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estdeus_innobis2010-04-14 06:27 pm
al-shairan.livejournal.com) wrote in estdeus_innobis2010-04-14 06:27 pm
Scars are tattoos with better stories.
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]
no subject
...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?"
no subject
"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."
no subject
"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.
no subject
"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.
no subject
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).