[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
"Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned
."

A heartbeat too late

The plate I was drying slips from my hands when I hear Rose in my head.

I'm sorry, Mama. I spin around, for it's so clear that she must be right there. "What are you sorry for bab---"

I double over, gasping, unable to draw air into my lungs. Rose? Rose! ROSE!!! ROSE!!!! My mind is screaming because I cannot form words. Her heartbeat is so fast it's near bursting then it's slowing and then--- OhgodpleasenoRosedontpleasepleasePLEASENONONONOROSEDONTGODONTLEAVEUSNONONONONO

"Wanda, what's---" Kent has run in, hearing the plates shatter, but the sky rumbles and the earth shakes and the lights go out all at once. I hear him say her name, then go running for her room.

"She's---- not-----there---" I try to wheeze out. She's not there, I know she's not. She's gone. Oh God, my baby, no, not her...

"Wanda---!" I hear his panicked voice from down the hall, and finally I can suck air into my lungs. "Rose!" I scream, unable to hear her. I can't hear her thoughts, I can't hear her heartbeat I can't I can't I can't---

Part of my mind registers that the world has gone quite insane as I run blindly into the night. It's raining, and I think hail is pelting me and scratching across my skin as I tear down Main, then Silk. I see lights flashing, and I think Kent is somewhere behind me, and I hear people screaming. I think I am one of them. I can't hear my daughter!

I don't know how I know where to go; I just do. She's knit into me so tightly, I can find her even if I can't hear her. I can't hear her! Just over the bridge---

It's gone. There's no way across the river, but just on the other side I can see the outline of the carnival when the lightning flashes, and just on the other side---

For a moment, I think it can't be her. That girl is too big, but I also know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is Rose. That pale, lovely, unmoving slip of a young woman is--- my Rose is---

My scream pierces the night. A long, keening wail that can be heard over everything else. Kent finally catches up, and when he see's what I do, he sinks to his knees, weeping. The earth shakes again, and this is what He always planned. This... our daughter's dea--- it was always planned. It is the beginning of the end, and he used His own---

I lean down and kiss my husband; fast and fierce. I murmur a 'I love you' against his ear... then I jump into the river and try to make my way to the other side. I will not be kept from my baby, my own heart I can't hear her!... even if it may very well be the last thing I do.

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


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

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

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

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

Open
[identity profile] hermia-sophia.livejournal.com
Tuesday, September 2, late afternoon
Nu's Trailer

There are few places in Excolo where I feel more out of place than I do here.

Oh, the Carnival is not technically Excolo, I suppose, but it has been here for as long as I have, so it feels as if it is part of the town, and it is hard to remember that people like Lucien are not originally from Excolo.

But as soon as I step into the cluster of trailers and machines behind the actual carnival, I am reminded that this is a very different world, and one where I most definitely do not belong. People stare - or, almost worse, do not stare, but give me covert looks with suspicious eyes.

At least the suspicion clears a bit when I ask to see Nu - they are used to women from the town consulting with her.

It is still so strange to think of why I am consulting with her! It hardly feels real, even though I feel that little leap of joy with each new person that I tell, and even though I try to see signs of it every day. Perhaps speaking with Nu will help?

I draw myself up straighter, and knock on her door.

[open to Nu]
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
Sunday, July 11th
Mid-aftenoon, The Park


"So... the fair Prince had defeat the wicked Faerie, cut away at the thorn bushes until the path was clear, then raced up the stairs of the castle that lay in slumber for the past one hundred years.  At at the top of the northern tower, there she lay; Princess Aurora, the Briar Rose.  She was so beautiful, even in slumber that the Prince felt a stiring in his heart he had never known before.  What had started as a quest for glory and honor had been forgotten.  All he wanted to do was look into her eyes and see Princess Aurora smile.  He knelt down beside the bed, leaned over, and kissed her.  After a moment, it seems as if the world shuddered.  The sun broke through the clouds and Princess Aurora's eyes fluttered open---"

My story gets interrupted right at the happy ending.  Rose all but 'harrumps' at me, and flopsy get tossed at my head.  "Rose, now that is not polite."  I scold her, picking up the stuffed bunny and hopping it back across the blanket we are sitting on by the pond near the park.  We have the shade of the tree we are under to keep the sun off our heads, and I have Rose propped up enough so she can watch the ducks in the pond and smile at the people passing by.  But now my little darling is cross, and scowling at me.  "What is the problem, little miss?"  I ask as her little hand takes possession of her cherished bunny again.

