Scars are tattoos with better stories.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

The body is but a pair of pincers set over a bellows and a stew pan and the whole fixed upon stilts.
- Samuel Butler

You're sick of hangin' around and you'd like to travel;
Get tired of travelin' and you want to settle down.
I guess they can't revoke your soul for tryin',
Get out of the door and light out and look all around.

Sometimes the light's all shinin' on me;
Other times I can barely see.
Lately it occurs to me
What a long, strange trip it's been.
- 'Truckin'', The Grateful Dead

January 6th, early evening

I walk along the southern road to Excolo, the grey halflight of a January day fading into a sullen sort of blackness. There is little charm in this weather, road hard packed with ice. As I get closer to the town I find the snow has been sprinkled with salt and grit, but to no great effect. I flip up the collar of my coat as if I need to shield myself against the cold.

This is a new body. I felt the desire for it, something with no history worked into its flesh. And I am not interested tonight in a body that encourages sexual desire; I have had enough of those for now. This body is a fine work of art, but it is not beautiful, skin slouching into wrinkles except where it is stretched tight across high flat cheekbones, hands knotted, greying hair. The body of a man of perhaps sixty, faint traces of age spots on his hands but as yet no tremor to them. A man who is sure of his step. A face that is lived in but gives little away, and eyes like bright sparks in a skull. Full small lips to take the edge off that steady cold gaze, to make it show the possibiity of kindness. Yes, it will serve.

I walk into town and find the tavern, hefting my bag as if it has some weight. When I set it down I sigh softly, as if relieved, and I roll my neck and click it.

"Hail friend," I say to the barman easily, "a toddy do you have to ease my bruised bones on this cold night?"

When the rum comes it steams, and I hold it in my mouth and let my cheeks splotch a grateful pale pink on the act of swallowing.

[OPEN]

Comments

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

I felt him moving through the town, the same paths I was stalking. Not to kill, likely not tonight...but there is a certain joy in wandering the man-made shadows of a city, the shadows thrown by creations of men thinking themselves gods. They have a flavour all their own, and they have their own scents and fears. He is being subtle again, and had I not been walking the town I don't think I would have caught his scent. But there he is, smelling of age and many roads, crossing the threshold of the Tavern.

Verdandi and I still aren't on the best of terms, and that normally would keep me away. But it has been some time since I last felt my master's touch, and I have been caught in a strange melancholy since dreaming of my gauekoentzat. So I pause in the alley, and I call the shadows to me. I can alter my appearance to a certain degree (the night is the time for deception, after all), I just have very little cause to bother. But if Sugaar wants subtlety, I can follow his lead. When the shadows fall away there is still a massive hound, but the fur on my muzzle is flecked with grey, the eyes mournful and emotive, and I hide my power in a cloak of fur. I don't expect that Verdandi will mistake me, should she come down, but the usual barflies and drunks won't likely make the connection between this sad old pet and the monster stalking the woods.

I paw and nose at the door until it opens and I shoulder my way inside, winding my way between chairs and under tables until I reach the bar. And with a long-suffering sigh, I lay my head on the old man's knee.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

I feel the tug of shadows like a coat pulling close against the wind or the sighing of a door opened by a breeze. He has his own disguise on today, a subtle sort of variation of pepper-flecked fur. The smallest of disguises are often the most elegant, and I smile as he puts his head on my knee.

"Good boy you are," I say, stroking his head. There is a slight lilt to my voice, an accent hard to place. "The good boy always comes home." I call out to the barman. "A dish of water for my friend, friend. And a shot of whisky in it, if you please." The barman does not like this suggestion, and I smile at him, corners of my bright eyes crinkling, small mouth stretching into something friendly. The kind of smile to trick men into thinking I am a good old man, after all. "He's a strong dog, my Rollo," I say. The name amuses me, and the meaning is apt. Famous wolf. The barman brings the dish and I ask him his name, although I know it. "Thomas," I say. "The doubter, you are. Apt, apt." I smile at him and set a coin on the table for the whisky.

[melania-lowell.livejournal.com]

I smile surveying the now clean mensroom. Still think Thomas cheated on the paper, scissors, rocks throw. All three times. He's lucky he's cute.

Tossing my gloves in a bucket, like I'd touch those stalls without a closepin on my nose and properly covered up, I put everything away, unclip my nose and join Thomas behind the bar.

I know that scent---

"A dish of water for my friend, friend. And a shot of whisky in it, if you please. He's a strong dog, my Rollo,"

Its not the smiling old guy with the giant dog...

--- Oh Shit.

"I got it Thomas," I say smiling at him. He's gotta know who the dog is or he wouldn't have that look on his face. I pat his shoulder as I walk by to let him know I know too and its cool. He's allowed in, but I don't know how Verdi would feel about him fucking with our customers. The old guy is calling him Rollo? Does he have him fooled?

"Is this your dog, sir?" I ask, setting the dish with the water whiskey mix down. "Aren't you just a lucky dog," I say to him in that condescending tone people like to use when talking to pets. Leave the old guy alone, you jerk.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Is this your dog, sir? Aren't you just a lucky dog."

The dark haired girl who works here comes out. Melania who was at Kent's wedding. I scritch Gaueko's head, amused at her tone. Dogs can often smell each other out.

"Why yes, young miss," I say. "I raised Rollo from a pup. I lost him on the road, but he found me again as I came to Excolo. Am I not fortunate?" I raise my glass in tribute and take a sip of my toddy. "I am pleased to be meeting you, young miss. My name is Uri, and this is Rollo, faithful dog and true."

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

I sigh again as Sugaar lays his hand on my head. "Good boy you are," he says, stroking my head, "The good boy always comes home." Oh yes, Sugaar, always. He calls for a bowl of water laced with whisky for me, and I thump the legs of his chair with my tail. Could do without the damned name, but I suppose it's better than Rolf.

