in the gloaming

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

The thin hours before dawn, Tuesday 23 March

Excolo has been still these past weeks. Around the feast of Lupercalia there was a small ripple of unsettled dreams, dreams of desire and frustration and longing, but they passed. Some magic there, of a tainted sort, but a small kind, passing out of mind. But for all the quiet I think that something new has come to be. That Wanda has had her child I now know, infant glimpsed in dreams. The child herself has started dreaming. I have gazed into them, but not crossed the threshold. I do not yet know how much of her mind her father watches. Like most infants, her dreams are all noise and colour, no narrative - but there are things I glimpse in the dreams that no infant should know. Things of shadow and of light.

I create another crossroads, but this one is a room with staircases that will serve as paths. A rug lies in the centre of a tea room, and on the rug stands a table crowned with flowers. There are smaller tables nearby laid with napkins and silver, and I seat myself at one of them, pouring tea into a china cup. It is amber and smells of faraway. Perhaps someone will come and drink with me.

[open]

Comments

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

It seems darker in the manor today, like the sun will never show it's brilliance again. Tempermental London weather, sunny one moment, dark the next. With a sigh, I smooth out my skirts, and go to find Albert. It must be near tea time, and spending it with him always makes any gloomy day a delight. I wander down the long main hall, thinking that we may have an hour to ourselves before it's time for me to nurse...

It is not the manor. I look around and blink, wondering how it came to be that I am here? I was just... and my gown has been replaced with something much more comfortable (http://www.amazon.com/Green-Designer-Embroidered-Saree-Party/dp/B002YVJWYI/), even if it's rather... exotic.

It is a lovely room though, warm and inviting, and it smells of tea and incense. I wander in slowly, looking about at the people passing by and sitting to take tea. I spy a rather lovely woman sitting on her own, and there's something about her. I approach tentatively and give her a small smile.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

The room shifts a little, growing warmer, scent of saffron and sandalwood on the air, and my clothes shift too so that I am wearing a beautiful sari (http://www.rathicreations.com/store/item.asp?icode=SLSKL630), heavy with beads and gold thread. The silk rustles as I pour tea.

"Wanda," I say as she comes in. "You're just in time for a fresh cup."

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

The striking woman smiles at me like we are old friends. I cannot place her, but she obviously knows me, for she calls me by name and invites me to join her for tea.

"Tea would be lovely, thank you." I say gratefully, sinking into a seat opposite her. She pours and I struggle to remember which society function I may have seen her at... but I am drawing a blank. I do not ever recall being in this particular tea house, either.

"I must beg your pardon. It seems you know who I am, but I cannot place you." I say apologetically as she passes me a cup. "Truth be told, I don't even know where I am. It seems I got turned around a bit." Laugh a little to cover my embarassment

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"We met at your grandmother's house, my dear," I say gently, and pour her a cup of tea. "You're at my club, the Crossroads. It's a charming place, don't you think?" I smile and pass her a dish of scones. "You're recovering well after the baby," I say to her. "What did you call your daughter in the end?"

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

The Lady does not give me her name, but reminds me of where we met. I struggle to recall, for we all lived in a brownstone... but I can also recall a small cottage at the edge of the dunes, the sea sighing behind it. But it was not Grandmother's house... it was...

"Godmother?" I inquire softly, my lips quirking up into a smile.

"You're at my club, the Crossroads. It's a charming place, don't you think?" I accept theplate and look about. "Indeed it is. Quite opulent, yet welcoming at the same time."

"You're recovering well after the baby, what did you call your daughter in the end?"

Nod as I take a bite, then wipe the corners of my mouth. "Remarkably well, better than I probably should be. I have her to thank for that, I suppose." I say with a wry grin. "And her name is Rose. It's funny, I had a list of names three pages long and it never crossed my mind to call her that but as soon as I laid my eyes on her..." Laugh a little, realizing I am gushing on as only a new mother can. "Anyway, her name is Rose and she is beautiful. Have you seen her?" I ask, tilting my head a bit in curiosity.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"Godmother?" She's beginning to remember. I prefer to let dreamers remember slowly, let the dream unfold more naturally, and so I just nod and smile at her. Wanda talks enthusiastically about her daughter and I keep smiling.

