[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
Friday, September 19th
Late afternoon on the bank of the Pontalier


I can hear the howling. I think everyone can, but they're too wrapped up in the 'now what's?' and dealing with the aftermath of what just ended to really pay it any attention.

But it's not some stray dog baying for food, or lost from it's master or...

it's the song of grief. The howl rings of love and loss and a pain that cannot find words. I know that song. I know it well. Didn't I just keen it to the heavens myself a dream ago? A lifetime ago... it seems.

I follow the sound, and I am not surprised that it leads me down to the river's edge. There, up ahead... I press a hand to my mouth to choke back a sob. I knew he was gone, I heard him say goodbye...

but now it's real. The limp, lifeless body with the gash of scarlet across his throat is real, and not a dream, and he's not coming back this time, is he? Oh Gods Lucien, I know why you did it, but... did it have to be you? It actually takes me a moment to register the wolf by his side, howling and whimpering and licking his face.

I think I know why Rose calls her 'fluffy'.

"I'm so sorry." I whisper as I walk over and kneel down next to them.

(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] managementchild.livejournal.com
Wednesday, 20th August; afternoon

One week - one week and one thousand thousand thousand days since I
since I
I, I, I
opened one great
eye
and am
when before there was only we (in the darkwomb belly of Creation, we).

I AM
ἐγώ εἰμι
(and there was a great cry in this my new Egypt.)

I have been to my Father's house, and touched his cock and cunt to receive my blessing, for she will not deny me that, even if I am unlike any other child of his seed that was or ever will be. For only I am this. And I bathed in the blood of her baptism between her legs, and made myself a body and face that honours my Father, for what child does not want a heritage? I will wear this, for a while, and when I need it not I will put it in a box like an old suit, for I am of my Mothers too and we can have a hundred faces.

In this body, come out of Egypt, I go into the town. It is my first place and my last place and I will love it until it is gone to dust. Will that be between my teeth? Perhaps. Perhaps.

I choose a building of a pleasing shape to enter. It is a tavern. I ask to see the different colours of the drink and I choose one that is pale gold and amber. I do not drink it, but I hold the glass close to my face so I can smell it. I smell the scent of decaying crops and sunlight. It is a fine drink.

[OPEN]

[identity profile] glass-beddau.livejournal.com
[Early afternoon of Monday, May 3 (day 337)]
[The General Store]


Don't have much t'say to Amanda, but I don't mind listening. She's been on about her mother spending time with someone, talking in circles 'round it. Wouldn't take it for anything save she's not usually so on about the matter. She set it aside when folk were in store, though, and with the new cloth came in over the weekend, that's often enough.

She's stepped out, though taking her for back soon; it's only that Jenna's done her time at the Apothecary and came by, and the two went out t'speak and'm guessing maybe to go by the Cockaigne. Ought not be overlong; light as Amanda seems sometimes, she's working sound and I trust she'll be back.

Quiet for a moment, and I take up a dustcloth. The store's clean, but there's dust of threads on the counter, and could do worse than tidy up while I've a moment.

[Open to Lannie]
[identity profile] glass-beddau.livejournal.com
[Early afternoon of Monday, May 3 (day 337)]
[The General Store]


Don't have much t'say to Amanda, but I don't mind listening. She's been on about her mother spending time with someone, talking in circles 'round it. Wouldn't take it for anything save she's not usually so on about the matter. She set it aside when folk were in store, though, and with the new cloth came in over the weekend, that's often enough.

She's stepped out, though taking her for back soon; it's only that Jenna's done her time at the Apothecary and came by, and the two went out t'speak and'm guessing maybe to go by the Cockaigne. Ought not be overlong; light as Amanda seems sometimes, she's working sound and I trust she'll be back.

Quiet for a moment, and I take up a dustcloth. The store's clean, but there's dust of threads on the counter, and could do worse than tidy up while I've a moment.

[Open to Lannie]
[identity profile] melania-lowell.livejournal.com
Thursday, April 29th
Day 333
Late Afternoon



I did what my instincts told me to do, I left. Only Lucien knew, it was longer than I expected, but I promised I'd come back and now I have. No more looking over my shoulder and jumping at every strange sound. This actually feels like home now. Things smell the same, but different in some ways. I hope they're for the best. I didn't hear word in any of the towns I passed through but have a better lay of the land now. Didn't run into any crazy god's either. But I did miss home. Funny how after everything, I still think of this place as home now.