The bowl of water is set in front of me, and I lick Sugaar's hand before setting to it. Damned crime to dilute my Verdandi's whisky, but I can still taste it, and -

"Is this your dog, sir? Aren't you just a lucky dog,"

Oh, look, it's Verdandi's pet wolf, and she hasn't gotten any smarter. She seems to be crowding the other bartender out of the way, and he's looking heartily confused. She sniff me out? I suppose it's possible. Scent is far harder to disguise than appearance or voice.

Sugaar seems to find the whole thing funny, though, and he scratches my ears. "Why yes, young miss. I raised Rollo from a pup. I lost him on the road, but he found me again as I came to Excolo. Am I not fortunate?"

I lick water droplets from my beard and prick up my ears at the sound of "my" name. And I eye the girl with the expression of a pet hoping for a treat. We're a nice old man and his pet out for an evening's drink, nothing more. I don't intend to spoil the game, much though I'd love to bite her. Be almost as good confusing the fuck out of her. Not that I think it'll be much of a challenge. "I am pleased to be meeting you, young miss. My name is Uri, and this is Rollo, faithful dog and true."

[melania-lowell.livejournal.com]

"Why yes, young miss, I raised Rollo from a pup. I lost him on the road, but he found me again as I came to Excolo. Am I not fortunate?"

From a PUP?! My head tilts slightly at this. Hard to imagine that oversized jerk I met in Vlmonts' place as a happy little pup. And old as this guy is, I doubt he was around to see it even if its true. He's really got this poor old guy snowed. Still smiling, I nod at him, "Yeah, fortunate," I say, eying 'Rollo' warily. "Does he know any tricks?" --Like play dead.-- Or better yet, leave out the play part. If I hadn't met him before, the happy dog act would actually be cute instead of giving me the creeps. I wonder if he has it in him to be loyal and true. Fuck he's Huge!

"Nice to meet you, Uri. I'm Lannie," I smile, "You new to these parts or returning home?"

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Does he know any tricks?"

"A trick or two he knows, I doubt it not," I say, stroking Gaueko's ear idly. "Although they are more of cunning than for entertainment, are they not, friend?" I say to him. "A wise dog he is, not a clown, and so his tricks are of the road and of resource."

"Nice to meet you, Uri. I'm Lannie. You new to these parts or returning home?"

"Lannie," I say, "a pleasure it is to meet you. I have never been to Excolo, although I have heard much about it on the road. And so I have come through the snow to see if what I hear is true." I smile at her. "Talk is had of monsters and magic, and I have seen enough in my life to know that there are things in this world mysterious beyond reckoning. Is this town such a place, think you?"

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

Aright, not after going outside today since we came back, but thought I could do worse than come downstairs. Watch a handful of folk, maybe take up a game of darts, sit in the golden air and cut-wood smell...

And heading down the stairs when the colour leaches out of the air and oh bloody hell, Shuck. See him settled 'round the feet of a man taking a drink at the bar, thin as a corpse withered by freezing, and Lannie standing there with them, and find I'm keeping my nails from curling into my palms.

"Really?" I say mild. "I'd take him for a canny dog, maybe, but to call him a wise one..." Make polite smile at the hound and look up at the man he's huddling by. "That's its own oddity, a match for anything I hear of here. Glass of Tintagel when you've a moment, Lannie?"

[melania-lowell.livejournal.com]

"A wise dog he is, not a clown, and so his tricks are of the road and of resource."

I nod in understanding, though the sight of the man talking to him, scratching him behind the ear and him sitting there like any old dog is enough to make me grin. Not a clown, my ass. If he rolls over for a belly scratch, I'm gonna need to take a break.

Uri doesn't offer his hand and I know its not a custom of everyone so I don't offer mine. "Talk is had of monsters and magic, and I have seen enough in my life to know that there are things in this world mysterious beyond reckoning. Is this town such a place, think you?"

Nodding, my mouth opens to tell him I know so, he's snuggling up to one right now as a matter of fact.... Footsteps behind me and I don't have to look back to know who it is. "Really? I'd take him for a canny dog, maybe, but to call him a wise one..."

My grin widens. "Hey, Glass," I say cheerfully, doing my best not to laugh. As always, she hit the nail right on the head. It doesn't take much wisdom to bully people into submission. I've never seen Iago that pissed off and I've tried. "Sure thing." I smile at Glass. I could use a drink myself. "Anyone want anything to eat?" May as well ask while I'm going.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

Gaueko's pup comes into the bar. I wonder if the child she carries within her will have her sharp teeth, her air of shadows. Blood will out, and I think hers is thicker than that of the milksop she calls a husband.

"I'd take him for a canny dog, maybe, but to call him a wise one... That's its own oddity, a match for anything I hear of here. Glass of Tintagel when you've a moment, Lannie?"

"Why good miss - mistress," I say, with a nod to the ring she wears, "it almost sounds as if you have met my friend here," I say, rubbing my hand over Gaueko's head again. I look back at the barmaid, who offers food.

"Please," I say. "Something hot. If you have a stew, perhaps? And a dish for Rollo, for be he wise or merely canny, I think he would like to fill his belly."

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

The wolf-girl and Sugaar banter for a few moments while I return my attention to the whisky. It's more interesting than her prattle, and Sugaar isn't giving up the game so easily. Well, if she comes any closer I'll drool all over her foot. And possibly piss on her floor.

I do raise my head when my Glass comes in the door. I know there's no way my little glamour would keep me hidden from her, and the looks she gives me confirms it. "Really? I'd take him for a canny dog, maybe, but to call him a wise one..." she says. But she says nothing else, and I drop my jaw open in a canine grin before returning to my watered whisky.

Sugaar runs a hand over my head again, making me sigh, "It almost sounds as if you have met my friend here," he says to Glass, still keeping to our parts. He then turns to the wolf-girl, "Something hot. If you have a stew, perhaps? And a dish for Rollo, for be he wise or merely canny, I think he would like to fill his belly."