Wrong!  You are telling it wrong!  Tell it right, Momma!

I arch an eyebrow at her as I pop a strawberry into my mouth and offer her a small piece of banana to gum on.  "I am telling it right.  Sleeping Beauty is awoken by true love's kiss and..."  Again, I am interrupted, but this time, instead of a coherent thought, I am bombarded with images from the grand dream, and how Valmont could not wake up the princess, and how I helped and Chester and Zann and Damien...

Well.  "You are not wrong, Rose.  That happened too.  I was telling you an old story.  Rose sulks a bit longer, then stuffs a rabbit eat into her mouth with a sigh.   "Would you like me to tell it again, the way you remember it?"  I ask, reaching out to tickle her toes.  She finally giggles and squirms, loosing that stern look that reminds me so much of her father.  No, she is done with stories, she wants a song now.  Which I am more than happy to supply.

Who said that every wish
Would be heard and answered
When wished on the morning star
Somebody thought of that
And someone believed it
And look what it's done so far
What's so amazing
That keeps us star gazing
What so we think we might see

Someday we'll find it
That Rainbow Connection
The lovers the dreamers and me


(open)
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
Sunday, July 11th
Mid-aftenoon, The Park


"So... the fair Prince had defeat the wicked Faerie, cut away at the thorn bushes until the path was clear, then raced up the stairs of the castle that lay in slumber for the past one hundred years.  At at the top of the northern tower, there she lay; Princess Aurora, the Briar Rose.  She was so beautiful, even in slumber that the Prince felt a stiring in his heart he had never known before.  What had started as a quest for glory and honor had been forgotten.  All he wanted to do was look into her eyes and see Princess Aurora smile.  He knelt down beside the bed, leaned over, and kissed her.  After a moment, it seems as if the world shuddered.  The sun broke through the clouds and Princess Aurora's eyes fluttered open---"

My story gets interrupted right at the happy ending.  Rose all but 'harrumps' at me, and flopsy get tossed at my head.  "Rose, now that is not polite."  I scold her, picking up the stuffed bunny and hopping it back across the blanket we are sitting on by the pond near the park.  We have the shade of the tree we are under to keep the sun off our heads, and I have Rose propped up enough so she can watch the ducks in the pond and smile at the people passing by.  But now my little darling is cross, and scowling at me.  "What is the problem, little miss?"  I ask as her little hand takes possession of her cherished bunny again.

Wrong!  You are telling it wrong!  Tell it right, Momma!

I arch an eyebrow at her as I pop a strawberry into my mouth and offer her a small piece of banana to gum on.  "I am telling it right.  Sleeping Beauty is awoken by true love's kiss and..."  Again, I am interrupted, but this time, instead of a coherent thought, I am bombarded with images from the grand dream, and how Valmont could not wake up the princess, and how I helped and Chester and Zann and Damien...

Well.  "You are not wrong, Rose.  That happened too.  I was telling you an old story.  Rose sulks a bit longer, then stuffs a rabbit eat into her mouth with a sigh.   "Would you like me to tell it again, the way you remember it?"  I ask, reaching out to tickle her toes.  She finally giggles and squirms, loosing that stern look that reminds me so much of her father.  No, she is done with stories, she wants a song now.  Which I am more than happy to supply.

