estdeus_innobis | And cobwebs of the winter time, weave up, weave up and over

Gettin' close to the new moon. Sky's pretty dark, an' the bristle's thick on my chin. Look more like a man than a woman now, ayuh. Male magic comes easier now, an' my balls have dropped down. Ain't no polite way of puttin' that. Feel a bit restless, comin' on to that time, balance of things shiftin' in me, you ken? Maybe that's what puts it in my head to go into town. Put on a loose fittin' shirt an' a pair of worn jeans, an' an ole patchwork coat over the top. Colours still bright in that though, ayuh. Always had an eye for colour.

Stroll through town an' get as many looks as you'd expect a tall fat black man in a patchwork coat to get. Ain't pitchfork season, ayuh. Go into the tavern an' sit down. Cosy sort of place, though it ain't exactly hoppin'. Maybe that'll change.

Look up when a man in a tattercoat comes in, more summer-bright colours than anything of the season--and on that matter, looking rather like he's well-set for winter. For a moment I'm minded of a groundhog, of all things, paunched and furred for the cold. Odd image, doesn't suit his face, and I shake it off.

Keep looking at the tattercoat, though. Indigo and crimson and cinnamon and bayberry and cream and black, and that odd sage colour you find folk brewing from widowswill leaves up west and a touch north. I've not seen that in years... Realize I've been staring a touch and glance up to meet his eyes, offer a small smile and shrug apologetically. "Carnival?" I say, indicating his coat.

Girl holdin' darts is lookin' at me. Ain't that unusual to get looks, and she ain't lookin' like she's thinkin' I'm wrong, so it don't bother me.

"Carnival?" she says, pointin' to the coat.

"No, ma'am," I say. "This coat I bought in a brick-an'-mortar town a few winters back, ayuh." I grin at her. "Coats tend to come from different places than folks, less you reah the sheep youself." Bit of a rebuke theah, but a gentle one, an' I lean across an' hold out my hand. "I'm Nu."

Saw the coat and meant to say that it was the reason I was asking if he was from the Carnival, but my own damn fault, and "Coats tend to come from different places than folks, less you reah the sheep youself," answers the question well enough.

"I'm Nu."

"Glass Beddau," I answer, taking his hand. "Lucky t'have a decent coat, if you're going to be wintering here, and pleasant to meet you," and I smile a little at the thought that I can at least be near to sure I'm not speaking with the scarecrow. Think I've seen him 'round town a time or two, but always Saturdays--suppose that's more a matter of when I'm out than his only coming for market. "Darts?" I add, offering them fletch first.

I nearly say luck ain't got nothin' to do with it, but theah ain't much reason to be prickly with the natives, specially if they'ah makin' an effort to be pleasant. Shake her hand an' smile.

"Ayuh," I say instead. "Furthah north than I've been in a long while. Ain't much of a fan of the cold, but seems we'ah heah for a while yet." Glass hands me the darts an' asks me to play.

"I will, say thank ya," I say. "Ain't played in a while... Count down from 501, ayuh?" I step up to the line an' weigh the darts in my hand. Toss 'em quick an' steady. Double-five, twenty, five. 35 ain't a glorious beginnin', but least they didn't bounce off the board. I scratch a 466 on the chalkboard an' pick out the darts an' hand 'em to Glass. "Best get a drink. Gamin's thirsty work, ayuh. Can I get you somethin'?" I ask. "You go on an' throw."

"Furthah north than I've been in a long while. Ain't much of a fan of the cold, but seems we'ah heah for a while yet."

Nod at that. "Still no luck on stepping out of town?" Oh, comes to me I ought see if Lucien has any chance at it, now that Marbas left him. It was both of them took up with the Carnival, after all, and he's gained a soul since then...

"Best get a drink. Gamin's thirsty work, ayuh. Can I get you somethin'? You go on an' throw."

"'ve still mine to hand, but my thanks," I say, indicating my mug. Priviledge of living here, I can actually get tea, though I'm not particular after doing it in front of others. "I'll get the next round," I add, as I'm not after avoiding buying drinks, only not needing another now...

Double-three, nineteen, seventeen, and I recall Iago telling me to throw a touch stronger. Ought mind that. 459, then.

"I'll get the next round," she says, an' ain't that decent? Order a beer from the bar, an' it's damn fine. There's a lot of fancy drinks heah but I ain't interested in them. Like the simplicity of grain an' watah, ayuh.

Go back with my pint an' throw off another three darts. Manage a double twenty an' I whoop, but then score a 1. "Pride before a fall, ayuh," I say to Glass with a rueful grin an' throw the third. Double-four. "This is the test of my mental arithmecky," I say, an' after a second of thought scribble on a 417. "You lived in town long? You look quite at home heah," I observe an' sip my pint. Good, good beer, thank ya.

Nu whoops at the first throw, grins good-natured at the second, chas off points after the third. "You lived in town long?"

