[identity profile] lord-icelus.livejournal.com
Some time, in a place that was and is the abbey, that is in this world and in Dream

She is coming.

I can feel her, that nasty bitch, like a tooth ache or a splinter. She nearly killed me, and I still suffer for it. Partly it was my own fault, for not remembering that silly service gods like her love to throw themselves on their own swords to look after their people. As if we should be in service to them!

I want her to get here. I want to kill her slowly, and lick her bones clean, and then I want to dance as the new king of this little town. A nasty pisspot of a place, it is, but it's better than oblivion, yes. They may not worship me, here, but they'd fear me: and for a god of nightmare, that's really good enough.

She's bringing friends, though. I disliked that last time. And so I conjure up a labyrinth, turning the stone of this abbey into twisting pathways of dead ends and trap doors. She'll lose some along the way. And then I will tear out her heart.

[OPEN]
[identity profile] damien-dw.livejournal.com
Wednesday, September 17th, early morning,
Silk road heading towards the bridge

The dreamlands have come to us. At least that's what it looks like. Things are even crazier than they were when everyone's wishes were coming true. It feels like a huge bubble of dreamstuff is expanding out from the center of town.  Or maybe that's just my waking mind trying to make sense of what's going on. I tried the wings again and this time they came. I put them away as soon as I got to the Sacred Whore.  work is the last thing on my mind right now. i'm thinking maybe I should try to find Noma. Or maybe Nanse-kam.  Though last time something happenedwith dreams it was our help that Nanshe needed.

Pull the compass out from my pocket. It's already spinning.  I look at it and then an idea comes to me; since I don't know who I should find and it's made of dreamstuff maybe I should just ask if to find me whoever will be the most help in this situation? Why not? It might be the best way to deal with this.

I fix that idea in my head and the compass spins one more time and then settles pointing out at the bridge. Okay then. Time to go find some help.


[open to Zann]
[identity profile] genny-duvall.livejournal.com
Thursday, September 4
The Carnival Living Lot


Them crow feathers want me to paint with 'em. They really do. I stuck 'em in my bag, and then I could still feel 'em so I stuck the bag under a pile of clothes, and then I still knew they was there.

I done all kinds of other things while I tried not to think about 'em. Visited Syl when she wasn't feelin' good enough to go out, talked to Zann, drew pictures for the little kids, messed 'round with pencils and pastels and all kindsa new drawin' stuff. I done pictures of the river and the carousel and even the wagons, and I done autumn leaves for the front gate of the Carnival 'cause it'll be time for that soon. It was cold last night! The leaves looked real good, too, but dang, why're we still here if it's almost fall! We should be movin' on! We should be goin' south where we don't gotta worry 'bout keepin' the animals warm. Leastways the twins won't have it so bad this winter, but it just ain't right.

We gotta get goin'.

The feathers still want me to paint, but I don't let 'em tell me what to do. It's hard, but I leave 'em behind and go over to see Syl.

[open to Syl and Zann]
[identity profile] genny-duvall.livejournal.com
Wednesday, August 4
Afternoon


We're havin' a Summer Sun Day next week. Gotta do somethin' different, I guess, to keep people comin' in. So the gates're all draped in yellow and I'm makin' pictures of suns to put on all of the rides and booths. Some of 'em are just paint, and some of 'em I put tears in so they've got rays that glow and shimmer like the real sun.

It ain't enough. It ain't never enough.

I gotta do somethin'. I want to move is what I want. It ain't right that we're comin' on more'n a year here! It's summer, and we should be goin' north to them towns all full of pine trees where we set up on land that used to be farms next to lil white churches. Not everybody cares. Momma likes it here. She likes sittin' still.
But I feel like we should be goin' somewhere and we ain't.

I should be doin' somethin' big and I ain't.

Maybe it's because I ain't got nobody to be a priestess to no more. Maybe it's just that I want to move on.

Used to be that some nights I'd go to the corner of my room where I keep all the best pictures, the ones I made look the most real, and look at 'em. Now I don't 'cause lots of 'em just make me sad. That's where I put the pictures of Nu and Abzu - tore 'em right out of my sketchbook 'cause it hurt too much to look at 'em and put 'em way in the back. All the paintings I done while I was all wrong in the head are there, too. Don't wanna look at 'em.