Who said that every wish
Would be heard and answered
When wished on the morning star
Somebody thought of that
And someone believed it
And look what it's done so far
What's so amazing
That keeps us star gazing
What so we think we might see

Someday we'll find it
That Rainbow Connection
The lovers the dreamers and me


(open)
[identity profile] damien-dw.livejournal.com
Saturday, the twelfth of June [day three hundred seventy seven]
Late afternoon in the Market



Winter is long gone and summer is here, and it's making me feel a bit restless. Makes me miss the endless days on the road that was my life for the last three years. Never thought I'd actually miss them as I spent far too many of them missing Manhattan. Even the rain this morning couldn't keep me inside and I'm glad I stepped out for a smoke when I did as I caught sight of the all too brief glory of the rainbow.

I didn't want to spend the rest of the day inside missing all that fresh clean air and the people who would surely be at market so as soon as I finished my smoke I got my guitar and soon as it stopped raining I set up in the market at the corner much like I did when I first came to town. Since I can't stop thinking about it, my first song is an old tune that's had many different sets of words matched with it. This time I use the ones I learned from the riverfolk on the boat that brought me here.

One song becomes another and another and before long it is late afternoon. If I want to buy something for dinner I should probably do it soon before everything's  gone. With that thought I pack up and start wandering the stalls.

  [Open]
[identity profile] damien-dw.livejournal.com
Saturday, the twelfth of June [day three hundred seventy seven]
Late afternoon in the Market



Winter is long gone and summer is here, and it's making me feel a bit restless. Makes me miss the endless days on the road that was my life for the last three years. Never thought I'd actually miss them as I spent far too many of them missing Manhattan. Even the rain this morning couldn't keep me inside and I'm glad I stepped out for a smoke when I did as I caught sight of the all too brief glory of the rainbow.

I didn't want to spend the rest of the day inside missing all that fresh clean air and the people who would surely be at market so as soon as I finished my smoke I got my guitar and soon as it stopped raining I set up in the market at the corner much like I did when I first came to town. Since I can't stop thinking about it, my first song is an old tune that's had many different sets of words matched with it. This time I use the ones I learned from the riverfolk on the boat that brought me here.

One song becomes another and another and before long it is late afternoon. If I want to buy something for dinner I should probably do it soon before everything's  gone. With that thought I pack up and start wandering the stalls.

  [Open]
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
Saturday, June 5th
The Dormouse, just after the lunch rush


Rose gurgles and coo's happily in her basket, entertaining herself with my wedding necklace dangling just above her little hands.  The diamonds catch the sunlight, and rainbows dance across the walls everytime it spins.  When that fails to amuse her, there is always her own toes.  Or Flopsy, which is a perfect match for the dress Dorian sent over just the other day.  I have to admit it's a perfect coour on her, and maybe I should take her over later today so he can see it on her.

Later though.  Romana has off today, and I can't blame her.  It's a beautiful Saturday, and if I were young and lovely and single, I wouldn't want to be stuck at work either.  At least it's slowed down now, and only one table lingers, chatting over tea.  I have most of the dishes done, so there's nothing to do but wait to see if they need anything else, talk to Rose, and keep reading my library book about Green Mythology.  The task ahead is daunting to say the least, and I don't want to rush into it without as much information as I can possibly have.

I flip the page and take a sip of strawberry tea as Rose giggles as the jewel spins at her touch.  "Very pretty, Sweetling."  I murmur, reaching in to tickle her toes.

(Open)
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
Saturday, June 5th
The Dormouse, just after the lunch rush


Rose gurgles and coo's happily in her basket, entertaining herself with my wedding necklace dangling just above her little hands.  The diamonds catch the sunlight, and rainbows dance across the walls everytime it spins.  When that fails to amuse her, there is always her own toes.  Or Flopsy, which is a perfect match for the dress Dorian sent over just the other day.  I have to admit it's a perfect coour on her, and maybe I should take her over later today so he can see it on her.

Later though.  Romana has off today, and I can't blame her.  It's a beautiful Saturday, and if I were young and lovely and single, I wouldn't want to be stuck at work either.  At least it's slowed down now, and only one table lingers, chatting over tea.  I have most of the dishes done, so there's nothing to do but wait to see if they need anything else, talk to Rose, and keep reading my library book about Green Mythology.  The task ahead is daunting to say the least, and I don't want to rush into it without as much information as I can possibly have.

