the empire that sleeps in the frozen lakes

[konrad-voronin.livejournal.com]

The Voronin Estate, January 13th, around Midday

The thing that defined him was always this: that he was dead, and the dead do not come back. This is the seed at the heart of the memory, always this, always this numb certainty, the two things twisted into one, death and the boy, the boy dying, the boy and his death, the boy's fever twinned with the fire in the garden, the horrible slackness of his limbs as his father carried him. The boy is dead.

The boy is dead, and the dead do not come back. This is what the boy is thinking when the silence comes. This is what he forgets. The boy has always been clever.

We forget how her power ebbed into the ash. We forget the last the breath, the last pulse of blood into the embers, the last words which died in her lungs, the ecstasy of pain and how it bore us up. We forget that we are not, were not, the same. We forget that death binds us to the other place where silence rests across our eyes like wax over water. We forget how long we have waited in the house, forget the names for those numbers and their vastness.

We forget that we are not allowed out to play on our own.

Hello, hello mother. Hello Excolo. Hello.

[closed]

People are crazy and times are strange

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

Wednesday, January 13th, day 227
After midday

It's not a beautiful sun-is-shining-and-birds-are-singing sort of afternoon, but I feel good. Pick myself up off the concrete floor and head downstairs. My sense of everything is a bit askew, and when I take the time to work it out I realise that it's a difference in that thrumming energetic cord between me and Iblis. Wonder what's up with him, and what he'll make of what I've done, but I don't care about that now. There's sounds of confusion through the building, and outside on the doorstep one of the kids who used to hang around my truck is crying.

Stop to ask what's wrong, friendly and innocent as I can. My teeth feel sharp behind my lips when I smile.

Turns out it's crying because its mother's somehow forgotten she has children at all. Stop for a moment and listen to the noise, to the feel of the place, and feel my smile broaden. I didn't intend it to affect other people, but now that it has, I reckon this'll be fun. Look down at the child and ruffle its hair: "I guess she's stopped loving you, then." Smile hitches a little wider still at the devastation on its face. "It happens."

Step past it and start the walk into town. I wonder if it's spread that far, what I've done? I hope so. Time this town was shaken up a bit, and time I had some fucking fun. Yes, today seems like a good sort of day.

[Closed]

People are crazy and times are strange

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

Wednesday, January 13th, day 227
After midday

It's not a beautiful sun-is-shining-and-birds-are-singing sort of afternoon, but I feel good. Pick myself up off the concrete floor and head downstairs. My sense of everything is a bit askew, and when I take the time to work it out I realise that it's a difference in that thrumming energetic cord between me and Iblis. Wonder what's up with him, and what he'll make of what I've done, but I don't care about that now. There's sounds of confusion through the building, and outside on the doorstep one of the kids who used to hang around my truck is crying.

Stop to ask what's wrong, friendly and innocent as I can. My teeth feel sharp behind my lips when I smile.

Turns out it's crying because its mother's somehow forgotten she has children at all. Stop for a moment and listen to the noise, to the feel of the place, and feel my smile broaden. I didn't intend it to affect other people, but now that it has, I reckon this'll be fun. Look down at the child and ruffle its hair: "I guess she's stopped loving you, then." Smile hitches a little wider still at the devastation on its face. "It happens."

Step past it and start the walk into town. I wonder if it's spread that far, what I've done? I hope so. Time this town was shaken up a bit, and time I had some fucking fun. Yes, today seems like a good sort of day.

[Closed]

Dark shapes moving under me.

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

[Mid-afternoon of Wednesday, January 13 (day 227)]
[Sheriff's Office]

--pardon my language but what in the name of Christ the Carpenter on his frigging nail-studded cross is happening to my goddamn town?!

Out this morning and something came through the whole damn town and I felt things rip loose, a split in every other piece of straw. Everything looking the same, but there's a great gaping hole through the heart of it all. And then I started to hear the crying and the shocked questions and there's that awful feelin' in the air like a storm comin' on...

non ministrari sed ministrare

I don't know my name. Someone called me Deputy Hollow an' okay, I'm goin' with that. He was local, I know that. So I listened ta him an' the woman he was fightin' with, and told 'em they were brother an' sister. I know they were, an' when they asked me if I was sure I said yeah, I remembered.

That was an outright lie. I hate lyin'.

