... there is no sin but innocence.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

Childhood: The period of human life intermediate between the idiocy of infancy and the folly of youth -- two removes from the sin of manhood and three from the remorse of age.

- Ambrose Bierce

Tuesday afternoon, the carnival

As it turned out I was glad to have seen Wanda. The Kent body can please her easily enough, and although now I have conquered her the game has gone out of it, a span of a few hours of copulating and making conversation are insignificant in my greater schemes. I left her sated and no longer furious with me, which is well. She needs to keep content enough to bear my child, and I would rather she lived afterward, for I have no interest in raising her baby. There are cults enough that would be glad of the honour, but my worshippers do tend toward the volatile. And besides, mother knows best, humans are so insistent on that. Better that Wanda stay healthy in body and well enough in mind to look after our daughter, and once she is raised enough -

I smile as I slip into the little girl body with which I spoke to Gaueko. Then, indeed, we shall see.

Although my fury with Tezcatlipoca has not abated, I have now put it deep inside me. There is no risk of holocaust, now, if I see him, and I find myself in the mood for mischief. Cruelty to humans is always a pleasure, and after -

Now I find I crave it particularly. Nothing of blood or bone, no. I want something more delicate than that. And so I put on this little doll body, such a perfect child. I even give it a heart that beats, so that if someone should press this child body to them they will hear its comforting thump. But the body I keep as a shell. I have no desire for the putrescence of shitting sweating Man to be about me. This heart might as well be clockwork, these limbs porcelain, for all the feeling they have for me. And yet to the touch its skin is as soft as any child's and as warm.

If a job is not well done, better not to do it at all. I have a pleasure in my own perfection.

I dress this body in a red coat and striped dress. Her long socks have rolled down enough to show a scab on one knee. I walk this body across to the carnival, where it looks thoughtfully at the rides, hands in its pockets, a small dab of chocolate at the corner of its mouth.

I am sure it will make new friends.

[closed]

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[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

As it is Tuesday and there are no events in the church, I decide to go for a walk. I fasten my coat against the chill that still hangs in the February air. It is afternoon and everyone is working or playing, or both. As I walk, I fancy I can hear Cain working in his shop--although I am not sure if that is possible from where I am. After a while, I find myself passing Ms. Bathory's house, or Maryk's house, or...I admit, I have no idea of what to call it.

My feet follow the path and bring me across the bridge, close to the carnival. I wonder, then, how Zann is doing and if she is about. A smile comes to my lips. I should have come sooner for a visit. With new purpose to my step, I enter the carnival.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

I recognise this one as the preacher. He worships a simulacrum of my Adversary, and so it pleases me to toy with him. I skip lightly across the midway, and I bump into him.

"Oh, I'm sorry mister," I say, looking up at him with a wide open expression.

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

I start in surprise when someone bumps into me. I look down to see a small child.

"Oh, I'm sorry mister," she says and I give her a smile.

"Don't worry about it. Are you alright?" I ask, and let me eyes go around the carnival. I do not see anyone looking for her, so I kneel down. "Where are your parents?"

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

He is concerned for the child, of course.

"My daddy's dead," I say, matter-of-factly. "Mama gave me a dollar and told me to go have fun. She's got things to do. Where are your parents?"

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

Both of my eyebrows raise in surprise. I do not even have a moment to express condolences for her loss when she moves on.

"Mama gave me a dollar and told me to go have fun. She's got things to do. Where are your parents?" I chuckle lightly, partly to cover my shock. Children, like adults, have interesting ways of dealing with things.

"They are dead, as well. I am sorry for your loss."

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

He looks a little awkward. I believe he is not used to dealing with children, which is all the better.

"They are dead, as well. I am sorry for your loss."

I wrinkle my forehead at him.

"I didn't lose him. I know right where he is. He's buried behind our apple tree," I say. "Are you sad your parents are dead? Does that mean you have to live on your own?" I tug my hat down over my ears. "What's your name? I'm Esther."

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

I smile.

"Yes, that is a strange thing to say, isn't it? I am glad he isn't lost, too."

"Are you sad your parents are dead? Does that mean you have to live on your own?" I think Kate would do better with all these questions than I--and likely know who this child is--but she, of course, is not here and I must make do.

"I am sad about it sometimes, yes, and that's alright. But it has been many years. I lived on my own before they died."

