If I die before I wake, pray the Lord my soul to take

[shards-of-alice.livejournal.com]

[Sunday, November 8th (Day 161)]
[Just past midnight - the Whitechapel]

She sleeps with her eyes open, poor girl, and sees when she wishes she couldn't.  I watch from inside, holding down our arms when they want to fight, keeping the screams muffled in the back of our throat.  I'm not there, those memories are hers and not mine, and so I just float past them, fire and pain washing over me as I go.  It's the same every night, wrists bleeding from the ropes with flames dancing at our shoes.  Smoke rises up, the sharp smell of wet wood set to blaze, swirling around our legs.  Tears sting our eyes and it turns the crowd, loud and jeering, into a many-headed beast, writhing on all sides.

That's when she went to sleep, but tonight I won't let her.  A little at a time, a little more each night, again I show her the fire, the way the flesh blistered and the men screamed.  I let her feel the wind in our hair, humid Sunday morning turned suddenly cold, and I know she understands.  It's only a moment, only ever the smallest flicker of recognition, and then it's gone.  But it's something.  The beginning of something important that even I don't understand, great snaking darkness and stars falling from the sky behind her eyes, and it's for me to lead her there.   

Little by little, hand in hand, the time of remembering is almost here.

I can't breathe.  I try, one time and then another, again and again until there's just my heart beating so fast in my ears and my breath finally comes, stuck in my throat like drink that won't go down.  I'm sitting straight up, in my bed with my covers wrapped tight around, safe and warm.  I know that, know I'm at the Inn with Valmont and Hermia down the hall, but my head wants me to be somewhere else.  It smells like smoke now - nothing's burning - and the thought makes me shake.

It's too bright again, the star shining through the windows until I think that's where the smoke is coming from, the curtains are on fire from the light.  They aren't and it isn't and there's still shadow in the corners, but it's not the same.  Not the same at all.  Those shadows are small and gray, scared of the light and hiding from it.  I pull the blanket over my head, my eyes are on fire too, and it's just as bright, underneath the covers and behind my eyelids.  

Such a big hole, with the dirt flying everywhere, and it must have made a noise, I know.  She keeps everyone awake, so loud and bright and pretty too, though I don't like her skin when it's on mine.  It hurts like my legs before Mr Constantine came to give me medicine, like red hot skin from staying outside all day long.  It hurts and I want it dark again, cool and dark and my lips start moving, the word dancing on my tongue and my voice not following, still stuck down deep inside.  Again and again, I just mouth the word, the name, and that's almost enough to take the pain away, just to remember the darkness.  Almost, almost, almost...

"Gaueko."

It's a whisper, barely a sound, and it echoes through the room.

[Open to Gaueko]

Comments

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

It has been a long time since I last delivered dreams, hefting the rough sack over my shoulder, feeling the coarse, yet liquid pouring of dreamstuff through my fingers. But I can taste dreams, when I get the mind to. Taste it like I taste cigarette smoke or fear-stink on my tongue. The honey-sweetness of good dreams, the heady, near-alcoholic flavour of delerium, the rich musk of sex dreams, sharp, smoky sweat-reek of nightmares. I don't always have the urge to taste dreams, but I find it's coming on more frequently now, maybe because I'm constantly surrounded by sleeping, dreaming minds here. More and more often, before I hit the streets, I find myself laying back on my bed, savouring the tastes of the various dreams all around me.

Tonight there are many. A man down the hall is dreaming, once again, of sex, sex with many women, most of them women he knows. And I know from the bitter tinge underlaying the sex-smell that he will wake frustrated, and ready to hurt something. A drunk woman weeps unconsciously as she dreams of her dead child. An old man thrashes through memories of an old gunfight, but every man he takes down rises, bleeding and angry, with silver eyes and claws for hands. Near as intoxicating as good whiskey, some of them.

I'm pulling myself free of them, ready to slip out through the shadows and into the street. My ninia is having a nightmare of her own, one smelling of smoke and fear and the rage of a crowd, but that's enough for one evening. My coat is shrugged on, my boots are brushed and I've stepped into the realm of shadow, passing in between the inn and the street when -

"Gaueko."