Put the painting of Zann and the Carousel there too, 'cause it makes me sad to think 'bout her not bein' all the way right. I helped her, and I made it so's she didn't have to see the world wrong no more, but it still didn't fix it all, and it didn't make us right. We don't talk like we used to. We don't hardly talk at all, 'cause what'd we say? We smile and stuff, and say hey when we see each other in the cooktent, but that's it.

Still makes me happy to see her actin' all normal-like. She's still goin' into town to see all the friends she made there, 'cause it's Zann and she's got a hundred friends. She's still jokin' with all of the family folk and workin' on her machines, too.

I finish another sun, all shiny and flat, and grab my sketchbook. I gotta get out.

I go down to the river, down to my favorite spot, where I can see the river stretchin' far off into the distance, and I start to sketch.

[Open to Zann]
[identity profile] mistresswanda.livejournal.com
Saturday, July 24
The Dormouse, early afternoon


Market's busy today, which means I am not. That's alright, I like quiet Saturdays, especially the one's where Romana has off.

There's only one table left inside, and Tommi at her table outside. She's taken possession of Rose, and I can see them through the window having a very serious discussion. My heart twists for her; I know how much she was looking forward to being a grandmother. We had a long talk once I sat down with her. She showed me the letter from her daughter, Callie. My heart broke for both of them, and I held Tommi's hand as she dabbed away tears.

I told her to go out to her daughter, a girl needs her momma at times like these. I think she will; that is, once I can seperate her from Rose. Think of you like a daughter, you know that right? Tommi sighed and gave me a small smile as she held out her hands for my happy, squirming daughter. Hope that doesn't bother you. "Course not. I'd be thrilled to think of you as family." I told her honestly, rising and dropping a kiss on her hat. "And Rose adores you, so I guess we're family." I laugh, and give her hand a squeeze before going in to clean tables.

Think I could do worse than consider Tommi family.

(open)
[identity profile] silence-excolo.livejournal.com
Thursday, July 8th [Day 403]
Early morning
Carnivale lot


Rain. It rained. Yesterday. Good. My bucket should be full of water.

Can't seem to get the energy to trek to the showers today. The little leak in my roof drips into that bucket. I can use that, try to wash up some. Should be clean enough.

Can't remember the last time I was this sick. Skipped out on work, but no one came by to complain. Probably not much to work on, then. Should try to go today, since the sun's out. I pull myself up to sitting on my bed, but my head's already complaining & I have to pause a bit. Been sweating & chilling so much my t shirt's soaked. Try to strip it off & the air makes me shiver so I pull it back down.

Dammit. Look over towards the bucket. Seems so far away, but I know it's just a few feet.

Maybe I'll just close my eyes a bit longer, make the spinning go away.

[Open to Zann & Syl]
[identity profile] silence-excolo.livejournal.com
Thursday, July 8th [Day 403]
Early morning
Carnivale lot


Rain. It rained. Yesterday. Good. My bucket should be full of water.

Can't seem to get the energy to trek to the showers today. The little leak in my roof drips into that bucket. I can use that, try to wash up some. Should be clean enough.

Can't remember the last time I was this sick. Skipped out on work, but no one came by to complain. Probably not much to work on, then. Should try to go today, since the sun's out. I pull myself up to sitting on my bed, but my head's already complaining & I have to pause a bit. Been sweating & chilling so much my t shirt's soaked. Try to strip it off & the air makes me shiver so I pull it back down.

Dammit. Look over towards the bucket. Seems so far away, but I know it's just a few feet.

Maybe I'll just close my eyes a bit longer, make the spinning go away.

[Open to Zann & Syl]
[identity profile] goddessnanshe.livejournal.com
Mid-afternoon of Tuesday, 29th June
The Abbey


It's a bright warm day, and the church, my church, rings with the sound of a community in song. Every pew is filled, and there are even people standing at the back of the church and spilling onto the porch, leaning into the doorway to hear Ash's words, and singing out familiar hymns of summer and farmwork through the stone of the church and out into the bright air. Some of our farmers - I know them all by name, John Hale, Jasper Thornton, Lucille Cliff, Alex Brown, their dreams familiar to me as neighbours - bring a bale of new hay to the altar in offering, and my throat is tight.

Please, I pray. Please let their prayers be granted. May I still be able to do some good.

It's strange, to be able to feel such joy and such grief at once. I have such pride in my people, and such helpless frustration at what I have become.

