AND THERE WAS A GREAT CRY IN EGYPT

[managexcolo.livejournal.com]

Wednesday, 13th of August; the dead hours before dawn

Elsewhere~}
And Pharaoh rose up in the night, he, and all his servants, and all the Egyptians; and there was a great cry in Egypt; for there was not a house where there was not one dead.
And Pharaoh rose up in the night, he, and all his servants, and all the Egyptians; and there was a great cry in Egypt; for there was not a house where there was not one dead.
And Pharaoh rose up in the night, he, and all his servants, and all the Egyptians; and there was a great cry in Egypt; for there was not a house where there was not one dead.

COME
REAP

[we have been to Egypt;
we have been to the deadlands
to the nightlands
to the dawning place where the tide rises
to the birthplace of the world:
Nu}
before-Ra
before-father
now father to -
father of -


We could have let it not hurt, we could have asked that, for we have seen all kinds of pain in our years, have we not, tried them on like hats, haha, made of skin - and found them lacking.

This pain was exquisite.

But this I say, He who sows sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he who sows bountifully shall reap also bountifully.

Oh, the ground was tilled, and seeds sown mightily.

THERE WAS A GREAT CRY:

But not of death.

Not yet.

The door has been opened, and our child brought forth.

Good morning, darling.

[Closed]

No one mourns the wicked.

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

[Early evening, Wednesday, August 13th, day 444]
[The woods outside town]

Woke up'is mornin' when the sky wuz th'deep blue'a th'sea bottom, m'breath stranglin'n m'throat, and a pain'n m'head't threatened t'push m'eyes from'eir sockets. I sat up, chokin' 'n clawin't m'throat, wond'rin' dully if'n m'head wuz gonna burst 'fore I strangled, an'en't wuz done. Th'air'n m'lungs pushed out hard, there wuzza flash 'fore m'eyes, an'en th'pain wuz gone. But not b'fore I heard somethin', a weird screamin' noise somewhere deep'n th'mist. Closest thin' t'it've ever heard s'when I came 'pon a mama vixen'n th'woods, she stood up from'er cubs'n fuckin' screamed at me. This sound wuz like'at...but wit'n edge, like th'bone squeal'a teeth grindin'n pain. Dunno what't wuz, but't made me feel sick'n pale'n sweaty, an' I didn't sleep no more after'at.

Seems mosta th'others'n th'Carnival felt somethin' th'same. Lotta folk woke up'n th'night, 'r member a chokin' spell...nobody else mentioned the scream, though. I don't mention it neither, but think mebbe I oughta go talk t'Nanshe soon's I can. Whatever't wuz, don't think't meant anythin' good.

Fer t'day, though, there's work t'be done. Can't b'lieve th'summer's near t'ended. We's headed fer our second winter innis town, an'I think mosta us're resigned t'it. Somma th'folks'a been lettin'eir wagons go, lettin' th'wheels sink inta th'ground, 'r settin'em on blocks. Some folks've built shacks 're rented places in town. Some've taken jobs, too, part time 'r full. Can't blame'em, really, since'ere ain't allat much money comin' in fer the rides 'r games no more. There's a feelin' on th'Lot now't we might never leave, annit makes m'skin itch.

Me, I still keep m'wagon ready t'move, an'm makin' 'nough cash sellin' potions'n charms, so'm doin' okay. Smokey's gettin' fat, though, 'e's spendin' so much time'n pasture. I ain't never learned t'ride'r nothin', so'ere really ain't nothin' for'im t'do. Guess I could rent'im out t'folks in town, but I dunno. In some ways't makes me feel like'm puttin' down roots m'self, an'at jes' makes me twitch.

At least I still got work t'do. Shoulder m'satchel 'n head out inta th'woods. Rain's gone, but'ere's a cool breeze, so I throw on m'jacket, 'n pull boots on 'gainst th'mud 'n wet grass. Th'woods 'n th'river here've been good t'me, at least in terms've finding materials. Roots 'n herbs, moss 'n bone. Miss somma th'stuff I c'n get 'n th'south (Christ, I miss olive oil), but gotta say, gathered a lotta stuff last winter't I can't normally get, annit came in right handy over th'past few months.

...Lord, guess I better start thinkin' 'bout getting th'heaters set back up inna few weeks. Jesus wept.

[OPEN to Reed and Catherine primarily, but others too]

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping...

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

Wednesday August 13th
The Dormouse, morning

It wasn't the suddenly not being able to breathe that woke me... I woke before that. It was the humming, thrumming tension of a note held for a moment too long. As if a violinist was teasing that last note of music until you want to shout at them to finish the piece and release the tension of the music just hovering in that second before completion. When it finally shattered and the piece ended, only then did I realize I had ceased to breathe. Only when the air rushed out of my lungs and my daughter cried out in irritation did it dawn on me that we where having an Excolo moment, as it were.

I leapt out of bed and gathered her up, relieved to see that we were none the worse for wear. Whatever just happened, it was brief. Just a hiccip in the flow of---

*Thump! Thump!*

From outside, a startled whiny of a horse, and the baying of dogs; further away, more odd thumps and a shattering of glass.

"What fresh hell..." I sigh, trotting downstairs with Rose on my hip. I grab my sword and head cautiously out the front door. Dawn is just streaking across the sky, and it looks like it will be another fine day---

Something falls two feet from my face, and I jump back with a cry, turning the hip with Rose on it away from whatever the hell just fell and my sword towards...
a dead bird. Just a bird. I exhale and shake my head at my own jumpiness. "Sorry Rose, Mummy's being silly." I laugh, and kiss the top of her head, but she's staring and pointing towards the street. Not just one dead bird, but dozens.

"What the...?"

Open