I will only complicate you. Trust in me and fall as well.

[lilith-qliphah.livejournal.com]

Tuesday, September 1st
Day 93
Evening

I do not bother to draw my form back together after I leave the Grindhouse, instead I remain as desert air drifting over the carnival, simply enjoying not being contained in human form for awhile. I did not look for Zann immediately after I left but I know perhaps only a day has past between then and now and the time has come. I search the lot and she is nowhere to be found, so I widen my search to include the town and then…Oohh, there you are.

...I easily spot her, walking quickly down the road with hands stuffed in her pockets and a determined look on her face that makes me spark with excitement, hoping she’s going where I think she is. I watch as she turns down the main street showing no signs of slowing as she passes by shop after shop then after the stables turns right. Oh you sneaky brave little thing, you are going to see him without me, aren’t you.

She reaches the tower and pauses at the entrance, looking it over carefully then taking a deep breath she steps up to the door pausing again. Ooohh this is going to be such wonderful fun. Without out even a slight ripple in the air, I draw my form together behind her as she raises a small fist and knocks on the door.

“Zann, why are you knocking on a water tower?” I ask, cautiously and then gasp taking a quick step back as she jumps in surprise, spinning around to face me.

[open to Zann and Iblis]

Continued here.

Comments

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

She takes my hand. An odd enough response to talk of hell; but I know well enough how to elicit sympathy. There have been songs about that.

"You made yourself into a malengine, purest one that could be, and tore out love, and want things destroyed... I guess that's Hell, real Hell, not just what people talk about when they swear."

"As if I could be satisfied with mere fire," I say, smiling. "If Hell is a place, I am also it."

"Does it bother you, that Tez loves you? And do you hate me? For being, I mean?"

I think on her first question. Does it bother me? I seek out men and gods' desire, need, fear, devotion... But love. I have a strange fondness for possessing it when I will not give it.

"No," I say, at last. "Because his love cannot end well for him, or for us." Tezcatlipoca will either betray me, or he will die because of me. Possibly both. And so onward with despair. "And yes, I hate you for being, as you put it." My smile glimmers. "But that does not mean I cannot like you, too. And I do, insofar as I can like Man. You are an interesting person. You remind me of a friend."

[tereixa-zann.livejournal.com]

He doesn't say anything for a minute, and I wonder why. I imagine he might be deciding what to tell me, which is not the same thing as lying although they can weave through each other sometimes. I'm not... I don't think I could tell if he lied, every word's so perfectly struck into the air.

"No. Because his love cannot end well for him, or for us." And I can feel my heart squeeze inside me, because even with what he's turning into... Tez. And deeper and clearer than that, Genny.

"And yes, I hate you for being, as you put it," and he's smiling and it's like... I don't make up names for my machines or anything, but this is like the slow wear of metal and loosening of joints having a face. Not being human, but having a face so real you forget that for a moment, and I smile back a little. Not 'cause I'm happy or anything, really not, but--yeah, I kind of knew that. "But that does not mean I cannot like you, too. And I do, insofar as I can like Man. You are an interesting person. You remind me of a friend."

I shrug and I'd pull my knees up to myself and rest my heels on the edge of the couch but I don't want to get it dirty. Odd thing to think about but it's there. "I like you too," I say quietly. "The bits I can--understand, hear, whatever." Being around him is a little like talking to Anushka except with her I keep having that feeling that she's moving away from anything I can see, following a psychokine track that takes her out into the pattern of things. With Kent it's--I know there's something in him that's out of sight, but I can't tell, he's just stamped into the world strong and bright as nothing else. "And you're interesting, you..." I shake my head and run one hand over the stubble of my hair.

"May-be," I say softly, "the things I perceive—the animals, plants, men, hills, shining and flowing waters,
The skies of day and night—colors, densities, forms—May-be these are, (as doubtless they are,) only apparitions, and the real something has yet to be known..." Look up at him. "So why am I interesting? I guess it's not just coming to see you. The patterns, then?"

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

She smiles at me. It is very rare for a human to smile at me in that way when they have any indication of who I am. Sometimes they do smile, with desire and greed and ambition; but rarely with friendship. It is an interesting thing to hear myself described as liked. That makes two mortals in this town who know what I am and like me. Zann and Anushka. They would be very pretty together, I think; Anushka has so much power, but with Zann she could direct that power, unleash it onto the mindful unravelling of time and place, rather than simply blasting it into white oblivion. Everything unwinding, yes, springs uncoiling into space.