"Came in winter afore last," I say, taking up the darts. "Stayed the season, never left... pleasant enough, though this summer had something of a hard edge to't." Weigh the darts in my hand and toss--fourteen, eleven, six--and nothing of note. "There're worse places t'settle."

"You look quite at home heah," Nu says, sipping at his pint, and I smile a bit as I chalk up 428. Hand the darts back and pick up my mug.

"Live above the Tavern, now," I say. "It suits well enough, and the noise's not too bad."

"You live heah?" I smile. "You a barmaid, then?" That don't seem to fit, though, specially not with the big sparkly on her hand. She don't seem fancy, but that rock. Would say maybe she's married to who owns this place, but I know that's a woman an' Excolo ain't that forward-thinkin'. Maybe that should be backward-thinkin', since there was a time... But history's all ups an' downs. "Fine place, this tavern," I say, throwin' my darts an' gettin' down to a 350. Rememberin' how this is done, now. "Got a warm feel to it. Ain't been in befoah," I says. "Normally do any drinkin' I might want to do over at l'Heure Vert," I explain. "That's the carnie bar, if you ain't seen it." Smile. "Now wintah's comin', though, might be heah again. Warmah, you ken?"

"You live heah? You a barmaid, then?"

Shake my head at that and one hand moves belated to cover my ring, doesn't make it there. "My husband tends bar," I say, smiling a touch. "Not Thomas," I add, nodding over to him, "the other--sure you'll see him if you come in more often." Darts, then, and down to 370, and at least I'm not being beaten quite as soundly as when I play against Iago.

"Normally do any drinkin' I might want to do over at l'Heure Vert," Nu says, and I nod--'ve not seen the carnie bar nor heard of it, but'd be a touch surprised if folk that aren't always like to find town favourable didn't have their own public house. "Now wintah's comin', though, might be heah again. Warmah, you ken?"

"I do," I say, handing back the darts. "I know Verdi's looking to build it up, add a touch more space, but imagine she'll do her best to keep it open as much as possible..." Hesitate a moment, wondering if I'll offend, then add "Realize it's not like to be anyone's preferred choice, but if it gets particular cold, may be there'll be some room at the Abbey. Stayed there a few weeks when I came t'town, afore I settled properly."

Her hand almost covers up that ring. Guessin' she ain't been married long, bein' awkward like that, but she smiles so it ain't that she's ashamed.

"May your hearts an' bellies be full till your end of days," I say. Take the darts from her, an' our fingahs brush. I get a sense of her, an' seems things are already in hand. I smile.

"Realize it's not like to be anyone's preferred choice, but if it gets particular cold, may be there'll be some room at the Abbey. Stayed there a few weeks when I came t'town, afore I settled properly."

Looks a bit like I might be offended.

"Say thank ya," I say. "Not sure many of us are made for monasteries - hard enough we've been sat in one place so long, you ken? But it bears rememberin', it gets too cold. Me, I've got plenty to keep me warm," I say, an' pat my belly. "Bin into Nanshe's church. Seems a good place, ayuh." Always go in an' say hello to whatevah god sits in a place. Just good mannahs.

"May your hearts an' bellies be full till your end of days," and I've not heard that one afore, but it's not particular remarkable, and I murmur thanks.

"Say thank ya," he says over the mention of the Abbey, even if it doesn't seem like to suit many of the carnies. "Bin into Nanshe's church. Seems a good place, ayuh." Step back as he tosses the dart, and return the nod from the man sitting at the bar, hesitate for another glance. No, don't know him...

"Decent folk," I agree, "and Nanshe's kind, particular for a god." Recall he's with the Carnival, then, and with Tez and the Shuck on the midway, guessing he may have some idea of Tez's nature. "No offense intended," I add, waiting 'til he's done with the darts.

"and Nanshe's kind, particular for a god." Snort a bit at that. Theah're eason enough to think of gods as unkind, in my experience. I throw a double-20. "No offense intended," Glass adds, an' that dart goes off course a bit, comin' out at six. Glance at her an' throw the last. 20. Wondah if she's sensed somethin' off me. Might; theah's an air of somethin' other 'bout her. Ain't strong, but it's there.

"None taken," I smile. "Gods're often hard to rub along with, ayuh. You had much reason to mistrust them?"

"None taken. Gods're often hard to rub along with, ayuh." An Excolo conversation, then. "You had much reason to mistrust them?"

"Met too many of late," I say thoughtful, "and all but but two after dipping into cruelty. At best petty..." and I think of Dorian, and Wanda, and Iago, and no. Not getting into the details of that now. Shake my head a little as I take the darts, but consider Verdi and add "One of them seems after making amends, though," out of fairness.

Reach for calm again, and throw triple-twenty, five, twenty. 285, only one behind. "Let me know when you're after the next round," I say, indicating the bar, and then, pure curious, "'ve you dealt particular much with gods?"

Too many gods? Now, I know there's powah spikin' all ovah the place in this town, but the casual way she throws that around... Interestin'.

"Let me know when you're after the next round,"

"Beer. Whatevah variety, I ain't fussy."

"'ve you dealt particular much with gods?"