The service ends, and everyone goes into the fresh air. Tonight they will dance together at the new hall, kick up tired heels and shake out aching muscles into new, pleasanter aches of dancing and socialising and celebrating after hard labour. For now, our community here has moved tables out from the dining hall into the yard, and the congregation has brought pies and cider to share. Children run giggling between the tables, hay in their hair, and I laugh looking at them, and feel a terrible tender pain in my heart, wanting them to be as safe as this always.

[open]
[identity profile] goddessnanshe.livejournal.com
Mid-afternoon of Tuesday, 29th June
The Abbey


It's a bright warm day, and the church, my church, rings with the sound of a community in song. Every pew is filled, and there are even people standing at the back of the church and spilling onto the porch, leaning into the doorway to hear Ash's words, and singing out familiar hymns of summer and farmwork through the stone of the church and out into the bright air. Some of our farmers - I know them all by name, John Hale, Jasper Thornton, Lucille Cliff, Alex Brown, their dreams familiar to me as neighbours - bring a bale of new hay to the altar in offering, and my throat is tight.

Please, I pray. Please let their prayers be granted. May I still be able to do some good.

It's strange, to be able to feel such joy and such grief at once. I have such pride in my people, and such helpless frustration at what I have become.

The service ends, and everyone goes into the fresh air. Tonight they will dance together at the new hall, kick up tired heels and shake out aching muscles into new, pleasanter aches of dancing and socialising and celebrating after hard labour. For now, our community here has moved tables out from the dining hall into the yard, and the congregation has brought pies and cider to share. Children run giggling between the tables, hay in their hair, and I laugh looking at them, and feel a terrible tender pain in my heart, wanting them to be as safe as this always.

[open]
[identity profile] tereixa-zann.livejournal.com
[Early morning of Sunday, June 27 (day 392)]
[Out in the park]


I smell like beer. Which, since it's oh-god-early on a Sunday morning, sometime between breakfast and church, would be kinda embarrassing if I'd been drinking.

Yesterday was such a soup that I ended up going to bed early (well, early for a Saturday); woke up in the quiet time before dawn and lay awake for a bit watching the wall. There's a blank spot where the blueprint Kent gave me used to be, I used it in the music box, and now Genny's shades-of-grey sketch of my Carousel and the perfect crisp black-on-white Soon. from Management are flanking empty space. Can't really make them out in the dark, but I know they're there.

So I got up and went out and went for a walk,

I went to the Miskatonic because hey--jukebox, how can you go wrong with a jukebox? It helped, it really did. So I was sitting down with coffee to listen to the music when I saw Cain and someone I didn't place heading up the street and not dawdling at all, so I went out to see where they were going and, well, the Abbey is not an unfriendly place so I figured I'd stop by and ask what was going on, or more specifically what broke.

I don't have a lot of experience working with brewing equipment (and there's a faint flicker of guilt, remembering Tez), but a ball valve is a ball valve, right? And cracks and leaks are pretty much the same all over.

So we got the distillery patched up and then cleaned up, and they were nice enough to spot breakfast, and I've got that tired content feeling you get after a good long job. Nice to know I can still improvise, if I need to, even with everything that's changed--and if I can't get what needs fixing, I can still fix.

I'll head home in a bit, but right now I'm just killing a moment in the park. My stomach's full and the tea's keeping me awake and life? Life is honestly feeling pretty good right now. Light a cigarette and stretch out my feet and watch the world go by, and I'm grinning, I can feel it.

[Open]
[Closed]
[identity profile] tereixa-zann.livejournal.com
[Early morning of Sunday, June 27 (day 392)]
[Out in the park]


I smell like beer. Which, since it's oh-god-early on a Sunday morning, sometime between breakfast and church, would be kinda embarrassing if I'd been drinking.

Yesterday was such a soup that I ended up going to bed early (well, early for a Saturday); woke up in the quiet time before dawn and lay awake for a bit watching the wall. There's a blank spot where the blueprint Kent gave me used to be, I used it in the music box, and now Genny's shades-of-grey sketch of my Carousel and the perfect crisp black-on-white Soon. from Management are flanking empty space. Can't really make them out in the dark, but I know they're there.