Found my clothes exactly where I left them in the woods. A little loose now, but not by much. Better than walking through town naked. Doing that sucked. Of course the first place I head to is Lucien's. I wanna see how he is and how everything else is. Don't want to walk into the tavern and see a crazy goddess holding a knife in her teeth and hanging from the rafters -- She's done it before --. It's been awhile and I think I can talk to her now, I want to know what she did and why.

I wonder how Glass is, Iago too. Hopefully I'll see them soon. She must be getting so big. I wonder if it'll be a pup? She is half one herself. Either way, I bet it'll be cute. Too bad it's granddad is a total ass. The closer to Luciens' I get, the more I smile. The weather has started to warm up a little and he did promise me a walk. Opening the front door quietly, I peek around the corner then slowly walk in. It sounds like he's in with a patient so I silently close the door and take a seat in the waiting room, picking up something to read. Its a kids book of riddles, some of them make me laugh...

Why was the belt arrested?
For holding up the pants.

Why are Teddy Bears never hungry?
Because they are always stuffed.


Covering my mouth to hide my giggle, I turn to the next page.

What is the cannibals’ favorite game?
Swallow the leader


NOT funny when it happened to you.

Scowling just a little, I snort, tossing it on the table and pick up another one. Puzzles and mazes this time. Much better.


After finishing half of the book, I set it back down. Hey, you try running away from people among other things in the dark alley's and woods, and then try these things out and tell me they're not easy. Wonder if I came at a bad time.

Things do smell different. Booze and salty sweat and the sharp acrid scent of antiseptic, or whatever its called. Not like I could expect him to wait around for me forever, life changes and does move on. Like that two ships passing in the night thing. I saw how it had changed in other towns. Neighbors suspecting neighbors, hangings, the smoky scent of burnt skin and charred bone. The suspicious looks I got as the newcomer. Which was my hint to not stick around for very long.

The world is moving on, not in a way that I like. Iago's scent was unmistakable outside too The scent mixed with booze and his usual heavy smelling cigarettes. Sniff again and sneeze, more than tobacco is my guess. Strangely, I'm glad that hasn't changed. I do wonder what has and hope Glass and him are okay. Maybe Lucien doesn't want to see me. Maybe he'd rather forget.

My fingers drum on the arm of the chair and I pause from biting the nails on my free hand. Wow, am I that nervous? Maybe I should just go. I've missed Verti too. The closest thing I've ever had to a best friend and I just up and left her. No wonder I've never really had a friend. Had enough time to think about Verdi too, I don't know what she did or what really happened or why. But I need to know. I thought we were friends too. Just not gonna talk to her in private, fuck that. I wanna go back home. Wonder if there's a way to keep her out unless I invite her in.

I'll come see him later. Slip out of the chair and crouch behind the empty desk. wriggle out of my clothes and shift. Shake out my fur and sneeze. Inside scents sharper now. Not so used to them anymore. Heading to the door, I groan to myself. I forgot to leave it propped open. Damn not having opposable thumbs! Giving the door a disgruntled look, I snort and jump up. Maybe I can wiggle it open with two paws. I've seen cats do it. I just hope I'm not as loud as I seem to be in my own ears.

[OPEN TO LUCIEN]

[CLOSED]
[identity profile] melania-lowell.livejournal.com
Thursday, April 29th
Day 333
Late Afternoon



I did what my instincts told me to do, I left. Only Lucien knew, it was longer than I expected, but I promised I'd come back and now I have. No more looking over my shoulder and jumping at every strange sound. This actually feels like home now. Things smell the same, but different in some ways. I hope they're for the best. I didn't hear word in any of the towns I passed through but have a better lay of the land now. Didn't run into any crazy god's either. But I did miss home. Funny how after everything, I still think of this place as home now.

Found my clothes exactly where I left them in the woods. A little loose now, but not by much. Better than walking through town naked. Doing that sucked. Of course the first place I head to is Lucien's. I wanna see how he is and how everything else is. Don't want to walk into the tavern and see a crazy goddess holding a knife in her teeth and hanging from the rafters -- She's done it before --. It's been awhile and I think I can talk to her now, I want to know what she did and why.