I whine, like any pet that's heard his name and is hoping for food, and lay my head on Sugaar's leg. My muzzle is dripping, and no doubt his jeans are immediately soaked through.

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

Lannie's in a fine enough mood t'night, and glad someone is. Travelling man she's speaking to catches what I've to say on the matter of the hound and lays a hand worn down near t'death by time on his head. Take a second look at him, the height and weight of him in the dark of the room, and well enough I know what he is but think he's passing for less than that.

"Why good miss - mistress," and I smile quick and faint at that, looking back up at the man, "it almost sounds as if you have met my friend here." And asks Lannie for something hot for himself and Rollo. Rollo. Who is currently drooling on the man's pantsleg.

"I've habit," I say mild, shrugging, "of thinking there's far more sense than wisdom to be found these days, and guessing there's maybe no exception in hounds. 's he been with you long?"

[melania-lowell.livejournal.com]

Its almost hard to believe that this grinning, whining, slobbering mutt is the same guy who threatened to rip my head off not too long ago. But here he is soaking up this poor old guys attention.

Glass doesn't say she wants anything besides the drink so I nod at Uri and go around the bar to the kitchen asking Cookie for the food. Laughing at his fuss about Bisque and Gumbo, I tell him a simple beef stew should be fine. Some warm bread might be nice too.

Pretending not to be listening to Glass and Uri talk, I grab the drinks while I'm waiting. A whiskey for me tonight, I think. I'm still wondering how Uri has known him since he was a pup and don't wanna think about what happened to his real pet. I promised Verdi I'd be nice and I'm doing my best.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"I've habit," I say mild, shrugging, "of thinking there's far more sense than wisdom to be found these days, and guessing there's maybe no exception in hounds. 's he been with you long?"

I smile. Gaueko drools on my leg. I wonder if it is affectionate or if he is annoyed by his pseudonym.

"And what, mistress, would you call the difference between sense and wisdom?" I say. "Much wisdom is sense worn in, like a shoe, by time, think you not?" I take a sip of my toddy. "Rollo I raised from a pup. Largest of his litter. I lost him, or he lost me, on the road, and sorrow I made, for travelling as I do I have not many constants save the rising and setting of the sun. But as I came to town he found me again, was that not wise of him?" I smile. "Or perhaps as you say it is sense rather than wisdom, but in any case I'll drink to his safe return. Will you join me, mistress?" I ask, for it amuses me to ask Gaueko's pup to sit and salute him.

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"And what, mistress, would you call the difference between sense and wisdom? Much wisdom is sense worn in, like a shoe, by time, think you not?" and that's a question of some interest, worth an answer.

"I think," I say, measuring out those I know, "wisdom's sense worn in, but with some mind for others, even if there's no particular care for them..." Glance to the Shuck again, and show my teeth quick and dry afore looking back to the travelling man. "Think that's less common in folk than it might be, and rare enough to find in hound, any chance of his to finding you aside."

Lays out how he came t'know the Shuck in pattern and voice minds me of old words in times and places past. "Or perhaps as you say it is sense rather than wisdom, but in any case I'll drink to his safe return. Will you join me, mistress?" and some startlement crosses my face at that, but think I keep the edge away and down.

"Say rather t'your luck in finding him again," I say, considering him thoughtful, and weighing this out. Guess he may be knows something of an oddity to his dog, but there's sure enough enough of those these nights. "'m Glass Beddau, and missed your name?"

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

I hear the wolf-girl in the kitchen, talking to someone about stews and soups. Beef stew. Hopefully the cook here's better than the one at the damned inn. Not that any chef can match the taste of bloody meat ripped living from the bone, but it'll do. In the meantime, Sugaar is debating semantics with Glass. "And what, mistress, would you call the difference between sense and wisdom? Much wisdom is sense worn in, like a shoe, by time, think you not? Rollo I raised from a pup. Largest of his litter. I lost him, or he lost me, on the road, and sorrow I made, for travelling as I do I have not many constants save the rising and setting of the sun. But as I came to town he found me again, was that not wise of him?"

I'm going to need more whisky if that keeps going, and my damned bowl is empty. I press my paw on the rim of the bowl so that it rattles on the floor. Maybe the bartender will get the hint.

"Or perhaps as you say it is sense rather than wisdom, but in any case I'll drink to his safe return. Will you join me, mistress?"

Oh, this should be good. I lick the last drops of water from my whiskers and look at Glass, grinning.

"Say rather t'your luck in finding him again." she says, looking at me. And hell, I'll drink to that too, if the goddamn bartender would get off his ass. There are definite disadvantages to this form. "'m Glass Beddau, and missed your name?"

I rattle the bowl again. I swear, if he makes me stand up and drop it on the bar, I'm going to bite him.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"wisdom's sense worn in, but with some mind for others, even if there's no particular care for them..."

"That's interesting, mistress," I say. "But what of wisdom not of man but of rock or tree or heath? Or would you say that is sense, not wisdom? Is wisdom, then, Man's alone?" I look at her curiously and run my finger across the top of my glass.

Gaueko rattles his bowl.

"Thirsty dog," I comment, and I wave a beckoning hand at the bartender.

Glass accepts my invitation and gives her name.

"Uri, Mistress Beddau, my name is Uri, and pleased I am to make your acquaintance," I say, bowing my head in a quick dip. "No family name have I, though I have had different titles on the road over the years I have walked it - Uri of the Bow, and Uri-by-Night, and Uri of the Wool Fells, and now I am Uri the Peddlar," I say, tapping the pack on the floor beside me, "as I peddle my wares from place to place. And you, Mistress Beddau, are you employed, or do you keep house?"

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

Matter of wisdom being man's alone, and weigh that out. "I'd say wisdom's a thing comes and carried with thought," I say, "so call it only found in those can think. If there's a sense of others in what stands silent or grows..." Shrug at that. "Never took it to care particular much over my not calling it wisdom." Faint thin smile at that, as fine enough the growth that comes green and eternal through sunrise and sunset, but it's hardly after worrying after the words I set to it. "See a patience to it, may be, or peace to be found there, and sure enough marking of the way the world may lie out... but that's a matter different, to my mind."

