I just can't keep from thinking 'bout the ones the wolves pulled down.

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

[Sometime after dark, Saturday, October 10th, Day 132]
[The woods outside town]


It's been almost four days since Sugaar's gift. Though the meat and bone had long since passed through my system, I can still feel the fire of his essence warming me, filling me. The last of my limp is long gone, the lingering aches dissipated, and my power....the power Anushka burned along with her ghosts...is restored. Sugaar has given me a great gift, and I recognize it.

But what my mind keeps straying back to, past the heat in my veins and the tingling power in my brain, is Aatxe. I hadn't thought of him in years...in decades, maybe. But recalling him for Sugaar's sake seems to have brought the memories rushing back. Aatxe and I. How we fought, how we tore at each other. How they feared us.

I don't know, exactly, if I went looking for him after it happened (after what happened?). I remember wandering at night, calling, calling, listening for an answer, for any answer in a familiar voice, an answer that wasn't the empty, reflexive howling of dogs and the musical wails of the last few wolves. Calling at night and cowering in the day, and oh, how I hate that, the memory of cowering, of shrinking into mortal flesh and crouching in some dank and stinking hole, my body trembling and weak. It makes me want to rip and tear, that memory. It makes me want to bite.

I don't know if I went looking for Aatxe, but I know that I found him, lying in the blistered and smoking remains of the Llanada Alavesa. His eyes were dull, his coat streaked with mud. He reeked of piss and cowshit, and though the sky lit with lightning he did not smoke and steam. There was no fire left in him. I called to him in the tongue of shadow, the way he and I had always spoken, but he would not respond. And he would not get up, no matter how I worried at him. He looked at me with cow's eyes, and he would not get up.

How I hated him, in that moment. I hated him for lying there, for looking at me with eyes gone dull and stupid. I hated the slap of his tail in the mud and the fly bites around his mouth. I hated the dull stink of him and the blank shine of his eyes. And I hated Mari, for leaving him, for letting his fire go out and leaving him to die in the mud. Sugaar was gone too...but I still had the sense of him, and I knew that I could always follow him, would always have my place with him. There is strength in this knowledge, for a dog. But Aatxe had no such strength,and I hated her, hated her for abandoning him, and I hated him for letting her.

There was blood in my fur when I left him, and though the rain was crashing down in earnest I knew he would not follow. And it wasn't so long after that I left. And I have not been back. I have no reason to. We will hunt no more, he and I.

I raise my head and I howl, the sound of it echoing through the town.

[CLOSED]

I just can't keep from thinking 'bout the ones the wolves pulled down.

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

[Sometime after dark, Saturday, October 10th, Day 132]
[The woods outside town]


It's been almost four days since Sugaar's gift. Though the meat and bone had long since passed through my system, I can still feel the fire of his essence warming me, filling me. The last of my limp is long gone, the lingering aches dissipated, and my power....the power Anushka burned along with her ghosts...is restored. Sugaar has given me a great gift, and I recognize it.

But what my mind keeps straying back to, past the heat in my veins and the tingling power in my brain, is Aatxe. I hadn't thought of him in years...in decades, maybe. But recalling him for Sugaar's sake seems to have brought the memories rushing back. Aatxe and I. How we fought, how we tore at each other. How they feared us.

I don't know, exactly, if I went looking for him after it happened (after what happened?). I remember wandering at night, calling, calling, listening for an answer, for any answer in a familiar voice, an answer that wasn't the empty, reflexive howling of dogs and the musical wails of the last few wolves. Calling at night and cowering in the day, and oh, how I hate that, the memory of cowering, of shrinking into mortal flesh and crouching in some dank and stinking hole, my body trembling and weak. It makes me want to rip and tear, that memory. It makes me want to bite.

