(no subject)

[kira-galliard.livejournal.com]

{Early Evening- Tuesday, 29th June ~ Day 394}
{Crossroads DanceHall}

Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time
I feel alive
And the world turning inside out, yeah
And floating around in ecstasy, so
Don't stop me now
Don't stop me
'Cuz I'm having a good time, having a good time

It is finally time to open the doors.
The lights are on- thanks to a couple folks from the fair who came out to help me with 'em. And the musics' done warming up now- sounds of instruments tuning and and the player's psyching each other up have given over to songs playing and feet stomping along.
A few brave souls have opened the dancing and there are mostly smiles all around.

So far so good.

A lot of the younger set know me by now from hiring them for the clean-up, and I put up some signs around town, so hopefully we'll have a good turn out.
And now that the greater part of the haying is done, people are in a good mood. People like to dance and come out and see each other when they're happy. Even in a strange town like this that holds true.

Smooth my skirt as I circle the floor towards the drink stand. I'll probably take a few turns of my own tonight, but mostly my job is to meet people who don't know me yet and get them to like me enough to come back. If the night continues like this, I do think it'll turn out fine.

The band starts another song, and I find my smile is genuine.

(The DanceHall is open to all! Come on in and have fun!)

Comments

[sapphira-ststep.livejournal.com]

"Good evening," a rather well-put-together gentleman says, joining us. Fine manners and step and a courtesy that I return, although the corners of his eyes are tucked a very little with worry. "Valmont Laclos."

"Sapphira St-Stephens, m'sieu," I say lightly.

"Micah, I hate to interrupt, but could I speak with you when you have a free moment?" and I dip my head a little, step back and aside. Not out of the circle of conversation, yet, but enough to break aside gracefully. I suppose they could be related, although I wouldn't imagine it was close; cousins, parhaps, or half-brothers at closest.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

I smile at Valmont: he's left Hermia and come to me. "Do you want to dance?" I ask him. "I don't remember very well, and my foot is sore, but I can try." I can hear the hopefulness in my own voice.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

There's a French lilt to what she says, a familiar sort of cadence, and it makes me smile a little.

"Enchanté, madame," I say.

"Do you want to dance?"

"Um, perhaps later," I say. Because that's what my reputation needs, the town seeing me dance with a teenage peeping tom. "I would like to speak to you for a moment, though. About - your girlfriend."

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

"Um, perhaps later." My smile fades a little. "I would like to speak to you for a moment, though. About - your girlfriend."

There are two thoughts, then, that come at once: that this is somehow about what happened with Wanda or my conversation with Hermia and Lucien; and that he knows who she is. One is from my Micah-self, the other from the self-that-was-Tez. Is Tez, however much it doesn't wish to be.

"Alright," I say, like it doesn't matter. "She's not here," I add. Not in any of her forms, that I've seen.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

"She's not here," he says, and "good," I reply, a little too firmly. Not the best start. I sigh and run my hand through my hair. "Excuse us a moment, Ms St Stephen?" I draw Micah aside. "Perhaps we should sit down," I say, and find us a seat in a quieter corner of the room. "I'm not sure how to tell you this, Micah," I say, "so perhaps I had better just come out with it at once. Danika is... not a farm girl. Or a girl at all, really. She's - something very old, and dangerous, and cruel."

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

I look at him for a long time. I wish I didn't have to do this. I think perhaps I'm memorising his face, his expression, this last time he looks at me and sees only Micah. My chest hurts.

"...So am I," I say at last, still looking at him steadily, and then I look down at my hands, because it's too much, I can't bear to see his expression change. "I - remembered. I'm sorry, Valmont. I should have told you before." My fingers knot themselves together hard. "I'll leave, if you want." I don't want to. I want to hold onto him. But I'm not just Micah any more, I'm not a child. I've done far harder things than this, haven't I?

