Some things are better left...

[silence-excolo.livejournal.com]

[Day Two Hundred Eight - Friday, December 25th]
[about 4 in the morning]

The nights are long and cold now. The grounds are deserted, for the most part, and covered in frost & snow. Whatever melt that happened during the day is freezing up, and whatever tracks left are filling up. I stand at the edge of the Carnivale grounds, my hands jammed in my pockets and hoodie pulled up, and stare out at the lights of Excolo. I do this most nights, it seems. I'm not really sure why.

 

It's beautiful, almost picture-perfect, with its twinkling warmth & blanket of snow. The perfect winter picture. Then why am I so reluctant to go there? Most the rest of the Carnivale's there now, at the Tavern, drinking in the Yule/Christmas/holiday-etc. cheer, socializing or whatever. But I just have this... feeling that there's something there that I'm just not ready for, something... What's the word? I scowl and press my mouth tight, trying to focus, but it's gone. I let out the breath I was unintentionally holding and it steams in the air.

 

I look back over the Carnivale. I've been here a few months now and the work's good, but I've not yet figured out why I'm here. Why did Fate lead me to this place? What am I suppose to accomplish, if anything? It's possible that there is no purpose beyond the work - beyond maintaining the games and balance of this place - but I feel there's more I'm not seeing here. I like this place well enough. Those I have had the chance to work with have been ok. And I'm slowly learning the way it seems to attract... strangeness. I'd dare say I'm not the only oddity drawn here by Fate. Heh, I'm certainly not the only god-creature here; my senses can tell that much at least.

 

I sigh through my nose and turn my gaze back to Excolo. The sky is lightening ever so slightly. How long have I been standing here this time, I wonder. The town is asleep now, most of the lights dimmed. Whether the party at the Tavern is still going on or not, I can't tell. I gaze up into the sky to see it's mostly clear, the millions of stars slowly winking out, consumed by the radiance of the incoming sun.

 

Perhaps that's what troubles me. Perhaps when I find what has called me, find the source behind the pull, I'll be overwhelmed and disappear within it. It's inevitable, I suppose.

 

Ah, that's the word. Inevitable.

 

I turn back and walk to my trailer. Gotta get some sleep.

[Open to whoever might be at the Carnivale]
[Closed]

Some things are better left...

[silence-excolo.livejournal.com]

[Day Two Hundred Eight - Friday, December 25th]
[about 4 in the morning]

The nights are long and cold now. The grounds are deserted, for the most part, and covered in frost & snow. Whatever melt that happened during the day is freezing up, and whatever tracks left are filling up. I stand at the edge of the Carnivale grounds, my hands jammed in my pockets and hoodie pulled up, and stare out at the lights of Excolo. I do this most nights, it seems. I'm not really sure why.

 

It's beautiful, almost picture-perfect, with its twinkling warmth & blanket of snow. The perfect winter picture. Then why am I so reluctant to go there? Most the rest of the Carnivale's there now, at the Tavern, drinking in the Yule/Christmas/holiday-etc. cheer, socializing or whatever. But I just have this... feeling that there's something there that I'm just not ready for, something... What's the word? I scowl and press my mouth tight, trying to focus, but it's gone. I let out the breath I was unintentionally holding and it steams in the air.

 

I look back over the Carnivale. I've been here a few months now and the work's good, but I've not yet figured out why I'm here. Why did Fate lead me to this place? What am I suppose to accomplish, if anything? It's possible that there is no purpose beyond the work - beyond maintaining the games and balance of this place - but I feel there's more I'm not seeing here. I like this place well enough. Those I have had the chance to work with have been ok. And I'm slowly learning the way it seems to attract... strangeness. I'd dare say I'm not the only oddity drawn here by Fate. Heh, I'm certainly not the only god-creature here; my senses can tell that much at least.