I don't know if I went looking for Aatxe, but I know that I found him, lying in the blistered and smoking remains of the Llanada Alavesa. His eyes were dull, his coat streaked with mud. He reeked of piss and cowshit, and though the sky lit with lightning he did not smoke and steam. There was no fire left in him. I called to him in the tongue of shadow, the way he and I had always spoken, but he would not respond. And he would not get up, no matter how I worried at him. He looked at me with cow's eyes, and he would not get up.

How I hated him, in that moment. I hated him for lying there, for looking at me with eyes gone dull and stupid. I hated the slap of his tail in the mud and the fly bites around his mouth. I hated the dull stink of him and the blank shine of his eyes. And I hated Mari, for leaving him, for letting his fire go out and leaving him to die in the mud. Sugaar was gone too...but I still had the sense of him, and I knew that I could always follow him, would always have my place with him. There is strength in this knowledge, for a dog. But Aatxe had no such strength,and I hated her, hated her for abandoning him, and I hated him for letting her.

There was blood in my fur when I left him, and though the rain was crashing down in earnest I knew he would not follow. And it wasn't so long after that I left. And I have not been back. I have no reason to. We will hunt no more, he and I.

I raise my head and I howl, the sound of it echoing through the town.

[CLOSED]

The grave soul keeps its own secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

[Very Early Sunday Morning]
[October 4th, Day 126]
[The Sacred Whore, Dorian's Room]

After a long weekend of rather tangible sexual tension, the boys are interrupted in their wrestling and drinking by a visit from Glass.  Despite the sudden awkwardness, things move back to laughing and tickling once Glass is assured that things were innocent enough between Iago and Dorian in her absence.  The new, happy mood isn't enough for Iago, however, who takes the whole kiss and makeup thing a few steps farther than anyone would have anticipated.  After pinning Dorian and Glass together for a round of apologies, the situation quickly deteriorates into romp in the hay (er, bed).

Dorian makes breakfast and settles down to fulfill his part of the assumed bargain. 