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

"You remembered what?" I say, quite gently. He looks so very sad, and I feel - strangely afraid.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

I don't want to talk about it here. But I owe it to Valmont, I think. His voice is kind, and I manage to look up, just briefly.

"Who - what - who I was." I think I sound tired, mostly. "I was..." I don't know how to explain it. "A thing. But - " My voice stops for a while.

"There was a boy called Micah," I say at last. "He grew up and he married a woman and he worked his farm. And somewhere else," here, "there was a...thing that wasn't human, though for a long time it thought it was. A thing that became a person, while it had forgotten. So that it could love and feel and...I don't know. Everything. And it still did, when it remembered it wasn't human, so that when something terrible happened that was its fault, it chose to die to fix it." It sounds like a story from the book he found me, when he was Val.

I shake my head. "Chose to be destroyed," I say. I still can't look at him properly. "Go into nothing. But it got pulled back from nothing, put back together, and it - " I don't want to say it, I don't, "took over Micah. And came here. And that's me. I suppose I'm both of them. The Micah I've been since, and the - god, you would say. I was - " I look up again, and the memory would make me laugh if I didn't feel so horrible. "You threw me out of the Whitechapel, once. The old me. But I loved her then - Danika - and I still do. I know what she is, Valmont."

I think I've run out of voice completely. I want to go back to my room, but I don't know if I can go there again. I wish suddenly and for the first time that I could just be Tez again, completely, and not care.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

I... don't understand. I knew there was something different about Micah - special, and strange - but this...

"You threw me out of the Whitechapel, once. The old me. But I loved her then - Danika - and I still do. I know what she is, Valmont."

I stare at him for a long time.

"Tez?" I say at last. My voice is a croak.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

The way he looks at me. Please don't, Valmont. I think about getting up and leaving.

"Tez?"

I made him sound like that. I didn't ever want to hurt you, I promise. "Sort of?" I say, a bit helplessly. "I - have all of Tez's memories - my memories - so I suppose so. I didn't remember, though, I promise, Valmont, I didn't. Not that I was him." I wasn't lying about that, I wasn't. "She - Danika - reminded me. And then I didn't know how to tell you."

I can't stand it, so I put both my hands over my face, like a child. My head's hurting again, so much.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

I don't know what I feel. The shock of it is - horrible. And inside I feel a painful wrenching disappointment.

"I threw you out, then, because you threatened Kaeli. Remember her? And then you beat her, you and that witch friend of yours," I say. My throat is very dry. "And I've had you in my house. With my wife and daughter." There's a fierce miserable anger rising in me. "I have trusted you, and... Mon Dieu." I feel sick.

He looks so terribly unhappy. But how can I trust him now?

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

"Syl," I say. "Her name is Syl." I have to talk to her too. I think I forget that on purpose, each time I remember it. I try to remember Kaeli, can remember red hair, and - oh, I remember Syl after that - "I remember a bit. I'm sorry." I say it simply.

He's so angry. I flinch when he says he trusted me. "I know, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." It doesn't mean anything, does it. It's just words. It doesn't fix anything. "I'll go." I'm trying to think. Is it alright to take the clothes he gave me? Lucien might let me stay with him again, if I tell him. Or he might be angry too. I wouldn't blame him. The tower, then.

I make myself look at him, one more time. "I wouldn't hurt them, Valmont." My voice is low and a little bit fierce, now. "Alice, and Hermia." Alice because I care about her, and Hermia because he does. "Not ever." I stand up, a bit wobbly on my bad foot. My eyes are dry and sore.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

"Sit. Down." I say it coolly, precisely. "You can't just tell me all that and then run away. That's cowardly." I look at him, jaw set, until he sits down again, and then I pinch the space between my eyes. There's a sour taste in my mouth.