I flip the page and take a sip of strawberry tea as Rose giggles as the jewel spins at her touch.  "Very pretty, Sweetling."  I murmur, reaching in to tickle her toes.

(Open)
[identity profile] lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com
{Noontime, Wednesday June 2nd, day 367}
[The Miskatonic]


Mrs. Danvers sent a message this morning that she was ill and would not be able to come in to work today. I sent one in return wishing her well, and arranged to have flowers delivered to her home. She has been such a kind, conscientious employee, and she has taken such good care of everyone here, she has more than earned a rest.

I could have stayed home, I suppose...there is food enough in the kitchen, much of which requires little or no cooking. But these days I have so few opportunities to leave home, it seemed a shame to waste today. So, despite the ominous sky, I left around 11:30 to walk to the cafe. Some tea, I think, and some warm lunch, and the chance to enjoy both while watching the folk on the street...these things will make the whole of the day seem brighter.

I arrive at the cafe, and I hang my coat, and Tulzcha shows me to a table by the window. The rain is beginning to patter against the glass, but here with a warm mug of tea and the smell of good food all around me, it seems very warm indeed.


[OPEN to Glass, Nu, and anyone else who feels like stopping by]
[identity profile] lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com
{Noontime, Wednesday June 2nd, day 367}
[The Miskatonic]


Mrs. Danvers sent a message this morning that she was ill and would not be able to come in to work today. I sent one in return wishing her well, and arranged to have flowers delivered to her home. She has been such a kind, conscientious employee, and she has taken such good care of everyone here, she has more than earned a rest.

I could have stayed home, I suppose...there is food enough in the kitchen, much of which requires little or no cooking. But these days I have so few opportunities to leave home, it seemed a shame to waste today. So, despite the ominous sky, I left around 11:30 to walk to the cafe. Some tea, I think, and some warm lunch, and the chance to enjoy both while watching the folk on the street...these things will make the whole of the day seem brighter.

I arrive at the cafe, and I hang my coat, and Tulzcha shows me to a table by the window. The rain is beginning to patter against the glass, but here with a warm mug of tea and the smell of good food all around me, it seems very warm indeed.


[OPEN to Glass, Nu, and anyone else who feels like stopping by]
[identity profile] nunaunet.livejournal.com
Sunday evening, the Carnival

Full moon's waning now, an' with it my bleeding's slowly, same as usual, ayuh. 'Cept this month my bleeding didn't come on, cos I was having a baby. Woke up Friday, turning my head toward a cry of a baby that didn't come, an' found my period had already started, that I was wearing the rags stuffed into my undahwear same as always. An' it made me wondah - what happened to us in the days we was away? Was theah anothah us, or did we not exist for three days? Don't know what ansah would make me feel bettah. Breasts ache like they'ah full of milk, but they ain't.

Called my son-daughtah Abzu, for the watah that rises out of the ground, surprising the world.

Don't miss her; he wasn't evah mine to have. It ain't how I am. What I was for three days was someone else. An' that me who ain't me loved Abzu, an' I remembah how it felt so well, like an ache. But it's an ache I can keep aside. I don't want to have Abzu, cos that would mean I was something altogetah different than I know, an' aftah this many thousand yeahs I don't think I can handle that kind of change. But I hate thinking Abzu was undone. All life is precious, an' I had him an' she was perfect, an' for her to have nevah been - that's a sacrilege, blasphemy so deep it makes me sick deep down in my guts. Things can be ended, ayuh. That ain't my role in the world, but it's something the world needs. Endings. But unmakings ain't natural. They'ah wrong.

That towah thing, it treats us like puppets. But I ain't that. I am Nun and Naunet, I am what was befoah Ra, fathah of Fathahs. I am the Abyss. An' I am done with this shit.

So I put some fresh padding in my smallclothes an' I anoint my hair with oils, an' I make up my face. An' then I go out across the lot an' knock on Management's door.

"You said," I say when I'm inside, "you'd give me moah yeahs if I fathahed a baby for you. But I'm heah to negotiate something a bit different."

