Streaks of light on the graveyard walk / Your bright star was crashing

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

Thursday, February 18th
The Carnival

It's been four days.

I went straight to Genny, after. Hardly even noticed the filthy or surprised looks from people on the lot. But her mother had taken her out for a walk, and if I had to wait there I was going to break into pieces, in a way that'd be fucking dangerous for the people around me.

Not going there again.

Dragged myself to my old apartment like some kind of wounded animal, and just curled up around my grief. Still lightly enough in this body and this world that the passing of time got blurred, and when I finally sat up I felt weak and sick. More important things to worry about, though, because Genny.

Feels I've been here so many times, at her door. Knock and there's no answer, so I let myself in.

[Open to Genny]

Comments

[genny-duvall.livejournal.com]

Wanna go back to see the baby planet.

I know it's there. I can feel it in me around me everywhere. It's prettier there. It's real. Don't wanna stay here where it's cold'n tired! Momma even made me go outside and it's cold there! All gray'n borin'. Wanna go back where the colors are! Momma made me wrap up alla the cuts I made, too. Don't matter. I'll just make more.

I'm painting' better colors too. Makin' new ones. Looks almost like it did where the baby planet lives. Fingerpaintin's fun. Giggle.

Made a new animal, too. Don't know what it was but it was purple'n green. It run 'round for a while'n then fall down'n then I cried. Momma didn't know why I was cryin' so hard. She still don't. Couldn't tell her. Forgot the words when I went to say 'em. Had to paint stars all night so's I'd feel better.

Gotta paint somethin' else. Gotta make somethin' real. Squish my fingers through the paint, all purple'n green. Maybe I can make another animal like the other one.

Ohhhhhh wait. There's somethin' else. Somethin' pullin' me. Ohhhhhhhhhhh. He's coming he's coming he's coming!

"Tezcatlipoca," I whisper, and I smile.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

I open the door, and she's there smiling, paint all over her hands, but it's nothing like it used to be. The smile's wrong, and she's playing in the paint like a baby.

"Tezcatlipoca."

"Hey, kiddo." My throat's dry; my voice comes out scratchy. The memories from the last time I saw her are sharper than I'd like. I want to go across and hug her, but I remember holding her and licking the tears from her face as I took her mind further away from itself.

I've done terrible things before. Worse than this. But with the trust she put in me -

"How're you feeling?"

[genny-duvall.livejournal.com]

"I'm okay." Guess I am? Head hurts when I try to think too much. Don't wanna think. Just wanna paint.

"See what I made?" He's so big, over there across the room. "I made a new thing. It's 'round here somewhere…"

Somethin's wrong. Somethin' don't feel right. Colors're all wrong when I look at him…

"Why're you sad? Come see what I made! Can we go see the baby planet? Tezcatlipoca…" Other words're hard sometimes but that one's easy. Can't forget that one.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

She's all wrong. "Why're you sad? Come see what I made! Can we go see the baby planet? Tezcatlipoca…" I come over and put my hand gently on her shoulder, and I can feel it, everything wrenched apart in her.

I can't fix this. I don't even know where to start. Syl's always told me one day I'd fuck things up badly enough that I couldn't fix them, and now this, and Iblis. I close my eyes briefly, up above her where she can't see. Thought of seeing Syl makes it worse.

"No, honey, not now." Have to do something about whatever the fuck it is she made out there, too, in the place where we were. Fuck. "How about we get you cleaned up a bit?" Her arms are covered in bandages, worse than they've ever been. I can feel the pounding draw of her blood, the want in me, and I push it down.

"You're all over paint. When did you last change your clothes?" Does she even have any sense of time passing, the state she's in. Fuck. Fuck. Oh, Genny.

[genny-duvall.livejournal.com]

"No, honey, not now."

"Why not? Please? I wanna!"

And then there's touching rushing stars and blood pounding with his hand on my shoulder and his blood near mine and there are stars and I can see them and nothing else, world going gray around me…

"How about we get you cleaned up a bit? You're all over paint. When did you last change your clothes?"

Why's he askin' 'bout that? "Dunno. Don't matter." Matters to him. I'll try for him…try to think…

…head hurts. "Dunno. Don't 'member." Head hurts. Whimper.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

"Dunno. Don't matter. Dunno. Don't 'member." She makes a noise like a kitten in pain, and there is a sharp clench in my chest.

"C'mon, kid," I say gently. Speak to her as if she was a child, though even as a child she wasn't like this. "You got water? Somewhere I can heat it?" Will have to go out and find it myself, otherwise. Don't think that'll get oil paint off, anyway: "Spirit or something, to get rid of this paint?"

Pick up the cleanest rag I can find and dab at her face, smoothing green paint away. "You're not right, honey," I say quietly, and I run my thumb over her cheekbone. It hurts, to see her like this. I remember her running off stage when she was just a little thing, remember showing her tricks, and -

"I promise," I say, still quiet but intense, "I promise I'll find a way to fix this, Genny. To put this right. Whatever it takes."

And I mean that, though the thought of what it might mean is heavy in my gut. Whatever it takes.

[genny-duvall.livejournal.com]

"C'mon, kid. You got water? Somewhere I can heat it?"

Water? Gotta be here somewhere. Head hurts… "Think so. Don't 'member." Water. "Thirsty. Can I have a drink?"

I can paint water. I can make the ripples look like they're real. I can make them move.

He's touchin' me, his hand on my face and a cloth next to it. Can't see nothin' but I know where he is. Can feel his hand movin' like it's mine.

"Spirit or something, to get rid of this paint?"

No. He don't want water to drink. Wants it to clean. "Um." Tryin' to think. Wanna think for him. I'll make you things, Tezcatlipoca. I'll make you pictures and worlds and thoughts. So hard to push the thoughts out. So hard… "Corner! Cleanin' stuff's in the corner."

"You're not right, honey. I promise. I promise I'll find a way to fix this, Genny. To put this right. Whatever it takes."

Hurts so much I'm cryin' now. Put my head down on his chest. Hope my head won't break if I move it. "Make my head not hurt? Make the colors come back?" He's gonna fix it. He's gonna make things better. Tezcatlipoca, making and fixing…