"Could say that," I say, throwin' the darts. Do pretty well this time, ayuh. Triple-19, 20, double-20. Grin at that an' jot down the new numbah. 167. "Met a few." Smile at her. "Want moah of an ansah than that, you mind if I hold your hand first?"

A week trapped in this body. Already feels like an eternity. I have not seen either Iblis or Lilith in the last seven days. Granted, I have not had the care to look for Iblis, let him play his petty games, and I figure I had better give Lilith time to adjust to what I did.

The first few days were interesting at best. At least that night I managed to find clothes out on someone's line. A poor fit, but better than nothing.
But one set of clothes would just not do...

Stealthily, over a few days.. or more to say in the dead of night, I stole into the Marks ranch and purloined proper clothing and small items that could be sold. Very undignified, but Ares and I are of a size, and the dead do not need trinkets or trappings or the bits of money, silver and gold I found in odd, secreted places. The task was not easy, for I had to avoid my Brother and his helpers, but in my now human state, I remain mostly cloaked to him.

I had at first though to use some of what I had pilfered to rent a room at the Whitechapel, but I thought it prudent to stay more to the outskirts of town. Remembering there was a rough but usable cottage on the border of Excolo, I dressed in some of Ares' finest and went to the little man at the town's office's pleading my case. After hearing my sad tale of being too late to tend to my brother's last days, he made a few changes in paperwork, and the house that once belonged to Stephen Underwood now belongs to his brother, Arik.

Still... I do not feel like hiding away like a hermit. Donning a pair of jeans, a burgandy sweater, and a wool overcoat, I head into town and decide to stop into the tavern for a drink. It is a slow afternoon, only a few people in attendance.

One of them, the ever curious Glass Beddau. Well... this could be interesting. I shrug off my coat and take a seat at the bar, ordering an ale. I turn on the stool and watch Glass and someone Lucien may recognize, perhaps from the carnival, play darts. I give them both a warm smile and raise my pint to them. If they want company, I'll let them initiate.

"Beer. Whatevah variety, I ain't fussy," and I finish my tea, glance over to Thomas and mouth two beers? Trust his judgment to draw something suited when Nu's done.

"Could say that," he says, damn near halving his score. "Met a few," and he smiles, and I return it, though mine's dry. "Want moah of an ansah than that, you mind if I hold your hand first?"

...well, then.

Look at him careful, and anyplace else I think I might decline, but here in the Tavern 'm feeling a little steadier. "Surely," I say, holding out my hand. "Mind if I ask why?"

"Mind if I ask why?"

"Mind if you didn't," I say, noddin' approvin'ly at her wary face. "Fool an' his money are soon parted, an' them that ask no questions don't get no truths." Barman comes over an' deposits the beers, then goes away. I take her hand. "Ain't doin' nothin' to you, sweet. Just gives me a sense of who I'm dealin' with."

Listen to the sound of her blood. Easy enough to do, holdin' onto someone. Like hearin' the tide, you ken? Where'd you come from, girl? Where's your source? Cool watah an' a northern place, ayuh, an'... Ooh. Ain't that interestin'?

"Thinkin' you know about gods from kinship, ayuh," I say in a lowered tone; I ain't stupid about talkin' out of turn. "Got a shadow in your bloodline, ain't that so?" I let go of her hand. "Won't judge you poorly for it," I add. "Dark's got its place, ayuh, an' I've known a few gods of shadows."

Feel someone lookin' at us, an' I glance round. Blond fine featured man, an' he's human but he ain't exactly a man. Got somethin' new-minted about him. Wondah if he's a golem.

"Funny town," I say, lookin' back at Glass.

"Ain't doin' nothin' to you, sweet," he says, and I'd bristle a bit at that if I thought it meant anything, still know up a touch. "Just gives me a sense of who I'm dealin' with." Watching him slow and careful, and there's a slow heartbeat of quiet, my watching him and him... not sure what to call it, save watchful.

"Thinkin' you know about gods from kinship, ayuh," he says softly, and isn't that interesting. Take my hand back slow and cautious as he goes on. "Got a shadow in your bloodline, ain't that so?"

"That's a way of laying it out," I say, just as quiet. "But being kin wasn't anything t'do with learning of them. Only what got me the attention of one, this summer past." Mouth twists a little. "They're after coming walking, and of dying, though anyone's guess as to if that'll take."

"Won't judge you poorly for it," and I raise an eyebrow, thinking I'd hardly care if he did, but let it lie. The Shuck's only one who lay with my mother in a land I've never been to in a time afore I was born, and kin he may be but parent never, and I'm not moved to pick a quarrel with a stranger over that. "Dark's got its place, ayuh, an' I've known a few gods of shadows."

"Night and shadows suit me well enough," I say mildly, "and I'm not after holding the gods I've met against them."

Nu glances over to the same man I nodded to earlier, looks thoughtful a moment. "Funny town."

"You grow used to it," I say, following his gaze and picking up the darts. "What're you seeing in him? And where'd you pick up the knack of seeing such as you saw in me?"