Rattle on the floor and "Thirsty dog," and I murmur agreement.

"May be the whiskey's a little much for his temper," I say thoughtful, glancing down at him. "Glastwr dyfradwy, hound?" Scraggled thing that he is compared t'his usual self... watered milk might fit him now, though I doubt it'd suit.

"Uri, Mistress Beddau, my name is Uri, and pleased I am to make your acquaintance," and make acknowledgment, listening as he lays out name and names and name again, common enough way of things these days. "And you, Mistress Beddau, are you employed, or do you keep house?"

"I keep house now," I say, smiling faint, and spit and staunchweed that's something else I need address. "My husband came to town and works now in the Tavern," tapping the bar once. "And you, Uri, what're you peddling in Excolo, or should I leave that matter until market Sunday?"

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"See a patience to it, may be, or peace to be found there, and sure enough marking of the way the world may lie out... but that's a matter different, to my mind."

"Perhaps, Mistress Beddau, we are trying to give name to that which can't be named," I say lightly as I finish my drink. "Another for you?" I say to her, and I gesture to the barman. "One for me, and my dog, and my new friend if she will have one," I say.

"My husband came to town and works now in the Tavern. And you, Uri, what're you peddling in Excolo, or should I leave that matter until market Sunday?"

"There is a market? That is excellent news," I say and smile. "But show you what I sell I will," I say, hefting my pack up onto the table. "Have you dreams, mistress? Of course you do. Every man and woman does. Dogs too," I say, patting Gaueko. "We dream, and we wish." I open the pack and take out a selection of small bottles, glass of different colours and each bottle a different shape.

"These are dreams," I say, "or wishes. I have glamours to make an old woman look like a girl for a day, and I have dreams that can be supped so that a dull afternoon passes in a golden warmth of apple orchards. All gentle magics, truly, none lasting more than dusk to dawn or dawn to dusk."

[melania-lowell.livejournal.com]

A bowl rattles on the floor, Uri calls for more drinks which I meant to grab. Glancing in the window to the kitchen, I see Cookie ladling the stew into bowls. I know its what I ordered just from the smell alone and my stomach growls. Yeah. Drinks. "I got 'em Thomas," I say tossing a reassuring smile at him.

"These are dreams," I say, "or wishes. I have glamours to make an old woman look like a girl for a day, and I have dreams that can be supped so that a dull afternoon passes in a golden warmth of apple orchards.

Loading everything on a tray,I hold back an amused snort when I hear that. Wonder if he's got something that would unwolf me? Wonder if I'd miss it. I move around the bar handing Glass her drink first and set a bowl next to her, just in case. "I hope beef stew is okay," I say setting Uris' bowl, bread and drink on the table. My head tilts at the glimmer of colors coming from the bag on the old mans lap. "What are those?" I ask, setting two bowls on the floor. Stew with a bone and hunk of bread and a drink of mostly whiskey with a splash of water this time. I hope he chokes.

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

Sugaar introduces this dogsbody as "Uri", calls himself a peddler. He looks the part, roadworn and bent-backed. He supports my call for a new bowl of whisky, though Glass snidely asks if I'd prefer milk. You've got your mother's sense of humour, Glass. I'm sure that pretty boy of yours would be most put out if I drooled on your shoes.

Glass is sharing more of her history than I'd expect, saying that she's settled and her husband works here. Sugaar in turn tells her what he is selling; a sackful of dreams and wishes. I flick my ears towards him, wondering if he remembers when I walked the roads as an old man, a sack of dreams over my shoulder. I wonder. But it doesn't really matter.

The wolf girl comes back in and...well, she's not entirely an idiot. Or maybe the chef's just good. Whatever the case, the bowl of "water" is now almost entirely whisky, strong enough to sting my nose, and the stew has a large, meaty bone jutting from it and a thick chunk of bread sopping up the gravy. I thump my tail on the floor and dig in, keeping one ear turned towards Glass and Sugaar's conversation. This should prove interesting.

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"Perhaps, Mistress Beddau, we are trying to give name to that which can't be named," and possible enough; sure not the first time the Tavern leads to such talk. "Another for you? One for me, and my dog, and my new friend if she will have one."

"I've still mine, but my thanks; I'll get the next round," I say, looking down at my glass and watching the pale liquid swim in dark oiled eddies, think of corpses in summer heat. Bloody hell, Shuck...

"There is a market? That is excellent news," and a smile, and "But show you what I sell I will. Have you dreams, mistress? Of course you do," and patter and shine, and I push aside small startlement as he weaves words like smoke around small phylatories of dreams.

Lannie comes back, setting down drinks and bowls, catching sight of the glistering glass. "What are those?" and I push aside a faint thought of seeing things and then that lost in white like a winter sky as I feel my throat closing, and shake my head. "Dreams from can to can't," I say to Lannie in answer once I've my breath back. "Fine enough, I'm sure."

If I'd known of Azrael afore I'd met him, heard the sounding toll of his voice in words past any tongue and seen the light of his speaking, then maybe that, but I've memory of it still so clear I swear I could touch it. And aside that...

...spit and staunchweed, 've I no dreams, then?

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

I taste the stew that Melania puts in front of me. It is good, as these things go.

"Lovely my dear it is, and you must compliment your cook," I say.

"Dreams from can to can't. Fine enough, I'm sure."

"Mistress Beddau," I say with a smile, "sounds as if she has no time for such pretty bubbles as these. Dreams they are, miss," I say to Melania. "Some dreams, some wishes, all of them short and sweet as a bright day in winter." I smile. "Drink this," I say, lifting a bright red bottle, "if you have a long afternoon of washing tiles ahead, and you will find the hours pass with the brightest daydream of a sunny seashore. Or take this," I say, lifting a blue bottle, "if you had always wondered what it would be like to be a teenager again, and for a span of six hours you will pass as one, a glamour passing over the eyes of those who see you. Though you are young enough, perhaps, for that to not appeal." I smile at her. "What do you dream of, mistresses?" I ask them both. "Perhaps I have a bottle for it."

