"Home is where I want to be, but I guess I'm already there."

[metal-minstrel.livejournal.com]

Monday, October 26th, night. 


I stand in my shop, barefoot, feeling the bare wood under my feet. I'm arranging the pre-made jewelery, shaking a bit of dust from the dark green curtains on the windows. The last of the twilight snakes through the windows, bathing my creations in a fine purple haze. Shaking my long dark hair out of my face, I go into the attached kitchen at the back of the shop to put some tea on. I've been here for the past week and had mostly kept to myself, preferring to watch the town's inhabitants from a careful distance. Waiting for my water to boil, I inhale the scent of the jasmine tea I'd bought from her previous residence. Halving a lemon, I pop one half in my mouth and squeeze the other half's juices into my mug. Bright yellow taste on my tongue, pucking up. I enjoy being by myself. After Gwen, I'm not sure that I want any close relationships with anyone else for a while. The sound of my own tea-making comforts me, but upon shaking the tea-jar, I notice that I'm low on jasmine. A trip to the tea shoppe tomorrow must be in order, I think as I pour the last of it into the mug and mix in water, cream and a touch of sugar. It wouldn't be like Meme's jasmine tea, tea so good it made you feel whole again, but it would be better than nothing. I take a sip and sit down in the squashy black leather chair by my worn kitchen table and sigh, the smell of the night mixing with my slightly melancholy mood, and hum a little to myself, sipping.

[Open]

"Home is where I want to be, but I guess I'm already there."

[metal-minstrel.livejournal.com]

Monday, October 26th, night. 


I stand in my shop, barefoot, feeling the bare wood under my feet. I'm arranging the pre-made jewelery, shaking a bit of dust from the dark green curtains on the windows. The last of the twilight snakes through the windows, bathing my creations in a fine purple haze. Shaking my long dark hair out of my face, I go into the attached kitchen at the back of the shop to put some tea on. I've been here for the past week and had mostly kept to myself, preferring to watch the town's inhabitants from a careful distance. Waiting for my water to boil, I inhale the scent of the jasmine tea I'd bought from her previous residence. Halving a lemon, I pop one half in my mouth and squeeze the other half's juices into my mug. Bright yellow taste on my tongue, pucking up. I enjoy being by myself. After Gwen, I'm not sure that I want any close relationships with anyone else for a while. The sound of my own tea-making comforts me, but upon shaking the tea-jar, I notice that I'm low on jasmine. A trip to the tea shoppe tomorrow must be in order, I think as I pour the last of it into the mug and mix in water, cream and a touch of sugar. It wouldn't be like Meme's jasmine tea, tea so good it made you feel whole again, but it would be better than nothing. I take a sip and sit down in the squashy black leather chair by my worn kitchen table and sigh, the smell of the night mixing with my slightly melancholy mood, and hum a little to myself, sipping.

[Open]

Late on Monday, the Twenty-Sixth of October

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

"Yield then to God....You might delude man, but God you cannot mock."

I worked all night and most of the day, copying the rite for Kate. With a few lines left, I shall be able to deliver it in the morning. The morning. I look up at the ceiling, trying to remember the date.

"Huh," I say softly. The morning will be the Twenty-Seventh of October. I missed it. So caught up in my own drama and the goings-on around me, I missed it.

Eleven years now that I've been Laurence Tillerman.

Forty-six years that I have been on this Earth.

I won't count how many years since my family died off, the last one clinging to life like it was her last hope.

I suppose it truly is time to place aside childish things and forget Kate and my feelings for her. She has moved on. I do not know why I cannot.

And there is another thing I cannot place aside; my anger toward Lúgh. He should never have risked her life. But then that swings around to me because I brought her into this.

If anyone dies during this rite, it should be me.

That would end this all. I should not have such thoughts, I know, but Lord, allow me some small selfishness. Even Your son wanted His pain to end.

At least His had a purpose.


[CLOSED.]

Late on Monday, the Twenty-Sixth of October

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

"Yield then to God....You might delude man, but God you cannot mock."

I worked all night and most of the day, copying the rite for Kate. With a few lines left, I shall be able to deliver it in the morning. The morning. I look up at the ceiling, trying to remember the date.

"Huh," I say softly. The morning will be the Twenty-Seventh of October. I missed it. So caught up in my own drama and the goings-on around me, I missed it.

Eleven years now that I've been Laurence Tillerman.

Forty-six years that I have been on this Earth.

I won't count how many years since my family died off, the last one clinging to life like it was her last hope.

I suppose it truly is time to place aside childish things and forget Kate and my feelings for her. She has moved on. I do not know why I cannot.

And there is another thing I cannot place aside; my anger toward Lúgh. He should never have risked her life. But then that swings around to me because I brought her into this.

If anyone dies during this rite, it should be me.

That would end this all. I should not have such thoughts, I know, but Lord, allow me some small selfishness. Even Your son wanted His pain to end.

At least His had a purpose.


[CLOSED.]