I wonder how Glass is, Iago too. Hopefully I'll see them soon. She must be getting so big. I wonder if it'll be a pup? She is half one herself. Either way, I bet it'll be cute. Too bad it's granddad is a total ass. The closer to Luciens' I get, the more I smile. The weather has started to warm up a little and he did promise me a walk. Opening the front door quietly, I peek around the corner then slowly walk in. It sounds like he's in with a patient so I silently close the door and take a seat in the waiting room, picking up something to read. Its a kids book of riddles, some of them make me laugh...

Why was the belt arrested?
For holding up the pants.

Why are Teddy Bears never hungry?
Because they are always stuffed.


Covering my mouth to hide my giggle, I turn to the next page.

What is the cannibals’ favorite game?
Swallow the leader


NOT funny when it happened to you.

Scowling just a little, I snort, tossing it on the table and pick up another one. Puzzles and mazes this time. Much better.


After finishing half of the book, I set it back down. Hey, you try running away from people among other things in the dark alley's and woods, and then try these things out and tell me they're not easy. Wonder if I came at a bad time.

Things do smell different. Booze and salty sweat and the sharp acrid scent of antiseptic, or whatever its called. Not like I could expect him to wait around for me forever, life changes and does move on. Like that two ships passing in the night thing. I saw how it had changed in other towns. Neighbors suspecting neighbors, hangings, the smoky scent of burnt skin and charred bone. The suspicious looks I got as the newcomer. Which was my hint to not stick around for very long.

The world is moving on, not in a way that I like. Iago's scent was unmistakable outside too The scent mixed with booze and his usual heavy smelling cigarettes. Sniff again and sneeze, more than tobacco is my guess. Strangely, I'm glad that hasn't changed. I do wonder what has and hope Glass and him are okay. Maybe Lucien doesn't want to see me. Maybe he'd rather forget.

My fingers drum on the arm of the chair and I pause from biting the nails on my free hand. Wow, am I that nervous? Maybe I should just go. I've missed Verti too. The closest thing I've ever had to a best friend and I just up and left her. No wonder I've never really had a friend. Had enough time to think about Verdi too, I don't know what she did or what really happened or why. But I need to know. I thought we were friends too. Just not gonna talk to her in private, fuck that. I wanna go back home. Wonder if there's a way to keep her out unless I invite her in.

I'll come see him later. Slip out of the chair and crouch behind the empty desk. wriggle out of my clothes and shift. Shake out my fur and sneeze. Inside scents sharper now. Not so used to them anymore. Heading to the door, I groan to myself. I forgot to leave it propped open. Damn not having opposable thumbs! Giving the door a disgruntled look, I snort and jump up. Maybe I can wiggle it open with two paws. I've seen cats do it. I just hope I'm not as loud as I seem to be in my own ears.

[OPEN TO LUCIEN]

[CLOSED]
[identity profile] melania-lowell.livejournal.com
Monday, March 8th
Day 281

Basement of The Tavern

Candles, I think she'd like them. Fire seemed like a good idea at the time. So I set them around the once filled hole. It seems like I just did it all, but the candles are burned down to the stubs stuck in the ground and I'm a wolf again. Laying down at the edge of her grave, I notice she's smiling. I didn't notice that when I closed her eyes, or uncovered her and wiped the dirt from her pale face.

There's a twisting emptiness in my stomach like I'm hungry but I just ate. Now isn't the time for eating anyway. We haven't been down here long. Aside from the dirt, she looks just like she did ten minutes ago when she was alive. The blood has dried but I can till taste it on my tongue. I shiver and my skin twitches as I lick my paws. The fur is gone from them now, it must've been from the fight. Whatever was in that last bottle I drank was sweet and cool and better than anything I've tried before.

My stomach twists again and I growl in response. Maybe that's what she's smiling at. The thought makes me lower my head to look down at here again. Verdi, my friend, crazy goddess of apples, wonderful drinks, and lover of a good fight. We haven't been here long, but she'll wake up, I couldn't kill her, she said so, and I'm gonna be here when she wakes up. There are some things I know I should do for her, but I'm afraid if I shift back I'll see her smile, and I'll laugh until I cry.