"Rose is a pretty name," I say. "I'm sure she's a beautiful child. I've caught glimpses of her," I add. "But not made her acquaintance. I hope to meet her some day." I sip my tea. "What did you mean, you have your daughter to thank for your health?"

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

I all but beam at the woman I've come to call Godmother as she speaks of Rose. "Oh, she is quite lovely with a mop of dark hair and green eyes. You are always welcome to come visit her. She really seems to enjoy meeting people, and she is so clever! But then again... I may be biased." I laugh, then sip my tea.

"What did you mean, you have your daughter to thank for your health?"

Oh... well. I set my tea cup down and push a fall of hair from my face. "Childbirth did not agree with my body. There was a problem, nothing that could be predicted early or helped. But... I was... I died." Grow quiet for a moment, then continue. "Apparently, Rose did not like the idea of my leaving her, so she healed me. I am not sure how, after all, she was only born moments before but... but it was her." Smile a little. "Told you she was clever."

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"Oh, she is quite lovely with a mop of dark hair and green eyes. You are always welcome to come visit her. She really seems to enjoy meeting people, and she is so clever! But then again... I may be biased."

"What do you think her father would say about me visiting?" I ask, and although my smile does not slip my eyes are serious. "Perhaps I will wait until Rose is old enough to seek me out herself." That may not be so very old.

"Apparently, Rose did not like the idea of my leaving her, so she healed me. I am not sure how, after all, she was only born moments before but... but it was her. Told you she was clever."

"The power to heal is a great gift," I say. "And it can also be a burden." I sip my tea. "Has your husband told you any of what he thinks Rose might be able to do?"

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

Godmother seems very concerned about what Rose's father would think about her visiting Rose's dreams. She is still smiling, but it's grown a bit distant. "I am not sure. He himself does not sleep, so I do not think he dreams. It might not even occur to him to wonder about what his daughter dreams of." Or care. "But do what you think is best." I add with an incline of my head to show respect for someone wiser than I. I will have to share what I can remember of Godmother with Rose though, just so she know's who the lovely lady is in case she visits my daughter.

I return to my tea as Godmother continues on. "The power to heal is a great gift, and it can also be a burden." I smile a little, thinking of Lucien. "So I've come to understand." I murmur.

"Has your husband told you any of what he thinks Rose might be able to do?"

Again, back to my husband. I study her over the rim of my cup, trying to puzzle this out. I had thought Godmother a figment of my imagination when I woke from the dream of the woods and the sea. Or perhaps the voice of my grandmother, or my own concious chiding me. But now...

Damien can walk into my dreams. As can Ares. So... who is this?

I realize I have been pondering too long and turn my mind back to the question. "No, he has not. He seem rather surprised by the fact she did that, and told me before she was born she would be special, but her gifts would remain to be seen. Truth be told, we have not seen him since the night she was born." I say offhandedly, feeling both grateful for his absence and saddened by it.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"I am not sure. He himself does not sleep, so I do not think he dreams. It might not even occur to him to wonder about what his daughter dreams of."

Perhaps; he's not omniscient, and I'm glad of that. But he is cunning.

Wanda watches me thoughtfully, and finally says:

"No, he has not. He seem rather surprised by the fact she did that, and told me before she was born she would be special, but her gifts would remain to be seen. Truth be told, we have not seen him since the night she was born."

"Then you will be father and mother both to the child," I say. "It seems to me a time to be used wisely, because now you have the opportunity to influence her without interference." I sip from my cup. "So your husband was there the night she was born," I say. "Did he not try to heal you?" I think the answer to that is obvious.

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

I nod in agreement with Godmother when she names me both father and mother to Rose.

"It seems to me a time to be used wisely, because now you have the opportunity to influence her without interference." Smile a little, despite the slight ache in my heart. "The situation is basically how I assumed it would be. Rose has not been asking for her father like she did before she was born, and I have not called for him either. The more time I have with her the better, you're right. But..." Sperad my hands in a helpless gesture. "I don't have a clue as to what I should do beside care for her and love her. What do you suggest, Godmother?" I ask, curious and more than a little lost. "I am not a god, nor gifted or powerful. How do I care for one such as she?"

"So your husband was there the night she was born. Did he not try to heal you?"