(Continued from here.)

~~~~~~~~~~

Glass has settled on the bed, thin robe wrapped around her body and waiting, while Iago pops off for a quick shower.  I welcome the silence, though I can still feel her eyes at my back.  By the time the opium is ready, a good portion already smoked and easing through my veins, Iago's returned to the bed and it's my turn.  Neither of them push the issue, which I have to appreciate; however, by the time I've finally fought off sobriety enough to speak, the anticipation in the room is near tangible.

I lean against the counter again, one hand in my hair, and try my best to begin.  "I would ask whether you wanted the long or the short of it, but I can already guess as to your answer."  I attempt a small smile, eyes floating away to the opium tray again.  I've smoked enough for the moment, at least if I'm intent on remaining upright, but fiddling with the various small pieces keeps my hands busy, so I do that as I speak.  "I suppose the story starts with Henry...

"I met Lord Henry while visiting with an artist friend of mine.  Basil, was his name I believe.  He wasn't the type normally in my circles, but he'd grown famous, you know, and I felt rather honored he'd asked that I pose for a few portraits.  There were other paintings, beyond the last, though none were as stunning.  Even now, I do think it was the man's masterpiece."

The pipe is smooth under my fingers and, though I really had no intentions of smoking any more, it's at my lips once more.  After the room settles down from its sudden spinning, I continue.

"Ah, well.  Anyway, Lord Henry had apparently taken an interest in Basil and so we met at the artist's home as I was posing for the last picture.  It's...  It's difficult to describe Henry.  He was a very curious man, even then, and I'm afraid the years have somewhat blurred his memory.  Striking, I suppose.  When Henry walked in a room, you noticed.  When he spoke, you listened."  I give a small shrug.  "We talked a bit as Basil painted, the specifics I can only guess to be a long line about love and beauty and other vague notions.  I liked Henry from the start, that much I can say.  Basil finished before too much longer and came to show us the painting."

The pipe's used remains go in the small dish to the side and I fill up again, fingers aching with need for something to do during all of this.

"It was beautiful."  A small chuckle.  "I know, easy to say as I was the subject...  But that's not the point.  Basil really was talented and in portrait, he'd somehow...  Captured everything that was young and beautiful in me."  Another quick smoke and now I know I'm just buying time, delaying the inevitable.  I set the pipe down and push the tray away, leaning away from the counter and against the shelves.  "I hated that fucking picture.   How lucky you must be, they'd say, to be handsome and youthful and full of...  Whatever it was they saw.  It was all there in the painting and I knew, somehow, at that moment that I was destined to grow old.  And that painting, smiling in front of me, would be there to remind me of what I'd been and what I'd lost and..."

I shake my head. eyebrows coming together just briefly.  "'If it was only the other way! If it was I who were to be always young, and the picture that were to grow old! For this--for this--I would give everything! Yes, there is nothing in the whole world I would not give! - that isn't what I said you know, but it's close enough.  The exact words are lost on me by now."  My expression relaxes a small bit.  "Well, Henry thought it was hilarious and Basil became very quiet and before long it was time to leave.  I took the portrait home and really didn't think about it for a good while, spending most of my time with Henry after that.  I was a good deal younger then and, well, there was a lot of the world I hadn't seen.  It was a nice time, even if Basil never really approved."

I realize that perhaps I'm rambling, perhaps I'm just straying from the point.  It's not the easiest thing to tell, let alone summarize, but I take a deep breath and try to move forward.  "It wasn't until later that I realized my wish had come true.  Sibyl and I had-"  Pause.  "I saw that the painting had changed.  It...  It wore my sins.  At first it was just a small thing, a sneer, but even then I couldn't look at it.  I had it put away in the attic so I wouldn't have to...  I'd still go up there, though.  I can't say why.  Every time I'd visit, it would be different.  Older, uglier, and there was some sick fascination to watching everything I did become etched on canvas."

There's so much more to it, of course, but I decide that the details aren't important.  They are, really, but I can fool myself for a time.  "Years passed.  Henry died.  Many- Many things thing happened.  I came to wonder if I were to change, could things be turned around.  I did what I could, tried to somehow atone...  But when I checked the picture, it was worse than before.  I..."  My hand goes to my chest, a small pinprick burning at my sternum.  "I planned to destroy the thing, had the knife set right at the copy's chest.  The blade started to slip into the canvas and I started to bleed."  Somehow I smile at that, glancing down.  "The only scar I have, actually."  I shake my head again.  "So I took the painting and left."

My eyes finally rise up to look at the bed again and I realize it's the first time I've glanced their way since starting the tale.  "There you are."

[Open to Iago and Glass]
[Adult Content Yo!]

[Closed]

The grave soul keeps its own secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

[Very Early Sunday Morning]
[October 4th, Day 126]
[The Sacred Whore, Dorian's Room]

After a long weekend of rather tangible sexual tension, the boys are interrupted in their wrestling and drinking by a visit from Glass.  Despite the sudden awkwardness, things move back to laughing and tickling once Glass is assured that things were innocent enough between Iago and Dorian in her absence.  The new, happy mood isn't enough for Iago, however, who takes the whole kiss and makeup thing a few steps farther than anyone would have anticipated.  After pinning Dorian and Glass together for a round of apologies, the situation quickly deteriorates into romp in the hay (er, bed).

Dorian makes breakfast and settles down to fulfill his part of the assumed bargain. 

(Continued from here.)

~~~~~~~~~~

Glass has settled on the bed, thin robe wrapped around her body and waiting, while Iago pops off for a quick shower.  I welcome the silence, though I can still feel her eyes at my back.  By the time the opium is ready, a good portion already smoked and easing through my veins, Iago's returned to the bed and it's my turn.  Neither of them push the issue, which I have to appreciate; however, by the time I've finally fought off sobriety enough to speak, the anticipation in the room is near tangible.