"Seven weeks you've been with us," I say. "And caused us a lot of trouble, but I haven't minded it because I've cared about you. How long have you known? And why did you stay? For convenience? Or I suppose perhaps it amused you, knowing how I'd forbidden you from staying at the inn before." It hurts quite sharply, thinking of how much time, how much of myself, I've put into looking after him, and it's all, what, some god game? Some cosmic joke for which I would really rather not be the punchline.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

I thought he'd want me to leave. I sit down. I haven't heard him sound like this before.

I try to work out how long I've known. There's a low sharp resentment in me, thinking of how easy things like this used to be. Everything's wrong, now. Iblis will be pleased, I think vaguely, that it will just be him, now.

"A month, I think." And then I feel quite angry, I think, because: "No. I wanted to stay. Because of you, and Alice." Angry, and hurt. (Would Val have been like this? I haven't thought like that for a while, now.) "Because I - care about you."

...Cared. He said cared. Something thin and sharp like broken glass in my throat, all dark, and I don't want to feel like that towards Val. I don't want to feel like I want to - hurt him. I won't.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

"A month," I repeat. I can hear my blood beating in my ears. "A month, and you said she - it - It - made you remember? So you remembered it then too, that - thing." I put my hand over my mouth, because I feel suddenly, horribly sick. "Do you truly remember what that thing is? What it has done in this town? And you let it near my family?" I am shaking a little with fury. "I have treated you like -" I don't say my child, strange part of me still sensitive to Micah's feelings - "a brother, tried to care for you as I would for Marie," if I'd ever had the chance, and Jesu, Marie took him in too, in that other world where Micah pressed up against me in his narrow bed and kissed me and I kissed him back, because I was younger and more stupid and I liked him very much. "I don't know what to call you," I say abruptly. "Tez or Micah. I don't know who you are."

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

My eyes still hurt so much, and my throat. I'm sick and I'm angry and (I miss Marie) I want to be away from this, the way Valmont looks, the way he sounds. From the fact that everything he's saying is true. From what I am and have been, I suppose.

"I want to be Micah," I say very quietly. It's not completely true, though, is it? Not with Iblis. I don't know any more. "But I'm - it's not all I am. I'm not the Tez you met either. I - he - I. Died. Completely. I have his memories, and some of the old Micah's," and suddenly it's a relief, oh, it is, to tell Valmont this, not to have to keep it a secret, the way I've been keeping things secret from him from the start, "and when the part of me that came out of the dark, Yoalli Ehecatl, when that part of me - came into this body it broke it. Its brain. It's been so hard to think and it still is and - "

I make myself stop talking. It doesn't matter, any of that. I think I could...manipulate him, maybe, if I wanted. Like I did Wanda, from behind the mask of this face. I feel very old, and very cold, and very tired. "I should have told you," I say. "When I knew. I thought you'd make me leave." The corner of my mouth quirks up at the irony of that, and it's not Micah's smile, but I don't know that it's Tez's either.

I sit back in my seat. I've been a child, yes, so now I have to grow up. I suppose I should try and be one thing, too, rather than two. He's shaking, and I want to touch his hand. My eyes are damp, a very little bit. I don't want him to see it, and I glance away.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

I listen to what he says, and I don't know what to think.

"I want to trust you," I say quietly. "To believe you. That you kept this a secret because you were afraid, and because you want to be part of my family, not because you wanted to hurt us, or just that you didn't care. But... I remember the first time I saw you. It was your magic show." It feels so long ago. "How you drew out people's old memories, hurt them with them. It was an impressive sort of trick in some ways, but a mean one too." I rub my face. "I want to believe you care about us, that you're not just using us now you're - more vulnerable." Is he? I wonder if he has his old powers back. "And the thing you love," I say quietly. "How can you love something that hates us all so much?"

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

I nod, because he's right. "I am mean," I say, quiet as him, "often. To Wanda, most recently. You can't trust me." I don't want to lie to him, not any more.

"As for - " I shouldn't say his name, "her. I hated her and loved her and hurt her. I know what she is. She's hurt people who I love, too. I don't know, Valmont." I want to keep saying his name, like it can make him belong to me in some way, or me to him. To have the right to use it. "I don't think I'd know how not to love her, now. She's a terrible thing. I would have died for her, if she'd been the one who needed it."

