Everything that dies some day comes back

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

Sunday, 21 September
The Dormouse

Now our luck may have died and out love may
Be cold but with you forever I'll stay
We're goin' out where the sand's turnin' to gold
So put on your stockings cos the night's getting' cold
And maybe everything dies
That's a fact but maybe everything that dies
Some day comes back

Something curious happened. Not the disruption to the world from the breach into Dream; that, while unusual, is hardly an unknown event, and the resulting chaos was mundane. No, I mean something more interesting, and pertaining to my daughter. Wanda's hapless dream of Kent - her abiding devotion to a phantom would be touching if I did not find it pitiable - meant a little aspect of myself turned from conjured flesh into real man, like Eve born from Adam's bone. But my daughter unstitched him from the fabric of dream... And gave him a soul. Not much of one, true, but he is no longer a mere flesh doll that walks and talks. There is some spark inside him that means he is nothing of me any more. How very curious.

It is easy enough for me to shrug on a new version of him, of course. The idea of Wanda having to deal with the two of us at once is vaguely amusing to me. And I want to see my daughter. So I cross through the town and knock gently on her door.

[Open to Wanda's household]

Comments

[ares-thracian.livejournal.com]

There's an annoying racket at the door I'm sure the girls can hear it but why be bothered. This damn town knows business hours.

Happy to remind them, I get up from my basement bed and stroll up the stairs naked as I was when Wanda brought me back. Its not an old biddy I see through the door sheers. My grin widens.

Opening the door just a crack I say, "Not open yet." Something in him reminds me if someone. Someone who is in need of an evisceration."Can I help you?" I ask with a disinterested yawn.

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

I realize there is someone at the door when I catch Kent out of the corner of my eye tugging on a shirt and heading downstairs. He knows I have no interest in entertaining guests at this time, for I am still in mourning. I have to speak to Verdi and make the final arrangements, the wake will be Tuesday night. Until then, I have no desire to be social.

I hear voices from downstairs, but I pay it no mind as I pull Rose out of the tub and wrap her in a towel.

"Dada..." Rose says softly, looking towards the door. "Hmmm, what's that sweetling?" I ask, for she still calls Kent the 'not dada' now and then. "Where's Kent?"

"No Mama..." Rose says solemnly. "Dada. Dada 'ere."

"What? Here? Now?" I ask, trying not to panic. I knew he would come. Rose's actions regarding Kent guaranteed that. But I am not ready.