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]

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.