She rose and she dressed and she pushed back the night

[lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com]

[Mid-afternoon, Monday September 14th, day 106]
[Follow Me Boy}


All has been peaceful since Hermia's party...so far as I know, the duel has not happened yet. It is my hope that it will not happen at all, but I know that if it does Lucien will ensure no one will be hurt. Still, I fail to see what fighting will accomplish, particularly since it will change nothing. Hermia certainly will not be leaving with this new man, and nothing would cause her to leave Valmont, and so the fighting seems pointless to me.

But still. There is nothing to be done, and so I put it out of my mind. We opened about an hour ago, but as of yet there has been little custom. One young man in from the farms looking for female company sent up to Vale, but nothing else. He has not even come down yet. I am sitting at my desk, embroidering and singing quietly to myself. Afternoons like this are relaxing, sometimes.

[Open]

She rose and she dressed and she pushed back the night

[lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com]

[Mid-afternoon, Monday September 14th, day 106]
[Follow Me Boy}


All has been peaceful since Hermia's party...so far as I know, the duel has not happened yet. It is my hope that it will not happen at all, but I know that if it does Lucien will ensure no one will be hurt. Still, I fail to see what fighting will accomplish, particularly since it will change nothing. Hermia certainly will not be leaving with this new man, and nothing would cause her to leave Valmont, and so the fighting seems pointless to me.

But still. There is nothing to be done, and so I put it out of my mind. We opened about an hour ago, but as of yet there has been little custom. One young man in from the farms looking for female company sent up to Vale, but nothing else. He has not even come down yet. I am sitting at my desk, embroidering and singing quietly to myself. Afternoons like this are relaxing, sometimes.

[Open]

Around Noon of Monday, September Fourteenth

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

I have apologized to Kate. Of course, I did it wrong--I always do. But I can't get it out of my head. The dream, which was far too real to me. The apology, which I felt was just...flat. The party, the party with its fear of death and then our departure, fading in the background and then walking her back like I always do. A faint kiss and a soft "goodnight."

The risk, the chance of her apartment is gone. The temptation, the fear of it. I think if we were to even sit beside each other alone at this point she might become terrified. How have I become this person so frightening and so obsessed with the flesh that I cannot relate to someone? To Kate for whom I would release all those things if I could.

I sigh and set down the hammer. The blistering heat feels good with the rain coming down outside, but I still feel a bit lost. My spot was rained out last night. I felt the ground slipping away beneath me. Perhaps it is a sign. Perhaps we should all simply move on.

[OPEN to Kate.]

Around Noon of Monday, September Fourteenth

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

I have apologized to Kate. Of course, I did it wrong--I always do. But I can't get it out of my head. The dream, which was far too real to me. The apology, which I felt was just...flat. The party, the party with its fear of death and then our departure, fading in the background and then walking her back like I always do. A faint kiss and a soft "goodnight."

The risk, the chance of her apartment is gone. The temptation, the fear of it. I think if we were to even sit beside each other alone at this point she might become terrified. How have I become this person so frightening and so obsessed with the flesh that I cannot relate to someone? To Kate for whom I would release all those things if I could.

I sigh and set down the hammer. The blistering heat feels good with the rain coming down outside, but I still feel a bit lost. My spot was rained out last night. I felt the ground slipping away beneath me. Perhaps it is a sign. Perhaps we should all simply move on.

[OPEN to Kate.]

Belike for want of rain, which I could well beteem them from the tempest of my eyes

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

Monday, September 14, Afternoon, Day 106
The Library

I don't know why I even bothered to come to work.

No, I do know. Because if I hadn't, I would have spent the entire time pacing around the house or the garden the way I did over the weekend, not wanting to let Valmont out of my sight, not wanting to let go of him, still not getting anything done and still not thinking anything more than "please don't let this happen; please don't let this happen."

Please don't let Valmont get hurt. Please don't let Lysander have said those words, 'to the death.' Please don't let Lysander have come here at all...

But there is some measure of peace here in the library, still. The quiet of the books, the soft rustle that might be the cat and might be something else. The place that I found on my own, the job that I earned for myself. If I'm to be taken away from all this (please no, please don't let it happen!) then I will stay with what I have earned for as long as I can. For a moment now and then, I almost feel a little better when I'm here. My feet take me back and forth to the shelves on their own when I'm filling people's requests - rainy days are always busy here! - but in the few moments when my mind is not a thousand miles away, it feels good to be able to do a small service for someone.

And in those moments when I'm not helping others...I'm staring at the same book that I have been all day - the one I took out after I made myself put back the volume of spells to be used in battle. The rain is pouring down just as it was in the morning. I think I might have missed lunch. But at least I'm still here.