That's not what I want to do so I lift my muzzle into the air and sing her a song. Not one of sadness, I don't think she'd like that, one of running and playing in warm fields with apple trees. A song of a place I hope I'll see her in again. I hope she can hear it in the hall of her fathers, wherever that is.

[OPEN TO GLASS AND LUCIEN AND ... VERDANDI]
[CLOSED]
[identity profile] melania-lowell.livejournal.com
Monday, March 8th
Day 281

Basement of The Tavern

Candles, I think she'd like them. Fire seemed like a good idea at the time. So I set them around the once filled hole. It seems like I just did it all, but the candles are burned down to the stubs stuck in the ground and I'm a wolf again. Laying down at the edge of her grave, I notice she's smiling. I didn't notice that when I closed her eyes, or uncovered her and wiped the dirt from her pale face.

There's a twisting emptiness in my stomach like I'm hungry but I just ate. Now isn't the time for eating anyway. We haven't been down here long. Aside from the dirt, she looks just like she did ten minutes ago when she was alive. The blood has dried but I can till taste it on my tongue. I shiver and my skin twitches as I lick my paws. The fur is gone from them now, it must've been from the fight. Whatever was in that last bottle I drank was sweet and cool and better than anything I've tried before.

My stomach twists again and I growl in response. Maybe that's what she's smiling at. The thought makes me lower my head to look down at here again. Verdi, my friend, crazy goddess of apples, wonderful drinks, and lover of a good fight. We haven't been here long, but she'll wake up, I couldn't kill her, she said so, and I'm gonna be here when she wakes up. There are some things I know I should do for her, but I'm afraid if I shift back I'll see her smile, and I'll laugh until I cry.

That's not what I want to do so I lift my muzzle into the air and sing her a song. Not one of sadness, I don't think she'd like that, one of running and playing in warm fields with apple trees. A song of a place I hope I'll see her in again. I hope she can hear it in the hall of her fathers, wherever that is.

[OPEN TO GLASS AND LUCIEN AND ... VERDANDI]
[CLOSED]
[identity profile] norn-verdandi.livejournal.com
[Tuesday, March 2nd (Day 276)]
[Basement, Tavern of Hell]
[Late afternoon]



The basement wards are set and they'll keep any of my excess magics below, where they belong.  The Tavern residents might notice something different but that won't be for a few hours yet and by then, I'll already have done what needs to happen. 

The rest of town though, they'll be clueless, for the most part, and that's just the way I like it.  Taking another swig of mead, I taste that nuance I've been wondering about.  I've tried to chase the source but so far, it's eluded me.  I can't tell if it's the strawberries, or the honey, or something else entirely.  Something to look into when this is all done.
 
I send out a quiet call, tugging on Lannie's thread as I sort through a shelf's contents.  Her sense of smell is the only thing I'm worried about and I don't want her to sniff me out before it's the right time.  Finding what I need, I begin dousing myself in baking soda and for good measure, I release a large amount into the air too.

I look like a powdered donut walking and I laugh lightly while carefully avoiding any of the treated areas.  Can't leave any footprints either.  That would give it all away too quickly.

Giving one last look around, I place Garm on a side-table, in full-view of the door before stepping back to blend into the shadows.  All that's left to do is wait for Lannie's arrival before I begin round two.


[Open to Lannie]
[Closed]
[It's violent.  Warnings apply.]
[identity profile] norn-verdandi.livejournal.com
[Tuesday, March 2nd (Day 276)]
[Basement, Tavern of Hell]
[Late afternoon]



The basement wards are set and they'll keep any of my excess magics below, where they belong.  The Tavern residents might notice something different but that won't be for a few hours yet and by then, I'll already have done what needs to happen. 

The rest of town though, they'll be clueless, for the most part, and that's just the way I like it.  Taking another swig of mead, I taste that nuance I've been wondering about.  I've tried to chase the source but so far, it's eluded me.  I can't tell if it's the strawberries, or the honey, or something else entirely.  Something to look into when this is all done.
 
I send out a quiet call, tugging on Lannie's thread as I sort through a shelf's contents.  Her sense of smell is the only thing I'm worried about and I don't want her to sniff me out before it's the right time.  Finding what I need, I begin dousing myself in baking soda and for good measure, I release a large amount into the air too.

