Sep. 30th, 2011

[identity profile] janeveniver.livejournal.com
Day 352, 18 May
Tuesday evening
The Bakery

Jamie Kincaid came this morning with jars of honey that Mr. White had ordered, and I helped him and Rob carry them in and put them away in the store room. Didn't say more than good morning to him, though I've known him most of my life. I buy honey from him, and my parents traded with his before that. I could think of so many things to say and how nice it would be to hear him say things back. We could talk about farming and baking and honey and flowers and the summer coming. We could, but the words seemed to stick in my throat, because I was wishing we could have something more than a conversation, more than just knowing each other, something comfortable and nice, together. We two, together. In the end, I couldn't stop blushing, and I went up to the front of the bakery until he left.

I tried to put him out of my mind, but as I was wrapping goods up to be stored away, getting ready to close, it occurred to me that that was really a silly thing to be doing. Why should I be trying not to think of him when he was coming to pick me up quite soon? Of course he would be, to take me home. Our home. And then I couldn't really remember why on earth I had been trying not to think of him.

I wrap up a loaf of brioche and a few jam tarts in a clean cloth and go out on the back steps to wait for him.

[OPEN to Jamie]
[identity profile] janeveniver.livejournal.com
Day 352, 18 May
Tuesday evening
The Bakery

Jamie Kincaid came this morning with jars of honey that Mr. White had ordered, and I helped him and Rob carry them in and put them away in the store room. Didn't say more than good morning to him, though I've known him most of my life. I buy honey from him, and my parents traded with his before that. I could think of so many things to say and how nice it would be to hear him say things back. We could talk about farming and baking and honey and flowers and the summer coming. We could, but the words seemed to stick in my throat, because I was wishing we could have something more than a conversation, more than just knowing each other, something comfortable and nice, together. We two, together. In the end, I couldn't stop blushing, and I went up to the front of the bakery until he left.

I tried to put him out of my mind, but as I was wrapping goods up to be stored away, getting ready to close, it occurred to me that that was really a silly thing to be doing. Why should I be trying not to think of him when he was coming to pick me up quite soon? Of course he would be, to take me home. Our home. And then I couldn't really remember why on earth I had been trying not to think of him.

I wrap up a loaf of brioche and a few jam tarts in a clean cloth and go out on the back steps to wait for him.

[OPEN to Jamie]
[identity profile] al-shairan.livejournal.com
When the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers.


Early morning of Tuesday, May 18th

A light drizzling rain patters onto the streets of Excolo. A light breeze passes through Uri's short hair, and he whistles a cheerful tune, battered case in hand, folding table under the other arm. At the crossroads of Silk Road and Main Street he unfolds the table and opens the case.

The air is charged, waiting.

"Buy your dreams, sell your nightmares! Money for chokings, stabbings and drownings!"

He falls silent. The air is pregnant; the grey clouds are briefly yellow-tinged. A storm is coming.

She is sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. She is stupid. She buys a trinket, a dream of some sweaty country boy she likes taking her in his arms.

This is not the storm.

"I wish," she says, tucking the bottle in her pocket, knickers already damp from the thought of drinking it, "everyone could have what they wished for, don't you?"

Along the street, a shopkeeper opens her store. The silence of the street is broken, and Uri smiles, touches his wrinkled fingers to her young wrist and says:

"A good wish, young miss."

There will be no lightning, now. Another storm is born.

[closed]
[identity profile] al-shairan.livejournal.com
When the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers.


Early morning of Tuesday, May 18th

A light drizzling rain patters onto the streets of Excolo. A light breeze passes through Uri's short hair, and he whistles a cheerful tune, battered case in hand, folding table under the other arm. At the crossroads of Silk Road and Main Street he unfolds the table and opens the case.

The air is charged, waiting.

"Buy your dreams, sell your nightmares! Money for chokings, stabbings and drownings!"

He falls silent. The air is pregnant; the grey clouds are briefly yellow-tinged. A storm is coming.

She is sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. She is stupid. She buys a trinket, a dream of some sweaty country boy she likes taking her in his arms.

This is not the storm.

"I wish," she says, tucking the bottle in her pocket, knickers already damp from the thought of drinking it, "everyone could have what they wished for, don't you?"

Along the street, a shopkeeper opens her store. The silence of the street is broken, and Uri smiles, touches his wrinkled fingers to her young wrist and says:

"A good wish, young miss."

There will be no lightning, now. Another storm is born.

[closed]
[identity profile] valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com
Tuesday morning

I wake up much earlier than usual - so early that Hermia is still asleep beside me. Rain patters gently against the window, and I look at her for a moment, stroke her hair back, and then I get out of bed. It's still early enough that the kitchen floor is cold under my feet when I put the coffee on.

I haven't thought about Marie much lately; I've been so taken up with my new family. Perhaps that's why I dreamed of her. Guilt has a way of worming itself through, and it never really goes away. I know I wasn't to blame for what happened to her, but. I still wish I could have saved her.