[Open to Chester, and anyone else who wants to talk]

Belike for want of rain, which I could well beteem them from the tempest of my eyes

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

Monday, September 14, Afternoon, Day 106
The Library

I don't know why I even bothered to come to work.

No, I do know. Because if I hadn't, I would have spent the entire time pacing around the house or the garden the way I did over the weekend, not wanting to let Valmont out of my sight, not wanting to let go of him, still not getting anything done and still not thinking anything more than "please don't let this happen; please don't let this happen."

Please don't let Valmont get hurt. Please don't let Lysander have said those words, 'to the death.' Please don't let Lysander have come here at all...

But there is some measure of peace here in the library, still. The quiet of the books, the soft rustle that might be the cat and might be something else. The place that I found on my own, the job that I earned for myself. If I'm to be taken away from all this (please no, please don't let it happen!) then I will stay with what I have earned for as long as I can. For a moment now and then, I almost feel a little better when I'm here. My feet take me back and forth to the shelves on their own when I'm filling people's requests - rainy days are always busy here! - but in the few moments when my mind is not a thousand miles away, it feels good to be able to do a small service for someone.

And in those moments when I'm not helping others...I'm staring at the same book that I have been all day - the one I took out after I made myself put back the volume of spells to be used in battle. The rain is pouring down just as it was in the morning. I think I might have missed lunch. But at least I'm still here.

[Open to Chester, and anyone else who wants to talk]

...to make an atonement with him, to let him go for a scapegoat into the wilderness.

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

[From the lightening sky to the mid-morning, Monday, September 14th (day 106)]
[By the fields and the farms 'round Excolo]

Finally, fine weather... Rain's coming down as if the Pontarlier lept its banks again, and the drops are stripping the air down to bare chill. Head out as the sky's beginning to lighten, taking my own jacket (I'm working; I'd not drag Iago's through brush) and my gathering bag. ( It's like a social conscience, but with extra awkward. )

Set it aside as I head out working. Blue vervain's yet flowering, and for not working behind a counter I've yet things to do for the Apothecary's. Wish I had my mam's gift for herb-witchery; she could've used it to have unwelcome folk leave, and I spend a little time of the hours thinking on who I'd have gone if I could will it. Might as well wish to weave a dress of raindrops, although much as I love this weather that's a turn of words which is seeming both plausible and damn cold.

Don't go back to Excolo direct; head out to the Merton's, instead. No-one's out in this weather, and the fields where they grew barley have already been stripped bare. Can't tell for looking if there're folk inside; it's never too dark for me, but the rain blurs the air and the house behind it. Settle down on the rockpile where they've thrown what they harrowed out of the fields over the years, and huddle in on myself, breath ghosting in the air a moment before the rain beats it down. No lights in there yet, and I wonder if it's that they're away or that Dorian's galanas was so rich that they've luxury to sleep, and hope Lucien thought to see if Oscar'd need something to help him sleep afore his family set him away. 've not had that trouble myself, though it always went the other way for me; diving deep and drowning in sleep, losing days and letting the nights run together. Peace like to the dead, if I needed it.

( Things that leave no trace. )

...ah, there's memory of the beating slipping 'round to being a dream again.

Sit out there for a while watching Oscar's home, until the rain's near to soaking through the shoulders and back of my jacket, and then head back to town.

[Closed]

...to make an atonement with him, to let him go for a scapegoat into the wilderness.

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

[From the lightening sky to the mid-morning, Monday, September 14th (day 106)]
[By the fields and the farms 'round Excolo]

Finally, fine weather... Rain's coming down as if the Pontarlier lept its banks again, and the drops are stripping the air down to bare chill. Head out as the sky's beginning to lighten, taking my own jacket (I'm working; I'd not drag Iago's through brush) and my gathering bag. ( It's like a social conscience, but with extra awkward. )

Set it aside as I head out working. Blue vervain's yet flowering, and for not working behind a counter I've yet things to do for the Apothecary's. Wish I had my mam's gift for herb-witchery; she could've used it to have unwelcome folk leave, and I spend a little time of the hours thinking on who I'd have gone if I could will it. Might as well wish to weave a dress of raindrops, although much as I love this weather that's a turn of words which is seeming both plausible and damn cold.