The small ache in my heart swells, but I keep it from overwhelming me. Manage a small, sad smile. "Of course not. We both know what he is, although I forget it too often, or keep hope beyond hope there is more..." Trail off for a moment to take a deep breath, and steel myself again. "My task had been completed." I continue, voice steady. "Why would it matter to him if I lived or not? thank the heaven's my Rose felt differently." My smile grows a touch warmer at that thought.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"I don't have a clue as to what I should do beside care for her and love her. What do you suggest, Godmother? I am not a god, nor gifted or powerful. How do I care for one such as she?"

"There's much you can teach her," I say, "and you'll do it well. But you're right, she's a special child. Perhaps you need to seek out people who can help influence her for good."

Wanda's face falls when she speaks of her husband, but she keeps calm.

"Why would it matter to him if I lived or not? thank the heaven's my Rose felt differently."

It's probably the wisest thing I've heard her say about her relationship.

"I'm sorry he can't be what you would like him to be," I say. "It is a horrible thing, to be disappointed by love. But I always found," I say with a smile, "being a mother more satisfying than being a wife, anyway." I refill our tea cups.

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

It makes me feel a little better to hear that Godmother has faith in my ability to guide her well.

"But you're right, she's a special child. Perhaps you need to seek out people who can help influence her for good." Think about that as I chew my bottom lip. My first thought is naturally of Miao, but we are not speaking. Or Ares or Lúgh, but they're gone now. "I will have to give some consideration as to whom they would be. Those I would have turned to..." Fiddle with my tea for a moment. "I'll have to think about it." Is what I settle on.

Godmother's voice is gentle when she speaks of Kent. "I'm sorry he can't be what you would like him to be, it is a horrible thing, to be disappointed by love." Smile a bit wryly, recalling Iago saying something similar to me only a few days ago, but it slips away as I recall Kent saying he also had been hurt by everyone he had ever loved. "And that's the way you know it was real, because only love hurts so terribly." I murmur, finishing off my cup of tea.

"But I always found, being a mother more satisfying than being a wife, anyway." She is smiling and refilling my cup, and I shake off my melancholy. "To be honest, I never considered myself 'mother material'." i confide, adding three lumps of sugar to my tea then offering her thesugar bowl. "I always considered myself the 'over-indulgent auntie' type." Laugh a little, thinking of Fiona. "Do you have children, Godmother?" I ask, curious.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"And that's the way you know it was real, because only love hurts so terribly."

I'm not sure that is true. Not romantic love, anyway. The love of family, of community, that is a gateway to grief beyond imagining. I've never had much patience for romance, though I loved my husband. Perhaps it is a failing in me, but I have little interest in that which is all inward-looking, as so much romantic love today seems to be.

"I'll have to think about it," she says about friends. I nod.

"Do," I say. "You'd be surprised how kind people can be when a child is involved."

"I always considered myself the 'over-indulgent auntie' type. Do you have children, Godmother?"

"I did," I say, smiling a little. "They were my joys. But I lost them long ago. It is a terrible thing, to outlive your children."

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

I can see that Godmother does not share my thoughts on love, but then again, I haven't found anyone that does. Perhaps I am just that odd, or there's something wrong with me... ah well. Not minded to plumb the depths of my emotional issues at this time.

She encourages me to seek out my friends. "You'd be surprised how kind people can be when a child is involved."

"I planned to bring her into the shoppe to meet the regulars later this week. Maybe we'll go by the Cafe and see how the general reception is there." I offer cautiously. Lucien hasn't even come to see her yet, so I am not sure how people would react if I showed up at their door, child in hand. Small steps, at first.

Godmother smiles when she speaks of her children, and I find my own smile matching hers but it slips when she speaks of losing them.

"I am sorry..." I breathe, and I think of Rose, and what I would do if, no. I cannot even bear the thought. "I do not think I could go on if I lost Rose." I admit quietly. "Was it hard, going on?"

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"I planned to bring her into the shoppe to meet the regulars later this week. Maybe we'll go by the Cafe and see how the general reception is there."

"I'm sure all your ladies will coo over her," I say with a smile.

"I do not think I could go on if I lost Rose. Was it hard, going on?"

"Oh, yes," I say. I stir my tea. "It is still hard. But I have too many duties; I can't give up. My life is not my own, not mine alone. It belongs to others, too, and so I endured, and endure, and I have joys and griefs that aren't about my children, and I have a life that continues on." I smile a little. "There are worse fates."