I make my coffee, trying to put my nightmare out of my mind, but I can't do it. So eventually I put on some clothes and go out into the main inn, where of course Marie's sitting at the front desk, doing the job she's been doing since I bought the inn. She makes a much friendlier receptionist than Cora.

"Hello, my dear," I say, leaning over the desk to kiss the top of her head.

"Good morning, Val," she says, smiling up at me. "Why're you up so early?"

"Bad dreams," I say. "Do you mind if I sit with you for a little while?"

"You can stay as long as you want," she says, "if you'll bring me some coffee." She grins, and then her expression gets more grave. "The dreams... Were they very bad?"

"Just a silly thing," I say. "Nothing that really happened." Though it could have done. Thank God it didn't.

I shake the thought away, and go back to get her what's in the rest of the coffee pot. There's no need to fret over a dream.

[closed]
[identity profile] valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com
Tuesday morning

I wake up much earlier than usual - so early that Hermia is still asleep beside me. Rain patters gently against the window, and I look at her for a moment, stroke her hair back, and then I get out of bed. It's still early enough that the kitchen floor is cold under my feet when I put the coffee on.

I haven't thought about Marie much lately; I've been so taken up with my new family. Perhaps that's why I dreamed of her. Guilt has a way of worming itself through, and it never really goes away. I know I wasn't to blame for what happened to her, but. I still wish I could have saved her.

I make my coffee, trying to put my nightmare out of my mind, but I can't do it. So eventually I put on some clothes and go out into the main inn, where of course Marie's sitting at the front desk, doing the job she's been doing since I bought the inn. She makes a much friendlier receptionist than Cora.

"Hello, my dear," I say, leaning over the desk to kiss the top of her head.

"Good morning, Val," she says, smiling up at me. "Why're you up so early?"

"Bad dreams," I say. "Do you mind if I sit with you for a little while?"

"You can stay as long as you want," she says, "if you'll bring me some coffee." She grins, and then her expression gets more grave. "The dreams... Were they very bad?"

"Just a silly thing," I say. "Nothing that really happened." Though it could have done. Thank God it didn't.

I shake the thought away, and go back to get her what's in the rest of the coffee pot. There's no need to fret over a dream.

[closed]
[identity profile] genny-duvall.livejournal.com
Tuesday, May 18
Afternoon, on the riverbank


I had the dream again.

Been havin' 'em for days now.

Fire and stars and pounding blood and jaguars running through the jungle Tezcatlipoca, Tezcatlipoca…

Woke up still feelin' the jungle hot, and then I felt cold, and then I cried.

Still, it don't feel so empty when I wake up no more. Not real bad like it used to. Momma says that means I'm gettin' better. I dunno. Still hurts, but somethin's different now, since I started havin' the dreams.

I still wish Tez was here.

Leastways I'm doin' a little art? Gotta do some new sketches for the concessions. Ain't too hard drawin' pictures of food, I guess. Don't gotta worry 'bout 'em lookin' real or nothin'. They ain't good, not like I used to draw, but they're okay.

I draw cotton candy and ice cream cones till I feel sick like I ate too much of 'em and I just gotta get outside. So I take my sketchbook and wander down by the river, lookin' for a good place to sit. Maybe out here I'll draw better...

[Open to Nu first, maybe others]
[identity profile] genny-duvall.livejournal.com
Tuesday, May 18
Afternoon, on the riverbank


I had the dream again.

Been havin' 'em for days now.

Fire and stars and pounding blood and jaguars running through the jungle Tezcatlipoca, Tezcatlipoca…

Woke up still feelin' the jungle hot, and then I felt cold, and then I cried.

Still, it don't feel so empty when I wake up no more. Not real bad like it used to. Momma says that means I'm gettin' better. I dunno. Still hurts, but somethin's different now, since I started havin' the dreams.

I still wish Tez was here.

Leastways I'm doin' a little art? Gotta do some new sketches for the concessions. Ain't too hard drawin' pictures of food, I guess. Don't gotta worry 'bout 'em lookin' real or nothin'. They ain't good, not like I used to draw, but they're okay.

I draw cotton candy and ice cream cones till I feel sick like I ate too much of 'em and I just gotta get outside. So I take my sketchbook and wander down by the river, lookin' for a good place to sit. Maybe out here I'll draw better...

[Open to Nu first, maybe others]
[identity profile] tess-thiess.livejournal.com
Day 352, Tuesday May 18th
Just before lunch
The Apothecary


There's water on my cheek, which is strange. I wipe it off on my apron and go back to heating the tincture of belladonna. There's a few women as want it t'look nice fer their fellas, and it's got plenty 'a uses 'asides that. The fumes could be a problem, though, and so I keep an eye on the glass as I go open up the windows. I smile as I see Kate sweepin' dust out her front door, and wave. I'm glad she dunt have no hard feelings 'bout it all, but I needed t'grow up, 'n she understands.