I lean against the counter again, one hand in my hair, and try my best to begin.  "I would ask whether you wanted the long or the short of it, but I can already guess as to your answer."  I attempt a small smile, eyes floating away to the opium tray again.  I've smoked enough for the moment, at least if I'm intent on remaining upright, but fiddling with the various small pieces keeps my hands busy, so I do that as I speak.  "I suppose the story starts with Henry...

"I met Lord Henry while visiting with an artist friend of mine.  Basil, was his name I believe.  He wasn't the type normally in my circles, but he'd grown famous, you know, and I felt rather honored he'd asked that I pose for a few portraits.  There were other paintings, beyond the last, though none were as stunning.  Even now, I do think it was the man's masterpiece."

The pipe is smooth under my fingers and, though I really had no intentions of smoking any more, it's at my lips once more.  After the room settles down from its sudden spinning, I continue.

"Ah, well.  Anyway, Lord Henry had apparently taken an interest in Basil and so we met at the artist's home as I was posing for the last picture.  It's...  It's difficult to describe Henry.  He was a very curious man, even then, and I'm afraid the years have somewhat blurred his memory.  Striking, I suppose.  When Henry walked in a room, you noticed.  When he spoke, you listened."  I give a small shrug.  "We talked a bit as Basil painted, the specifics I can only guess to be a long line about love and beauty and other vague notions.  I liked Henry from the start, that much I can say.  Basil finished before too much longer and came to show us the painting."

The pipe's used remains go in the small dish to the side and I fill up again, fingers aching with need for something to do during all of this.

"It was beautiful."  A small chuckle.  "I know, easy to say as I was the subject...  But that's not the point.  Basil really was talented and in portrait, he'd somehow...  Captured everything that was young and beautiful in me."  Another quick smoke and now I know I'm just buying time, delaying the inevitable.  I set the pipe down and push the tray away, leaning away from the counter and against the shelves.  "I hated that fucking picture.   How lucky you must be, they'd say, to be handsome and youthful and full of...  Whatever it was they saw.  It was all there in the painting and I knew, somehow, at that moment that I was destined to grow old.  And that painting, smiling in front of me, would be there to remind me of what I'd been and what I'd lost and..."

I shake my head. eyebrows coming together just briefly.  "'If it was only the other way! If it was I who were to be always young, and the picture that were to grow old! For this--for this--I would give everything! Yes, there is nothing in the whole world I would not give! - that isn't what I said you know, but it's close enough.  The exact words are lost on me by now."  My expression relaxes a small bit.  "Well, Henry thought it was hilarious and Basil became very quiet and before long it was time to leave.  I took the portrait home and really didn't think about it for a good while, spending most of my time with Henry after that.  I was a good deal younger then and, well, there was a lot of the world I hadn't seen.  It was a nice time, even if Basil never really approved."

I realize that perhaps I'm rambling, perhaps I'm just straying from the point.  It's not the easiest thing to tell, let alone summarize, but I take a deep breath and try to move forward.  "It wasn't until later that I realized my wish had come true.  Sibyl and I had-"  Pause.  "I saw that the painting had changed.  It...  It wore my sins.  At first it was just a small thing, a sneer, but even then I couldn't look at it.  I had it put away in the attic so I wouldn't have to...  I'd still go up there, though.  I can't say why.  Every time I'd visit, it would be different.  Older, uglier, and there was some sick fascination to watching everything I did become etched on canvas."

There's so much more to it, of course, but I decide that the details aren't important.  They are, really, but I can fool myself for a time.  "Years passed.  Henry died.  Many- Many things thing happened.  I came to wonder if I were to change, could things be turned around.  I did what I could, tried to somehow atone...  But when I checked the picture, it was worse than before.  I..."  My hand goes to my chest, a small pinprick burning at my sternum.  "I planned to destroy the thing, had the knife set right at the copy's chest.  The blade started to slip into the canvas and I started to bleed."  Somehow I smile at that, glancing down.  "The only scar I have, actually."  I shake my head again.  "So I took the painting and left."

My eyes finally rise up to look at the bed again and I realize it's the first time I've glanced their way since starting the tale.  "There you are."