 

I sigh through my nose and turn my gaze back to Excolo. The sky is lightening ever so slightly. How long have I been standing here this time, I wonder. The town is asleep now, most of the lights dimmed. Whether the party at the Tavern is still going on or not, I can't tell. I gaze up into the sky to see it's mostly clear, the millions of stars slowly winking out, consumed by the radiance of the incoming sun.

 

Perhaps that's what troubles me. Perhaps when I find what has called me, find the source behind the pull, I'll be overwhelmed and disappear within it. It's inevitable, I suppose.

 

Ah, that's the word. Inevitable.

 

I turn back and walk to my trailer. Gotta get some sleep.

[Open to whoever might be at the Carnivale]
[Closed]

The sky and I have had our fights and I'm coming 'round to rain

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

[Mid-morning, Friday, December 25th, day 208]
[the woods near the Carnival]


....I prob'ly shoulda gone t'th'tavern last night. Knew't wuz reop'nin'. Knew Verdi'd be'ere. Knew somma th'carny folk wuz gonna be'ere too, anna few folks asked if'n'd be goin'. I said mebbe, but'n th'end I di'n't. Don't gen'rally t'feel allat social 'round'is time'a year, an' th'cold's makin't worse. So I stayed in, hadda few swigs'a shine m'self, went t'bed early. Got work t'do t'day anyway, an' plenty ovvit.

Get up early, head out while's still dark. Plenty'a gath'rin' t'be done. Stuff y'find on days'a power got real kick t'em. Toss some coffee back, pull on m'coat an' out inta th'snow, cut branches, gather stones, dig up roots. Plenty t'do, not so much time t'do't. S'cold, an' m'hands're singin' Ave Maria, but I keep workin'. Gotta be done. An's good t'keep busy, 'n any case. Starin't th'wall 'n drinkin' ain't no way t'spend th'day.

Sky's startin' t'light when I head back. Th'cooktent's makin' uppa big breakfast fer ev'rybody, fer th'hol'day. Not ev'rybody here duz th'whole Christmas thin', but'ere's a few, an'ere's others't don't mind holdin' th'solstice a bit late, 'r't jes' like'n excuse t'drink 'n eat a lot 'n mebbe givva present. Nobody'd turn me 'way if'n I tried t'join'em, neither.

Heft m'bag over m'shoulder. Coffee'll do me. I got work t'do.


[OPEN]

The sky and I have had our fights and I'm coming 'round to rain

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

[Mid-morning, Friday, December 25th, day 208]
[the woods near the Carnival]


....I prob'ly shoulda gone t'th'tavern last night. Knew't wuz reop'nin'. Knew Verdi'd be'ere. Knew somma th'carny folk wuz gonna be'ere too, anna few folks asked if'n'd be goin'. I said mebbe, but'n th'end I di'n't. Don't gen'rally t'feel allat social 'round'is time'a year, an' th'cold's makin't worse. So I stayed in, hadda few swigs'a shine m'self, went t'bed early. Got work t'do t'day anyway, an' plenty ovvit.

Get up early, head out while's still dark. Plenty'a gath'rin' t'be done. Stuff y'find on days'a power got real kick t'em. Toss some coffee back, pull on m'coat an' out inta th'snow, cut branches, gather stones, dig up roots. Plenty t'do, not so much time t'do't. S'cold, an' m'hands're singin' Ave Maria, but I keep workin'. Gotta be done. An's good t'keep busy, 'n any case. Starin't th'wall 'n drinkin' ain't no way t'spend th'day.

Sky's startin' t'light when I head back. Th'cooktent's makin' uppa big breakfast fer ev'rybody, fer th'hol'day. Not ev'rybody here duz th'whole Christmas thin', but'ere's a few, an'ere's others't don't mind holdin' th'solstice a bit late, 'r't jes' like'n excuse t'drink 'n eat a lot 'n mebbe givva present. Nobody'd turn me 'way if'n I tried t'join'em, neither.

Heft m'bag over m'shoulder. Coffee'll do me. I got work t'do.


[OPEN]