estdeus_innobis | The years flow by like water, and one day men come home again.

Entry tags:

iblis,
tez

The years flow by like water, and one day men come home again.

The Carnival
June 3

Three years. Nearly, anyway. I've been angry the whole time.

I wanted to know why we left. I wanted to know why he didn't come and find me. I wanted things to be alright with Syl again. I wanted - want - to find a way to punish Management for what they did. I wanted things to be right. I wanted to go home.

The Carnival used to be home. It's not any more. I realised that soon after we left town. Leaving hurt, like something tearing in me. And even if I wasn't missing - people - things weren't how they used to be. I can't do the sort of show I used to, and if I could I don't like people looking at me, now. Working as a roustie's been different from being a turn.

I couldn't leave, so I wrote. Letters to Valmont and Alice, long and rambling, talking about what I saw and some of what I felt. And I sent - things, to Iblis. I started writing to him, one night in some nameless place when I missed him so much it hurt, and when I touched the paper after I could feel that pain throbbing out of it. I burned it and buried the ashes, but a while later I put that same longing into a carefully-pressed flower, a reminder of another time, and sent that.

I never got a reply, but I sent other things, from time to time. My anger like a spring-coil in a page torn from a book. Fear, as a kind of dry joke, in a handful of dust. I never sent any letters, just - moments. Pieces of myself. I don't know if he got them.

And now I'm back here and he's still caught in me like a fish-hook. And I want to see Valmont and Alice, and Glass as well (I stole a book for her once and sent it, delicate drawings of herbs). Other people, maybe. His child. I'm twenty now, in this body at least, and I look more like a man.

And I think I know why we've come back. I have my own plans now.

[OPEN]

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My chest hurts a bit, because he missed me. Because he says it. And he sounds like I feel a lot of the time, confused and without all his memories. "Where did you go?"

"Too far away," I say. "I didn't want to. Can I kiss you again?" I'm not going to let the world be bigger than this right now. I can be quite determined when I want to be. "You're very beautiful." I say that with a lot of feeling, leaning into his touch.

I laugh when he calls me beautiful.

"Am I? I don't remember. Isn't that strange?" I smile at him, because although I feel confused it's not bad, exactly. "You can kiss me. I remember I liked that." I put my arms around him, open my mouth under his. Yes, I remember this, and I sigh a little. "You looked different before," I say. "But you're always my..." a name swims up, and then away before I can remember it. "Micah," I finish, for lack of a better name. "Aren't you?"

My throat feels thick. "Yes," I say. I don't ask him if he's mine. "I love you," I say simply. Any kind of regret can wait for later. I'm not going to waste this. I roll over so I can lean over him and kiss him properly.

And then I sit up. "Do you want to stay here," I say, "or would you like to - go somewhere? I just want to spend time with you." I stroke his hair back. It's so fine against the palm of my hand.

I smile very brightly when he says he loves me.

"I'm glad you do," I say. I don't remember if I love him. I touch his face again. It seems like he would be easy to love - but I forget about that as he kisses me again, and I open my mouth under his, letting him in.

"Do you want to stay here, or would you like to - go somewhere? I just want to spend time with you."

"I don't know where we'd go," I say. "I don't remember. You can take me somewhere," I say, and sit up again. "Why are our clothes wet?" I laugh a bit, because it seems strange.

"I puked on myself." It's not very romantic. "You helped me wash. It's a warm day, though. They'll dry."

I stand up and hold out my hand to him. "Come on," I say. "We can go into town. I haven't seen it in years." I don't think anyone would recognise me, except maybe Valmont. Three years was a long time for this body. I've got a bit broader and my face has changed. Micah's body is getting hairier than the old one was, too.

"Are you ill?" I put my hand to his forehead; the skin feels warm and dry. I take his hand and go with him; it feels comfortable to walk like this. As we go over the bridge hand in hand, a group of boys shouts "fags!" at us, and shoves me into the side of the bridge as they pass. I feel my face crumple. Why would they do that? Something buried deep inside me roils, but I can't remember what it is I'm feeling, and it subsides into confusion.

I see his face change, and I think at the boys: I could kill you. I would eat your hearts and the marrow of your bones. I'm stronger than them, and I can move faster, faster than this body should. I tip the one who pushed him quite easily over the side of the bridge. I could have done far worse. I will, if they keep this up.

"Go away," I tell them, low and fierce. I put my arm around him.

He moves so fast. I think I remember seeing it before, but it still thrills me. There's a splash as one boy hits the water, and then Micah's back beside me, his arm warm around me. I lean into him, and watch the other boys back away and then run.