"But being kin wasn't anything t'do with learning of them. Only what got me the attention of one, this summer past.They're after coming walking, and of dying, though anyone's guess as to if that'll take."

Her mouth has a sour twist to it, an' from what I felt of her daddy, I figure he ain't the easiest patriarch to have suddenly appearin' in your life. Nod about the death.

"Two burned, ayuh, an' one... Don't know. Gone. Ain't got a sense of it." Sniff. Too many gods these days gone mortal. I've been that way for centuries, an' it's lucky I ain't gone the way of all flesh. But I suppose I'd know more how to deal with it than many. Bein' born again is something that comes close to dyin', I think. An' that gets me thinkin' on my time runnin' down. Goin' to need to find a man soon, ayuh.

"Night and shadows suit me well enough,and I'm not after holding the gods I've met against them."

"Ayuh," I nod, "gods come out of a thing, but they ain't the thing itself. Good to draw the distinction," I say.

"What're you seeing in him? And where'd you pick up the knack of seeing such as you saw in me?"

Pause a bit at that, cos I just met this girl an' I don't need to share my secrets. But theah's some I can say, I think.

"He's a man," I say low, "but I don't know if he's always been one. Body's a baby," I say, an' smile a bit. Can always recognise an infant. "If I shook his hand, I might know more, you ken?" I sip my beer an' wait for her to throw her darts. "An' as for how I learned, you could say I was born with the knack. Got a few tricks up my sleeve, just by virtue of bein' myself." Smile at her.

Funny thing about being stuck as a 'human'... even in human form, my senses were always still heightened. My eyesight, my sense of smell, most of all, my hearing. Always kept a bit of the lion, I guess.

I am being discussed. The other, the one I don't recognize, can get a feel for me if they touch my hand. Well, will have to avoid that. Right now, I don't know how I would read to anyone with heightened psychic abilities. Not ready to be 'outted', as it were. Still, this could prove amusing.

I smile over at them and push off my stool, stuffing my hands into my pockets and ambling over.

"G'day sir, ma'am." I say with an easy smile, nodding at both of them in turn. "Pardon my forwardness, just arrived in town, and feeling a bit out of sorts. Mind if I join you?"

"Two burned, ayuh, an' one... Don't know. Gone. Ain't got a sense of it." Why he'd have a sense of any of it's a matter of some curiosity--there's nothing particular of death about him far as I can tell. At least has some sense of the difference between gods and the truths that they're ideas of, which is a mild relief, and turn to the matter of the blond. "He's a man, but I don't know if he's always been one. Body's a baby," he says softly, and I look at the age of him and I'm damn near to groaning. Not another come walking with flesh knit up new around whatever's inside, and bloody hell please not another god. Turn to the dartboard, thinking on that possibility--

Triple eighteen, fifty, and a twenty that's so damn close to another fifty I smile with my teeth showing a touch as the fine metal bites into the board with the weight of the barrel behind it.

"An' as for how I learned, you could say I was born with the knack. Got a few tricks up my sleeve, just by virtue of bein' myself."

"Oddities," I say mild as I add up the marks, through to 161. "There's a lot of that in this town."

Apparently I'm keeping my mood on the blond from showing too much, as when I turn 'round he's strolling over, hands in pockets. "G'day sir, ma'am. Pardon my forwardness, just arrived in town," and I avoid saying so I hear to that, "and feeling a bit out of sorts. Mind if I join you?"

"You're a touch late for this game," I say with my voice light and pleasant, "but well enough. Were you after offering a name?"

"Good throws," I say as Glass grins through her teeth an' scores high. Oh, she's a tough one, this girl, an' I like that.

"Oddities. There's a lot of that in this town."

"Thinkin' I don't know the half of it," I say drily, an' then the blond man comes ovah. Give Glass a bit of a look at that. Big pitchas again, hm?

"Evenin', friend," I say. "I'm Nu." Hold out my hand. Hard to hold back on a handshake if you'ah polite, an' if he don't shake that'll show he could heah us.

Glass looks less than pleased, but tries for a smile.
"You're a touch late for this game, but well enough. Were you after offering a name?"
Before I can think about responding, the man extends his hand.
"Evenin', friend, I'm Nu."

Well, no way around it, really. Let's see how this plays out. I may be a demon stuck in a human form, but it is my human form. The one I have worn since time began. It may be just a facade', but it is a well worn, well constructed one.
Smile and take Nu's hand, giving it a firm shake, but don't linger over it. "Pleasure to meet you Nu." I say meeting his eyes as I take my hand back and turn towards Glass. "The name's Arik, Arik Underwood. Charmed to meet you Ms...." Hold out my hand to her as well, with a questioning smile.

"Pleasure to meet you Nu," he says, taking his hand then turning towards me. "The name's Arik, Arik Underwood. Charmed to meet you Ms...."

"Mrs," I correct, taking his hand. "Glass Beddau. You thinking to winter in Excolo, or passing through?" Takes a rather social type to go about introducing themselves to strangers if they're not after staying around, but Excolo catches all kinds.