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

I laugh a little when Godmother mentions the regulars. "I will have to be careful that none of them try to sneak off with her!" I grin, shaking my head. "At least I will never want for a pair of hands to hold her for a moment."

Godmother admits that it was had to go on without her children, but there was nothing else for it. "My life is not my own, not mine alone. It belongs to others, too, and so I endured, and endure, and I have joys and griefs that aren't about my children, and I have a life that continues on. There are worse fates."

I grow quiet for a time, for there is something in that, something she is telling me. I sip my tea and think about Rose, and responsibility, and my life and where it is going.

As I finish my second cup, I am not sure I have come to any conclusions, but I know I have much more to think about. "It is always so interesting, having tea with you Godmother." I murmur, still half lost in thought.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"It is always so interesting, having tea with you Godmother."

I smile.

"The greatest gift Cinderella's godmother gave her wasn't the pumpkin coach - it was the ability to believe anything was possible. Nothing's set in stone, Wanda. You make your own destiny."

In the hall outside the tea room a clock chimes.

"I should go," I say. "But do stay and finish your tea. There's no sense in wasting it." I rise from my seat.

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

"The greatest gift Cinderella's godmother gave her wasn't the pumpkin coach - it was the ability to believe anything was possible. Nothing's set in stone, Wanda. You make your own destiny."

I am sorely tempted to make a shoe joke, but ... set in stone... A memorial with my name, and a smirking angel sitting sentinel. I am still here, and the stone did shatter.

I am still lost in thought when I hear a clock strike the hour. Godmother rises, excusing herself but bids me to stay and enjoy the rest of the pot of tea.

I rise as well, for it would be rude not to when one is leaving the table. "Thank you Godmother, I will stay and relax for a bit longer. I hope to see you soon." The clock chimes again and she turns to glide away. "Don't lose your shoe on the way out." I joke with a soft smile, as she leaves.

I sit alone, lost in thought for quite some time as I sip my mango tea. Presently, I hear Rose stiring, and realize it's time to go. I finish off my cup, and head back down the corridor I came from, headng for the nursery...

[westin-sagert.livejournal.com]

I was simply heading home; I am quite sure of that, although whatever I was heading home from was not particularly important. And I do not recall this place being here. I tuck my package more firmly under my arm--the brown paper rustles a little--and step inside. The walls or the paint or the light itself is somewhat dappled... it is an unusual effect but not an unpleasant one.

I find I am standing by a table. There is a wine glass and a white plate, both empty, and Linnea's jawbone is resting neatly on the folded napkin. But there is no cutlery, and I look around, hoping to see someone. I find myself strangely unwilling to raise my voice, as if there were people on all the stairs that I could not see.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

I have seen the dreams of worse men than him; but that does not mean I have to like him.

I sit down at the table and pick up the jawbone of the girl he killed. It gleams.

"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" I say. My own face has a gentle sort of asymmetry (http://www.faces-cranio.org/Disord/Hemi.htm). I wear an earring in my undeveloped ear; it is a tooth crowned in gold.

[westin-sagert.livejournal.com]

A rather subtly charming woman joins me, and I smile politely, although when she reaches for Linnea's jawbone-- Oh, well, really now. That is mine. I am trying to find the words to object politely when she speaks.

"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" the woman says, and I manage a quick humourless smile.

"She was," I say, and it is nothing but truth. The subtle glimmer of bone through the rot of her face was positively enchanting. I find my smile grows a little fonder. I could not properly appreciate her, then, but I did manage to clear away some of the mortified flesh before she died. Rather a decent first effort, for a novice...

I shake my head and look back to the woman, the slump of muscle and bone under flesh like a sun-warmed candle. "You are charming yourself, madam," I add. "I am afraid you have the advantage of me, though. Did you know her?"

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"You are charming yourself, madam. I am afraid you have the advantage of me, though. Did you know her?"

"Oh, no," I say. I have seen her in his dreams, felt his satisfaction at the press of his scalpel through her flesh. What suffering. "But I can tell from her bones that she must have been special." I turn the jaw in my hand and then cover it with a napkin. "You shouldn't have dead girls at the dinner table," I say mildly. "Didn't your mother ever teach you that?" A waiter approaches with a silver tray. He gives me a cup of tea, and he sets down a glass of water and a pearl-toned pill in front of Westin. "Don't forget your medicine," I say, and sip my tea.