"We're listening, my dear."

An' we begin to talk.

[closed]
[identity profile] nunaunet.livejournal.com
Sunday evening, the Carnival

Full moon's waning now, an' with it my bleeding's slowly, same as usual, ayuh. 'Cept this month my bleeding didn't come on, cos I was having a baby. Woke up Friday, turning my head toward a cry of a baby that didn't come, an' found my period had already started, that I was wearing the rags stuffed into my undahwear same as always. An' it made me wondah - what happened to us in the days we was away? Was theah anothah us, or did we not exist for three days? Don't know what ansah would make me feel bettah. Breasts ache like they'ah full of milk, but they ain't.

Called my son-daughtah Abzu, for the watah that rises out of the ground, surprising the world.

Don't miss her; he wasn't evah mine to have. It ain't how I am. What I was for three days was someone else. An' that me who ain't me loved Abzu, an' I remembah how it felt so well, like an ache. But it's an ache I can keep aside. I don't want to have Abzu, cos that would mean I was something altogetah different than I know, an' aftah this many thousand yeahs I don't think I can handle that kind of change. But I hate thinking Abzu was undone. All life is precious, an' I had him an' she was perfect, an' for her to have nevah been - that's a sacrilege, blasphemy so deep it makes me sick deep down in my guts. Things can be ended, ayuh. That ain't my role in the world, but it's something the world needs. Endings. But unmakings ain't natural. They'ah wrong.

That towah thing, it treats us like puppets. But I ain't that. I am Nun and Naunet, I am what was befoah Ra, fathah of Fathahs. I am the Abyss. An' I am done with this shit.

So I put some fresh padding in my smallclothes an' I anoint my hair with oils, an' I make up my face. An' then I go out across the lot an' knock on Management's door.

"You said," I say when I'm inside, "you'd give me moah yeahs if I fathahed a baby for you. But I'm heah to negotiate something a bit different."

"We're listening, my dear."

An' we begin to talk.

[closed]
[identity profile] genny-duvall.livejournal.com
Tuesday, May 18
Afternoon, on the riverbank


I had the dream again.

Been havin' 'em for days now.

Fire and stars and pounding blood and jaguars running through the jungle Tezcatlipoca, Tezcatlipoca…

Woke up still feelin' the jungle hot, and then I felt cold, and then I cried.

Still, it don't feel so empty when I wake up no more. Not real bad like it used to. Momma says that means I'm gettin' better. I dunno. Still hurts, but somethin's different now, since I started havin' the dreams.

I still wish Tez was here.

Leastways I'm doin' a little art? Gotta do some new sketches for the concessions. Ain't too hard drawin' pictures of food, I guess. Don't gotta worry 'bout 'em lookin' real or nothin'. They ain't good, not like I used to draw, but they're okay.

I draw cotton candy and ice cream cones till I feel sick like I ate too much of 'em and I just gotta get outside. So I take my sketchbook and wander down by the river, lookin' for a good place to sit. Maybe out here I'll draw better...

[Open to Nu first, maybe others]
[identity profile] genny-duvall.livejournal.com
Tuesday, May 18
Afternoon, on the riverbank


I had the dream again.

Been havin' 'em for days now.

Fire and stars and pounding blood and jaguars running through the jungle Tezcatlipoca, Tezcatlipoca…

Woke up still feelin' the jungle hot, and then I felt cold, and then I cried.

Still, it don't feel so empty when I wake up no more. Not real bad like it used to. Momma says that means I'm gettin' better. I dunno. Still hurts, but somethin's different now, since I started havin' the dreams.

I still wish Tez was here.

Leastways I'm doin' a little art? Gotta do some new sketches for the concessions. Ain't too hard drawin' pictures of food, I guess. Don't gotta worry 'bout 'em lookin' real or nothin'. They ain't good, not like I used to draw, but they're okay.

I draw cotton candy and ice cream cones till I feel sick like I ate too much of 'em and I just gotta get outside. So I take my sketchbook and wander down by the river, lookin' for a good place to sit. Maybe out here I'll draw better...