Arik offers me his hand an' I take it. Have to stop my top lip peelin' back at the feel of him. It ain't cos I can feel anythin' off him so much. It's that all ovah him is stamped I'm human I'm human I'm human an' people don't think that 'bout themselves. An' the glimpses I get of his origins go way-back-when even though he feels so young to me. Suppose people might feel the same if they took my hand, ayuh.

"Somethin' old, somethin' new, somethin' borrowed, somethin' blue," I mutter, an' then I give him a smile. "Pleased to meet you, Mr Underwood." Not especially pleased at all, but I'm even more mortal than most gods, an' I've learned not to mess 'less I really need to.

"Mrs. Glass Beddau. You thinking to winter in Excolo, or passing through?" I smile at Glass and bow slightly. "My apologies, then Mrs. Beddau. No offense meant."

"Somethin' old, somethin' new, somethin' borrowed, somethin' blue," Nu's muttered comment catches my attention, and I would smirk, but that would give away far too much, since he obviously got some sense off of me. I merely raise an eyebrow a bit. "Older than I was when I was born, new to Excolo, borrowing a place to stay, and a little blue, yes." I reply to the old staying with a grin and a shrug, turnung back to Glass.
"I will be staying at least through the winter. Came to see to my brother..." Let my face fall a bit. "Unfortunately, I only made it in time to see to his things. He passed recently." I say a bit sadly, looking out the window to the street, as if lost in a sad memory.

Smiles and bows a touch over having my name right. "My apologies, then Mrs. Beddau. No offense meant," and I nod.

"Somethin' old, somethin' new, somethin' borrowed, somethin' blue," Nu mutters, and I'd leave that alone for now save that Underwood apparently has rather sharp hearing and isn't inclined to let things lie asides.

"Older than I was when I was born, new to Excolo, borrowing a place to stay, and a little blue, yes."

"Clever of you, Mr. Underwood," I say dryly, taking back my hand and picking up the darts for something to do with it. "How old're you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I will be staying at least through the winter. Came to see to my brother..." and his face falls neatly. "Unfortunately, I only made it in time to see to his things. He passed recently."

Ah, Stephen's brother, then; and not particular sad to see him passing, either, for all that he's painting up a proper picture of grief. Shoot Nu a quick glance as Arik gazes mournful out the window and pull the other one it has got bells on.

"Suppose you're not really borrowing a place to live, then," I say absent, "unless he'd other kin..." Shake my head a touch and set it aside. "My sympathies on missing his funeral. I'd've known you were coming, could've had them wait. When did you come to town?"

"Older than I was when I was born, new to Excolo, borrowing a place to stay, and a little blue, yes."

Gets my hackles up, ayuh. This one's the type to have a smart ansah for everythin', I think, an' I don't know that strangahs smile so readily as he does. Smiles like someone who ain't got reason to fear. Notice the top of my pint is frothin' up, an' I breathe out an' simmah down some. Ain't no good drawin' attention to myself. Just this fella makes my skin itch.

"I will be staying at least through the winter. Came to see to my brother... Unfortunately, I only made it in time to see to his things. He passed recently."

That's almost enough to get the beer foamin' again, but Glass gives me a look an' I cough into my hand to hide a grin.

"Sad news, ayuh," I say stolidly. "Hope you'ah bearin' up alright." I raise my glass. Beer's a bit warmer now, but I didn't first drink it in a time with fridges, you ken? So I don't mind. "Let's drink to him. What was his name?"

Glass seems to know the man he means, and I wondah what it is a barman's wife does that could hold back a funeral. Funny town indeed.

Glass is already wishing I were gone, and her companion has taken a dislike to me, but they are still trying to be polite.
"Clever of you, Mr. Underwood, How old're you, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Just marked my forty-fourth year." I remark amicably, pulling a chair out, turning it around and sitting so I can rest my arms on the back of it.

"Suppose you're not really borrowing a place to live, then, unless he'd other kin... My sympathies on missing his funeral. I'd've known you were coming, could've had them wait. When did you come to town?"

"No other kin. Just the two of us and Father.. and he's with him now." I don't have to affect the soft tone of my voice, or the slight melancholy that echoes in it. I know Stephen Underwood is in a better place, it was so close I could have reached out and touched it. Hmmm.... seems there are some lingering regrets. "And we were estranged, no one knew I was coming. Only got here a few days ago. You laid him to rest then?" I ask rather gratefully. "Thank you, I am sure he rests easier now."

"Hope you'ah bearin' up alright. Let's drink to him. What was his name?" Nu proposes a drink in his honor, and like magic, Thomas appears with another pint for me, good man. "I am dealing with it as best I can, my thanks Nu. His name was Stephen." I raise my glass and meet both their eyes. "To Stephen."