It's more difficult to change direction from within the shadow than you might think. It used to be easier. Now they fight when I reverse my steps, hissing and flailing. There was a time when they wouldn't have dared. They don't stand in my way, and I still manage, but it's a reminder of how things have changed.

I've been called. And I do not ignore calls from those who are mine.

My ninia's room is dark, and stinks of night-sweat and remembered fears. She's sitting up in bed, shaking, and saying my name over and over again, the repeated word shivering over my skin in a trembling caress. She jumps when I touch her face.

"I'm here, ninia."

[shards-of-alice.livejournal.com]

The name slips from my lips before I can stop it, slamming into the walls and making them shake, and even then I don't stop, can't stop with the taste of it on my tongue. My lips are tingling, eyes closed, and it spreads from there, fingers down my neck and across my skin. It's almost scary, a touch I can't see and all around me, but I'm not scared. When the fingers, the hand, turns solid and there's warm skin against my face, I forget. I forget to not be afraid, though.

"I'm here, ninia" comes from the darkness and I'm jumping back, eyes big, to look up to forever, him standing there with shadows, made of shadows, and his hand on my face. "But the fearful shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death," echoes out and I realize it's my mouth moving, my voice in my ears.

My body still wants to shake, even with the shadow all across me and keeping the light far away, and the fire is just hiding behind my eyelids, waiting for me in my head. "The second death, with fire still burning and-" I grab at the big man, to make it please run away, and his coat is rough to my cheek when I press my face against his chest, my arms wrapped tight around his neck. "I don't want to die."

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

Terrified, trembling little thing, a rabbit in a snare, heart beating so hard it seems it might burst. Her eyes shine like glass. "But the fearful shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death," she gasps. Oh, good, a fire-and-brimstone cult. No less than I had expected, really. She must have fucking terrified them.

"The second death, with fire still burning and-" and she lunges for me, little fingers hooking into my coat and hauling herself towards me, her face hot through my shirt, her heart thundering. "I don't want to die." she moans, face pressed to my chest.

She can't see my smile in the dark, but she can feel my arms come around her, my fingers in her hair. "You aren't going to die, ninia," I say, stroking the top of her head. "Not so long as I'm here. There's nothing to fear in the night when I'm with you." And that is true.

[shards-of-alice.livejournal.com]

Tears run down my cheeks, getting his shirt all wet, and it wants to stick tight to my face. His fingers are in my hair, which makes it better even with the chill-bumps that want to come up on my neck, and the shadows are close around us, thick and cool on my skin, which makes it even better still. "You aren't going to die, ninia" and he's petting my head, great big hand against my hair.

"Not so long as I'm here. There's nothing to fear in the night when I'm with you." The big man - Gaueko - his voice is big too, with me against his chest, and I can feel it all the way down to my toes when I close my eyes.

"Not the night, not the dark. Like the dark," I say with my voice lost with him and the tears. There's nothing more, nothing else to say, even when my lips keep moving, angry whispers I don't know or think I'm making that scare my ears when they make their way up. "The unbelieving, and the abominable, and murder-murderers," I pull him closer then, until I almost can't breathe and then the words keep coming, echoing something I can't remember. "-and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars."

It goes quiet, a heavy sound that's not a sound at all even though it's filling my ears. Nothing else comes out, which is good, and when I'm brave again, without tears choking me or dreams still in my eyes, I let go a little bit and look up. "The light's too bright to sleep and the curtains are on fire. Put them out."

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

She shivers again, and her tears soak my shirt. Second woman this year to cry on me, and not for anything I did. That might actually be a first. "Not the night, not the dark. Like the dark." she says, and I smile, my hand still moving in a rhythmic caress through her hair. Her arms tighten around me, and I can feel her lips move against my skin. "The unbelieving, and the abominable, and murder-murderers - and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars."

