The city streets are wet with rain tonight

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

[Dark of the morning, Saturday, October 3 (125)]
[Silk Road outside the Sacred Whore]

Went home after all was as settled as could be with Fiona. Iago'd already left t'set things straight with Dorian, and I curled up with his jacket around me and one of the books from the library, dust sifted into pages the colour of weak tea and dull lettering setting out something too bone-dry to be called a story. Gave it up after a few hours and curled up under Kate's quilt to watch the clouds running slow across the sky through the windows.

Woke to find the windows painted with thin water, and streaks of frost forming in the corners of the panes against the darkened sky. Iago not yet home, and I got up and made peppermint tea. Wandered out into the hall with my cup and sat on the stairs and listened to the rain coming down and the sounds of the Tavern drifting up from below. Friday night crowd, loud and pleasant enough, and the jukebox notes rippling through it all. Can tell Iago's not there, could pick his voice out from five dozen others, and smile into my tea with my hands drawing warmth from the porcelain. Think of all the nights I've sat down at the bar and watched him, fine grace behind the bar and easy smile and all the quick smooth run of words he pours out for others, bright as lightning, soft as feather... Oh, my stormcrow.

Mind, when the folk below are done trickling out, and he's not back, I catch some slow unease creeping through my spine. Out with Dorian, and even if they went t'the Whitechapel I don't think any harm'd've come to him. Not in Dorian's company.

That said, if he weren't in Dorian's company, not sure I'd be ill at ease. Not taking Dorian for being like to raise a hand to him, and yet I'd've said something of the same for myself, and Iago yet works for Verdi and I'm not certain what if anything she's done t'set things right with Dorian...

Hardly taking things for like to go poorly, and yet the thought unsettles me.

Well, never any sense sitting around worrying when I can settle my mind by walking halfway down Silk Road. Minding of the frost, and I head upstairs for a sweater and scarf and the bell-jar afore stepping out. The rain's moving too quick to quite freeze in the air, but the cobbles are slicked with ice, and the storefronts're beginning to glisten. Hunch my shoulders in on myself and tug the scarf a little close, glad of it keeping the drumming rain from running down my neck. Remember the other times I've been by here, bodies and blood, and set it aside.

None of that maddening itch of the unburied dead, and true I'd not taken that for even faintest likely, but the peace's a relief. The shutters aren't up, and that's an oddity, and I can feel tension getting ready to rise in me--and then I draw closer through the curtain of rain and smile. Seen the mannequins set in the storefront, yes. Never seen them set up and posed so, blank heads bent to bodies and hands not quite where courtesy'd have them. That and the singing--if you can call it that, when anything that might be a tune's snatched to pieces by laughter--faint behind the drumming rain is rather setting me t'ease.

Think I might try the door and let myself in, as I did that night after picking the fight with Tez at the Tavern... but think as well I'll be alright alone tonight, and I'd see Iago well-set with those he cares for, and I'm thinking that after last time Dorian and I spoke my being there'd hardly add t'things. Touch the pane of the window instead, and smile a moment, listening t'him laughing madly.

You have a fine night, cariad. Guessing I'll see him t'morrow, then--and while I'd rather have him with me tonight, well, worse things I could do than help him warm up from walking through the rain.

Turn and head for home, thinking I ought set out that hangover remedy he favours.

[Closed]

The city streets are wet with rain tonight

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

[Dark of the morning, Saturday, October 3 (125)]
[Silk Road outside the Sacred Whore]

Went home after all was as settled as could be with Fiona. Iago'd already left t'set things straight with Dorian, and I curled up with his jacket around me and one of the books from the library, dust sifted into pages the colour of weak tea and dull lettering setting out something too bone-dry to be called a story. Gave it up after a few hours and curled up under Kate's quilt to watch the clouds running slow across the sky through the windows.

Woke to find the windows painted with thin water, and streaks of frost forming in the corners of the panes against the darkened sky. Iago not yet home, and I got up and made peppermint tea. Wandered out into the hall with my cup and sat on the stairs and listened to the rain coming down and the sounds of the Tavern drifting up from below. Friday night crowd, loud and pleasant enough, and the jukebox notes rippling through it all. Can tell Iago's not there, could pick his voice out from five dozen others, and smile into my tea with my hands drawing warmth from the porcelain. Think of all the nights I've sat down at the bar and watched him, fine grace behind the bar and easy smile and all the quick smooth run of words he pours out for others, bright as lightning, soft as feather... Oh, my stormcrow.