"What's your name? I'm Esther." The idea that she must work for the newspaper is silly because of her age, but really they should consider her when she is older.

"My name is Laurence. It is a pleasure to meet you," I say and offer my hand.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"I am sad about it sometimes, yes, and that's alright. But it has been many years. I lived on my own before they died."

"You did?" I say. "How come? Didn't they want you around? Mama says sometimes if I keep bugging her she'll kick me out. I bet she would, too," I say, toeing the ground. "She thinks I'm weird." I look back at him, and he holds his hand out. I shake it with both of mine.

"Nice to meet you, Laurence. Do you like candy apples? I was going to buy one. I will buy you one if a dollar will go that far. I don't know how much they cost. Do you? And why aren't you at work? It's the daytime. Do you work at nighttime? My mama says people who work at nighttime are usually thieves and whores. Whores have sex for money, did you know?" I say earnestly. "Let's go to the stall with candy apples."

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

"You did? How come? Didn't they want you around? Mama says sometimes if I keep bugging her she'll kick me out. I bet she would, too," She toes the ground. "She thinks I'm weird." My brow furrows and I frown a little.

"Sometimes," I say with a light sigh, "we say things that we don't really mean when we are upset. I am sure your mother doesn't really mean that." I study her. She seems well enough--not injured at all, and certainly not fearful. "My parents did want me around, but I needed to go my own way," I tell her, lying only a little. "But I was much older than you when that happened."

"Nice to meet you, Laurence. Do you like candy apples? I was going to buy one. I will buy you one if a dollar will go that far. I don't know how much they cost. Do you? And why aren't you at work? It's the daytime. Do you work at nighttime? My mama says people who work at nighttime are usually thieves and whores. Whores have sex for money, did you know? Let's go to the stall with candy apples." I raise my eyebrows in surprise again at the flurry of questions. It almost leaves me reeling.

"Yes, I did know that. I work mostly during the weekends, but I try to be available all the time. You are a very bright girl, Esther." I stand and let her lead the way to the candy apple stand. "You spend your money on you," I tell her. "I'll get my own, though, so you are not eating alone." I do hope her mother comes looking for her. It seems odd for Esther to be out alone for as long as she'd like.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Sometimes we say things that we don't really mean when we are upset. I am sure your mother doesn't really mean that."

He has given me a perfect opportunity, of course. Humans are easy to play.

"Oh, she did mean it. She says it a lot, because - " I stop and put my hand over my mouth, like I have been caught saying something I should not. "I'm not supposed to talk about why I'm strange," I say, hand still over my mouth.

We go over to the stall.

"It's nice to eat with friends," I say happily. "Can we be friends? I've never had a grown up friend before." I take a bite out of my apple. In this doll mouth it tastes of nothing. "What's your job?"

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

"Alright," I say although I am concerned and a bit curious. "No cause for trouble." I offer her a smile.

"I would like to be friends," I tell her and take a bite of the candied apple in my hand, considering how best to answer her question. "I run a church," I tell her. "Kind of like Nanshe's church. Have you been there?"

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Alright," he says, but I can tell his curiosity is piqued.

"I would like to be friends," he says, and I smile at him with a mouth full of apple.

"I run a church. Kind of like Nanshe's church. Have you been there?"

I shake my head.

"Mama says people who believe in gods are stupid because they just want fairy stories to be real. But," I say, and I lower my voice, "I know gods are real. I've seen them." I tilt my head. "Which god is your favourite?"

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

"Mama says people who believe in gods are stupid because they just want fairy stories to be real." It is not an uncommon thought, and even if I had a counter to it, I would not have time to say it for Esther marches on. "But," she says, lowering her voice so that I must stoop slightly in order to hear her, "I know gods are real. I've seen them." There is logic in that, her having seen at least one when there are so many here, but for someone so young and innocent to be aware of them strikes me as sad. They can't even leave children out of their Hellish games. "Which god is your favourite?" she asks me earnestly and I blink.

I should, by all rights, say my own God or at least His Son, but I think that she means which is my favourite of the ones that I have met and truly I have not met my God nor His Son personally, so I say, "Well, Lúgh was quite pleasant." I don't mention Nanshe, for although I met her and found her to be the most pleasant, it wasn't a physical meeting and I find myself quite unprepared to discuss meetings with gods in the spirit realm, or whatever they call it, with a precocious child such as Esther.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Well, Lúgh was quite pleasant."

I fold my arms.