Oh, yes, a cult. Spreading fear amongst its folk like some virulent plague. "Nothing to fear from them either, ninia," I say with a low chuckle. "Not when I'm here. You're safe with me." And that much is true. She's mine now, and woe to any that tries to hurt her. "Not that many of those you listed are anything to be afraid of. Whoremongers and Idolaters tend to concentrate on what they're doing, and liars have no power if you don't believe them. As for unbelievers..." I settle myself on her bed, drawing her little body into my lap, "That all depends on what you believe, doesn't it?"

She sighs, her tears subsiding. After a moment her grip loosens, though she doesn't let me go. Good. "The light's too bright to sleep and the curtains are on fire. Put them out."

"No fire, ninia," I smile, stroking my thumb down the line of her jaw. "No fire, and no light save the moon. The darkness is with you."

[shards-of-alice.livejournal.com]

The big man pulls me onto the bed, curled safe and small in his lap with his voice in my ear, nice words that I don't hear right away. His breath is warm, which is kind of funny, I think, because the shadows are cool and it's still like a blanket, him and it all around me and my head on his chest. "No fire, ninia," he says, voice rumbling and finger at my chin and more chill bumps at that, tickling down my back.

"No fire, and no light save the moon. The darkness is with you." And it is, a dark blanket around me and much better than the nice wool cover from my bed, big and warm and cold and I can feel it on my skin. "No fire," I say against him, moving closer until I'm tucked safe just under his chin, the small hairs from beard tickling a little. "No fire, no light, none at all."

There's another stretch now, with the silence not as loud as before, with the big man all around me and my eyes wanting to close as I lay against him. I nod, I think, and jerk awake before pulling back and looking at him. I have to straighten up just to see his eyes, our noses almost touching in the darkness. "What's a whoremonger?"

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

She curls, soft and warm and quiet, into my lap, tucking her head under my chin. And again, memories of Anushka come in a rush, despite the scent of well-fed, well-scrubbed child, despite the extra padding of flesh around the girl's bones. I remember sitting in her father's chair, my sweet gauekoentzat curled in my lap just this way, her head tucked just under my chin. "No fire," she says dreamily, her breath coming in a sigh. "No fire, no light, none at all."

There's quiet then, quiet for several long minutes. And it's the smell of clean sheets and polished wood and the distant yeast of spilled beer that surrounds me, rather than the scents of dust and ash and bone and dried perfume. But there are similarities still, and in some ways it's soothing. In others it's distressing in a way I can't quite understand.

And then she stirs against me. "What's a whoremonger?"

I snort laughter through my nose. "A man who makes use of whores," is my reply.

[shards-of-alice.livejournal.com]

He laughs, a big sound that rumbles deep in his chest and through me because I'm laying against him. "A man who makes use of whores." That makes sense, even if I still don't know what kind of word 'monger' is. "Okay", I say, thinking it over. My face is very serious, eyes down from his, until suddenly I can't help but giggle. "That's a bad word." I don't know what that means, either, but I do know it's a naughty word that sometimes people say about other people. That's enough.

It's still very comfortable, dark enough now to go to sleep and not dream of anything at all, but I can't. There's a question that keeps going over and over in my head, in the other voice and then my voice after that. I squirm back a little more, until I can see his whole face, my hands on his shoulders and head tilted to the side. "I called the name and you came here." I blink, trying again to see through the shadows to where the colors might be hiding and there's nothing. "You heard me."

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

She considers, and I'm willing to get that she's going to ask what a whore is, but instead she says, "Okay," and then titters, a child catching an adult doing something naughty. "That's a bad word."

"Well, that really depends on your viewpoint," I smirk. "I've met some rather fine whores. ANd I've known a number of people who didn't consider that word bad at all." Ishtar, now there was a lady.

I'm wondering if she's going back to sleep. If she is, I'll lay her down and slip back out. But instead se squirms around on my lap (best not do that so much, ninia, or there'll be far more questions for me to answer) so that she can look up at me. "I called the name and you came here." she says, faint puzzlement in her voice. "You heard me."

"Of course I did, ninia," I smile, stroking her hair. "I'll always hear you, when you call for me in the night. And no matter where I am, I'll come for you. That's a promise."

There. Made, and cannot be unmade. Mine and mine and mine.