[Open to Iago and Glass]
[Adult Content Yo!]

[Closed]

"A woman is a person who screams at the mouse, and smiles at the wolf."

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

"Woman's destiny is to be wanton'
like the bitch, the she-wolf;
she must belong to all who claim her."
Marquis De Sade

(Late Saturday night, October 10th)
(On Silk Road, heading home)

"Show me the way to go home... I'm tired and I want to go to bed...
I had me a drink about an hour ago and... it ...went... right.... to.... my.... head.... bum bum bum.."

Giggle a bit, I sing to myself as I leave the Whitechapel.  I had swung by the Doctors office to try and entice Lucien out, but he was not there.  With the evening open, I went back home, threw on my trench coat with a few knives slipped inside for good measure, and headed over to the Whitechapel for a few drinks.  Sat in a corner and sipped whiskey, content to people watch for a while.  

Unfortunately, one of the persons I was specifically watching for did not appear. Oh well.... Wednesday is not too far off, but I have not received word yet if I have an appointment or not.

With a sigh, I realize that I am merely sitting a corner by myself drinking out of boredom.  Decided to stop before I hit 'drunk', right now I am merely 'contented'.  Not a bad place to be.  I pay Adam for a bottle of whiskey to go and leave a generous tip in my wake.  Humming and singing to no one in particular, I amble my way back down Silk Road, and as I pass the 'Boy, I see a head of spun gold hair in the window.  Ah, that's where Lucien is.  I contemplate ringing the bell and asking to join them, but I catch the flash of a smile and Miao laughing from inside....
No.  I'll leave them be. 

Cut down the side road behind the 'Boy to make it back home quicker, and just as I am nearing my gate, a howl splits the air.  
I stop dead, hand at the latch, my heart hammering.  Again, I know that voice.  I would know it anywhere.  I should run into the house and bar the doors, light the lamps and cower in my room....

but instead I find myself walking to the end of the park that is nearest to my home.  I peer into the darkness, and the sound comes again, but it is farther off than I though.  The night itself sighs around the sound, but I am not as afraid as I could should? be.  All those nights ago, the howling was to instill fear... tonight?..... it's different.  "Those... were the days my friend.... we swore they'd never end.... we'd sing and dance, forever and a day....."  the music slips out of me, a whisper to the dark. 

Oh.... it's a bad idea, such a bad idea..... I know this.  I AM scared of him, I am.  And I have been so lucky with him, Glass is right, and I know better.....
But the night is singing, and the shadows whisper, and I can hear it all and.....
"Gaueko......"  I say softly, musically, letting the breeze carry my voice to The Night.   

(open to Gaueko)  (CLOSED)
(This HAS gone weird places... all caution tags apply!)
( Bestiality themes within)

"A woman is a person who screams at the mouse, and smiles at the wolf."

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

"Woman's destiny is to be wanton'
like the bitch, the she-wolf;
she must belong to all who claim her."
Marquis De Sade

(Late Saturday night, October 10th)
(On Silk Road, heading home)

"Show me the way to go home... I'm tired and I want to go to bed...
I had me a drink about an hour ago and... it ...went... right.... to.... my.... head.... bum bum bum.."

Giggle a bit, I sing to myself as I leave the Whitechapel.  I had swung by the Doctors office to try and entice Lucien out, but he was not there.  With the evening open, I went back home, threw on my trench coat with a few knives slipped inside for good measure, and headed over to the Whitechapel for a few drinks.  Sat in a corner and sipped whiskey, content to people watch for a while.  

Unfortunately, one of the persons I was specifically watching for did not appear. Oh well.... Wednesday is not too far off, but I have not received word yet if I have an appointment or not.