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"Mistress Beddau sounds as if she has no time for such pretty bubbles as these," and oh, hell, I meant no offense, but at least he's smiling still as he explains it to Lannie.

"What do you dream of, mistresses? Perhaps I have a bottle for it."

"Pardon if I spoke harsh," I say, sipping my drink. "I meant no sharpness." Shake my head and push it aside. "Still and all," I say more brightly. "Quiet nights, summer rain," and I'm musing aloud, and no particular deep a desire for that, but they're something to name and pleasant enough. "Lannie, my turn t'stand a round, help yourself if you're of a mind to...?" I dream of living t'see another harvest, as well, but that's more'n I care t'share with a stranger. A name for the murdered man, another for whoever's driving knives and mauling corpses, and both of those sharp and certain things that stand alone, that're nothing to do with me--

"Escaping notice," I say thoughtful, turning back to Uri. "Folk speak plainer when they've no care for your being there." Toss Lannie a quick dry grin. "And may be I could catch those're after coming by unseen, then, if chance favoured the time particular of such a dream."

[melania-lowell.livejournal.com]

"Some dreams, some wishes, all of them short and sweet as a bright day in winter."

"Whose dreams?" I ask, staring at the pretty colored glass. Like I'm actually gonna see whats inside. Then shake my head, and tear my eyes away. Smiling and shrugging at my dumb question. It just reminded me of when I was little and asked where the bad dreams that the dream catcher caught went. This guy's gonna make a killing at the market. "What do you dream of, mistresses? Perhaps I have a bottle for it."

I dream of running, but not from anyone or anything, running just to run and feel the wind in my fur instead of the air around me feeling like a cage. I'd like to not lose it and wolf out and be a danger to my friends. Not telling him that though. Especially not in the present company. I can't think of anything but luckily Glass answers, saving me from having to answer first. Smelling that food is making my stomach growl and being hungry while Gaueko chows down is more annoying than it should be.

"Folk speak plainer when they've no care for your being there."

Why's she grinning at me? I wonder if Iago said something to her or if I said something I shouldn't. "Yeah, except you hear stuff you wish you didn't," I mumble under my breath. "More drinks on the way." That's a wish I can grant. I grin at Thomas who already has a round waiting by the time I come around the bar.

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

I listen to Sugaar's pitch while I lick my bowl clean and gnaw on the crusty bread. He always was one hell of a salesman. He offers Glass and the wolf girl dreams and illusions and mysteries...but doesn't name his price. He never does. I grin and crunch my bread crust.

Glass seems to have gone contemplative. "Still and all. Quiet nights, summer rain," she muses, though I don't think she's saying all she could. "Escaping notice," is how she finally concludes, "Folk speak plainer when they've no care for your being there. And may be I could catch those're after coming by unseen, then, if chance favoured the time particular of such a dream."

Picked the wrong lover in that case, Glass my girl. I snort. I seem to recall that pretty boy turning her out dressed as a peacock. Ah, well.

The wolf girl asks whose dreams they are, which is more clever than I'd have given her credit for. But she seems to forget the moment the words pass her lips. "Yeah, except you hear stuff you wish you didn't," she mutters to Glass, and says that more drinks are on the way. Well, she might not be bright, but she does her job well.

I lick gravy from my whiskers and sprawl on the floor with the bone pressed between my forepaws. One ear is turned to the conversation as I crunch it between my jaws, licking marrow from the splinters. I'm surprised to find that I'm having fun. Sugaar and I should do this more often.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Whose dreams?"

I smile at Melania, because it is not an unintelligent question.

"From whomsoever has traded them, my friend," I say, and Glass apologises for sharpness and I raise my hand and wave it in a mind-thee-not universal gesture. She rattles off some platitudes about dreams of weather, and then finally comes to something she wants.

"Folk speak plainer when they've no care for your being there."
"Yeah, except you hear stuff you wish you didn't," adds Melania, and I wonder about that.

"Invisible I cannot render you," I say, although of course I could, but that is richer magic than a peddlar should carry. "But I can, let me think on it..." I pull out a couple of bottles and look at them as if in deep thought. "Colour of leaf or stone, snow or sky," I say, looking at one bottle, "walk as soft as snowfall, light as the western wind," I say, looking at the other. "Together, yes, I think it could be done, mistress." I smile at Glass. "But was that idle talk, or a call to business?" I look at Melania. "And come, friend, there must be wishes you'd be having."

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

Lannie answers my mention of folk speaking clearer with "Yeah, except you hear stuff you wish you didn't," and

"No such thing," I say dry, looking at the second glass and turning it slow in the black of the Shuck's night. "May hear of things'd leave you happier if they weren't so, but better to know." Always, always better to know.

"Invisible I cannot render you," Uri says, and've no particular interest in that either, only... only being dim. Takes up a pair of them in his hands and "Colour of leaf or stone, snow or sky," and that's fond memory, there, more than passing soft or soundless, the soft myriad of colours folk call simple as green or brown or grey. "Together, yes, I think it could be done, mistress. But was that idle talk, or a call to business?"

"Not idle," I say thoughtful, looking to the first and wondering what colour the glass of it is in sunlight or electric glow rather than in this soup of bruised black. "And think perhaps I can keep myself quiet enough, but the matter of colours... that's of interest." Recall something he said to Lannie, then. "Do you take price only in coin, or in dreams, or...?"

[melania-lowell.livejournal.com]

"From whomsoever has traded them, my friend," Uri says, humoring my question instead of looking at my like I'm a dumbass. It's nice of him so I smile back. What Glass says about hearing things makes me smile more. I should've expected it from her and I guess she's right.