"You're very brave," I say solemnly to Micah, and kiss him. I smile again, because - "I feel safe with you." I put my hand in my pocket, and I find coins there. "Will this buy food? I think... I'm hungry." It feels like an unfamiliar sensation.

That will hurt later. For now I kiss his cheek. "I won't let anyone hurt you," I promise him, "not today." It's the most I can promise, isn't it.

"Will this buy food? I think... I'm hungry."

"Yes." It's strange to feel worldly next to him. "And I have money too," though not much, given my job now. "We'll get food. There used to be places..." The memories are still quite strong. "Town's bigger now," I say as we walk. I tip my face up to the sun for a moment. I wish I could always look after him like this. I have a flicker of a memory, the old Brant's wickedness, and wonder if that's in him now. Maybe I'll find out later.

"It's interesting," I say, looking around the town. "I've been here before. Sometimes with you," I say. We pass an alleyway, and I stop and look down it, rub my head. There's a memory pressing the back of my mind, but I can't draw it out. "It was raining," I say thoughtfully, and then walk on.

We get to a cafe, and it's so strange inside, it makes me laugh.

"I want all the pie that this can buy," I say solemnly, putting my money on the table in front of the waitress. "For both of us. You should save your money," I say to Micah. "Because..." I rub my face, trying to remember. "You just lost your job."

I've never been young and mostly-human and in love, not like this. It would be strange enough even if Iblis wasn't buying me pie.

"Thank you." I think about the alley, and the rain. I wonder how much he remembers. "I like pie." A part of me is amused, the old part of me (the old Tez?) at the two of us, god-monster-things here like this. I like pie.

I could imagine this was our home, the town, and we were nothing more than we seem. I smile at him: "Do you want coffee?"

"I want... a milkshake." I smile at him very brilliantly, I can feel it. When the drink comes it's cold and sweet, which seems right on a warm day. I stroke his fingertips where his hand rests on the table. "I haven't seen you in so long. I've forgotten so much. Do you mind?" I turn his hand over so I can stroke the palm. "I remember... Having you inside me," I say, matter-of-factly, though I can feel colour come up in my face, just a little. "Sometimes you liked it to hurt, didn't you? Did I like it, too?"

At least I don't blush. "Yes," I say, my voice low. My skin is prickling. "And - I don't mind. I forgot a lot too, before." I sip my coffee. "What else do you remember? About me?" I'm curious.

Him being almost shy like this makes me feel - strange. Protective, and...and. I want to take him to bed and have a great deal of sex with him.

When he says yes I nod, thoughtful.

"I think I remember that." I feel like something else slots into place, and I sit up straighter. I remember... I remember a part of me that smiled slyly at him and pulled him down in a field. When was that? "I remember..." I shake my head. "I don't know. Except that I know you better than anyone else does. That you... let me inside you. Not just in a sex way. In here," and I touch his temple. "I don't know how. I know you love me. I know I... want to be with you." I sip my milkshake. "Do you remember a lot? About me."

I want to be with you. Something to hold onto. I lean into his touching fingers a little.

"I wish I remembered more," I say. It's honest. I don't want to remind him of who he is - not just because it would ruin this, but because it would make him sad, and he deserves this, a time without his great despair. "You used to be sadder. I'm glad you're not now." I lean over the table and kiss his mouth lightly. I don't care who sees. "You helped me remember, when I forgot everything."

I take his milkshake and have a sip, make a bit of a face, and then I laugh, because we're ridiculous. This is ridiculous. There was never a day as perfect as this, since the beginning of worlds. "The things you've done to me... You beat me bloody with a chain, once. I remember that."

"You helped me remember, when I forgot everything."

"And you'll help me," I say confidently. "And we'll be together." I can't see why we wouldn't be. So everything will be alright.

He doesn't like my milkshake, and I laugh at him.

"The things you've done to me... You beat me bloody with a chain, once. I remember that."

I laugh, a little shocked, though I feel my body stir.

"I don't remember that. I remember that you liked my blood." I tip my head back and stroke my throat. "You can bite me here later. I remember your teeth." I remember it hurting, now. It makes me get hard.

"For as long as you'll let me," I agree, keeping any sadness out of my voice.

What he says about biting him makes me growl softly without meaning to. "I want to." I look at the length of his throat. I remember this body of his better than the others, I think, except maybe Danika, who I saw after I died. I laugh: "You had a riding crop once. I remember." His blood. All of me's yearning towards him, not just my penis.

Cont here (http://estdeus-innobis.livejournal.com/477511.html)

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The years flow by like water, and one day men come home again.

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