"In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life; it goes on." --- Robert Frost

[kent-whitman.livejournal.com]

Sunday, June 17th
Past midnight, on Silk

Continued from here

Shit. It's today. I knew it was today, what? Two weeks ago? But somehow, the fact that today is Wanda's birthday escaped me. But only slightly. I already have a present, and Rose and I planned on waking up early to make her breakfast...

but had I remembered I might not have stayed out quite so late tonight, wandering about and stopping to have a drink or four with some of the guys from my crew.

So with a bottle of strawberry meade in hand, I decide it might be time to get my sorry and bruised ass back home and to my lovely wife, silently thankful she likes to sleep in on Sundays.

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[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

Salthaven on Saturdays is stiller now than year past; came there by noon and stayed there through the day and now it's closer to dawn than dusk. Miaren'll like enough be in six shades of lace by now, leaving her with Dorian for the day and it being market day aside from that.

Time I should start bringing her along, I suppose.

Four hours into the walk was an hour past, and my feet are closer to too tired to hurt than to aching. Still and well enough, near to home, and come over the bridge and up Silk's cobbles and finding myself mild amused at how bright Excolo stands compared to some of the other towns about. It's the lack of flicker, I imagine.

Come up to pass the man making his way careful down the street and see it's Wanda's golem. "Evening," polite enough. Raise an eyebrow at the bottle he's carrying.

[kent-whitman.livejournal.com]

I am not so terribly drunk that I am stumbling over my own feet, but cobblestones can be tricky on the driest and sunniest of days, so I make sure to take my time as I walk. Coming home with a twisted ankle is not a present I want to give my wife.

I have my eyes on the road, so when I hear a woman's voice address me, I am surprised. Even more so when I realize who is doing the addressing.

"Think it might be hedging closer to morning," I reply, then note the way she's eyeing up the bottle. "Birthday present for Wanda." I offer in explanation then look around. Know Wanda told me she was more partial to nights, but...

"What has you out so late?"

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"Back from a burial," shrugging light. Consider him a moment, then, and as I've never been particular minded to halter my curiousity, so.

"Do you get properly drunk?" I wonder, really. "Mean, don't know that the real one did, so where's how it works for you come from?"

[kent-whitman.livejournal.com]

It's edging towards dawn and she's coming back from a burial. I am about to jokingly ask her the best places to stash a body in Excolo in the middle of the night, but her question stops me.

I know she knows that I'm not... Wanda's ex-husband. But we've never exchanged more than polite conversation and the question comes somewhat bluntly from nowhere, and I am a touch tipsy.

"Cannot speak for the 'real one'," My dry tone might give her some indication as to how I feel about being told I am not a real person. "But I get drunk. Not too often, but it's been known to happen" Granted, it feels like I am not drunk enough for this. "I also sleep, dream, curse when I accidentally hammer my hand instead of the nail and catch the occasional cold." Take a deep breath to stop myself from getting too snide. It is late, and I find I get... irritable when I have to explain my existence. It has been almost three years, one would think I would be accustomed to it by now.

My apologies, Glass. I do not mean to be sarcastic." I offer in apology. "My physiology seems to be human, as far as anyone can tell, if that is what you were inquiring after."

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"Cannot speak for the 'real one'. But I get drunk. Not too often, but it's been known to happen. I also sleep, dream, curse when I accidentally hammer my hand instead of the nail and catch the occasional cold." Raise an eyebrow, mild amusement as he apologizes for sarcasm, and wonder if he's spent aught time to speak of around Dorian.

--right, well, killing that bloody thought right now.

"My physiology seems to be human, as far as anyone can tell, if that is what you were inquiring after."

Shake my head a little. "No, guessed that. It's only..." Think on it a moment. "Different drinks take me in different ways; wine or vodka or what-have-you. Different spices suit me than suit others. Seen something of the same with others, and call all of them human. So in all the ways things could fall out, matters of taste or take to something like that, what sets them if it's not an idea that thing set out?"

[kent-whitman.livejournal.com]

.........

How Wanda manages to understand this woman I haven't a clue. She calls it 'Glass-speak' with a rhythm that is unlike anything she has heard before. I think I could use my wife here right now, to translate.

"Glass, are you asking me what makes me drunk, or am I completely missing the question?"" I finally break down and ask, for I have no idea what she might be on about.

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"No," I say patient. "I'm asking what decides all the bits of you that the thing from the tower didn't bother with, or that Wanda maybe didn't think of. Sure there was plenty of details about whiskey and poetry and roses and how it is t'lie with you already set out, fine," and I wave a hand in dismissal. "And grant you get sick as any other human might, as near enough to all of them do one time or another. But what of the rest? What decides if you care for a meal she's never even heard of, the sound of an instrument she's never seen?"

[kent-whitman.livejournal.com]

"I'm asking what decides all the bits of you that the thing from the tower didn't bother with, or that Wanda maybe didn't think of... What decides if you care for a meal she's never even heard of, the sound of an instrument she's never seen?"