If I were a wolf right now, my ears would be pricked forward as I hand out the drinks and listen to them talk. Is she really gonna buy something? And will it work? Glass is clever, maybe she's just humoring the nice old man. He obviously needs the money, especially if the hound god is mooching off him. I look down at the old dog, not quite a glare. I wouldn't wanna offend Uri by giving 'his dog' a dirty look. I see the position of that ear. You're listening to this whole thing aren't you, you big jerk.

"And come, friend, there must be wishes you'd be having." I look t Uri with a smile. "Hmm?" My head cocks slightly. I'm trying to recall a dream that I'll mention out loud. "Do you take price only in coin, or in dreams, or...?" Oh. Good question, Glass.

Where was he when we were trying to get Iago's memory back? I would've wished for that. Or to have Ri not be so sad about John. He's a jerk anyway, so not her loss. Oh...wait... "What about stuff to get even with someone?" I ask. He may be an ass, and I don't want him dead, but really uncomfortable would work. Fleas or mange, I think. I picture him walking around town, losing hair or fur because of a crazy itch. Even though I know this guy's probably full of shit, the thought makes my lips pull back from my teeth a little. Should've just left her alone.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"May hear of things'd leave you happier if they weren't so, but better to know."

"You think not that ignorance is bliss," I say. "I like your thinking, Mistress Beddau, for I too always prefer knowledge, even when it is bitter."

"Do you take price only in coin, or in dreams, or...?"

"I barter," I say with a smile. "Many places I have been do not use coin, or else not the coin of this place, and so whilst I will take cash and welcome I will trade, too. Dreams if you have them and they are of interest, or supplies of other sorts. Your husband is a barkeep, you say? I could take drink to keep the cold from my bones." I pat Gaueko's head. "Or food for my dog." She will love that idea, I am sure. "Negotiation, dear mistress, is key."

"What about stuff to get even with someone?"

Well, that is unexpected. I like the way Melania's lip pulls back against her teeth. Oh, little wolf, you have an appetite for pain. I wonder how you and Johnny get along.

"My potions are short lived, as I say," I say, tone cautious, "but not all dreams are pleasant, of course." I draw out a small dull bottle, liquid inside the colour of drying blood. "I do not, friend mine, recommend giving nightmares to others, but what you do with a bottle once you have it is not my concern." I give her a dry sort of smile.

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"You think not that ignorance is bliss," he says, and "I too always prefer knowledge, even when it is bitter." Think on that a moment, and keep from glancing down to the Shuck. Wonder how much Uri knows of him.

"I barter," and may have lost some knack of that with time in town, but there's a comfort to remembering prices set out in herbs or time or jewelry or food or shelter. "Dreams if you have them and they are of interest, or supplies of other sorts. Your husband is a barkeep, you say? I could take drink to keep the cold from my bones. Or food for my dog," and feel my mouth twist in a dry smile, no joy nor humour to't. "Negotiation, dear mistress, is key."

"Well," I say dry, "there's a butcher in town, but'm not thinking I could see to having your Rollo fed at his behest..." Spit and staunchweed, well enough to wake him at the dark of the night wanting t'know if Iago's dead, but think asking him to feed the Shuck would be a bit overmuch. Smile a touch at the thought. "How long're you thinking t'stay in town? Could well speak for your having drink, but if you're more or less than wintering here, drink alone'd mismatch a quiet day." Lift my glass but don't drink from it. "What happens t'folk who trade you their dreams? Have they memory of a memory, or d'you only take impression, or is it gone entire from their minds?"

"What about stuff to get even with someone?" Lannie says, and I turn to look to her, head tilted slight to one side, and fall quiet. Fair to new in town, and not sure who she's found dislike for...

Feel myself go still and quiet, then, and'm thinking needs must talk t'her once this is done, and afore she's after slipping dreams to anyone. Guessing she's no mind for who's listening.

[melania-lowell.livejournal.com]

"but not all dreams are pleasant, of course."

My smile is small and I nod. I know that as well as anyone. "At least with a dream you wake up," I shrug. Sucks that its short lived though. But it sucks even more to wake up to find out the nightmare was real. Been there done that one.

He barters. That would be good except I don't think I have anything he wants except for food, drink and Glass mentioned those. Not a big deal. "I can pay cash," I offer. He can use that to feed his precious dog if he wants. I don't want to feed him and nothing this guy is offering is gonna change that. I grin at the sorta questioning look Glass gives me. She seriously doesn't think this is for real does she?

Its too bad its not cos I could think of more fun things for myself to ask for. Especially if its only a dream. Nobody has to know and its not hurting anyone, right? "And the person who takes the potion remembers the dream, right?" Kind of a dumb question cos if they didn't, what would be the point? "What about if your dream is about someone you know? Would they be in the dream too?" Would be nice to see Lucien happy again.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"How long're you thinking t'stay in town? Could well speak for your having drink, but if you're more or less than wintering here, drink alone'd mismatch a quiet day."

"That I will play by ear, as they say," I smile. "See how the trade treats me, yes? If it's good, I'll stay a while. This is a hard time of year for a man of my years to be walking."

She looks at me over her glass. Not stupid, Gaueko's whelp.

"What happens t'folk who trade you their dreams? Have they memory of a memory, or d'you only take impression, or is it gone entire from their minds?"

"They sell it wholesale it comes out brighter, and I pay a higher coin," I say. "But if they'd keep the shape of it, I can ask for something thinner. But people like to buy dreams best that have a weight to them."

"And the person who takes the potion remembers the dream, right? What about if your dream is about someone you know? Would they be in the dream too?"

"Remember it they will," I say with a nod. "And as for dreaming of friends, why that depends on whether what you're wanting is a daydream or a short but sweet reality," I say. "I can give you a fantasy to think on, and your friend can be as real in that as your own self, but it will only be a dream. But if you want a dream come walking, then for a friend to be in that asks a higher price. It's a harder magic."