"the things I perceive—the animals, plants, men, hills, shining and flowing waters,
The skies of day and night—colors, densities, forms—May-be these are, (as doubtless they are,) only apparitions, and the real something has yet to be known..."

"A dream within a dream?" I say, smiling. "Everything is real. I think that is one of the many things that humans cannot understand. This, and what is beyond; and reality becomes brighter the further from here one goes." I think of the brilliant certainty of Elsewhere, and Kent's mouth tastes of ashes, and the same old anger boils in me like steam from a mountain.

"So why am I interesting? I guess it's not just coming to see you. The patterns, then?"

"Perhaps," I say. "Everything is eventual. I think that you have something in you capable of seeing that." I lean forward and I touch the curve of her head with my palm, just grazing the stubble, and I feel the dim crackle of Anushka there; fading now, of course, and Zann is probably not even aware of it.

"You are like my friend, a little - though not as great. But very few humans are, so do not take that as an insult," I say, and leaning forward I press my lips to hers; not with passion, but in order to give her the kiss that Anushka gave me. I give her that moment, dry lips against Svetlana's dry lips, and then I sit back, hands folded in my lap.

[tereixa-zann.livejournal.com]

"Everything is real. I think that is one of the many things that humans cannot understand. This, and what is beyond; and reality becomes brighter the further from here one goes."

"A dream over something, a mask for... I think I know someone who sees it, a little," I say quietly. I'm thinking of Anushka again, and the great sweep of time and intent and music and hearing and light she unfolded out of a single hanging crystal. What she saw there, what she let me see, it's the shape of a single spoke on a wheel on some great interleaved machinery that itself is an echo of the shape of something spinning through and spinning out the world, bright and eternal.

"Everything is eventual. I think that you have something in you capable of seeing that," and yes, I think he sees this better than I can, but... everything? No. Maybe each thing on its own, but everything reaches out, takes in new things--

Unless he breaks it all, I guess... And I can't imagine seeing so much and wanting to destroy it, how can you look on it all and not love some part of it, the motion and the grace? Glance up as his hand dusts across my hair. "You are like my friend, a little - though not as great. But very few humans are, so do not take that as an insult," and he leans forward and kisses me--not the way I'd kiss anyone, calm and dry, and--

(white)
(the coming of the white)

different planes across my face taste in my mouth eyes and sight don't matter I can hear something different clocking past, time and days and different heartbeats and I breathe out and let it all go, hold together instead of holding on, fall into a memory like rushing white water, fractal motion.

light and blindness and joy and the dry feel of his lips against mine not mine not mine Anushka? Lady Anushka Voronin? And him--her taking her in, that great white heartbeat and cry, and the wonder of

This isn't what she showed me, that tiny shaped sliver of what people built and made beautiful, this is the whole of what she sees with, the wonder of eye and mind and breath of life, and she can do more than see and show, I can feel her stretching out and reaching, a great and shining shout of joy ringing out through the world and its strings--

I can feel my fingers on my mouth, and my eyes are open but I can't--I can see, but I'm not watching it. "Anushka," I say quietly, and her name's my own warm breath against my fingers, and then I'm smiling, want to laugh and share in her joy and see her stretch and reach and feel the patterns and strings run through her hands, and I'm laughing and crying again, and I put one hand out and feel Kent's shoulder, cloth and flesh and warmth and the faint tremor of a heart and all of it minted into the world on will alone, so close and near the beating skin of the world. "Oh, she showed me a little, only a little, she could do so much, what she must see..."

[lilith-qliphah.livejournal.com]

I lean back into the couch with arms folded across my chest, appearing confused as I listen and watch him coil slowly around her. Zann didn't stand a chance against him and his beauty, few do if he has decided he wants them and even I fell for it once upon a time.

He kisses her and a flicker of a smile crosses my face when I hear Anushka's name mentioned, Ohhh how I did like that girl and I think I will visit her again soon. Brief as it was, she took a special interest in my pendant, in my djinn, and I look forward to watching them play.

Though Zann is distracted by him for now, I would hate for Lily's presence to interrupt this wonderful little game and there is no longer a need to ask for help with Genny and Tez. The task has been accomplished just the same, she is here and he has found another way to make her his.

While she's lost in the visions of his kiss, I quietly get up from the couch and flash him a smile, murmuring an excuse about going to find the ladies room as I pass through the door and go down the stairs. Then I allow my form dissolve and blend into the air so I can return and continue to watch what passes between them without her noticing. I have my own business with him but that will wait, this is far far more interesting.