With a sigh, I realize that I am merely sitting a corner by myself drinking out of boredom.  Decided to stop before I hit 'drunk', right now I am merely 'contented'.  Not a bad place to be.  I pay Adam for a bottle of whiskey to go and leave a generous tip in my wake.  Humming and singing to no one in particular, I amble my way back down Silk Road, and as I pass the 'Boy, I see a head of spun gold hair in the window.  Ah, that's where Lucien is.  I contemplate ringing the bell and asking to join them, but I catch the flash of a smile and Miao laughing from inside....
No.  I'll leave them be. 

Cut down the side road behind the 'Boy to make it back home quicker, and just as I am nearing my gate, a howl splits the air.  
I stop dead, hand at the latch, my heart hammering.  Again, I know that voice.  I would know it anywhere.  I should run into the house and bar the doors, light the lamps and cower in my room....

but instead I find myself walking to the end of the park that is nearest to my home.  I peer into the darkness, and the sound comes again, but it is farther off than I though.  The night itself sighs around the sound, but I am not as afraid as I could should? be.  All those nights ago, the howling was to instill fear... tonight?..... it's different.  "Those... were the days my friend.... we swore they'd never end.... we'd sing and dance, forever and a day....."  the music slips out of me, a whisper to the dark. 

Oh.... it's a bad idea, such a bad idea..... I know this.  I AM scared of him, I am.  And I have been so lucky with him, Glass is right, and I know better.....
But the night is singing, and the shadows whisper, and I can hear it all and.....
"Gaueko......"  I say softly, musically, letting the breeze carry my voice to The Night.   

(open to Gaueko)  (CLOSED)
(This HAS gone weird places... all caution tags apply!)
( Bestiality themes within)

Hope Is Dread, It Waits for Me

[maryk-graeb.livejournal.com]

Follow Me Boy
Morning, Saturday 10 October

Things changed for a little while. Seemed to get better with Karina. Not that she was sleeping. She wasn't as out of it. At least it seemed that way. She went right on without sleep, though, and she's as bad off as she was before. Maybe even a little worse for the slight respite.

She has been leaving the house, walking along the river alone, going across the bridge at night to watch the lights at the Carnival. I asked her once if she'd like company and she shook her head, then walked off. I've followed her every time. Don't know if she's noticed or not.

Yesterday, I needed to get away from it. Away from the exhausted, defeated look in her eyes. I head for the general store and pick up more cloves. As I left, Alana came up to me, looking somber. Something was wrong with Miao. She couldn't-- or wouldn't-- say what nor how she knew. She said Miao has stopped seeing clients.

Here I am, then. At the front door of the 'Boy, putting out a clove and pocketing the filter. Feels like years since I was living here and doing this regularly. Feels like I was a completely different person then. Someone I don't know answers the door and I explain who I am. "Wait here," she tells me. Strange to be in a place that was once home and be told to wait in the lobby.

[OPEN to Miao]

[CLOSED]

Hope Is Dread, It Waits for Me

[maryk-graeb.livejournal.com]

Follow Me Boy
Morning, Saturday 10 October

Things changed for a little while. Seemed to get better with Karina. Not that she was sleeping. She wasn't as out of it. At least it seemed that way. She went right on without sleep, though, and she's as bad off as she was before. Maybe even a little worse for the slight respite.

She has been leaving the house, walking along the river alone, going across the bridge at night to watch the lights at the Carnival. I asked her once if she'd like company and she shook her head, then walked off. I've followed her every time. Don't know if she's noticed or not.

Yesterday, I needed to get away from it. Away from the exhausted, defeated look in her eyes. I head for the general store and pick up more cloves. As I left, Alana came up to me, looking somber. Something was wrong with Miao. She couldn't-- or wouldn't-- say what nor how she knew. She said Miao has stopped seeing clients.

Here I am, then. At the front door of the 'Boy, putting out a clove and pocketing the filter. Feels like years since I was living here and doing this regularly. Feels like I was a completely different person then. Someone I don't know answers the door and I explain who I am. "Wait here," she tells me. Strange to be in a place that was once home and be told to wait in the lobby.

[OPEN to Miao]

[CLOSED]