[shards-of-alice.livejournal.com]

The big man smiles and that breaks through the darkness, like lightening in a storm. "Of course I did, ninia," he says, hand in my hair. I sigh, breath coming out easy enough, and lay against him again. "I'll always hear you, when you call for me in the night. And no matter where I am, I'll come for you. That's a promise." Again the voice rumbles in his chest, through me where I'm laying until I can feel the words just like hearing them, see them behind my eyelids as they dance in the air. Important words, like the name.

I whisper it against his neck, my lips close enough to his skin that I think I can taste it, him and the name all in the same. "Gaueko, Gaueko, Gaueko..."

It's like a nursery rhyme, the sort Mama Susan would sing, and she isn't here now but there's another hand warm in my hair and another heart beating in my ear and I feel myself slipping away. The darkness is very close to the dreaming place, I know now, and it's easy to move there, curled up tight against him. I could fight it, like before, but now I don't want to, because I'm sleepy and safe enough to go there, an easy step from one paving stone to the other. "Don't... Don't leave me," I think I say, before my eyes just won't open anymore and the world goes quiet.

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

She sighs and curls her little body tight against mine again. Her eyelids brush the skin of my neck when her eyes close. "Gaueko," she says, her breath soft on my skin, "Gaueko, Gaueko."

It makes me shiver. I haven't heard my name spoken in such tones since before Anushka died...in a breath of awe and worship. Of prayer. Her little body is warm against mine, and I can feel the quiet shift in her mind from waking to dreaming. ""Don't... Don't leave me," she murmurs as she drifts.

"I'm not going anywhere, ninia," at least, not until your adopted father decides to check on you. It's not that I couldn't take him, but finding yet another place to live would be irritating. I tuck my coat closer around her, and feel her mind slip further away into dreams.

And I follow.

It's easy when I'm right there with her, when I can follow in her mind's wake straight down the path to her dreams. My paws cross the mists of the dreaming as though they were stone, and I breathe in the fog of her nightmares. My body is there, still holding her cradled and safe, but my mind has followed hers, into the dark of her dreaming.

I want to see what makes my ninia tick.

[shards-of-alice.livejournal.com]

The crowd has gathered again, faces indistinguishable to her but more than obvious to me. Anger, confusion, all with an undercurrent of fear as they lead her out. The stake looms in the distance and, though I think she's yet to fully understand what's happening, she begins to struggle, eyes widening at the brush being piled atop the wood at its base. The men at each side, uncles, hold tight and it's only when she starts to cry, screaming their names and begging for answers, that they flinch in the slightest. Finally another man, graying at the temples and dressed in black, steps forward and strikes her across the face.

She slumps in her uncles' arms.

I watch from a distance - this is her time, not mine - my own dress identical to the familiar one she's wearing, though already covered in soot and burned at the edges. They raise her to the stake and bind her hands. The crowd doesn't stir, only stares. She begins to raise her head, tears shining in her eyes, as that same dark-dressed man strides forward. Those words are hers as well, that old proclamation that she echoes without understanding, and they float to me on the wind.

The time is coming again, I can feel it stirring around me even from this far away, and yet there is something else. Something off from the memory, sharp and startling though faded from time at its edges. Something new.

I turn and he isn't hard to see, a splash of shadow on an early Sunday morning. The dark god, the beast, with glowing eyes and teeth that glisten in unseen moonlight. He watches as well and it is not for him to see, this is hers and hers alone to understand. My eyes narrow and I reach out to him, voice echoing for only him to hear though my mouth never moves.

You don't belong here. Go away.

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

It's nothing more than I expected. A horde of long-skirted women and somberly-dressed men. They're hauling my ninia towards a wooden stake, surrounded with heaps of oil-soaked wood. Typical fantatical morons. They're binding her hands to thes stake, beating her when she screams. Make some announcement about cleansing with fire, corruption and salvation of the innocent, blah blah blah. Got old somewhere around 1693.

What I'm interested in isn't so much what's happening with my ninia (not like I don't know how it ends). No, my eyes are drawn to a small figure at the edge of the crowd, a small figure in a white dress scorched and smoking. The only figure looking directly at me.