Oohh how I do love watching him work.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

Lilith makes her excuses, and then returns to the room as warm air. She has always enjoyed being a voyeur. I remember once - but that is a thought for another time.

Zann is dazzled; but not by me, not quite - or rather, that dazzle is overshadowed by her response to Anushka. The first word of her lips as she looks back at me, and I smile.

"Oh, she showed me a little, only a little, she could do so much, what she must see..."

"In another age, Anushka would have been a queen, and around her for a thousand miles men would have paid fealty to her. But of course, in yet another age, she would have been burned as a witch," I observe. "She is great. She is the first human I have seen in hundreds of years who has that kind of power. And she is brave, for she let me help her pass beyond what is normal for a human, what is safe, into a wild and ferociously lovely place."

Zann's fingers are on my shoulder, and I smile at her and transform myself into Svetlana, the form that held Anushka like a daughter. It is the work of half a heartbeat, but it is not one movement but many; heart lungs veins eyes flesh hair clothes, a thousand thousand tiny steps one following another in the space of a breath. Now I am lean and female and crimson haired, and my dress is white as bone. I lean forward and take Zann's hands.

"Why else did you come, Zann?"

[tereixa-zann.livejournal.com]

"And she is brave, for she let me help her pass beyond what is normal for a human, what is safe, into a wild and ferociously lovely place."

"She's a wonder," I say softly, "psychokine strings like falling rain, I could tell--" and I'm going to say that much when Kent smiles and melts unfolds changes, someone new ripening out of him, Rubin vase flip rewriting itself under my hands. He's-- She's like Syl would be if Genny had to paint her for a poster, all glossed and smooth and bright with the scars and wrinkles slicked away.

"Why'd you help her?"

"Why else did you come, Zann?"

"I don't know," I say quietly, feeling the woman's fingers around mine. "Lily was saying she could maybe ask you to do something about Tez and Genny. But Lily's..." I think of the odd backward-forward between glossy confidence and coltish shyness, and how she followed me out here and didn't call out once and I didn't see her, and wonder why she needed to know anything from me if her plan was just to ask Kent to fix it the whole time. And I shrug, and look at the woman with a one-sided smile.

"Guess I'm not sure that's a good idea," I say quietly. "Deals with the devil, hey, contracts with Hell? Why'd you come to see her, anyway?"

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Why'd you help her?"

"Anushka is more like me than most humans can be," I say. "And so I wished her to be greater than the sum of her parts." I smile and turn Zann's hand over, tracing my finger down the fine lines of her palm. "This is the form I wore to kiss her, although it is not Anushka's favourite of mine." I smile. "You can call it Svetlana."

"I don't know," I say quietly, feeling the woman's fingers around mine. "Lily was saying she could maybe ask you to do something about Tez and Genny. But Lily's...Guess I'm not sure that's a good idea. Deals with the devil, hey, contracts with Hell? Why'd you come to see her, anyway?"

I smile as she pauses over Lily's name, and I think, ah, Lilith, she has caught you out. Lilith is a good enough liar in general, but she usually lies to those who want lies. That is the nature of a succubus, after all. She does not view it as an art in quite the way I do. But then, I am more perfect than she, so it is not really her fault. She was made for Man; I was made only for the Adversary.

"Who said anything about contracts?" I say, shrugging one shoulder, white fur rising up against my throat. "We can simply talk as we are now." I smile. I summon my qareen with a thought; it brings in Russian tea in a samovar made from brass. The shape suits Zann better than a tea pot, and, of course, it is more appropriate for Svetlana. All things in their place. If one wishes to lie, lie completely.

"I did not come to see Genny," I say. "Genny found me. I sensed something interesting about her. There is power in her," I say, "a power she does not really understand. Genny could be a great artist," I say. "Now she is quite good, for a human. But she has ambition." I smile serenely. "I have always enjoyed ambition. And, of course, Tezcatlipoca has an interest in her." I feel the wind move as I say his name, and I wonder if he feels it, my mouth around his name. I think that he probably does, and I smile at that little intimacy. "She is his priestess now, so you need not fear I will harm her. I have no wish to hurt an acolyte of his."

