Dance to the Sound of Tears on the Cold Stone

[maryk-graeb.livejournal.com]

The Marks Ranch
Midday, Friday 16 October

The gossip at the General Store and the Miskatonic and on Main Street and along Silk Road has been the disaster at the Voronin place. Some woman named Anushka died. As far as I can remember, I never met her. No loss there.

The other one that was there, however, was Anthony Marks. Ares. Eris' brother.

I told Karina where I was going. That I didn't know how long I'd be. She understands. At least, she puts up a really convincing show of understanding. Maybe she'll go find Lúgh to make sure he's doing OK.

I don't knock. I haven't knocked in ages. Eris told me to stop that. So, I walk in through the unlocked door. It looks exactly like it did last time I was here. Except the house isn't just quiet. It's silent in the way cemetaries at two in the morning are silent.

Slowly, I shut the door behind me and take a few steps into the room. Maybe Eris isn't even here.

[OPEN to Eris]

[CLOSED]

Dance to the Sound of Tears on the Cold Stone

[maryk-graeb.livejournal.com]

The Marks Ranch
Midday, Friday 16 October

The gossip at the General Store and the Miskatonic and on Main Street and along Silk Road has been the disaster at the Voronin place. Some woman named Anushka died. As far as I can remember, I never met her. No loss there.

The other one that was there, however, was Anthony Marks. Ares. Eris' brother.

I told Karina where I was going. That I didn't know how long I'd be. She understands. At least, she puts up a really convincing show of understanding. Maybe she'll go find Lúgh to make sure he's doing OK.

I don't knock. I haven't knocked in ages. Eris told me to stop that. So, I walk in through the unlocked door. It looks exactly like it did last time I was here. Except the house isn't just quiet. It's silent in the way cemetaries at two in the morning are silent.

Slowly, I shut the door behind me and take a few steps into the room. Maybe Eris isn't even here.

[OPEN to Eris]

[CLOSED]

let your heart stand open

[a-cheval.livejournal.com]

Don't go to Boku and I don't say nothing to Samuel. Don't go to Miss Miao neither, cause she's got enough to worry about and she'd know something was up, even if I didn't say nothing. Don't know Johnny well enough, not really, not well enough for when I feel like this. I should've been nicer to Eris, never mind running off. Course she's upset. Course she ain't happy with me. Who the fuck would be?

Grooming and cleaning and sorting. I dunno. I dunno how I feel, how I'm s'posed to feel. I felt so guilty when Eris said it was my fault but I just- I can't see him doing that cause of me. I just can't. There's something I just ain't seeing. Just ain't fucking seeing it, too fucking stupid to understand all this, too fucking stupid, and the worst is I'm so angry, I'm so fucking angry with him and I don't even know why. (Cause there's always something I don't understand. Cause I'll never escape him. Cause even now he won't get out my fucking head and leave me be.)

Then there's a letter for me. I know his handwriting, but it don't say nothing. Just this key and an address and I know it's daft, I know it is, but I tear round there ready to yell at him for making me think he was dead, making folk think he was dead when he wasn't, ain't right to do that, it ain't right, why won't he just say what he means and not just leave me to work it out when I can't, I don't fucking know what it all means, and I'm running before I know it, running and running and trying to find the place and my head's spinning, then I'm there, this big flat round the back of Main Street and I'm running up the stairs and fumbling with the lock -

He ain't here, course. He's dead.

There's books. Just this room full of books, on and on. I don't understand. Everything's quiet. Noise of my feet on the floorboards is too loud, and the next room: more books, all of his books, and his desk, and his armour and his swords. 's when I get it.

He ain't here, he ain't coming back. He's giving it to me.

Stand there a good while with my hands pressed on my mouth like something big might tear itself free inside me and claw its way out. He must've known which book I'd go for, cause there's a letter in it. I try and read it from the start but I can't take it all in, the words're all swimming on the page, and I keep losing the thread of it.

( Cut for Length )

Can't see the rest. Just sit down on the floor and cry. There ain't no noise from outside to cover it, there ain't nothing in me to quiet it. Just this horrible crying going on and on and on.

[Closed]

let your heart stand open

[a-cheval.livejournal.com]

Don't go to Boku and I don't say nothing to Samuel. Don't go to Miss Miao neither, cause she's got enough to worry about and she'd know something was up, even if I didn't say nothing. Don't know Johnny well enough, not really, not well enough for when I feel like this. I should've been nicer to Eris, never mind running off. Course she's upset. Course she ain't happy with me. Who the fuck would be?

Grooming and cleaning and sorting. I dunno. I dunno how I feel, how I'm s'posed to feel. I felt so guilty when Eris said it was my fault but I just- I can't see him doing that cause of me. I just can't. There's something I just ain't seeing. Just ain't fucking seeing it, too fucking stupid to understand all this, too fucking stupid, and the worst is I'm so angry, I'm so fucking angry with him and I don't even know why. (Cause there's always something I don't understand. Cause I'll never escape him. Cause even now he won't get out my fucking head and leave me be.)