You don't belong here. Go away.

My jaw drops in a canine grin. "I belong anywhere I choose to, little one." I know she can understand me. "Does she know you're here?"

[shards-of-alice.livejournal.com]

"I belong anywhere I choose to, little one. Does she know you're here?"

I move towards the beast as he speaks and the scene plays on without me. It is hers to remember, again and again, and I'm only here to watch. To remind her of things she continues to forget. She is beginning to beg now, as he comes forward with a torch held high, beg for her father. He's dead, but she doesn't know. Not yet.

I do. I watched him bleed and the thought makes me smile.

I live here I tell him once I've stopped; unblinking, unmoving, and now only a few feet away. Behind us the wind begins to kick up, her screams getting louder, and I know without looking what's to come. Her eyes will go like glass, doll's eyes in a girl's face, and the fire will start to swirl. It's coming, so close now I can feel the heat on the air. And I don't like you

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

She's a thing apart. Moves away from the crowd and the scene continues, my ninia wailing and the fire coming closer. I wonder how much of this she remembers, at least consciously. Not much, I'm thinking.

I live here. the new girl says. I can smell smoke and blood off her clothes. And I don't like you.

"Looks to me like you don't like much of anyone," I remark, "and that's a shame." I've seen cases like this before, but not many. This girl is a real treasure. And Sugaar is going to love her. I glance towards the crowd, the smoke in the rising wind. "Did you kill all of them?"

[shards-of-alice.livejournal.com]

The smoke is starting to rise with the smell of wet wood set to flame. I can taste it as the beast speaks. "Looks to me like you don't like much of anyone and that's a shame."

He glances back to where she's still crying, crowd moving in closer as their eyes begin to go wide. There's anger still, the devout who don't flinch away, but mother's clutch at their children as well, covering those little eyes or turning their own heads at the sight.

"Did you kill all of them?"

I don't bother glance back at him, great hound with some laughter in his eyes. Yes. The screams rise in the distance, first only the one voice, a crying child begging through her tears, and then the others. They may not understand, but they know on some primal sort of level what's about to happen. They back away, crying out, and it's too late.

The blast washes over me like a warm breeze, radiating from the stake and not dying until bones crack and trees splinter. It's blinding, fire and brimstone, and I smile again. They tried to hurt her. I finally look his way, our eyes locked together. Do you understand?

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

The pyre is catching now, and my ninia is wailing. I hope she doesn't frighten herself awake. This is far too interesting. The new girl isn't even looking at me. She's staring at the spectacle before us, and as the quality of the screams begin to change, she begins to smile. "Yes."

"Good." I snort.

And then my head whips around and my ears prick forward. I expected something, but nothing quite this violent. The crowd has erupted into a superheated firestorm, hot enough to reduce flesh to ash, to crack bone, to scorch the earth. Holy fuck. She's stronger than I thought. A good fucking sight stronger. She's....oh, hell, Sugaar's going to love this.

"They tried to hurt her." she says before turning to look at me, "Do you understand?"

Oh yes, little one. I understand better than you know. "I understand." I say, my tail thumping the scorched ground. "Quite a spectacle."

My ninia is, of course, untouched by the flames. She's standing rigid at the stake, surrounded by the charred and smoking corpses of her family and neighbours. "You and I have an interest in common, you realize. Both of us want to protect her."

[shards-of-alice.livejournal.com]

The hound perks up when the blast hits, flames swirling around the stake and the earth shaking underneath. He sees, I know, and he needs to. Just like she needs to see, to remember, he needs to see and understand.

"I understand. Quite a spectacle."

I don't look away, eyes into his and unblinking as he goes on.

"You and I have an interest in common, you realize. Both of us want to protect her."

It is a funny thing, beasts talking about protection, and I would laugh, but I don't. Behind us the flames still lick the ground and she begins to sag against the bonds, exhausted even as the wind continues to howl and dying men scream all around. I don't believe you. I take a step forward, touching the ground but not changing it, bare feet covered in black ash. When the rabbit cries, the wolf comes running. But not to help.

