I could see.  When she's ready, she'll tell me.

With that surprsingly pleasant task done, I go back to my office, collect my ledgers and head back down Main to Silk.  I have to get this done, the longer I wait, the easier it will be to forget details and dates. 

Reach the porch of the sheriff's office and push open the door.

"Mab?  You around?"  I call out as I edge my way into the office.  At least I am not here to stitch anyone up today.

(Open to Mab)

[identity profile] docconstantine.livejournal.com
Monday afternoon, March 29th
The Sheriff's office

The wind whips about, tugging stray hairs from my ponytail to dance about my face.  Look up at the sky, wondering if the heavens will open up before my errands are done.

Just came from Wanda's.  Since the shoppe is closed Mondays, figured I'd find her in bed.  Rather surprised to see her in the kitchen, rolling out dough for scones.  She looked tired, but not in a bad way.  That normal tired that comes from being up three times a night.   Rose is... I don't know what I was expecting, but it was not a lovely little girl who has her mother's eyes.  I felt a pang, a fleeting regret as I held her, recalling the twins mentioning a girl with red hair and blue eyes... but Rose smiled... she smiled and wrapped her tiny fingers around mine, almost as if to comfort me.  Oh yes, her mother's daughter.  Stayed for a little bit and tried to get details about the birth itself, but Wanda was evasive.  Which can't be good, but she's still here, and none the worse for wear that I could see.  When she's ready, she'll tell me.

With that surprsingly pleasant task done, I go back to my office, collect my ledgers and head back down Main to Silk.  I have to get this done, the longer I wait, the easier it will be to forget details and dates. 

Reach the porch of the sheriff's office and push open the door.

"Mab?  You around?"  I call out as I edge my way into the office.  At least I am not here to stitch anyone up today.

(Open to Mab)

[identity profile] edmund-white.livejournal.com
Friday, February 19th Mid-Morning
Day 264
Town Hall


I've been doing a lot of reading the past few weeks. First it was all about strange things. Magical things. Supernatural things.
And then I got picked as Judge. They all said how calm I was, how patient. How fair minded I can be. Except Toby who said, "None of them want to do it, and you were the last one elected. Short straw, my friend." At least he's honest.
I haven't felt very fair, or patient, or calm lately, but what else can I do? Toby's right about why, but its part of the job. And if I have to do it, then I have to do it right. Not just for the man I'm judging, but for the town. And all I can do is hope that I never am called on to judge again.

So I've taken it very seriously. When people have tried to gossip to me about him, I've been polite, but said no. Walked away so that I'd have some clarity. I mean, you can only be so impartial about a fellow who there was a riot about, but I'm trying. And that's what the books say: that the best judges and juries decide based on what the evidence tells them, not on how they feel about the defendant.

This morning I took great care with my appearance- a man's life literally is in my hands. I want to look presentable. Made sure I arrived at the Hall ahead of schedule. My hands are steady and my face is set. Soon the rest of the Council and the others who'll act as jury arrive. Then the Sheriff, her office and their prisoner.

Time to begin.

{Open to those at the Trial}

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