So I told'm listen, this was their house they were fighting in (true), and things were gonna be okay (God please don't let that have bin a lie). Somethin' happened, people got sick or somethin', it doesn't seem ta be gettin' worse but can they please stay calm and stay inside if they can't do anythin' ta help? They pulled themselves together a bit, said they'd stay close ta home but they'd at least go see their neighbours, see if there was anything ta do.

est deus in nobis

That kept happenin'. Couldn't always tell someone where they were meant ta be stayin', or how they knew whoever they'd run into, if they even did. Gave a few people directions ta the Office, an' told them ta go there an' wait, ta tell people they ran into they could go there. One a' them had the idea ta go by the Post Office, see if they had a list of names ta go with addresses, an' I swear I coulda kissed her. Got one person home that way when I ended up makin' it back, guess we can maybe get a few more back that way today.

Wish there was a town hall. I'm sure there's paperwork somewhere, somethin' with names an' taxes an' maybe even something like a school record. But I got no idea of where ta even start lookin'.

The woman had the idea about the Post Office, she's bin dealin' with the few kids as came in (Miss Kaeli, you have no idea how goddamned grateful I am you told 'em they can go to you or the library with questions and to the police if something is wrong, an' I hope I have a chance ta tell you that), an' makin' coffee. I don't know that anyone needs coffee this late in the day, but it seems ta calm her some, an' it doesn't hurt.

An' then a lady comes in an' there's blood on her face, an' she starts tellin' me that there was an angel in the church, an' she can't find her daughters, an' it's all mixed up together. She ain't crying-- well, she ain't unhappy, at least. An' I'm tryna get her ta tell me what happened in the church an' anything she can remember about her daughters an' it's kinda all goin' in circles but...

God help me. I don't know what else ta do.

[Open]
[Closed]

Dark shapes moving under me.

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

[Mid-afternoon of Wednesday, January 13 (day 227)]
[Sheriff's Office]

--pardon my language but what in the name of Christ the Carpenter on his frigging nail-studded cross is happening to my goddamn town?!

Out this morning and something came through the whole damn town and I felt things rip loose, a split in every other piece of straw. Everything looking the same, but there's a great gaping hole through the heart of it all. And then I started to hear the crying and the shocked questions and there's that awful feelin' in the air like a storm comin' on...

non ministrari sed ministrare

I don't know my name. Someone called me Deputy Hollow an' okay, I'm goin' with that. He was local, I know that. So I listened ta him an' the woman he was fightin' with, and told 'em they were brother an' sister. I know they were, an' when they asked me if I was sure I said yeah, I remembered.

That was an outright lie. I hate lyin'.

So I told'm listen, this was their house they were fighting in (true), and things were gonna be okay (God please don't let that have bin a lie). Somethin' happened, people got sick or somethin', it doesn't seem ta be gettin' worse but can they please stay calm and stay inside if they can't do anythin' ta help? They pulled themselves together a bit, said they'd stay close ta home but they'd at least go see their neighbours, see if there was anything ta do.

est deus in nobis

That kept happenin'. Couldn't always tell someone where they were meant ta be stayin', or how they knew whoever they'd run into, if they even did. Gave a few people directions ta the Office, an' told them ta go there an' wait, ta tell people they ran into they could go there. One a' them had the idea ta go by the Post Office, see if they had a list of names ta go with addresses, an' I swear I coulda kissed her. Got one person home that way when I ended up makin' it back, guess we can maybe get a few more back that way today.

Wish there was a town hall. I'm sure there's paperwork somewhere, somethin' with names an' taxes an' maybe even something like a school record. But I got no idea of where ta even start lookin'.

The woman had the idea about the Post Office, she's bin dealin' with the few kids as came in (Miss Kaeli, you have no idea how goddamned grateful I am you told 'em they can go to you or the library with questions and to the police if something is wrong, an' I hope I have a chance ta tell you that), an' makin' coffee. I don't know that anyone needs coffee this late in the day, but it seems ta calm her some, an' it doesn't hurt.

An' then a lady comes in an' there's blood on her face, an' she starts tellin' me that there was an angel in the church, an' she can't find her daughters, an' it's all mixed up together. She ain't crying-- well, she ain't unhappy, at least. An' I'm tryna get her ta tell me what happened in the church an' anything she can remember about her daughters an' it's kinda all goin' in circles but...

God help me. I don't know what else ta do.

[Open]
[Closed]