[Open to Nu first, maybe others]
[identity profile] glass-beddau.livejournal.com
[Midmorning of Saturday, March 20 (day 293)]
[Inside the Miskatonic]


Cooler than it's been of late, though think some of that's the wind. Woke up with less of a mind for speaking with folk, and spent the morning down in the graveyard, neatening things as needed it. The lines and chisel of Pelan's marker softened over winter, and's started taking on the look of a grave that means to stay settled, even if the ground's no longer frozen.

The quiet's left me more in the mood for watching folk, and the Miskatonic's less crowded than last week, so I take a seat by the window and trouble Tulzcha for tea and think of what needs doing today. May see after taking the washing to Mrs Ramsay or someone of the like; I can still do it, but it's growing less than comfortable, and if I've a choice of what work to do I'd rather that not be it.

Rest my chin on my hand and watch out the window at market. Not thinking there's anything particular I need, but suppose I'll take a look afore I head home...

[Open]
[Closed]
[identity profile] glass-beddau.livejournal.com
[Midmorning of Saturday, March 20 (day 293)]
[Inside the Miskatonic]


Cooler than it's been of late, though think some of that's the wind. Woke up with less of a mind for speaking with folk, and spent the morning down in the graveyard, neatening things as needed it. The lines and chisel of Pelan's marker softened over winter, and's started taking on the look of a grave that means to stay settled, even if the ground's no longer frozen.

The quiet's left me more in the mood for watching folk, and the Miskatonic's less crowded than last week, so I take a seat by the window and trouble Tulzcha for tea and think of what needs doing today. May see after taking the washing to Mrs Ramsay or someone of the like; I can still do it, but it's growing less than comfortable, and if I've a choice of what work to do I'd rather that not be it.

Rest my chin on my hand and watch out the window at market. Not thinking there's anything particular I need, but suppose I'll take a look afore I head home...

[Open]
[Closed]
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com

Tuesday March 16th
Later evening, The Dormouse

.................
"No, love."

................
"I am not cold, really."

.................
"I want to be outside."  I sigh, pulling the comforter closer around me, shivering in my nightgown but enjoying the night air and the starry sky.   Needed a change after the last two days in bed.

...............
"No, sweetling."

.....................
"No.  I do not want your father here."  I say rather sternly, stroking my stomach and shifting; the steps quickly becoming uncomfortable. 

....................
"It doesn't matter if he did or did not actually hurt Derek, I am...."  I  realize I am having a argument with my unborn daughter.   "I am not talking about this." 

...............
"I... I don't hate him, but I hate the things he does."

A moment passes, and I watch a faint trail of light streak across the sky.  I smile, just a little, even though it makes my heart hurt.   "I am the Morning Star. I am fair and fallen..."

...................?
I sigh and nod, one single tear slipping from my eye.
"Yes, sweetling, yes... I still do."

Again, we're quiet, and I notice another pale streak of light across the heveans.

.....................
"Please little one, please do not call him.  I.. I.. ah.... really don't want... don't want...  to see him toni-ahhhh---"

My breath catches in my throat, an odd tension coiling through me.  I stand up, and take a few steps into the yard, eyes still skyward.  Suddenly. there is a bright flash racing across the sky, then another... and another... and it's beautiful and I can hear them sing, and the music .... 

And the sky is filled with light, can you see it?
All the black is really white... if you believe it...

I whisper, knowing the song, but not knowing from where or how I know it.  All I know if the heavens seem to be a fire and the world seems to be holding it's breath within me, and there are tears on my cheeks and there's so much beauty  ---- !

There's a rush of air into my lungs, and a rush of warmth and the tension releases suddenly.  Look down and  realize my water just broke.   I can only stand there for a moment, and let the pure, blind terror crash in on my head.  This is happening tonight, now... and please, please please let me live to hold my daughter, and name her, and show her how beautiful this world can be and---- 

..................................
I take a deep breath and nod my head.  "Yes dear, I know.  it will all work out fine.  I do trust you."  Look up to the sky again, and watch another star tumble from the heavens.