It was Genny who did, though. And I would have for Syl. For Lucien, maybe. Would I for Valmont? For Alice? If someone tried to hurt them.... I shake my head, not in negation but because it feels so thick and slow. After a little while I make myself stop shaking it.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

"I don't think I'd know how not to love her, now. She's a terrible thing. I would have died for her, if she'd been the one who needed it."

"I would die for Hermia," I say, "without question." I say it simply; it's not a boast. "If anything you do or have done puts her in danger, I would find a way to kill you for it, despite all the affection I had - have - for you. She is my life." I look at him seriously. "And you've told me not to trust you. Would you have Tez in your house, if you were me?" I shake my head. "But if you leave, you'll go to - it, won't you?" I lean forward, suddenly urgent. "Micah. I don't want that for you. I don't. Please. You deserve better than that."

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

I nod at what he says about Hermia: acknowledging. Yes. I understand, Valmont. I think maybe I would have been disappointed in him if it wasn't the case, even though I do feel jealous, too. And I don't think there's anyone who'd die for me, either. Iblis would kill for me, I think, if it suited him. It's a strangely sad thought.

"Would you have Tez in your house, if you were me?"

"No. You should," I say, and for a moment I smile, "ask Lucien about that. Doctor Constantine. I think I owe him some furniture." Strange, the things I remember, the things I forget. And then he suddenly moves and I jump back, instinctive flinch.

"But if you leave you'll go to - it, won't you? Micah. I don't want that for you. I don't. Please. You deserve better than that."

I look at him in complete surprise. "No," I say, because I don't, I never have. "And where else can I go?" I shrug a bit. "The Carnival, they think I'm dead." And I don't think I was welcome there, before I died. "I'd like to see Genny again," I say, after a moment. "I saw her when we wished - " But that makes me think about Val, and I don't want to. Not now.

"I do understand," I tell him. "About not being in your house." I want him to know that. I don't think I'm doing very well at keeping my thoughts clear, at talking in a straight line, but I need to tell him these things.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

"Lucien," I say. "God. He and Tez - you - were such good friends..." My words trail off. "He grieved for you," I say, and there's that anger again. "Will you tell him that you're back?" I wonder if he'll be glad or not. This is all so confusing.

"No. And where else can I go? The Carnival, they think I'm dead. I'd like to see Genny again, I saw her when we wished - I do understand. About not being in your house."

"Could you talk to people at the carnival? What about Syl?" I can't say I like the idea of reuniting them, given what they did together. It's hard to connect that to the sad looking boy sitting here. I wish I cared less about him. I pinch my nose again. "I should speak to Hermia," I say. "She wouldn't want you going to - the tower either. I know you love it. I understand. I think I do. But love isn't enough, always. Not when loving something will only bring you grief." I shake my head. "Have you been happy at all, with us?" I can't imagine that thing gives him any happiness at all. Love shouldn't be fury.

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

I don't know if I should tell Lucien. He doesn't like me much, I think, the me I am now, though he cares in his doctor's way. And I did kick him, after all.

"He doesn't only bring me grief." My voice is very quiet. It's the first time I've called Iblis him to Valmont, I think. I look up at Valmont, and wish I could show him, how it's not just grief. I could, I think, if I could remember how to reach into his mind --

No. Not to Valmont.

"Have you been happy at all, with us?"

I stare at him a little bit. "Yes." Of course I have. Why would he ask that?

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

He ignores my question about Syl and the Carnival, and he doesn't say anything about Lucien. Instead he turns to the monster. Of course.

"He doesn't only bring me grief."

"Not only," I say gently. "But some grief, yes?" I sigh. He stares at me when I ask if he's been happy, as if I could have no reason to ask.