Drops the gazing out the window and sits down as easy as if it were his long-claimed chair in the Tavern. Settling in, oh good. I'd have a few answers yet, and I feel a smile inching in at the corners of my mouth. "No other kin. Just the two of us and Father.. and he's with him now." Tilt my head at that; apparently his mother's either not worth mention or not resting easy. Know some folk and places hold that of a woman died in childbirth, or else only forbid mention of them. Either might be enough to draw out his tone.

"Trust you'll catch them up given time," I say reassuringly, and oh bloody hell, Glass Beddau, that likely came out as sounding a little harsher than you meant it to.

"And we were estranged, no one knew I was coming. Only got here a few days ago. You laid him to rest then?" and I nod, quite assured of that at least.

"Let's drink to him. What was his name?"
"I am dealing with it as best I can, my thanks Nu. His name was Stephen."

"To Stephen Underwood," I say quietly, taking my drink from Thomas--ah, good, and he's brought the second one for Nu as well. Drink and set my glass down and smile. "Truly a lucky man, all things taken in balance."

After all, he had a forty-four year old baby for a brother who caught word of his condition despite cold estrangement so complete no-one in town ever knew nor mentioned he had kin since his wife and their child died seven winters back. A handy trick.

Forty-four indeed.

"No other kin. Just the two of us and Father.. and he's with him now."

He does sound sad now, ayuh. Misses his daddy. Wonder if I've heard of him - or it. Feel a bit more sympathetic to this Arik, cos I understand family feelin'. Even though my fathah was also my son an' also myself, so it ain't like I got a regular view on parentin'.

"Truly a lucky man, all things taken in balance."

An' Glass is dry as ole bones, talkin' to him. Bones. Hm. There is somethin' of the grave about her, ayuh.

"You lay out the dead, Glass?" I say. "Bless you for that. I work more in beginnin's myself, but endin's need managin' too."

"To Stephen Underwood. Truly a lucky man, all things taken in balance."

Glass looks highly amused, and Nu is keeping to himself if he has an opinion. I am sure Mrs. Beddau isn't buying my little story of being Arik Underwood, but the house is now legally in my name, and it would be hard to disprove Stephen did not have an estranged brother. I merely sip my drink and let the conversation flow by.

"You lay out the dead, Glass? Bless you for that. I work more in beginnin's myself, but endin's need managin' too."
Beginnings, endings... endings are just new beginnings... but still, I don't take Nu for a midwife, and there is something special about him. Even if I don't know, I can still sense more than human about him.
"Beginnings? What work do you do that allows you to work in something as hopeful as beginnings?"

Stephen's brother falls quiet after the toast, and I consider him thoughtful, but...

"You lay out the dead, Glass? Bless you for that," Nu says, and I'm startled into a kinder smile, dip my head as I glance over to him. Rare enough to hear that; folk take it for hard work, and serious, but most don't take it for anything like the kindness it is, to the dead and to the living. "I work more in beginnin's myself, but endin's need managin' too," and that brings another's words to mind...

"Love wheatfields ripe and then sown," I say soft, echoing a still woman in a dark blue robe that stood and spoke t'me 'midst gravestones, "seeds waiting 'neath soil to be born again, the flight of birds, fish leaping from the water." Shake my head and go on in a clearer tone, thinking that if he'd not already been by the Abbey I'd suggest it. "Lay them out and see them to the ground, and take their sins," I say, sipping my drink. "I--my thanks," and I'm not sure exact what to say... "Understand work with beginnings has its decent side too."

"Beginnings?" Underwood says. "What work do you do that allows you to work in something as hopeful as beginnings?"

"seeds waiting 'neath soil to be born again, the flight of birds, fish leaping from the water."

I smile back at Glass.

"Sounds like a poem, ayuh, or a prayah," I say, an' I think it's closah to the second. Think my smile's softened as hers has done. "Was a poem I heard long time back, an' that was a prayah too. Let me see... Glory be to God for dappled things, ayuh, that's how it started... For rose-moles all in stipple 'pon trouts that swim, for landscapes plotted an' pieced. Somethin' like that."

"What work do you do that allows you to work in something as hopeful as beginnings?"

Smile at Arik Underwood, though not the same way I smiled at Glass.

"My trade is all 'bout beginnin's. Fertility, from the lyin' down to the lyin' in," I say. "Cock rise to labour pains, ayuh, all my business, an' I do it well." I sip my beer. "An' will you be workin' in town, Mr Underwood?"

I sit by idly and let the two of them have their moment of connection, both quoting poetry and praise, before Nu turns to me in with an answer to my question.
"My trade is all 'bout beginnin's. Fertility, from the lyin' down to the lyin' in, Cock rise to labour pains, ayuh, all my business, an' I do it well."
Now I raise an eyebrow. A deity, perhaps? A fertility god? Would not be the first god to wander the streets of Excolo. Damn this human form dulling my ability to see people for what they truly are. "Fine calling, to be sure. Children are a precious commodity in these times, and anything that can be done to bring them forth is a blessing." Despite being a President of Hell, I actually have a great fondness for children, and loathe anyone who would hurt an innocent.

