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

[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?"