I was Thursday's child.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

Revelation can be more perilous than Revolution.
- Vladimir Nabokov

Wednesday's child is full of woe;
Thursday's child has far to go.
- Proverb

Friday afternoon, the Miskatonic cafe

The hours have slipped away like sand through fingers (am I a falcon), and in the great space of myself I watch things tumble outward and outward, ripples without end (a storm). Without flesh I hear the notes more clearly (a great song), a more perfect echoing as I unfold. I can hear it resonate within me, and it is too much. I put on a body, one I have not worn before, because it gives some relief, to keep cramped and still in a small place, even to be caught up in the minutiae of bodily experience, the pumping grossness of vein and bowel. There's an elegance to this body that I like, clean lines of it, its dark skin and long limbs stepping out of the desert and folded into bright cloth, hair wrapped with a scarf. I take it into the daylight, watching the shadow move across the greening grass near the tower and then the sunbright asphalt of the town, and I sit in the cafe with its fingers wrapped around a cup of coffee, hot and black, steam rising. I will endure all things I must.

[CLOSED]

Comments

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"I have things to do, yet. You could try, but I think...It'd be harder than you think. Might leave you vulnerable."

I smile at him.

"You don't think I know it'd be hard to kill death? You must think I'm doff."

"I'm not so easy to fool. For all that lies are you."

Oh, Azrael, that sounds like a challenge. I need some little projects to shake me out of this...temper in which I find myself.

"Do you ever wonder how it would feel? For you to die," I say. "It must tug at you, helping so many through that gate."

[simon-klavec.livejournal.com]

"You don't think I know it'd be hard to kill death? You must think I'm doff."

I shrug. Knowing her, he's calculated it down as fine as you can. But, well. It felt close, that time when she struck me. The same when we met here, when Glass brought me back the first time. I can't know, since I didn't end then. But it felt like a close thing.

Don't miss the curve of his lips, when I deny her. Lord, he loves a challenge. Hope he doesn't take it up. "Do you ever wonder how it would feel? For you to die. It must tug at you, helping so many through that gate."

Shake my head. "Sometimes. But I was never as curious as you. Never as restless." Small smile, there. "I know my role, and my place, pretty well. Death, that death, isn't for me."

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Sometimes. But I was never as curious as you. Never as restless." He smiles at me, and I smile back, small bright smile. I was always moving, even in the beginning, even when things were - even then.

"I know my role, and my place, pretty well. Death, that death, isn't for me."

"Do you think it ever will be?" I ask, resting my chin on my hand again, genuinely interested. I know so much of what is to come, and yet so much is hidden from me; a glass darkly through which even I cannot see, timebound as I am.

[simon-klavec.livejournal.com]

"Do you think it ever will be?" she asks, perching his chin to look close at me.

Shrug. "Maybe. At the end of everything, maybe." I snort. "Or that's a conceit, and I'll die whenever something kills me, or fade away, like some did. I don't know. I like to think I'll know what it's like," I say, looking down, "but not until the time is right."

I look over at her. "You? Any big plans, before the end? Will it all be worth it, then?"

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"I like to think I'll know what it's like, but not until the time is right."

I would like him to have that, I think. Not a happy ending, no. But a sense that things have come to the place that is meant. That much is left of kinship.

"You? Any big plans, before the end? Will it all be worth it, then?"

"I thought the end was a big plan, ou balie," I say, cradling the cup in my hands. "And no," I add, voice all winter, "it won't be worth it. I'm not doff; everything is a disappointment." I sip my coffee, cooled now. "But it will be done, and I want to be the mover. This much is mine."

[simon-klavec.livejournal.com]

"I thought the end was a big plan, ou balie," she says, holding her cup in both hands. "And no, it won't be worth it. I'm not doff; everything is a disappointment." Of course he'd think that, wouldn't he?

"But it will be done, and I want to be the mover. This much is mine."

I'm almost tempted to ask her to bring it to that now, then. Stop the waiting, let it end, and we'll see what happens. But I'm human now, too. And humans fight against the inevitable, push it back as far as they can. "If it ever gets to that," I tell him, "I'll do my best to steal the death of everything from you. Take it and give it meaning past your tantrum over who liked who best."

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"I'll do my best to steal the death of everything from you. Take it and give it meaning past your tantrum over who liked who best."

I laugh.

"I never thought I owned anyone's death, ou balie." I shake my head. "And it's never been your place to give meaning to anyone's death, just to give it. Pride, remember, comes before a fall." I smile at him. "Don't worry, ou balie. Still many things need to happen before it all comes tumbling down."

[simon-klavec.livejournal.com]

"I never thought I owned anyone's death, ou balie. And it's never been your place to give meaning to anyone's death, just to give it. Pride, remember, comes before a fall." She smiles at me. "Don't worry, ou balie. Still many things need to happen before it all comes tumbling down."

I finish my coffee. It's gone cool, and I hadn't noticed. I grin faintly at him. Bit of an effort. "Not my place, yeah. But, maybe Simon's." Humans give meanings to things, after all. "Should go." Talk to Syl. Zann. Figure out how to twist her curse. If I can.

"Be seeing you, I figure." Can't keep this up, not with this feeling that he's just amused by me. I can't get through the scars she's put on herself. Wonder how Zann thought she could. Wonder if it would have worked. But then, if he wanted to be fixed, she would be.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Not my place, yeah. But, maybe Simon's."

"Still some distinction there, ja?" I smile at him.


"Be seeing you, I figure."

"Aweh, ou balie. Glad we've talked." And I am, in my way. I watch him leave, and then I run my finger through the coffee grounds at the bottom of my cup, spread them across the white china, fine dark stain, and look at the light coming through the window until it begins to pink, like a blood stain in water, and I return to the tower.