Mind, when the folk below are done trickling out, and he's not back, I catch some slow unease creeping through my spine. Out with Dorian, and even if they went t'the Whitechapel I don't think any harm'd've come to him. Not in Dorian's company.

That said, if he weren't in Dorian's company, not sure I'd be ill at ease. Not taking Dorian for being like to raise a hand to him, and yet I'd've said something of the same for myself, and Iago yet works for Verdi and I'm not certain what if anything she's done t'set things right with Dorian...

Hardly taking things for like to go poorly, and yet the thought unsettles me.

Well, never any sense sitting around worrying when I can settle my mind by walking halfway down Silk Road. Minding of the frost, and I head upstairs for a sweater and scarf and the bell-jar afore stepping out. The rain's moving too quick to quite freeze in the air, but the cobbles are slicked with ice, and the storefronts're beginning to glisten. Hunch my shoulders in on myself and tug the scarf a little close, glad of it keeping the drumming rain from running down my neck. Remember the other times I've been by here, bodies and blood, and set it aside.

None of that maddening itch of the unburied dead, and true I'd not taken that for even faintest likely, but the peace's a relief. The shutters aren't up, and that's an oddity, and I can feel tension getting ready to rise in me--and then I draw closer through the curtain of rain and smile. Seen the mannequins set in the storefront, yes. Never seen them set up and posed so, blank heads bent to bodies and hands not quite where courtesy'd have them. That and the singing--if you can call it that, when anything that might be a tune's snatched to pieces by laughter--faint behind the drumming rain is rather setting me t'ease.

Think I might try the door and let myself in, as I did that night after picking the fight with Tez at the Tavern... but think as well I'll be alright alone tonight, and I'd see Iago well-set with those he cares for, and I'm thinking that after last time Dorian and I spoke my being there'd hardly add t'things. Touch the pane of the window instead, and smile a moment, listening t'him laughing madly.

You have a fine night, cariad. Guessing I'll see him t'morrow, then--and while I'd rather have him with me tonight, well, worse things I could do than help him warm up from walking through the rain.

Turn and head for home, thinking I ought set out that hangover remedy he favours.

[Closed]

We Are Living on Hope, We Are Living on Life

[ella-kessler.livejournal.com]

Afternoon, Saturday October 3, Day 125
The Sheriff's Office

The market was miserable today. Almost nobody came out for it an' even half the vendors didn't show. All on account a some rain. Didn't stop me, though. Partly 'cause I knew Kate wanted ta see me. Partly 'cause I was given real specific instructions by Mrs. Linford ta be sure ta bring somethin' by for her son. Don't you know? He works for the sheriff now. How 'bout that, Ella? He's a good ole law man now. Could've jus' come out an' said, I've decided ta set you two up. Now, go have fun an' keep my boy out'a trouble.

I sigh an' step up onta the porch of the sheriff's. I take off my hat an' shake the rain off it. Whole lot'a good it's done me. My hair an' jacket 're soaked through anyway. The bag in my hand wasn't heavy when I loaded up this mornin' but the rain's soaked inta the hemp, so it's like I'm carryin' a sack a potatoes.

I push the door open an' step inside as I say, "Uh, hello. Anybody here?"

[OPEN to Liam]

[CLOSED]

We Are Living on Hope, We Are Living on Life

[ella-kessler.livejournal.com]

Afternoon, Saturday October 3, Day 125
The Sheriff's Office

The market was miserable today. Almost nobody came out for it an' even half the vendors didn't show. All on account a some rain. Didn't stop me, though. Partly 'cause I knew Kate wanted ta see me. Partly 'cause I was given real specific instructions by Mrs. Linford ta be sure ta bring somethin' by for her son. Don't you know? He works for the sheriff now. How 'bout that, Ella? He's a good ole law man now. Could've jus' come out an' said, I've decided ta set you two up. Now, go have fun an' keep my boy out'a trouble.

I sigh an' step up onta the porch of the sheriff's. I take off my hat an' shake the rain off it. Whole lot'a good it's done me. My hair an' jacket 're soaked through anyway. The bag in my hand wasn't heavy when I loaded up this mornin' but the rain's soaked inta the hemp, so it's like I'm carryin' a sack a potatoes.

I push the door open an' step inside as I say, "Uh, hello. Anybody here?"

[OPEN to Liam]

[CLOSED]