So I got up and went out and went for a walk,

I went to the Miskatonic because hey--jukebox, how can you go wrong with a jukebox? It helped, it really did. So I was sitting down with coffee to listen to the music when I saw Cain and someone I didn't place heading up the street and not dawdling at all, so I went out to see where they were going and, well, the Abbey is not an unfriendly place so I figured I'd stop by and ask what was going on, or more specifically what broke.

I don't have a lot of experience working with brewing equipment (and there's a faint flicker of guilt, remembering Tez), but a ball valve is a ball valve, right? And cracks and leaks are pretty much the same all over.

So we got the distillery patched up and then cleaned up, and they were nice enough to spot breakfast, and I've got that tired content feeling you get after a good long job. Nice to know I can still improvise, if I need to, even with everything that's changed--and if I can't get what needs fixing, I can still fix.

I'll head home in a bit, but right now I'm just killing a moment in the park. My stomach's full and the tea's keeping me awake and life? Life is honestly feeling pretty good right now. Light a cigarette and stretch out my feet and watch the world go by, and I'm grinning, I can feel it.

[Open]
[Closed]
[identity profile] tereixa-zann.livejournal.com
[Morning of Tuesday, June 15, day 380]
[On Main Street, outside the Cockaigne]


It's a slow day--I mean, the weather's nice and that's starting to help, and the weekend wasn't too bad, but Monday mornings are a slow slow thing. And I don't have anything to get done, so I headed out and down the road, figured I'd take a look, stretch my legs, maybe splurge a little 'cause there was this guy who was real happy to get a watch fixed and even after getting Xay and me new shoes (we really needed new shoes, bet his will last longer) I've got spending money, a bit.

I guess people are comfortably getting things done, and this end of Silk is quieter in the mornings anyway, and it's not exactly barren but when I'm coming up over the bridge there isn't really anyone around and I stop and stick my hands in my pockets and just look for a moment. It's... well, it's Excolo. Nice sunny day, going to be noon, was rowdier last night, and it's all
    just
          now.

I mean I'm getting used to it, things just looking like what they are, but I'm used to the lot looking like that, not the town. So I spend a minute looking and around the time I'm starting to get all melancholy, I remember Anushka telling me about the town, her words running out and through everything that made it up, and that helps and I shrug it off and bounce on down. Think of stopping in at that pretty townie's shop but it's not open yet, and think of the Miskatonic but I don't feel like sitting down inside, and I end up heading down to the Cockaigne and picking up a bag of honey buns, and then I just hop up on one of the hitching posts and settle in with a smoke. Cigarette and sunlight and sweet pastry, it's a great start to a day.

[Open]
[identity profile] tereixa-zann.livejournal.com
[Morning of Tuesday, June 15, day 380]
[On Main Street, outside the Cockaigne]


It's a slow day--I mean, the weather's nice and that's starting to help, and the weekend wasn't too bad, but Monday mornings are a slow slow thing. And I don't have anything to get done, so I headed out and down the road, figured I'd take a look, stretch my legs, maybe splurge a little 'cause there was this guy who was real happy to get a watch fixed and even after getting Xay and me new shoes (we really needed new shoes, bet his will last longer) I've got spending money, a bit.

I guess people are comfortably getting things done, and this end of Silk is quieter in the mornings anyway, and it's not exactly barren but when I'm coming up over the bridge there isn't really anyone around and I stop and stick my hands in my pockets and just look for a moment. It's... well, it's Excolo. Nice sunny day, going to be noon, was rowdier last night, and it's all
    just
          now.

I mean I'm getting used to it, things just looking like what they are, but I'm used to the lot looking like that, not the town. So I spend a minute looking and around the time I'm starting to get all melancholy, I remember Anushka telling me about the town, her words running out and through everything that made it up, and that helps and I shrug it off and bounce on down. Think of stopping in at that pretty townie's shop but it's not open yet, and think of the Miskatonic but I don't feel like sitting down inside, and I end up heading down to the Cockaigne and picking up a bag of honey buns, and then I just hop up on one of the hitching posts and settle in with a smoke. Cigarette and sunlight and sweet pastry, it's a great start to a day.

[Open]
[identity profile] genny-duvall.livejournal.com
Monday, May 24
Outside Genny's trailer


Everythin was great, and then it wasn't.

Nu had a baby. I helped Nu have a baby. Never thought I'd like babies so much, but this one was different. Never thought there'd be so much to see in a baby that didn't even talk or nothin'. I went to play with them every day, and I drew pictures of 'em both. Real good pictures, too, better'n I done for ages. And I told Momma all 'bout everythin' the baby did. I told Zann, too.