"He wasn't," I say, childish lip stuck out. "He killed his wife. I saw it. I knew it was going to happen but Mama said I was lying and gave me a whipping." My lip wobbles. "But I know things about people. I see -" And then I stop myself and look at the ground.

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

I start to nod, conceding the point rather than argue and introduce unpleasant details, when she says, "But I know things about people. I see -" She stops and looks down at the ground. I frown a little, and glance about.

"See what?" I ask casually, trying not to sound like she's some carnival freak nor like I am uninterested.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"I see..." I pause and chew my lip. "I guess we're friends so it's okay if I tell you. I see things before they happen sometimes. Or I see things people have done." I look up at him. "Bad things." My lip wobbles. "I don't like it. Mama told me no one can do that and I shouldn't lie. But I think she does believe me really and that's what she thinks I'm weird." I scuff my foot along the ground. "Most people call me a liar though if I tell them. Even if they were supposed to be my friend. Or they get mad because I saw secret things about them."

I am quite sure he will wonder if Esther has seen any of his secrets.

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

I try hard not too put any interpretation on her looking at me before saying "bad things."

"....Or they get mad because I saw secret things about them." And what bad, secret things do you see about me, Child? I can only imagine. I do not want to know, I think.

"I am sorry that you have suffered for your gift," I tell her and try to put the questions and worries from my mind. There is much of me to see--I would like to think she would see the good things if she saw anything in me at all.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"I am sorry that you have suffered for your gift," he says, and I smile up at him guilelessly.

"That's very nice of you," I say. "I guess that means we really are friends. I'm sorry you were so sad about that blonde lady," I add. "I guess she wasn't a very nice friend to you. But you shouldn't worry so much about her." I reach up and put an apple-sticky hand in his.

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

"....I'm sorry you were so sad about that blonde lady," she says. It takes all of my will to not back away. "I guess she wasn't a very nice friend to you. But you shouldn't worry so much about her." She reaches up and places her hand in mind. All I can think is how awful her mother has been to her, and that there are much worse things that she could have seen. Esther is looking up at me with expectation, so I cannot continue my stunned silence.

"Thank you," I say and give her a smile. "I will try not to." I do not wish to argue whether Kate is a good friend or not. I have not seen her in a while, but we have both been busy.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Thank you. I will try not to."

I smile up at him sweetly.

"That's good. It's not your fault, you know, that she didn't want to go to bed with you. I know grown ups like to do that," I say importantly, as if imparting a great secret. "She lives with a lady with lots of brown hair. I guess she prefers having girl friends. If the blonde lady isn't your girlfriend any more," I add, brightly, "maybe I can be. Can I?"

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

I start to speak, but my voice catches in my throat. Kate is living with someone. A...a woman.

"Yes," I manage finally, "I suppose she does." Then I give Esther an indulgent smile. "I think perhaps you should find a boy friend your own age. I'm afraid I am not that interesting."

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

It is no great thing to hurt this man, but it is satisfying enough. I am not above being petty from time to time.

"I think perhaps you should find a boy friend your own age. I'm afraid I am not that interesting."

"I think you're very interesting," I say, and I smile at him. "But I guess maybe I'm too young for you. I can't have babies yet. How come you don't have any babies? Most grown ups I know have them. Don't you like them?"

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

"I like babies well enough," I say with a chuckle. "I just never had any." My shoulders lift in a shrug. Not much in life has gone like I wanted--but, I remind myself, I am imperfect and do not know what would be best for me. Of course, perhaps the L allowed me to mess up my life as I saw fit. It happened before. "Your mother must be starting to miss you, Esther." I am suddenly very tired. "Shall I see you home?"

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

His mood has sunk into self-reflective disappointment, and that pleases me.

"Your mother must be starting to miss you, Esther. Shall I see you home?"

"Oh, no," I say. "She says I shouldn't talk to strangers so she might get cross with you. She wouldn't understand we're friends." I smile at him conspiratorially, and then I hug his leg. "Bye Laurence. Maybe I'll come by your church some day." I skip off down the midway, smiling to myself.

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

"Of course," I say, although I think that letting her wander alone conflicts with being angry about someone seeing her home, but I keep the thought to myself.

"Bye Laurence. Maybe I'll come by your church some day." She hugs my leg and skips off.

"Goodbye," I say a bit distantly, then take a deep breath and head back to the church. I suppose my break is over.