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

Lays out the weight of dreams, what's taken, and words sifting into shape like sand falling to dry roses, bury husks. "And the other side of it?" I say thoughtful. "What you take, dreamt full and fine weight... there trace of the dreamer settling on the drinker?" Can hear the calm in my voice, steady and smooth as winter horizon.

"And the person who takes the potion remembers the dream, right?" Lannie says intent. "What about if your dream is about someone you know? Would they be in the dream too?"

"Depends on who," I say in soft aside, and the stem of the glass is thin as a child's rib in my fingers. Lannie's speaking more of dreams asleep, play-acts in the mind, gives chance to draw in others. Leave Uri answer the matter and hold myself still and steady. Hardly the idea of speaking with another in dream rather than waking that gives me pause, but the other...

[melania-lowell.livejournal.com]

"Depends on who," Glass says softly. I glance at her, feeling my head tilt. I don't get what she means by 'depends on who'. The way Uri's talking, it'll work on anyone. If it works at all. "And as for dreaming of friends, why that depends on whether what you're wanting is a daydream or a short but sweet reality,"

Sweet reality? Remembering a dream is one thing, and its cool, but actually making it for real? Sometimes a dream is enough. I shrug, "Not really a fantasy, I want to give them something to think on." I've already seen Lucien happy, and I hope he still is, but a lot of shit's gone down too. I could probably help without a dream, but it seems like it might be a safer place? Fleas aren't gonna teach John anything, unless we could make him dream about him getting dumped and having fleas or mange. That idea bring another smile to my face. Wish I could see that dream.

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

The bone splinters easily between my teeth, and I lap at the rich marrow as the conversation goes on above me. It's somehow deeply amusing that both my Glass and the wolf girl picked me out so easily, but now they're bartering with Sugaar like he's any common merchant. Just picturing the look on their faces if they realized who he was makes my tail wag.

He suggests drink as payment...or food for me (and I sigh again as his hand brushes my head)...and then dreams in trade, of course. And I can see them both thinking of it. The wolf girl in particular. My tail brushes the floor again, and I roll over, the faithful pet asking for a belly rub. This is really just too fucking funny.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"What you take, dreamt full and fine weight... there trace of the dreamer settling on the drinker?"

"Good questions you ask, Mistress Beddau," I say. "The kind to alarm a salesman, in truth, but I have always appreciated curiosity." I raise my glass to her. "It's hard to rid a dream entire of its owner, but I do what I can. No man, nor woman either, wants to feel he's wearing shop-soiled goods. If it's secondhand it should be clean, you understand?"

"Not really a fantasy, I want to give them something to think on."

"Ah, a gift for a friend, I mark you," I say, nodding. "Yes, it could be done." I finish my stew. "Think on it, mistresses. I will be in a town a score of days, I warrant, business proving good. Ease my bones until the snow thins some." I put coin down on the table for the meal, and then I take out two very small vials, each containing a thimbleful of liquid, one pink, one pale green. "Take those as a taster, for your hospitality and your curiosity. The pink is a dream of cherry blossom, and the spring shade is the memory of walking into a cool shaded pool on a hot day." I smile. "Only enough there to last a few moments, friends, but the quality is good." I stand up. "Come, Rollo," I say. "We should be away. Good night to you," I say to the women.

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"Good questions you ask, Mistress Beddau. The kind to alarm a salesman, in truth, but I have always appreciated curiosity," and I smile faint. Can serve him well enough on that end, surely. "It's hard to rid a dream entire of its owner, but I do what I can... If it's secondhand it should be clean, you understand?"

"Oh," I say, and distant I know I could hear a shattered absence if I tried, and my voice continues pleasant calm, "I mind that, yes. And I do weigh your honesty in making mention, and thank you for it." Find the smile's slipped and manage it again, and there're no teeth to it either. And think of the bowl of my glass broken and the sharded end stabbing down, driven into the fur of his belly, black blood welling around obsidian like rot from a spade-split shroud. Talk of dreams, that's one's come on particular sharp.

Oh, Shuck, you'd bring even faint aside of that at me, after, after-- - -
I would have your heart torn and bled.

Gift for a friend and revenge and swear I'm not following the matter of what Lannie wants, I ought sort that out a moment, if only to warn her off a target particular for revenge. Uri nods and excuses himself, coin set down and bottles gathered up, and two thin blades of glass set down by way of parting thanks and maybe word to be spread for aught he might be trading... can do worse in town than have a bartender speaking well of your goods, after all. "Come, Rollo. We should be away. Good night to you."

"T'you as well," I say, lifting my glass to him, "and safe travels."

Look to Lannie, then; hardly as if I can tell which dream is which in the black moment. "Take your pick," I say, "I've minded both, it's of a balance to me." Thoughts of a dream stripped clean's mixing in my mind with late spring and rough fabric and scrubbing mending piecing clothes until fingers bled. Never minded the work. If it's secondhand it should be clean.

[melania-lowell.livejournal.com]

Gaueko's looking at Uri, tail wagging like mad, scent happy. It makes me feel a little sick, and all I wanna do is grab the old man and run upstairs just to get him away. I take a sip of my whiskey to hide my glare. You're still a jerk, I don't care how cute you can make....

...He rolls over and exposes his belly to Uri. I try not to laugh and my drink goes down wrong. Now I'm covering my nose and mouth, trying not to choke. Fuck it burns.

"Ah, a gift for a friend, I mark you," I say, nodding. "Yes, it could be done."

Smiling behind my hands, I nod. "'K," I say in a tight rasp and almost laugh again. I'm glad Glass wishes Uri a good night cos I can't get my voice to come out as anything but a rasping whine and all I can do is smile and wave. They're gone by the time I finally catch my breath and I take a deep drink to clear my throat.

"Take your pick, I've minded both, it's of a balance to me."