"An' will you be workin' in town, Mr Underwood?" Nod at that and take a drink of beer. "That's my plan, if I can find employment. The gentleman at the town offices told me the town has grown by leaps and bounds, so I am hopeful and keeping my eyes and ears open."

"Sounds like a poem, ayuh, or a prayah," he says, and then lays out the gentle mottle of fish and field... calm and pretty, and I nod.

"Was something a lady told me fair to recent, mine," I say. "Decent sort, I think. May be that you'd like her."

"My trade is all 'bout beginnin's. Fertility, from the lyin' down to the lyin' in," Nu says, and Underwood says something about children being precious commodity, which I suppose is all very well from someone who won't mention his mother and's not ever looked to dying bloody in his bed from quickening. There's a reason no-one coming after cotton root bark and rosehips ever gets turned away-- trust Jenna's keeping up with that.

"An' will you be workin' in town, Mr Underwood?"
"That's my plan, if I can find employment. The gentleman at the town offices told me the town has grown by leaps and bounds, so I am hopeful and keeping my eyes and ears open."

"Generally a good way to go about it," I say. "And what was your trade, where you came from, wherever you came from?"

"Generally a good way to go about it, And what was your trade, where you came from, wherever you came from?"

I have a half a second to think about this. Of course, it's my own damn fault. Sitting down with Glass my first day out amongst the masses...
Oh, I am a Fallen Angel who presided over legions of the dammed in the Underword, and most recently, I took to making Lucien Constantine's life a living hell. Yes, I don't think that would go over quite so well.

"I was spending time down in the bayou states most recently. Orlean's area?
I was a teacher there, history mostly, but dabbled in other things like law practices and whatnot. Excolo's not that large though, so I'll set my hands to anything to get through the winter season." I say with a small smile, finishing my beer.

I am sure I can get through, but there is is the facade to consider. "Actually, do you know of any community boards where I can look to see if work is needed? that's the next stop in my travels today."

Edited 2009-09-17 14:50 (UTC)

"Decent sort, I think. May be that you'd like her."

"Always glad of new acquaintances. At least, ones as understand the way of things," I say.

Glass gets straight to askin' more questions of Arik. Puts me in mind of a terriah, maybe - clampin' her jaws onto a secret an' not lettin' go til she's shook it out. Makes me smile, thinkin' of the comparison.

"Actually, do you know of any community boards where I can look to see if work is needed? that's the next stop in my travels today."

"Think theah's one up near the market," I say. "Course, Glass'd know better than I, since I ain't a permanent resident." Though that's seemin' more an' more like a moot point these days.

"Always glad of new acquaintances. At least, ones as understand the way of things," and I smile a bit, because I'm not thinking Nanshe understands all the way of things, not bone-deep as she does harvest and family, but she's sense to her.

"I was spending time down in the bayou states most recently. Orlean's area?" Stephen's brother says. "I was a teacher there, history mostly, but dabbled in other things like law practices and whatnot. Excolo's not that large though, so I'll set my hands to anything to get through the winter season."

"You taught history?" I say, tilting my head to one side. That's rare enough, particular if you're doing more than tale-telling--loved my mam dear, but her stories were over what was true rather than what happened. "So, you're chosing t'winter in Excolo doing come-what-may work--" easiest trade to find is always setting your back to something, and he's not exact got hands that mark him as a labourer-- "rather than going back t'where you know you've call for your work and warmer weather?" Grin at him a moment, considering that as the words settle, then shrug and sip at my beer.

"You taught by another, or take it on yourself to learn?"

"Actually, do you know of any community boards where I can look to see if work is needed? that's the next stop in my travels today."
"Think theah's one up near the market. Course, Glass'd know better than I, since I ain't a permanent resident."

Nod to Nu. "Near week-end's never the best time t'start looking," I say thoughtful, "but Nu's the right of it, there's a board handy. Folk'll be saving for market tomorrow--'ve you seen it?--or else setting up, and they're unlike t'start paying someone t'help them with that, as it's gotten sparser with winter coming on." Shrug at that, as really, might as well curse over rain being wet. "Still, can't hurt to look; think you might have some luck going 'round the shops on Monday, as well."

"You taught history? So, you're chosing t'winter in Excolo doing come-what-may work--rather than going back t'where you know you've call for your work and warmer weather? You taught by another, or take it on yourself to learn?"

I merely shrug and lean on my arms a bit. "I went back and forth about staying or going. Truly, I may be happier down south. I really am a warmer weather creature, but it's already mid November. Not the best time to travel back, and if I'm going to get stuck for five or six months, may as well be here in a larger community. As for the teaching..." We were all teachers, in some sense. My Brothers and I... mankind learned from us in one sense or another, whether by instruction of example...
"I learned from my Father. He was a teacher." Simple truth, there.

Both Nu and Glass offer advice on employment opportunities, and I smile and rise from my seat. "Thank you for the tips. I am sure I will track something down to occupy my hands soon. If you will pardon me? I am hoping to secure some dry goods I am in need of before the General Store closes today. Nu, Glass... it was a pleasure. Thank you for sharing a drink in my Brother's name."