She doesn't know, but I do. I can't see the way she does, colors swirling around, but I know what those things mean, when she whispers them in my ear. I see the monster behind his eyes and know what men do when they say they want to protect us.

I turn back to the stake, to watch the half-charred corpses still try to crawl away, blood and smoke and fire and brimestone. Father said he cared. She believed. She always believes. Another one falls and I smile again. I ripped him apart.

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

I don't believe you. I take a step forward, touching the ground but not changing it, bare feet covered in black ash. When the rabbit cries, the wolf comes running. But not to help. She says, and I chuff soft laughter. Untrusting little creature, isn't she? Father said he cared. She believed. She always believes. I ripped him apart.

"Yes, I'm sure that you did." I say, scratching my ear. Witness the large number of charred, three-quarters dead people fish-bellying their way across smoking soil. Interesting to see how far some of them make it before they drop. Also interesting, purely on an intellectual level, just how many of them leave behind their wives and children to do so. But then, given the stock my ninia so clearly came from, this isn't as surprising as it could have been. "However, you seem to be falling victim to a few errors in logical progression. Allow me to correct them." A dying man with his face charred off crawls past us. Amazing how loudly he manages to scream with no lips. "Number one: I am not your father. Number two: Just as I am not your father, I do not lie. When I say that I have an interest in keeping your little sister safe, I mean just that. Number three: should you try to 'tear me apart', set me on fire, or do any other of the no doubt numerous things you do to people you don't like to me, I will make what you did here look like a circus act." I yawn. The fire's dying down. "I can do it. I think you know that I can. And while I would hate to make your little sister pay for your actions, I think you know that I will."

I had quite intended to be gentle with her, but I do not take kindly to threats, even if those threats are basically meaningless to me. "But I would rather not do that. I would rather, in fact, that all of us be friends." I give her a gaping, canine grin, and thump my tail. "Treat me well, little one, and I will respond in kind. And you have my word that I will never hurt her." I cock my head to one side. "Do we have an understanding?"

[shards-of-alice.livejournal.com]

I blink at him, unused to the action, and slowly tilt my head to the other side. He, it, the hound is bristling deep inside and I can't see the colors she does, read people in that way, I can feel the danger radiating like heat from fire. It isn't as satisfying as it should be.

Do not lie and the tone is questioning, feeling it out as it echoes around me. She is gone now, passed out against the stake, and we should go, she should rest, but there is more that should be said. Never hurt her That comes out a little stronger, a bit more sure. And we are friends

The world is starting to shake now, something different this time, memory fading away and falling piece by piece into the shadows. The dark place, she says, or maybe just somewhere in between. I don't care. I keep my eyes on the hound. There's no anger, not like before, because I'm only telling the truth. The sun rises and the sun sets and those are the ways of the world, all of them. I'm not afraid. We are better dead than hurt.

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

I seem to have caught her off guard. I suppose she isn't used to people speaking with her directly, let alone to being put in her place. Good.

Do not lie, she says finally, and that's fine, as I have no plans on doing so. The wavering uncertainty in her voice makes me grin, though I'm not sure whether that is due to her being unused to people not lying to her or whether she is becoming afraid of me. Either will do well enough. Never hurt her, and we are friends.

An understanding indeed. My tail stirs the charred earth behind me, "Done and done, little one."

The dream is fading now; events have reached their conclusion, and the world is cracking around the edges. She'll be awake soon. The other, the silent one, she keeps her eyes on me. I'm not afraid. We are better dead than hurt.

"You are wiser than your years, little one." I say, rising to all fours. "That is a lesson it takes most years to learn." Before she can resist, before the breaking of the dream causes her to fade away, I trot up to her. Rising on my hind paws, I place my forepaws on her shoulder and I kiss her forehead, a mark of my favour and of our new covenant. "I will care for you and for your sister. Be loyal to me, you will never be hurt again, not so long as I am there."

The dream world is slipping, dissolving into the mist of raw dreamstuff. Time to return to my body, still sitting quiet in the shadows of her room.