I blink a few times, trying to clear my head enough to wrap it around the question. I think I try to answer once or twice, but close my mouth before I can answer.

"What makes me... me." I understand the question. But I am not sure how to answer it, if there is a answer.

"I would suppose I do. Whatever Rose did to keep me here gave me freedom from her sire, and with that free will came, I suppose." Shrug a little as I think about it. "I don't care for pineapple. Hate the stuff actually. Wanda loves it, so does Rose... and I don't think the one from the Tower truly cares for any food one way or another... so there's something I do not think was pre-planned by anyone and that I have formed my own opinion on." It is small, but it is what came to my mind. What an odd conversation for the middle of the night. Oh, speaking of...

"You mentioned a burial. Who died?" I do not recall seeing a death notice for anyone in town.

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

Raise an eyebrow a little as he's talking of pineapple, but Wanda's never been thin on coin and Bluebeard and Tulzcha are steady set in town, so suppose it's hardly unheard of. Turning over Rose more, really. "Rose," I say thoughtful, "brought free will into you; made you someone as could be your self, then." Look to him curious. "What's it like, being parent to your mother?"

"You mentioned a burial. Who died?"

"Murakami, over up Salthaven." Shrug a little. Knew it was coming, I think; sure enough the one as brought word seemed unsurprised, and the instructions he made a point to leave were calm and clear-written. Well spoken of, by those as knew him, and if there was more sin there than most'd maybe've guessed, it's no-one's business now but mine. "Had word early this morning, made it out by noon." Set the back of my hand to my mouth to stifle a yawn.

[kent-whitman.livejournal.com]

I suppose Rose did give me the ability to be... well, whatever I want to be. I do like building things, creating. I doubt very much Rose's father does. So there is that.

"What's it like, being parent to your mother?"

"Do you know, you are the second person to ask me that in as many weeks." I comment, passing a hand over my eyes. "It is a thought I do not dwell on overmuch. It can be rather... headache inducing. Even though physically I may have only been here a few years, in my head I'm forty six - forty seven with a lifetime behind me. Granted, my past as it were was constructed, it is still mine." Shrug and smile, for I can understand curiosity about this, and Wanda always said Glass was inquisitive. "I suppose it is like a reverse amnesia. Remembering bits and pieces that never were."

"Murakami, over up Salthaven."

"Salthaven?" My eyebrows go up.

"Had word early this morning, made it out by noon."

"That is a twenty mile walk." I state the obvious as she yawns. "And you walked? No wonder you are tired. I should let you..."

And I stop in mid-thought. Salthaven. Another town twenty miles away.

Glass.
Left.
Excolo.

"You left town? You were able to pass the town limits?" I ask, suddenly hopeful. Wanda tried to leave three years ago, I two year past, we both ended up back in town. Maybe, oh god, maybe!

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"That is a twenty mile walk. And you walked?" Well, flying's never been a gift I had. "No wonder you are tired," and he trails off, and I shrug.

"It's not the walk so much's the digging," I say, and then he's looking like the mead in his stomach's turned back into honey and there're bees crawling up his throat.

"You left town? You were able to pass the town limits?"

"'Course I did," I say. "Why, 'd you think I oughtn't be able?" Really, wonder what the hell Wanda's been telling him.

[kent-whitman.livejournal.com]

"'Course I did, Why, 'd you think I oughtn't be able?"

Oh, if it's true, that might be the best present I could give Wanda. The hope that we can leave.

"I can't." Say simply. "Wanda can't. Lucien couldn't, if memory of what Wanda told me was correct. We both tried it, a few times.... walk one direction or the other, end up back here." It was the strangest thing, yet true.

"Just hearing that someone with ties to town is able to leave makes me hopeful whatever has bound us here may have loosened it's grip." I say with a glance towards the North. "At least it might be worth the trying again."

It is late and she looks like she could sleep standing and I still need to get home before sunrise. "I am sorry, I am keeping you from your bed, I should let you get home."

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"I can't. Wanda can't. Lucien couldn't, if memory of what Wanda told me was correct," and I nod. "We both tried it, a few times.... walk one direction or the other, end up back here."

"Well, fine, but why did you think I couldn't?" I say. "Mean, not as if I swore myself t'the thing in the tower, nor was woven up by one beholden to it and one half its daughter, and Lucien was tied up with the Carnival. There's Dorian Gray as's left town, bloody sure Hollow at least crossed its bounds last winter when the Abney girl went missing, that sulking rat as used to work the Tavern, Essa Timcar's daughter..."

"Just hearing that someone with ties to town is able to leave makes me hopeful whatever has bound us here may have loosened it's grip."

"Best to you both, then," I say, "but not guessing my ties to town are a match to yours," and then he's after making apologies for keeping me up.

"Bloody aren't," I say, grinning a little. Mean, we've been walking as we spoke, and hardly as if I'd not cut the talk short were I minded to. "Go along home, then, if you're after hurrying." Wave him along, and settle back to my stroll.