[westin-sagert.livejournal.com]

"But I can tell from her bones that she must have been special," and I am smiling quite contentedly at her.

"I am so glad you understand," I say, but then she covers up the jawbone. The light in the room seems to dim rather more than might be expected from a napkin covering the jawbone's faint glimmer could explain.

"You shouldn't have dead girls at the dinner table. Didn't your mother ever teach you that?" And-- well, that hardly needs saying, but it's not as if it's all of her. I feel-- I thought--

"Don't forget your medicine," she adds, as the help sets down a glass of water and a lozenge.

"Oh, of course not," I say, feeling somewhat chastened, and pick it up. It tastes rather unpleasantly sharp, like the touch of a ground-down whetstone on the tongue, but I swallow it and wash it down with the water. "Thank you," I say politely. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I still don't-- I don't have your name." It really is growing rather darker in here, I am sure it is not just me. I look down to the table, and the napkin over Linnea's jawbone is beginning to stain.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

He takes his medicine and the light in the room dims down. It's his mind that does that, not mine. I watch as a dark stain spreads through the napkin, and I adapt.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I still don't-- I don't have your name."

When Westin looks back up at me, he will see why I have not replied. My jaw has been ripped away, and there is blood down the front of my dress. I peel back the napkin, and the jawbone, stained with blood, speaks.

"Kiss me, Westin, kiss me, only you know how special I am." And the jawbone laughs as I use the napkin that covered it to mop the blood off my dress.

[westin-sagert.livejournal.com]

She says nothing, and for a moment I am quite sure she will be--perhaps not gone, I can feel so many eyes here, but perhaps she will not be there to be seen when I look up. And then I do, and the light in the room blurs and I am standing, I have panicked and I am standing and my chair is on the floor behind me and the blood is the brightest thing in the room.

"I didn't do it," I say. This is not-- the bloody wrench of her face, the graceful and strange arch of her face ripped back to gristle. I didn't do this, never so crude, I--

And Linnea is speaking as she has not for years, as she could not at the end, as she never did. Words I wished for but she is laughing, and I can feel all the eyes upon me. My hands are full of blood, and I pour it onto her jawbone. The voice, the light, all the same chattering now-garish chaos, and all the blood cannot drown it out. "Please," drawn and harried and looking up to the woman, the half-faceless woman, even as I am begging Linnea, "we're talking!"

The blood. The strange light, all gone to shadows and pewter. The noise.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"Please, we're talking!"

The room is silver-grey, chaotic tumbling noise behind us. I dip my finger carefully in the blood from my face and write on the table in a neat hand:

Shall these bones live?

The jawbone sings out:

"Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd."

All the light goes out of the room, except for the gleam of the jawbone, which I lift and place in my own face.

"Come to the desert, Westin. What is your posterity?"

Over the chatter of the room, there is the sound of a door opening, and we pass through the heaving pitch-black crowds, my jaw a candle.

[westin-sagert.livejournal.com]

Shall these bones live? Oh no no no, if I could have done it she would have but the rest of her was nothing to speak of, she screamed and drooled and died and I kept the best of her, but she did not live. And the shine of her is horrible, pulsing and crying out, and the crowds are choking and the sky is black and there are no stars.

I know this place. I have been here, but there was life then, albeit thin squabbling life and poor shacks barely hinting at the rooms and tunnels underground. There is nothing but the low sound of wind, now, and the air does not move. The books in halls beneath our feet are crumbling, the flaking tatters of them and the blackened pages still and blind.

It is Bethlehem. Where the words were buried and their bodies dug up in pieces. Where the dead men lose their bones--no--

But she is not in my hands anymore, she pours out words from another woman's face. I think it is another woman's face; surely it could not be Linnea again? She is older, after all, but there has been so much time between then and now...

"I have built my posterity," I say. "I have made--beautiful things," and I draw that knowledge to myself. It is not warm, exactly, it is too pure for that, but there is a strength to it. "Things have opened their eyes and breathed in this world that never would have been without me, and I have suffered to make it so." And for all of that I cannot reach the words beneath the ground. They are crumbling away.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

There is a slow drip of blood still from my jaw, despite the glimmering bone.