Don't go back to Excolo direct; head out to the Merton's, instead. No-one's out in this weather, and the fields where they grew barley have already been stripped bare. Can't tell for looking if there're folk inside; it's never too dark for me, but the rain blurs the air and the house behind it. Settle down on the rockpile where they've thrown what they harrowed out of the fields over the years, and huddle in on myself, breath ghosting in the air a moment before the rain beats it down. No lights in there yet, and I wonder if it's that they're away or that Dorian's galanas was so rich that they've luxury to sleep, and hope Lucien thought to see if Oscar'd need something to help him sleep afore his family set him away. 've not had that trouble myself, though it always went the other way for me; diving deep and drowning in sleep, losing days and letting the nights run together. Peace like to the dead, if I needed it.

( Things that leave no trace. )

...ah, there's memory of the beating slipping 'round to being a dream again.

Sit out there for a while watching Oscar's home, until the rain's near to soaking through the shoulders and back of my jacket, and then head back to town.

[Closed]

I wish I could forget it but the begger never rides his horse.

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

Night of Monday, September Fourteenth

I got dressed, a sinking feeling in my gut once all the tears've gone, and drank water. Only an idiot would do what I'm doing dehydrated.

Only an idiot would do it at all.

I sit at the bar and nod to the bartender, who brings me a whiskey neat when I ask and I pay him for it plus a good tip, trying my best not to look miserable or too much like a man whose not had a drink in ten years. I look at the liquid in my glass a moment and don't think of the brothel merely feet away.


[OPEN.]
[CLOSED.]

I wish I could forget it but the begger never rides his horse.

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

Night of Monday, September Fourteenth

I got dressed, a sinking feeling in my gut once all the tears've gone, and drank water. Only an idiot would do what I'm doing dehydrated.

Only an idiot would do it at all.

I sit at the bar and nod to the bartender, who brings me a whiskey neat when I ask and I pay him for it plus a good tip, trying my best not to look miserable or too much like a man whose not had a drink in ten years. I look at the liquid in my glass a moment and don't think of the brothel merely feet away.


[OPEN.]
[CLOSED.]

(no subject)

[hopeorfaith.livejournal.com]

Monday, September 14th, early afternoon

Filthy day, it is. Sort o'weather it don't make no sense to go outdoors. But Faith 'n me, we've both 'ad a cold th'last week, an' we ain't been out at all, near 'nough. People brought us soup an' such from the cook tent, bless 'em. Been feelin' better a bit since yesterday, an' both of us're feelin' a bit stir-crazy. Tol' Faith it weren't no good idea t'go out in the rain when we's just been ill, but she said she was sick o'bein' indoors, an' I di'n't complain 'bout it too much cos I is too. So we got dressed in somethin' suitable - sturdy boots, skirt bit higher'n usual so the hem won't get wet, an' that means it's obvious from the off 'bout only 'avin' two legs, but there ain't enough people out an' about today in town to notice. Big cape, cos that's easier to wear than a raincoat fer us. We both 'ave our smaller 'ands on the umbrella, and we each got a cane. Don' want ter risk fallin' over in the mud. 'Ard fer us to get back up if we fall down.

Think a lot 'bout things as we walks over the river. Looks all churned up an' brown. Turn back t'look at th'Diabolique. Don' look like much in th'rain. No lights, an' just a load o'wet caravans. Been 'ere so long now. Sometimes wake up at night with me 'eart racing, thinking we ain't never goin' t'leave. Don' know that I wants to live out the rest o' me life 'ere. Don' want t'die 'ere. Wish I understood what Management was doin'. Know they left Zann a card. 'Parently she left 'em a present. Our Zann ain't scared o'nothin'. Wonder what she'd think if she knew what they - But Faith 'n I don't want ter talk bout what 'appened. Tol' Syl a bit of it, but no one else. Like 'aving a secret we's ashamed of or somethin'.

Ain't seen Simon in near a month. 'E said somethin' 'bout wantin' to 'ave a barbecue. Won't be too many weeks o'good 'nough weather for it now, but we ain't 'eard from 'im. Could go to see 'im, but - well. Feel a bit shy 'bout it all. Don' want t'blurt out somethin' by accident like I love you. Not to 'im. But - th'other. Azrael. Jus' thinkin' 'is name feels dangerous, like we shouldn't risk anyone 'earin' it. But when I think 'is name it chimes in me like a sweet 'igh bell. Like somethin' so lovely it could make you weep. 'As done, sometimes. Dreamt 'bout what's inside Simon, sometimes. Know when Faith is thinkin' 'bout 'im as well. Feel 'er 'eart race. Not like when she's thinking of - well, you know. Diff'rent, some'ow. Dunno 'ow - an 'eartbeat's an 'eartbeat - but it is. So much I don' know.