I look like a powdered donut walking and I laugh lightly while carefully avoiding any of the treated areas.  Can't leave any footprints either.  That would give it all away too quickly.

Giving one last look around, I place Garm on a side-table, in full-view of the door before stepping back to blend into the shadows.  All that's left to do is wait for Lannie's arrival before I begin round two.


[Open to Lannie]
[Closed]
[It's violent.  Warnings apply.]
[identity profile] glass-beddau.livejournal.com
[Late morning of Thursday, February 11 (day 256)]
[Miskatonic Café]


Wasn't planning on going out this morning. Came downstairs t'see about borrowing a roasting pan from Cookie, but ran into Thomas coming in. He asked if there was anything I was going to change about the rent, and how he should pay, and I-- well. Said end of the month was fine, I'd get it from him when I saw him, and asked him t'let me know if there was anything particular needed fixing come thaw.

Touch dazed by it all, and found myself outside. I own a home. Someone else's home. Oh spit and staunchweed...

Stepped along down Silk, hands in my pockets and shrugged up a little against the chill. Not too bad, though, and've a decent sweater over my shirt--warm enough, even if I think it'd snag t'hell and gone were I t'go gathering. Dorian misses something of the use of clothes, sometimes. Find myself coming up to the Miskatonic, and look up.

[Open to Lannie]
[Closed]
[identity profile] glass-beddau.livejournal.com
[Late morning of Thursday, February 11 (day 256)]
[Miskatonic Café]


Wasn't planning on going out this morning. Came downstairs t'see about borrowing a roasting pan from Cookie, but ran into Thomas coming in. He asked if there was anything I was going to change about the rent, and how he should pay, and I-- well. Said end of the month was fine, I'd get it from him when I saw him, and asked him t'let me know if there was anything particular needed fixing come thaw.

Touch dazed by it all, and found myself outside. I own a home. Someone else's home. Oh spit and staunchweed...

Stepped along down Silk, hands in my pockets and shrugged up a little against the chill. Not too bad, though, and've a decent sweater over my shirt--warm enough, even if I think it'd snag t'hell and gone were I t'go gathering. Dorian misses something of the use of clothes, sometimes. Find myself coming up to the Miskatonic, and look up.

[Open to Lannie]
[Closed]
[identity profile] al-shairan.livejournal.com
“The silence often of pure innocence persuades when speaking fails.”
- Shakespeare


Monday lunchtime, near the sheriff's office, on Main Street

This has proved almost too easy. The clouds are rolling in, air heavy with the promise of rain, and I stand in my Danika body wearing an old coat with the collar turned up against the cold, jacket short enough to show a few inches of a tidy, worn work dress and a calflength of wool stocking. My shoes wear the signs of good, honest farm labour, and my blonde hair is frizzing round my face in the damp air. I look very distressed.

"Did - was there really a man arrested for... for beating on a girl?" I say to an old woman gossiping with her friend on the street. My fingers flutter together anxiously.

"Oh yes," she says, "it's a horrible thing. They think also he did in a girl as worked at - well, the brothel, my dear," she says, lowering her voice over that salacious detail, eyes gleaming with prurient interest. "They think he chopped her up."

"Oh," I say, and I faint very neatly to the ground. It's not long before I have half a dozen people round me - offering water, saying they will take me to the Dormouse, fussing with my coat collar to let me breathe.

"I should've said something," I say, and I burst into tears. That gets me sat down on a bench, an old woman's arm around my shoulders, and a very handsome young man crouched at my feet. "I should - "

"What is is, dear? Do you know something about what happened to those girls?"

I shake my head tightly.

"I know - I know - him," I say quietly. "He - We went out a couple of times, and he was - he was real nice to me, and -" The old woman gives me a handkerchief. "You know, I ain't really dated much," I say, shamefaced, "cos my momma's sick a bunch and I'm busy out on the farm, and he just - he was real nice, and when he -" I turn my face away, and I can feel the vibrating tension from the boy at my feet, his desire to be a hero. "He - I thought it was my fault," I say, and then there is a furious chatter rising from the little crowd, and the conversation spreads in ripples.