"I have made--beautiful things," he says, and the jaw flares bright in the dark city.

"Things have opened their eyes and breathed in this world that never would have been without me, and I have suffered to make it so."

"Tell me about your suffering, Westin," says the jaw. My own tongue lies still. "Tell me how it compares to mine." And the jaw laughs, a high sharp sound that sends things that are not quite birds fluttering from the crumbling arches and eaves.

[westin-sagert.livejournal.com]

The wrods are not the worst, the noise--it is a squealing laugh, and I am reminded of slaughtered pigs, of the teachers that had students learn on such animals before approaching cadavers. There are sounds as of pages falling to earth, and I step closer to her, further from whatever they may be.

"You to help me learn," I say, and I am swaying a little on my feet. "I to be able to do it again. Doesn't it--don't you see how it compares, then? I chose it, yes, but I couldn't expect you to. You didn't understand." Young and stupid and blind, but still she awoke such understanding within me, so I cannot fault her too badly for it all.

I rather wish I had kept something of my most recent work behind, to set beside her jawbone. It is a foolishly sentimental thought, and yet... I fins I am reaching out to touch her jaw again, fingers painted in its glow.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

He touches the jaw, which warms under his fingers, warms and then glows red-hot.

"You have no genius that lasts," says the jaw. I can smell skin burning, and the jaw becomes dislodged and falls to the floor, where it shatters into pieces.

The light from the bone goes out, and we are left in the dark.

[westin-sagert.livejournal.com]

The pain is a searing orange, in my hand and up my arm, and I remember the tower, Morningstar, the pain then and not again not again! I am recoiling, and I fall to the ground as the jaw does, shattering like coal, the unearthly light of its fragments going out. There is a glimmer in my hand as one might see when blowing on a fire, banked ember under a coat of ash, and my hand is crumbling...

I am screaming, this time. I cannot stop.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

I watch him coldly as his hands turn to fire and ash, and then I turn on my heel and leave. He can leave the dream himself, if he can find his way out to the waking world.

Nightmares are no real justice, but it is all I have to give.

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

I was out at the Abbey. Rounds're done, everyone's gone ta bed and no-one's gotten up yet. Sat down fer a minute ta think, an' lookin' up at the altar, and thinking the town sign looks better now. It's bin cleaned up. Better job than I did, too. The blood's gone, and the man Mab'n'I found on it's standing on the ground, lookin' better, lookin' whole.

I'm thinkin' a Derek Granger, again. Enough ta break my goddamn heart.

Get up an' walk up ta the man, and he holds the door open an' smiles. The motto's on the sign, makin' up the lintel of the door. It's a funny sorta name for a tea room, I guess.

Touch my forehead to him and duck my head a bit and go on in, blinkin' a little ta find myself up at the top of the stairs. Stop and take my hat off an' look around, mostly out and down. Plenty used ta crossroads, but ain't used ta findin' ones indoors that reach near so far.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

I'm surprised to see the golem. I did not think creatures such as he dreamed; certainly I've never seen his dreams, though I have seen him in others' dreams, seen as tall and blond, mostly, but sometimes very briefly there are glimpses of his other-face.

"Deputy Hollow," I say, for I've heard his name. "How nice to see you."

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

"Deputy Hollow," the lady says beside me, and I turn towards her, kinda startled. "How nice to see you."

"Mrs..." For a minute I just wanna say Excolo. "Nanshe," I finish, taking off my hat, and ducking my head. "You as well, ma'am. It's an honour." Mean, I guess I know her, but we've never properly met.

"It's a lovely place," I say. Mean it, too, even if it's strange as... well, I don't know. Glance around and then look back to her, thinking 'bout Derek again. "Ah... how're you feeling? Mean, I hope you're well."

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"You as well, ma'am. It's an honour."

I nod in acknowledgement of the compliment.

"And I am glad to meet you," I say. "People think good things of you, Mr Hollow." He is a warm presence in others' dreams.

"Ah... how're you feeling? Mean, I hope you're well."

"I'm always well in myself," I say with a smile. "But I'm troubled on behalf of others. Will you sit with me?" I say, gesturing.

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

"People think good things of you, Mr Hollow," and I smile a little, touch my forehead. "'m pleased ta hear it."