"I ask," I say, "because... Let me tell you something about the way I love Hermia. Before I met her, I had shut my heart down. I enjoyed myself a great deal, took a pleasure in a lot of things, but I did not let myself love. The only person I had ever really loved had died because of my mother's cruelty and neglect, and so I ... stopped letting myself care. I think with Hermia I remembered not just how to love, but how to be - a person. That being loved by someone, by loving them, I could be a better man. It's not always easy, growing like that, but there's a great joy in it. And now I have a family - Hermia, and Alice, and my staff at the inn too in their way... and you too, Micah," and I sound sad. "I think that we support each other, look after each other. Can the tower give you any of that?"

[tezcatl-ipoca.livejournal.com]

"I have grief anyway." My voice's quiet. Old, I think. And then: "...Marie died like that?" I hadn't understood that. It makes me feel sick. "I miss her. The Marie I knew." For three days, for weeks. "She was kind to me."

What he says reminds me of Iblis, a little, in a far smaller way. And I won't ever tell anyone what I know about Iblis now, the secret locked in his heart, but: "Should I stop myself loving him - her - then?" I won't say it. I rub the back of my neck a little, and that's not Micah's gesture, and shake my head. He deserves a proper answer, though this is a very strange place to talk about this.

"If I had gone straight to - the tower," I say, "when I -woke - I wouldn't be a person now. Not like I am. I don't know if that would be better or not. "I don't know if I could love like this, if I had. Him, or - other people." I'm not going to claim to love you, Valmont, or Alice. I don't know enough, I think, about the ways that humans love. That people love. Even with all the long memories of being Tez. Loving Genny, loving Syl: the memories are thin, like old cloth. "You gave me that." I look up at him, properly. I can see him twice, the Valmont Tez met drawn over the Valmont Micah knows.

"She can't give me that. Danika. A family, a - home. She will end everything, one day. That," I add, tilting my head a little, "was my task, once. I don't know if it still is. I don't know many things, Valmont, though part of me's existed for - well." Almost a laugh. "Since the beginning of worlds. I'm confused by so much." So much. "But she is so much to me. In everything she is." Everything. Does it shine out of me, that love? I'm so very tired of it all. The music's too loud, and there are too many people, sounds, smells, minds. I want to go home, but I don't have one.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

"...Marie died like that?" I shake my head; not to disagree, but - "I can't talk about that," I say. He says he misses Marie, and I swallow a little. To bring the dead to life / Is no great magic. But it's a terrible one.

"She was dead, and then she wasn't, but she was different," I say. "Like you, I suppose." Except she's gone now; that other Marie never was, even if I remember her and that other life with sometimes painful clarity. And he's still here. But he's not the Tez he once was either. I believe that. I just don't know what he is, or what risk he is.

"Should I stop myself loving him - her - then?"

"You can't just turn off feelings," I say. "But that doesn't mean you give in to them either. Even if you love someone, it isn't always a good reason to be with them. Look at Wanda," I add, because now I realise he knows - knew - who her husband was. "I don't know if I could love like this, if I had. Him, or - other people. You gave me that."

There is a little pain in my breast, hearing that.

"Then I am glad," I say softl, and I am.

"She can't give me that. Danika. A family, a - home. She will end everything, one day. That was my task, once. I don't know if it still is. I don't know many things, Valmont, though part of me's existed for - well. Since the beginning of worlds. I'm confused by so much. But she is so much to me. In everything she is."

"You sound different," I say. He does. Not like a lost boy any more. Perhaps this is what it's like for a god to grow up, and the thought makes me smile a little, but sadly. "I knew how to help Micah. Or I thought I knew some ways, at least." I don't think I can help Tez, or this Micah, or whoever he is, and it feels like a loss, somehow. "If you could choose how to be happy now, what would you want?" I don't know why it matters. I think I want to hope that he's not going to just hand himself over to something that exists for despair, and let himself be swallowed up. Even if that's what he wants, or deserves. I don't know.