"Some carnie's been carving up our girls," one man says fiercely. And there is discussion of me and of Melania - ah, yes, that explains some of what I saw in her - and how we're hard working girls, salt of the earth girls, and who is this monster and why hasn't he been strung up? What the hell is wrong with this town that a murderer and molester can be caught redhanded and he's cosseted in jail? And did you hear that he attacked that nice Mrs Beddau (I wonder if at any other time Glass has been described as nice) when she went to visit him in prison? He should be put in the old stocks in town. People would show him how they felt, alright. They'd show him very clearly indeed.

I manage a brave, trembling smile for the boy at my feet, and he springs up, ready for something, anything, if it will make me look at him like that again. And I nestle in against the arm of the old woman as the crowd grows larger and voices grow louder, and I wait for the storm to break.

[OPEN]
[identity profile] al-shairan.livejournal.com
“The silence often of pure innocence persuades when speaking fails.”
- Shakespeare


Monday lunchtime, near the sheriff's office, on Main Street

This has proved almost too easy. The clouds are rolling in, air heavy with the promise of rain, and I stand in my Danika body wearing an old coat with the collar turned up against the cold, jacket short enough to show a few inches of a tidy, worn work dress and a calflength of wool stocking. My shoes wear the signs of good, honest farm labour, and my blonde hair is frizzing round my face in the damp air. I look very distressed.

"Did - was there really a man arrested for... for beating on a girl?" I say to an old woman gossiping with her friend on the street. My fingers flutter together anxiously.

"Oh yes," she says, "it's a horrible thing. They think also he did in a girl as worked at - well, the brothel, my dear," she says, lowering her voice over that salacious detail, eyes gleaming with prurient interest. "They think he chopped her up."

"Oh," I say, and I faint very neatly to the ground. It's not long before I have half a dozen people round me - offering water, saying they will take me to the Dormouse, fussing with my coat collar to let me breathe.

"I should've said something," I say, and I burst into tears. That gets me sat down on a bench, an old woman's arm around my shoulders, and a very handsome young man crouched at my feet. "I should - "

"What is is, dear? Do you know something about what happened to those girls?"

I shake my head tightly.

"I know - I know - him," I say quietly. "He - We went out a couple of times, and he was - he was real nice to me, and -" The old woman gives me a handkerchief. "You know, I ain't really dated much," I say, shamefaced, "cos my momma's sick a bunch and I'm busy out on the farm, and he just - he was real nice, and when he -" I turn my face away, and I can feel the vibrating tension from the boy at my feet, his desire to be a hero. "He - I thought it was my fault," I say, and then there is a furious chatter rising from the little crowd, and the conversation spreads in ripples.

"Some carnie's been carving up our girls," one man says fiercely. And there is discussion of me and of Melania - ah, yes, that explains some of what I saw in her - and how we're hard working girls, salt of the earth girls, and who is this monster and why hasn't he been strung up? What the hell is wrong with this town that a murderer and molester can be caught redhanded and he's cosseted in jail? And did you hear that he attacked that nice Mrs Beddau (I wonder if at any other time Glass has been described as nice) when she went to visit him in prison? He should be put in the old stocks in town. People would show him how they felt, alright. They'd show him very clearly indeed.

I manage a brave, trembling smile for the boy at my feet, and he springs up, ready for something, anything, if it will make me look at him like that again. And I nestle in against the arm of the old woman as the crowd grows larger and voices grow louder, and I wait for the storm to break.

[OPEN]
[identity profile] sapphira-ststep.livejournal.com
[The Tavern of Hell]
[
It's nine o'clock on a Saturday, February 6 (day 251)]


...and the regular crowd rushes in. And I know the faces you see at the bar, making love to their tonic and gin.

Humming along with the jukebox, and the room's not too crowded, but it's full enough that I can step back and around the people crossing to their table or the bar and if it isn't what they would call dancing it's a movement that makes me smile. The Market was good to me today, and I am wearing my brown mask, but I have pinned a quartet of small bronze ribbons to one side, and brushed them back. They are a little darker than my hair, and it pleases me to have them there, reminds me of places and parties where people took delight in the subtleties of a mask.

I imagine this is how other women feel when they paint their faces, and I smile.

"Do you have cider, cher?" I say to the man behind the bar, slipping onto one of the stools and drawing myself up, appraising him. Audience and player at once, what a delight. "Something that tastes like there could be spring again, something to match the air today."