"I'm always well in myself. But I'm troubled on behalf of others. Will you sit with me?"

"Ma'am," I say, holding her chair for her and then taking mine. It's a good place, and I feel a little better sitting down, not being too tall. And it's nice ta not worry about needing ta explain why drinking tea might be a problem. "I'm sorry ta hear 'bout the people you said you were worryin' about. Er, c'n I help?"

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"I'm sorry ta hear 'bout the people you said you were worryin' about. Er, c'n I help?"

"I don't know," I say thoughtfully. "Perhaps." I look over at him. "When I walked the earth, I was a god of justice," I say. "I protected the weak in particular. I still do, if I can, but it is harder now than it once was." I sip my tea. "But what I know comes from dreams, and it can be dangerous, simply giving out that knowledge. What you will remember on waking, what you learn from the dream, is not always what is intended..." I pause. "How is it you are dreaming, Mr Hollow? I didn't know that golem could."

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

I'd like ta help, if I can. "When I walked the earth, I was a god of justice," she says. "But what I know comes from dreams, and it can be dangerous, simply giving out that knowledge. What you will remember on waking, what you learn from the dream, is not always what is intended..." and I nod.

"Waterkey talked about scryin' like that," I say. "Not exactly the same, I mean. But the misreadin' and fogging up after." I stop fer a second ta think. "Er. Ma'am, d'you mean ta say..." an' I stop, 'cause I think she says pretty much 'xactly what she means ta say, here. "D'you know who did that ta Derek Granger? Mean, I understand if you decide you can't tell me, but even knowing someone knows'd help."

"How is it you are dreaming, Mr Hollow?" she says after a moment. "I didn't know that golem could."

"I'm afraid I ain't sure, ma'am. I did it once before, but I was kinda extinguished, then. Always meant ta try." Things just keep needing doing, and I don't need to sleep, wasn't even sure I ever could. Never thought ta ask Waterkey. "I just sat down a minute in the Abbey, and then-- I guess someone opened the door for me, but that mighta bin part of the dream too."

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"D'you know who did that ta Derek Granger? Mean, I understand if you decide you can't tell me, but even knowing someone knows'd help."

"I don't know for certain," I say, after thinking for a little while. "The person I am thinking of did not dream of it... And poor Derek dreamed only of his pain and of freedom," I say. "Never of who it was who took him." My lips have thinned. His dreams were terrible. And then he did not dream, and I could not help him." I shake my head helplessly. "More than one doctor," I say, "attended Derek at the abbey." Maybe that will be enough to start Jack on his search.

"I just sat down a minute in the Abbey, and then-- I guess someone opened the door for me, but that mighta bin part of the dream too."

"That was your own mind, letting you in," I say. "I am glad you came."

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

She's quiet for a moment, and I wait. "The person I am thinking of did not dream of it... And poor Derek dreamed only of his pain and of freedom. Never of who it was who took him. His dreams were terrible. And then he did not dream, and I could not help him."

"I am so sorry, ma'am," I say softly. It is not enough, an' I remember how I felt when I understood what'd happened, what'd been done to him.

"More than one doctor attended Derek at the abbey," she says, and I nod slow, tryna think. Know Constantine was there. Don't know who else, though, and'm thinking (do we have two doctors?) I oughtta look inta it.

Tell her how I got here, and she explains "That was your own mind, letting you in. I am glad you came."

"So'm I, ma'am," I say quietly. "I'll do what I can, and'm sorry there isn't more I c'n do."

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

"I'll do what I can, and'm sorry there isn't more I c'n do."

"What you do is good, deputy," I say seriously. "None of us can ever do enough. But doing something is no small thing." I offer him my hand. "Shake my hand and wake, Mr Hollow," I say. "And try to remember what I have said when you do."

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

"None of us can ever do enough. But doing something is no small thing," she says, holdin' out her hand. "Shake my hand and wake, Mr Hollow. And try to remember what I have said when you do."

"I will, ma'am," I say. "An' hope it'll be a good something that gets done."

An' take her hand and the table and the room're thinning like fog, 'til they're just the air in the room, and the chair's hard and wide. One'a the benches in the Abbey, an' the whole place fer the moment is still, peaceful'n'steady in the night.

Look up at the altar, an' just sit fer a minute, turnin' what happened over in my head.