"Go ahead, call your father."  I sigh, turning and heading towards the front yard.  "Not even born yet, and already getting your way."  I grumble, but smiling as I pull the comforter tighter about me.  "Now, let's hope we can find someone passing by willing to go get Nu." 

It's going to be a long night.

(Open to Iblis and Nu)
(Closed)
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com

Tuesday March 16th
Later evening, The Dormouse

.................
"No, love."

................
"I am not cold, really."

.................
"I want to be outside."  I sigh, pulling the comforter closer around me, shivering in my nightgown but enjoying the night air and the starry sky.   Needed a change after the last two days in bed.

...............
"No, sweetling."

.....................
"No.  I do not want your father here."  I say rather sternly, stroking my stomach and shifting; the steps quickly becoming uncomfortable. 

....................
"It doesn't matter if he did or did not actually hurt Derek, I am...."  I  realize I am having a argument with my unborn daughter.   "I am not talking about this." 

...............
"I... I don't hate him, but I hate the things he does."

A moment passes, and I watch a faint trail of light streak across the sky.  I smile, just a little, even though it makes my heart hurt.   "I am the Morning Star. I am fair and fallen..."

...................?
I sigh and nod, one single tear slipping from my eye.
"Yes, sweetling, yes... I still do."

Again, we're quiet, and I notice another pale streak of light across the heveans.

.....................
"Please little one, please do not call him.  I.. I.. ah.... really don't want... don't want...  to see him toni-ahhhh---"

My breath catches in my throat, an odd tension coiling through me.  I stand up, and take a few steps into the yard, eyes still skyward.  Suddenly. there is a bright flash racing across the sky, then another... and another... and it's beautiful and I can hear them sing, and the music .... 

And the sky is filled with light, can you see it?
All the black is really white... if you believe it...

I whisper, knowing the song, but not knowing from where or how I know it.  All I know if the heavens seem to be a fire and the world seems to be holding it's breath within me, and there are tears on my cheeks and there's so much beauty  ---- !

There's a rush of air into my lungs, and a rush of warmth and the tension releases suddenly.  Look down and  realize my water just broke.   I can only stand there for a moment, and let the pure, blind terror crash in on my head.  This is happening tonight, now... and please, please please let me live to hold my daughter, and name her, and show her how beautiful this world can be and---- 

..................................
I take a deep breath and nod my head.  "Yes dear, I know.  it will all work out fine.  I do trust you."  Look up to the sky again, and watch another star tumble from the heavens.

"Go ahead, call your father."  I sigh, turning and heading towards the front yard.  "Not even born yet, and already getting your way."  I grumble, but smiling as I pull the comforter tighter about me.  "Now, let's hope we can find someone passing by willing to go get Nu." 

It's going to be a long night.

(Open to Iblis and Nu)
(Closed)
[identity profile] silence-excolo.livejournal.com
[Thursday, March 4 (day 277)]
[Carnivale Lot]
[Just before dusk]



It's a nagging in the back of my brain, like a bit of song from somewhere, the tune remembered but the words lost. I couldn't place it before, but it's been coming into focus. And it's a pull, but not. There's a flow (washing bubbling rising over smooth glossy stones fertile silt over wet greenlands year after year over) & it's been there for a while. I'm surprised at myself for not feeling it before. But then again, I guess I wouldn't. It's not exactly me it's pulling this time.

It's not like I know who she is. Not really. I know her work. I know she's been here a long while. I know there's power in her, strange & flowing, like a tide pulling in & out. And it's not like we've ever talked- well, not like I'm much for chatting, anyway. But lately I feel a strange need. To see her. Actually talk to her. But what the hell would I say?

I'm not stupid; I know where this drive is coming from. Not that it helps me to interpret it. Or explain it to her. But maybe I won't have to. Maybe she can explain it to me.

And so I head towards her trailer. The sun's just starting to set, slight chill in the air, but it's warmer than yesterday. Spring should be here soon. The Carnivale will be able to run again, for however long we stay here.

I knock on her door. "Nu? You in?"

[Open to Nu]
[Closed]

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