[Open]
[identity profile] sapphira-ststep.livejournal.com
[The Tavern of Hell]
[
It's nine o'clock on a Saturday, February 6 (day 251)]


...and the regular crowd rushes in. And I know the faces you see at the bar, making love to their tonic and gin.

Humming along with the jukebox, and the room's not too crowded, but it's full enough that I can step back and around the people crossing to their table or the bar and if it isn't what they would call dancing it's a movement that makes me smile. The Market was good to me today, and I am wearing my brown mask, but I have pinned a quartet of small bronze ribbons to one side, and brushed them back. They are a little darker than my hair, and it pleases me to have them there, reminds me of places and parties where people took delight in the subtleties of a mask.

I imagine this is how other women feel when they paint their faces, and I smile.

"Do you have cider, cher?" I say to the man behind the bar, slipping onto one of the stools and drawing myself up, appraising him. Audience and player at once, what a delight. "Something that tastes like there could be spring again, something to match the air today."

[Open]
[identity profile] ravenous-liam.livejournal.com
[continued from here.]

"He's still alive," Lannie says after kickin' the guy's knife away. I'm a mite disappointed, but 'guess we gotta wait around 'til he wakes up. 'Course, he's not gonna be walkin' much better when he's awake. I take a deep breath an' pull myself off the ground, wincing but tryin' not t' shout out. "Tighten the cuffs, maybe?"

"Yeah," I say an' lean over t' tighten them. I go stand near her. She doesn't look real great an' she's probably lost a lot of blood. "Come on, sit," I tell her an' kinda lead her to a big rock. "When we get back, I'm buyin' you a gun." I laugh, but it just hurts the cut in my side, so I stop an' hope she didn't notice.


[OPEN to Lannie, Benedict, and Jack.]
[CLOSED.]
[identity profile] ravenous-liam.livejournal.com
[continued from here.]

"He's still alive," Lannie says after kickin' the guy's knife away. I'm a mite disappointed, but 'guess we gotta wait around 'til he wakes up. 'Course, he's not gonna be walkin' much better when he's awake. I take a deep breath an' pull myself off the ground, wincing but tryin' not t' shout out. "Tighten the cuffs, maybe?"

"Yeah," I say an' lean over t' tighten them. I go stand near her. She doesn't look real great an' she's probably lost a lot of blood. "Come on, sit," I tell her an' kinda lead her to a big rock. "When we get back, I'm buyin' you a gun." I laugh, but it just hurts the cut in my side, so I stop an' hope she didn't notice.


[OPEN to Lannie, Benedict, and Jack.]
[CLOSED.]
[identity profile] benedict-donner.livejournal.com
Day 245, Sunday, January 31st
Afternoon
Off to the woods


Caution isn't serving me well, it seems.

Oh it's bad for me it's bad for me
the knowledge that you're going mad for me
I feel certain my friends would be glad for me
but it's bad for me


I've grown hungrier since the incident at the river. I have some long white hairs tied around a bone in my box - no sense in keeping mementos of food, but those who get away... Well, a man needs something when he's kept up at night.

But imaginings are never as good as the real thing, and with the chills from swimming across the river the past few days have been miserable. I've kept warm and ate heavily, even dipping into my stores, and now I need to eat. And she did get my letter.

I felt 'til you whispered to me
completely left on the shelf
but since you started to woo me
I'm just crazy about myself


I've hardly thought about her since the river. A chance to get a beautiful gift and a decent meal, from someone who wouldn't be missed... the thought of her body bloated with drowning outrages me with its waste. Hopefully she hasn't been found yet - it would be tricky if Lannie tells someone where she's gone, though of course with things the way they are I can only say she didn't meet me - she never showed up, and I thought she'd simply changed her mind.

The idea occurred to me to report her missing, but why draw attention to myself? Better to stay quite and be surprised and worried.

And full, of course. She seemed interested in me, and though it's been some weeks I explained how winter creates its own duties. I hope she does come. She had a feral sort of look which was delightful in its way, and she was free and open and trusting. A bit of a fight to put an edge on things and then a week of good eating. And nowhere near the river.

It's so sweet for me it's swell for me
to feel that you're going through hell for me
yet no matter however appealing
I still have a feeling it's bad for me


[Open to Lannie, others]

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