Swiping one of the little bottles off the table I turn it in my hand. I didn't catch what he said about which is which. This one's warm and green. Stuffing it in my pocket, I pick up the dishes and set them on the bar, turning back to Glass. "I'm sorry, Glass, but your Dad's an ass. Family time for you must've been a bitch when you were a kid," I say and shake my head. I pull the little bottle back out and look at it. "You think he's for real?"

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

Rubbing my hand 'cross my eyes as the Shuck leaves, and the night's bleeding out of the room, dim light coming back and all the shades of rot silting out of my glass. Still not minded for the taste of it, and push it aside as Lannie speaks.

"I'm sorry, Glass, but your Dad's an ass. Family time for you must've been a bitch when you were a kid," and I sigh, rubbing my hand 'cross my eyes and looking up t'see her looking at a greened slip of a vial. Catch up the pink one and leave it in a pocket. "You think he's for real?"

"May well enough be," I say absent, "sure it's rather early t'be making claims can't pass if he's after staying 'round a fortnight or so. Any case," I add, lifting my head a little, "my mam was my parent and raised me, and've no father to speak-- wait, what?" Play out her words again and yes, I heard them aright. "Care t'have you speak more on that, Lannie."

[melania-lowell.livejournal.com]

I nod in agreement at what she says about him being for real or not. Too early to tell right now.

"my mam was my parent and raised me, and've no father to speak-- wait, what? "Care t'have you speak more on that, Lannie."

Fuck.

"Uhm... Which part?" I ask, chewing on my lower lip a little bit. "You know Iago and I ran into him at the WhiteChapel, right?" I hope he told her about that and its okay that I know. Or is it the how I know?

Shit, shit, shit.

I'll play dumb and leave it there. Hope I get lucky. Should've asked if he had anything for luck. Taking a big swallow of my drink, I smile and try to shrug it off. I never forget and do or say anything weird.Normal just like everyone else. Yep, we saw him at the WhiteChapel, simple as that.

Yep. I'm so screwed.

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"Uhm... Which part?" and catching some nerve in that, and fair enough that any who knows aught of me'n him can catch it's not a warm subject, but... "You know Iago and I ran into him at the WhiteChapel, right?"

"Heard mention of that, yes, fine," I say, waving it aside and leaning forward a little. "The part where you're after speaking of him t'me now, as one who only just left." Aright, I c'n tell and that's fine, but the shape of him aside shadows and night... that wasn't the gwyllgi, and even if it was, Iago said the Shuck was in the shape of a man when he came at them in the Whitechapel.

[melania-lowell.livejournal.com]

Let out a held breath and relax a little knowing that she doesn't care that I know. I have my own secrets. Don't wanna be spilling anyone elses just cos I can't watch what I .....

The part where you're after speaking of him t'me now, as one who only just left."

Oh fuck me.

Its one thing I like about her though. She's sharp and keeps Iago and that Dorian guy on their toes. I,however, take another big swallow of my drink. Not stalling, its just my throat feels dry. Okay, so I'm stalling. And now my glass is drained. How the fuck am I supposed to explain this?

I start off slow and quiet. "I... uhm... I can ...I am ... I can ..." I can what. I feel like I'm trying to dodge bullets here. Smell him? Not only does that sound gross, but its weird. "It was the dog," I say quickly. "It reminded me that I meant to offer my condolences for what you have to go through." What she said about him, sounds like we agree at least and maybe she'd understand better than some...

"He also smelled the same," I add in a lowered tone. "Didn't you notice it too?" She's got half his blood, wouldn't she at least get some of his powers? Not sure how that whole thing works. At least heightened senses aren't so unique in this place with walking gods. I chew on my lip again, waiting for her reply (http://community.livejournal.com/estdeus_innobis/346368.html).

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

Sugaar sets two bottles on the bar, one the soft green of new glass, the other the colour of raw, torn flesh. Dreams, one for each of them, of flowers and cool water. My tongue lolls from my mouth as I grin. "Come, Rollo. We should be away. Good night to you," he says to the women before standing. I heave myself to my feet with a sigh that speaks of creaking bones, and I follow him out. But not before I see the sharp grin on my Glass' face, and the blood behind her eyes. Maybe someday, my Glass. Maybe. But I doubt it. And then the door is swinging shut behind us.

I wait until we're a full street away, the path shadowy and deserted, before I change, strolling alongside him with my hands in my pockets. "Well, that was fun," I say, grinning. "So busy looking at me that they hardly noticed you. I almost wanted to spill the beans just to see the looks on their faces." Not that I would have.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

Gaueko follows at my heels as we walk out into the night, and then he shifts into his man form.

"So busy looking at me that they hardly noticed you. I almost wanted to spill the beans just to see the looks on their faces."

"An interesting night it was," I agree, and then I shake myself out of this body and into another, the gloaming-pale girl form. I do not want Uri seen with Gaueko yet, and I know this fragile body holds pleasant memories for Gaueko. "It has been some time since I saw you, friend," I say, voice now light and sweet, body swathed in a heavy coat.

[gaueko-erebus.livejournal.com]

The skin pales and smooths, the bones shorten and thin, the hair lengthens and darkens. And now walking beside me is the pale, toylike dogsbody that we played with so many months ago. Just the scent of it makes my cock stiffen.

Sugaar tells me it's been a long time, and I nod. "Kaixo aspaldiko," I say in agreement. "But then, you've been busy. Bored with the redhead yet?". I wonder if he's killed her yet. I doubt it. If that was all he'd wanted her for he'd have done it long ago.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"But then, you've been busy. Bored with the redhead yet?"

I smile and turn around in the snow, putting my small hands up to Gaueko's lapels.

"Oh, dear friend," I say with a little laugh, "did you ever think I was interested in her for herself? If the fate-god had not barred you from seeing her," and here I raise my eyebrows a little to let him know what I think of that, "you would already have smelled out my purpose, unless you are less of a dog than I thought."

I link my arm in his, and we keep walking.

"And what have you been doing with yourself?" I ask. "Are you still grooming that girl to be your priestess?"