Then there's a letter for me. I know his handwriting, but it don't say nothing. Just this key and an address and I know it's daft, I know it is, but I tear round there ready to yell at him for making me think he was dead, making folk think he was dead when he wasn't, ain't right to do that, it ain't right, why won't he just say what he means and not just leave me to work it out when I can't, I don't fucking know what it all means, and I'm running before I know it, running and running and trying to find the place and my head's spinning, then I'm there, this big flat round the back of Main Street and I'm running up the stairs and fumbling with the lock -

He ain't here, course. He's dead.

There's books. Just this room full of books, on and on. I don't understand. Everything's quiet. Noise of my feet on the floorboards is too loud, and the next room: more books, all of his books, and his desk, and his armour and his swords. 's when I get it.

He ain't here, he ain't coming back. He's giving it to me.

Stand there a good while with my hands pressed on my mouth like something big might tear itself free inside me and claw its way out. He must've known which book I'd go for, cause there's a letter in it. I try and read it from the start but I can't take it all in, the words're all swimming on the page, and I keep losing the thread of it.

( Cut for Length )

Can't see the rest. Just sit down on the floor and cry. There ain't no noise from outside to cover it, there ain't nothing in me to quiet it. Just this horrible crying going on and on and on.

[Closed]

A man is not considered a good man because he is a good talker.

[lokan-banderez.livejournal.com]

Friday at Dusk, October 16th, Day 138

Open hours once more. Friday nights I seldom have regular appointments, perhaps it is everyone wanting their weekends to be free of introspection. This week has been full of gossip more than treatment. Word of a madwoman finally taking her own life in an inferno. Perhaps I could have met this Anushka and helped her, or pushed her further along her journey. Too late now. The other, some sort of rancher, seems to have perished as well. For a small town, it is full of death much more than you would think.

I set the sign out just as the sun was setting, people on their way home or their way out. Perhaps I should visit my little bird soon, but I would prefer if she would come to me. It is so much more satisfying that way.

[Open]

A man is not considered a good man because he is a good talker.

[lokan-banderez.livejournal.com]

Friday at Dusk, October 16th, Day 138

Open hours once more. Friday nights I seldom have regular appointments, perhaps it is everyone wanting their weekends to be free of introspection. This week has been full of gossip more than treatment. Word of a madwoman finally taking her own life in an inferno. Perhaps I could have met this Anushka and helped her, or pushed her further along her journey. Too late now. The other, some sort of rancher, seems to have perished as well. For a small town, it is full of death much more than you would think.

I set the sign out just as the sun was setting, people on their way home or their way out. Perhaps I should visit my little bird soon, but I would prefer if she would come to me. It is so much more satisfying that way.

[Open]

set all the silver lamps alight, open the windows wide

[a-cheval.livejournal.com]

Friday, late morning, the Library attic

He's been awake for hours. Been watching him and not watching him at once, just lying still, just lying real still like I'm asleep. Should be halfway to Oakridge by now. The light's all grey slanting in past him, but that don't matter. Still good for riding. Still good for riding, but I ain't. Wonder if Samuel's fretting or pissed. Probably both.

He's got the big map I gave him rolled out on the table and he's making notes. If he knows I'm awake he ain't showing it, but he looks real serious, and he keeps frowning down at the papers and the map like he's thinking real hard. Maybe they're all talking in his head. I could ask him, but I don't. Just lie here curled up and watching him.

When he smooths the paper flat the noise of it's like flames shooting up.

"I think your friend killed Ares," I say. Might be an hour later. My voice sounds all rough, and my head's pounding, from all that crying I guess. "Or else he killed her, or they they killed each other."

[closed]

set all the silver lamps alight, open the windows wide

[a-cheval.livejournal.com]

Friday, late morning, the Library attic

He's been awake for hours. Been watching him and not watching him at once, just lying still, just lying real still like I'm asleep. Should be halfway to Oakridge by now. The light's all grey slanting in past him, but that don't matter. Still good for riding. Still good for riding, but I ain't. Wonder if Samuel's fretting or pissed. Probably both.

He's got the big map I gave him rolled out on the table and he's making notes. If he knows I'm awake he ain't showing it, but he looks real serious, and he keeps frowning down at the papers and the map like he's thinking real hard. Maybe they're all talking in his head. I could ask him, but I don't. Just lie here curled up and watching him.

When he smooths the paper flat the noise of it's like flames shooting up.

"I think your friend killed Ares," I say. Might be an hour later. My voice sounds all rough, and my head's pounding, from all that crying I guess. "Or else he killed her, or they they killed each other."

[closed]