Family's got t'come first, after all.

I go back t'check the tincture, 'n start wipin' down the tabletop. You've got t'be careful workin' with belladonna, and soon 'nough I'll have t'be more careful with what I'm handlin', once we manage. At least my family dunt have too much trouble with that. It'll be nice t'have a child 'a my own. Johnny's pretty well grown, and Ma's got Mary well in hand. And the town could do with a birth - they always make people happier. Could bring the town 'n the farms closer, too. It's a good thing I married a townie. 'Sides, I'm happier here. I love my family, but 'f I'm t'do right by 'em, I can at least live with the man I love.

[Open]
[identity profile] tess-thiess.livejournal.com
Day 352, Tuesday May 18th
Just before lunch
The Apothecary


There's water on my cheek, which is strange. I wipe it off on my apron and go back to heating the tincture of belladonna. There's a few women as want it t'look nice fer their fellas, and it's got plenty 'a uses 'asides that. The fumes could be a problem, though, and so I keep an eye on the glass as I go open up the windows. I smile as I see Kate sweepin' dust out her front door, and wave. I'm glad she dunt have no hard feelings 'bout it all, but I needed t'grow up, 'n she understands.

Family's got t'come first, after all.

I go back t'check the tincture, 'n start wipin' down the tabletop. You've got t'be careful workin' with belladonna, and soon 'nough I'll have t'be more careful with what I'm handlin', once we manage. At least my family dunt have too much trouble with that. It'll be nice t'have a child 'a my own. Johnny's pretty well grown, and Ma's got Mary well in hand. And the town could do with a birth - they always make people happier. Could bring the town 'n the farms closer, too. It's a good thing I married a townie. 'Sides, I'm happier here. I love my family, but 'f I'm t'do right by 'em, I can at least live with the man I love.

[Open]
[identity profile] silence-excolo.livejournal.com
Tuesday, May 18 [Day 352]
About noon
Along the river by the bridge


For too long I've been... directionless. No, that's not the right word. Letting Fate take the reins, I've had direction, but... but I've not really chosen, just followed the pull, never knowing why. Just going, knowing I'll eventually learn, eventually be needed. Part of me knows, just knows that, were my memories intact - but they're not. Knitting slowly, yes, the fragments coming together, but still so much gone.

I wish...

But at least there's work, & people for company when I need it. Zahn, although I've not seen much of her lately - she seems a bit off, somehow. Syl, whatever we may be. Not enemies, at least. Dana... And there's Nu- Ptah-Naunet, but she likes to be called Nu, & we had missed him so much more than I'd realized. I watch the river bubble & ripple & think of them. People I never thought I would need.

I mean, for the longest time- heh. For the longest time I knew nothing of myself beyond that day I woke up & saw everything burning, smoldering. Everything I knew was gone, which I couldn't understand because I didn't know anything. I just... knew. And for the next century I wandered, following one path after another, trying so hard to find something, anything that could lead me somewhere, but I didn't know if it was to... or away. 100 years... & there's still so much missing! I wish I could speed it up, somehow pull my mind together faster. Maybe I'd finally understand what drew me here.

I know I'm here for a reason, some purpose I've not yet discovered. But will I know in time? Will I know before... it ends? Because everything ends. Eventually.

Will I know before the end?

[Open to Dana]
[identity profile] silence-excolo.livejournal.com
Tuesday, May 18 [Day 352]
About noon
Along the river by the bridge


For too long I've been... directionless. No, that's not the right word. Letting Fate take the reins, I've had direction, but... but I've not really chosen, just followed the pull, never knowing why. Just going, knowing I'll eventually learn, eventually be needed. Part of me knows, just knows that, were my memories intact - but they're not. Knitting slowly, yes, the fragments coming together, but still so much gone.

I wish...

But at least there's work, & people for company when I need it. Zahn, although I've not seen much of her lately - she seems a bit off, somehow. Syl, whatever we may be. Not enemies, at least. Dana... And there's Nu- Ptah-Naunet, but she likes to be called Nu, & we had missed him so much more than I'd realized. I watch the river bubble & ripple & think of them. People I never thought I would need.

I mean, for the longest time- heh. For the longest time I knew nothing of myself beyond that day I woke up & saw everything burning, smoldering. Everything I knew was gone, which I couldn't understand because I didn't know anything. I just... knew. And for the next century I wandered, following one path after another, trying so hard to find something, anything that could lead me somewhere, but I didn't know if it was to... or away. 100 years... & there's still so much missing! I wish I could speed it up, somehow pull my mind together faster. Maybe I'd finally understand what drew me here.

I know I'm here for a reason, some purpose I've not yet discovered. But will I know in time? Will I know before... it ends? Because everything ends. Eventually.

Will I know before the end?

[Open to Dana]

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