And then the baby was gone, and Zann was gone too.

For a couple days she was fine, and then she went back to seein' every broken thing in the world, and it hurt her so much that she couldn't hardly stand up.

It was all them wishes. Everyone started talkin' 'bout what they'd wished, and we all figured out that's what done it. Sadie wished she didn't have to dye her hair no more and Dale wished he had a nice gal to go 'round with and Momma wished she could do a flip off the back of her horse. Guess Nu wanted to have a baby. And Zann wished she was better.

I wished all kindsa stuff too but none of 'em came true. Can't even wish right no more.

I sit on the steps of my trailer, flippin' through my sketchbook to find an empty page. Guess I can draw a lil better'n I could before, at least. I want to draw more, too. Just wish it didn't make me so sad to look at all them pictures of the baby…

[Open to Zann]
[identity profile] genny-duvall.livejournal.com
Monday, May 24
Outside Genny's trailer


Everythin was great, and then it wasn't.

Nu had a baby. I helped Nu have a baby. Never thought I'd like babies so much, but this one was different. Never thought there'd be so much to see in a baby that didn't even talk or nothin'. I went to play with them every day, and I drew pictures of 'em both. Real good pictures, too, better'n I done for ages. And I told Momma all 'bout everythin' the baby did. I told Zann, too.

And then the baby was gone, and Zann was gone too.

For a couple days she was fine, and then she went back to seein' every broken thing in the world, and it hurt her so much that she couldn't hardly stand up.

It was all them wishes. Everyone started talkin' 'bout what they'd wished, and we all figured out that's what done it. Sadie wished she didn't have to dye her hair no more and Dale wished he had a nice gal to go 'round with and Momma wished she could do a flip off the back of her horse. Guess Nu wanted to have a baby. And Zann wished she was better.

I wished all kindsa stuff too but none of 'em came true. Can't even wish right no more.

I sit on the steps of my trailer, flippin' through my sketchbook to find an empty page. Guess I can draw a lil better'n I could before, at least. I want to draw more, too. Just wish it didn't make me so sad to look at all them pictures of the baby…

[Open to Zann]
[identity profile] tereixa-zann.livejournal.com
[Since the wishes broke through Saturday, May 22 (day 356)]
[At home, for all the good it's doing]


I woke up and the world was full of cracks. I could see the blankets and quilts waiting to become shreds, and the cracks in the boards, the bones waiting to come out under Anti and Kythera, the stains in the paper--Genny's drawing and Kent's blueprint and the answer from Management. And I opened the door, I had some sick-hopfeul-sad-crazy idea that maybe it was a nightware, maybe I'd get out and wake up and it'd all be gone, and--

Oh, the shape of the world, getting ready to break.

It hurts less, here in the dark. Sometimes I cry and sometimes I sleep and I thought I was getting used to it, I really really did, but then it was gone and everything was golden and now I've come back to this and--

I can't live like this. I really don't think I can.

[Closed]
[identity profile] tereixa-zann.livejournal.com
[Since the wishes broke through Saturday, May 22 (day 356)]
[At home, for all the good it's doing]


I woke up and the world was full of cracks. I could see the blankets and quilts waiting to become shreds, and the cracks in the boards, the bones waiting to come out under Anti and Kythera, the stains in the paper--Genny's drawing and Kent's blueprint and the answer from Management. And I opened the door, I had some sick-hopfeul-sad-crazy idea that maybe it was a nightware, maybe I'd get out and wake up and it'd all be gone, and--

Oh, the shape of the world, getting ready to break.

It hurts less, here in the dark. Sometimes I cry and sometimes I sleep and I thought I was getting used to it, I really really did, but then it was gone and everything was golden and now I've come back to this and--

I can't live like this. I really don't think I can.

[Closed]
[identity profile] tereixa-zann.livejournal.com
[Early afternoon of Thursday, May 20 (day 354)]
[Out and about at the Miskatonic Café]


I can see. I can see.