Wonder if we're like Genny at all. Don' take a genius to see 'er getting tied up in Tez. Think there's a lot we ain't bin told 'bout what's goin' on with 'er an' 'im, but I seen 'er at th'cook tent, I seen 'ow 'er skin is like paper stretched over bone, seen purple shadders under 'er eyes, an' it scares me. Seen 'ow Zann looks at 'er, almost like she's sayin' goodbye an' don' want ter. Need to talk to Gen. Maybe best t'talk t'Zann. Want ter know what's goin' on. 'Ard sometimes, wi' Faith, cos of 'er and Gen, an' then cos of 'ow she can't keep 'er mouth shut 'bout Tez. I don' like 'im either, don' get me wrong, but I don' 'ave to shout about 'ow 'e's ev'ry name under th'sun.

Ain't got no particular destination in mind. Jus' start walkin' up Silk Road towards Main Street. Could call on Miss Miao, cos she's so kind, but she's prob'ly workin'. Could go to the cafe, maybe, if it ain't too full on a wet day like this. Fer now, jus' walkin'.

[open] [closed]

(no subject)

[hopeorfaith.livejournal.com]

Monday, September 14th, early afternoon

Filthy day, it is. Sort o'weather it don't make no sense to go outdoors. But Faith 'n me, we've both 'ad a cold th'last week, an' we ain't been out at all, near 'nough. People brought us soup an' such from the cook tent, bless 'em. Been feelin' better a bit since yesterday, an' both of us're feelin' a bit stir-crazy. Tol' Faith it weren't no good idea t'go out in the rain when we's just been ill, but she said she was sick o'bein' indoors, an' I di'n't complain 'bout it too much cos I is too. So we got dressed in somethin' suitable - sturdy boots, skirt bit higher'n usual so the hem won't get wet, an' that means it's obvious from the off 'bout only 'avin' two legs, but there ain't enough people out an' about today in town to notice. Big cape, cos that's easier to wear than a raincoat fer us. We both 'ave our smaller 'ands on the umbrella, and we each got a cane. Don' want ter risk fallin' over in the mud. 'Ard fer us to get back up if we fall down.

Think a lot 'bout things as we walks over the river. Looks all churned up an' brown. Turn back t'look at th'Diabolique. Don' look like much in th'rain. No lights, an' just a load o'wet caravans. Been 'ere so long now. Sometimes wake up at night with me 'eart racing, thinking we ain't never goin' t'leave. Don' know that I wants to live out the rest o' me life 'ere. Don' want t'die 'ere. Wish I understood what Management was doin'. Know they left Zann a card. 'Parently she left 'em a present. Our Zann ain't scared o'nothin'. Wonder what she'd think if she knew what they - But Faith 'n I don't want ter talk bout what 'appened. Tol' Syl a bit of it, but no one else. Like 'aving a secret we's ashamed of or somethin'.

Ain't seen Simon in near a month. 'E said somethin' 'bout wantin' to 'ave a barbecue. Won't be too many weeks o'good 'nough weather for it now, but we ain't 'eard from 'im. Could go to see 'im, but - well. Feel a bit shy 'bout it all. Don' want t'blurt out somethin' by accident like I love you. Not to 'im. But - th'other. Azrael. Jus' thinkin' 'is name feels dangerous, like we shouldn't risk anyone 'earin' it. But when I think 'is name it chimes in me like a sweet 'igh bell. Like somethin' so lovely it could make you weep. 'As done, sometimes. Dreamt 'bout what's inside Simon, sometimes. Know when Faith is thinkin' 'bout 'im as well. Feel 'er 'eart race. Not like when she's thinking of - well, you know. Diff'rent, some'ow. Dunno 'ow - an 'eartbeat's an 'eartbeat - but it is. So much I don' know.

Wonder if we're like Genny at all. Don' take a genius to see 'er getting tied up in Tez. Think there's a lot we ain't bin told 'bout what's goin' on with 'er an' 'im, but I seen 'er at th'cook tent, I seen 'ow 'er skin is like paper stretched over bone, seen purple shadders under 'er eyes, an' it scares me. Seen 'ow Zann looks at 'er, almost like she's sayin' goodbye an' don' want ter. Need to talk to Gen. Maybe best t'talk t'Zann. Want ter know what's goin' on. 'Ard sometimes, wi' Faith, cos of 'er and Gen, an' then cos of 'ow she can't keep 'er mouth shut 'bout Tez. I don' like 'im either, don' get me wrong, but I don' 'ave to shout about 'ow 'e's ev'ry name under th'sun.

Ain't got no particular destination in mind. Jus' start walkin' up Silk Road towards Main Street. Could call on Miss Miao, cos she's so kind, but she's prob'ly workin'. Could go to the cafe, maybe, if it ain't too full on a wet day like this. Fer now, jus' walkin'.

[open] [closed]