[tereixa-zann.livejournal.com]

"Anushka is more like me than most humans can be," and even here and thinking of Anushka I frown a little, and wonder how she's like... Hell, I guess. Wonder if she hurts, and if there's that sorrow in her, and think of how she smiled through the shattered glass and kissed me. "And so I wished her to be greater than the sum of her parts. This is the form I wore to kiss her, although it is not Anushka's favourite of mine. You can call it Svetlana."

"Svetlana," I say politely, and watch her long strong fingers run over my palm, the oil stains and the little scars and the middle and ring fingers clipped just a little short and healed over smooth all this time ago. No time at all to her, I guess. Don't feel ashamed at all, just... watch her watching me, and open up my hand a little under her fingers.

"Who said anything about contracts? We can simply talk as we are now." And I open my mouth and I'm gonna say something, but I'm... I don't know. She's not a mark, she's not a townie, but she reminds me of Anushka a little, pale and rich and draped in gloss and finery. I think she knows what a talker can do, wrap a mark up fine and neat and get them all tied into themselves, patter and flash and pride and promise until no way in hell would they back off, but I can't--I don't say that. Not to her, it seems rude, a kind of bare-to-the-bones thing that I could say to family or carnie or maybe a grifter I didn't know, if we were talking, but...

Not to someone who's never had dust on her hands.

So I nod a little, and glance up as a shadow flickers away from the table, and there's a great fine shaped brass pot or tower of steam and tea on the table, taller than a kettle, and I smile and reach out towards it, run my fingers down the air a distance from the surface, feeling the heat reach out from it.

"I did not come to see Genny," she says, and I listen to her voice, lighter than Kent's and smoother, and an accent thick as snow running over her. I remember an old act, ice queen, woman frozen in a block of ice and the marks could see anything in her glazed-glass shape, anything at all, and they came to see her in the tent in the summer air hot as tea, and the cold of the block of ice rose through the air like a breath. Svetlana's not like that, I can feel the beaten shape of her humming in the air, but she's... something pale and beautiful, like the iron lattices of buildings in winter with the windows all shattered out, cold air blowing inside and out with no difference and the white ice crystals piling up in hexagon stars to soften the steel angles beneath.

"Genny found me. I sensed something interesting about her. There is power in her, a power she does not really understand. Genny could be a great artist," and I nod again. "Now she is quite good, for a human. But she has ambition. I have always enjoyed ambition." I feel my heart pinch and dip inside me, and she's beautiful, but if Genny was here right now I'd be holding her hand so hard...

She's not for enjoying. Not like tea or sugar or those fine light cookies that Edmund bakes. Smile a little, and I'm sorry Svetlana, I'd help you if I could but she's not for enjoying. Not like that. Think of Tez by the river saying I'd have given you back to her, before and the wet warm smell of mud and crushed grass, and the taste of his blood, and the memory of that throbs stronger in my mouth when she speaks again.

"And, of course, Tezcatlipoca has an interest in her. She is his priestess now, so you need not fear I will harm her. I have no wish to hurt an acolyte of his."

"Why not?" I say carefully, and then I shut my mouth again, shocked by the sound of it. But really, honestly, why not? If she hates me for being, if she likes Tez loving her because it'll end badly for them at the end... "I mean... I'm sorry, I guess, if you hate for being, and she makes things, makes things mean things to people..." Look up at her again, and wonder what Syl looked like when she was young. Hair not red like this, and never in furs, never so white.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

It is interesting, seeing how humans react to each form. This shape provokes a different response in Zann than Kent did; she looks at me as if I were a very expensive vase, perhaps, one that she is afraid to handle freely. And then I speak of Genny, and I feel the sharp spike of something like anger rise in her like the taste of iron in a wound. Such a vulnerable point in Zann, is Genny, and vice versa. It is so useful to know who men love.

"Why not?"

It is a bold question, and she looks almost surprised by saying it. But she continues, nonetheless. "I mean... I'm sorry, I guess, if you hate for being, and she makes things, makes things mean things to people..."

"That is a fair question," I say, and I pour Zann a cup of tea, fragrant and strong. "Genny gives Tez power, and I like him being powerful. I could give him power, of course, but..." I shrug. "It is better when he remembers his own strength." I smile. "Her association with him troubles you, does it not? But it keeps her safer than almost anything else." I smile. "And I do not dislike art. I am more like a poem than a man. Art is a way for man to struggle to be something more than a sack of blood and meat and bone, to see beyond his own body. It is rarely successful, of course, but sometimes..." I sip my own cup of tea. "And if I destroy something, it is better that it was first beautiful. The death of mundanity offers a smaller satisfaction."