I give both of them a slight bow at the waist, and head out into the late afternoon sun. There are other matters I must see too before I do anything else...

"If you will pardon me? I am hoping to secure some dry goods I am in need of before the General Store closes today. Nu, Glass... it was a pleasure," and I show him a dry smile and correct that particular presumption.

"Mrs. Beddau. And it's been of interest."

And he heads off, and I wait until the door's shut behind him 'fore leaning back 'gainst the bar, turning the darts over in my hand.

"So," I say thoughtful, "I'm taking the age at least for being lies, as well as all crying sorrow over Stephen Underwood--" Interrupt myself. "Thomas, did he leave without paying you? I'll cover it if so. Suppose," I say, glancing to Nu, "'s a matter of whether he's only a terrible liar or else so proud he feels need to lay out something of himself even when it jars with what else he's set out..."

Shrug and hold the darts out to him. "You after finishing the game?"

Arik Underwood leaves, an' I watch him go.

"I'm taking the age at least for being lies, as well as all crying sorrow over Stephen Underwood-- Thomas, did he leave without paying you? I'll cover it if so. Suppose,'s a matter of whether he's only a terrible liar or else so proud he feels need to lay out something of himself even when it jars with what else he's set out..."

"Whatevah he is, I don't stand for a man who don't pay his way," I say, disapprovin'. "An' as for what he is... I wassn't lyin' when I said ole and new. Strange. What did you make of him?"

"You after finishing the game?"

I grin, easiah now.

"Ayuh. Don' like to leave things unfinished." Wheah was I? 167. I look at the board an' throw down to 100. Give a lil whoop at that.

"An' as for what he is... I wassn't lyin' when I said ole and new. Strange. What did you make of him?"

"Smug," and that word comes quick to mind, the whole rolling ease of him and the grin he only dropped to put on a face over his brother's death. "Used to being spoilt or having his way. And from a strange family, by my lights, claiming a brother five winters his younger but no mother to speak of. Take his mind at least for old enough to be Stephen's brother--" history, indeed-- "and like enough older than that aside, so one way or another take him for lying over the matter of that kinship." A quick thin grin at that. "Don't suppose I'll be overly surprised should I hear he's not been by his brother's grave, when I ask."

And something else as well... dammit, I knew someone in Excolo once who spoke of going south for something, who was it? Tickle in back of my mind, and I shake my head, then groan good-natured as Nu cuts his score down to an even hundred. Take mine down to 102 and pass him back the darts.

"Smug, ayuh, that's the very word," I say. "Talked in a way strangahs normally don't." Rub my beard an' decide to put it aside.

Both of us throw a couple of hands of darts, an' the scores are kissin' cousins. "One to tie, two to win," I observe an' hand the darts back ovah. Game's got me smilin' again. Bit of healthy competition is fun, ayuh. Keeps the wits keen. "When you lay out the dead," I ask, "you do anythin' else for them asides?" I ask, cos I figuah knowin' that'll settle a couple of points in my mind.

Smiling over the game, and then Nu says pleasant enough "When you lay out the dead, you do anythin' else for them asides?"

Ah, to this then.

"I take their sins," I say, weighing the darts in my hand. "See them shrouded if they've no kin to mind them, attend their funerals and see them into the ground." Think of Pelan, then, and Carey. "Help them rest easy once they're buried, if I can, though that last's not usual after coming up much."

"A sin eatah!" I say, an' I'm grinnin'. Ain't like sin eatin's light work, but lordy I ain't seen a sin eatah in generations. "Didn't know there was sin eatahs ovah heah, you come of a line?" I ask, interested. "Back in Egypt, theah was sin eatahs once. Supposed to stop Ammut eatin' the souls of the unworthy. Seems a bit of a cheat in a way, but I ain't too interested in anyone sufferin' eternal punishment, you ken? Bein' dead's enough."

"A sin eatah!" and there's a grin to his face the likes of... well, I'm not minding it, but hardly ever see it when I'm talking of what I do. "Didn't know there was sin eatahs ovah heah, you come of a line?"

"My mam at least," I say, "but she came over from Wales, and never spoke of kin nor home. Still, a line of two."

"Back in Egypt," he says, and I settle one elbow on the bar to listen, "theah was sin eatahs once. Supposed to stop Ammut eatin' the souls of the unworthy," and I grin at that. Seems a bit of a cheat in a way, but I ain't too interested in anyone sufferin' eternal punishment, you ken? Bein' dead's enough."

"I ken," I say, smiling. "And the Osiris Ani said: Behold, I am in thy presence, O Lord of Amentet. There is no sin in my body. Know the shape of what they were kept from." Words that never flowed with the shuttling pattern of her speech, but words she taught me still, counting out the ways and shapes of rites for the dead. "Let them rest easy."

Edited 2009-09-21 23:51 (UTC)

[Cont here.</>] (http://community.livejournal.com/estdeus_innobis/295570.html)

And cobwebs of the winter time, weave up, weave up and over

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