I woke up by the Carousel yesterday morning before dawn, my shining girl, my baby, running sweet and bright and singing out into the night, the piping skirl. And I saw all of her, the grandfather's-axe truth that stretches here from the time before the end of time, the machinery and fine gears from when the railways were young and the air was just beginning to sing with crystal and people were reaching out across the seas and skies and the whole world was beginning to be held in the net of our meaning. And she came up through that, went on while all the air and earth around her turned to dust and then to smoke and the things we built grew smaller, finer, and then the air was full of tiny things broken and light pouring out and still she was here, my baby, wood and gears and paint and the calliope tune, on forever and forever and forever through the night, because that is what we do, we make music and shape sound and we give it meaning, we give it all meaning. Even when it grows old, even when it will come to go, the seeing and the making sings through us all and within us...

Oh, within us, every moment, we find the heartbeat of creation.

And yesterday I spent with Mama and Dad and Essa and Sabella and Xay, and Jay and Hux, and Genny, and my Carousel, and the rides stretching up through the sky into a summer sea of heat and the bolts and gears biting deep and steady in and the breeze singing in the strut and stretch of girders, and we built this, we built it all, and I would do it for nothing more than to do it, to please people and to stand in the hot air and the summer night, and all of this how can it be wrong?

And today the air is cooling gently as if the world was taking a deep breath in and a slow breeze was blowing, and down to the Miskatonic, all gilded and green, an undersea dream of pipes and steam and music younger than my Carousel and older than anyone I've met--anyone else, I know, older than anyone who wouldn't panick over being loved. And the road smells of cobble-dust and worn asphalt tar, and the air inside smells of coffee and sugar and bread and eggs, and the jukebox is playing, and if I spin around once before I sit down and I'm laughing, who'd gainsay me? It's such a beautiful day.

[Open]
[identity profile] tereixa-zann.livejournal.com
[Early afternoon of Thursday, May 20 (day 354)]
[Out and about at the Miskatonic Café]


I can see. I can see.

I woke up by the Carousel yesterday morning before dawn, my shining girl, my baby, running sweet and bright and singing out into the night, the piping skirl. And I saw all of her, the grandfather's-axe truth that stretches here from the time before the end of time, the machinery and fine gears from when the railways were young and the air was just beginning to sing with crystal and people were reaching out across the seas and skies and the whole world was beginning to be held in the net of our meaning. And she came up through that, went on while all the air and earth around her turned to dust and then to smoke and the things we built grew smaller, finer, and then the air was full of tiny things broken and light pouring out and still she was here, my baby, wood and gears and paint and the calliope tune, on forever and forever and forever through the night, because that is what we do, we make music and shape sound and we give it meaning, we give it all meaning. Even when it grows old, even when it will come to go, the seeing and the making sings through us all and within us...

Oh, within us, every moment, we find the heartbeat of creation.

And yesterday I spent with Mama and Dad and Essa and Sabella and Xay, and Jay and Hux, and Genny, and my Carousel, and the rides stretching up through the sky into a summer sea of heat and the bolts and gears biting deep and steady in and the breeze singing in the strut and stretch of girders, and we built this, we built it all, and I would do it for nothing more than to do it, to please people and to stand in the hot air and the summer night, and all of this how can it be wrong?

And today the air is cooling gently as if the world was taking a deep breath in and a slow breeze was blowing, and down to the Miskatonic, all gilded and green, an undersea dream of pipes and steam and music younger than my Carousel and older than anyone I've met--anyone else, I know, older than anyone who wouldn't panick over being loved. And the road smells of cobble-dust and worn asphalt tar, and the air inside smells of coffee and sugar and bread and eggs, and the jukebox is playing, and if I spin around once before I sit down and I'm laughing, who'd gainsay me? It's such a beautiful day.

[Open]
[identity profile] genny-duvall.livejournal.com
Thursday, April 22
The Carnival


There was so long when all I ever wanted to do was be 'round Zann. And then there was so long when it hurt too much to even think about bein' 'round her. And now…I don't hardly know. Don't know if Zann thinks I'm stupid. Don't know if she's mad at me for makin' her sad.

But I gotta do it. The twins're right. I gotta do it. I gotta talk to her. Maybe I'll even feel better if I do.

So I go to the cook tent. 'Cause she's gotta eat, right? I do too, and I gotta stop askin' Momma to get my food for me. Hate the way people still stare'n whisper sometimes, but I gotta do it.

I make sure I got coffee just the way she likes it, and I find Zann where she's sittin' way out on the edge of the tent. "Um." Clear my throat. "Hey?"

[Open to Zann]

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