Nareth had been standing in the open entryway to the Hospital when Severus and I had found her alone and looking out into the street with a disoriented frown. “I’ve only been gone an hour,” she said over and over again. “It wasn’t snowing….” She began questioning me as though she’d seen me scarce moments before. My shock at seeing her alive, as it were, made little impression in the swirl of confusion that surrounded her.
She’d wanted to return to the Library. Severus and I had walked with her, matching each long stride as her boots crunched through the ice in the frozen streets. She didn’t seem to know Severus. She didn’t seem to know about the changes in the City. And as we walked, she shivered. Nareth was… cold. “Impossible,” I thought to myself, “The undead don’t feel the sting of winter…. “
As we made our way the Library Nareth hesitated, surprised by the large Christmas wreath hanging on the Library’s door. After a moment, she entered and headed directly to the drawing room hearth. She fell straightaway into the armchair to the right of the fire. The myriad conversations surrounding us fell silent, as one by one eyes turned to Nareth, not believing what they were seeing. She was trembling. I’d never seen her tremble; she seemed almost vulnerable. But this couldn’t be, I kept telling myself.
“I was going to the Pit. I didn't go to the Pit.”
“You summoned Labyrinth, Nareth. You went.
“No….”
But she had gone, had been destroyed there, carved into pieces by Pontifex and fed to the Shadows by Lorne in her bid to summon Labyrinth. She didn’t believe it or wouldn’t. And frankly, I didn’t know what to make of this Nareth who was confounded, shaking and near tears. She wasn’t the brutal Nareth I’d known, nor was she the Golem or the small, Vietnamese thief tossed by the sea upon the City’s shore during a late-night torrential downpour.
Nareth murmured, “Something has gone very wrong, I think.”
“Yes, very wrong,” Pontifex replied. “What if the others come back too? We both went to the pit, only I came back.... “
An icy voice. “What is the meaning of this?”
And the Lady had been shocked. Angered. Then…if not accepting… somehow resolved. Lorne had prompted, “Look into her soul, Omega. If she still has it within her, that is one thing, and the nature of a soul to show what it is quite another.” The Lady couldn’t look. But Grrbrool could.
“Realmwalker,” he said, “Not tha Huntress.”
She went to the Pit; she didn’t go. She died there; she lived.
Nareth; not Nareth.
I just don’t know.
Nareth Returns
Showing posts with label Lorne. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lorne. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Saturday, December 27, 2008
In the Garden
I felt a slight tug and jerk as Lorne touched the side of my cheek, my eyes growing unfocused. As the Garden swam into view, I know what I expected to see: A fiery Creature, a whirl of beating wings and blinking eyes, a blazing sword in Its midst. What I saw, instead, was a copse and beyond its perimeter, a free flowing river, its banks covered with lush and dense greenery. A Voice whispered on the breeze, “On the day you were created, you were prepared....” I turned expecting Lorne or Sariel, but I was alone in the stillness.
Taking one hesitant step forward, then another, I was inexorably drawn into the Garden before me. The abundance of trees was overwhelming and beautiful in its greatness. The branches of the largest seemed to lift ever upward to the sky, its roots going down to the waters of the river. I turned my head this way and that as I walked, the sound of birdsong catching my ear. Each call was piercingly beautiful and more real than I had ever heard before. The smell of the air was crisp and green.
I stopped beside the river and stood still as a needle, breathing deeply, and taking in the sweet smell of cedar mingled with the fragrance of the other trees. After a moment I knelt at the water’s edge and dipped in my fingers, finding surprising warmth where I had expected the icy coldness of a spring. I brought my fingertips to my mouth, tasting the water’s sweetness. As I did so, the Garden began to become ever more green, its smells more intense. I felt as though I had never tasted water before, never before seen a real tree.
There was sparkle of light, then three stones glimmering in a small patch of sand on the riverbank caught my eye, all smooth and polished by the water. I couldn’t tell you why, but at that moment I felt a strong impulse to choose one. It seemed important somehow, even necessary. I ran my finger over each stone, but the one in the middle seemed to tingle under my touch. After a moment, I chose it and dropped it into my pocket. I straightened and stood, noticing for the first time two trees at the very center of the Garden.
Each of the trees was laden with ripe fruit, but a fruit that I’d never seen before. At the base of one, there bloomed a rose bush; in the lowest branch of the other there nested a bird with brilliant red and gold feathers, a single plume of purple cascading from its back. I walked softly toward the tree not wanting to frighten the bird away, each boot making an impression in the tufted grass beneath my feet. I knew only that I longed to touch the bird’s silken feathers, I hungered to look into its dark and seemingly endless gaze. As I extended one hand toward it, the bird’s nesting branch seemed to bend toward my touch. I reached out to brush the soft red and gold plumage with my fingertips, but as I did so my fingers passed through unexpectedly, the creature’s feathers turning to flame and nearly consuming it with my touch. Its ashes drifted like dark snowflakes before me in a sudden stirring breeze, and I heard a lone cry as the single, remaining purple plume fell into my outstretched hand.
I stared at the purple blaze and then looked at the empty place where the creature had been. I should have felt fear or perhaps sadness for its loss, but instead I felt wonder. Whatever had happened to the creature had been so utterly right that I knew it with every fiber of my being. Unbuttoning the collar of my jacket dress, I slid the feather between my undergarments and my skin, placing it over my heart. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around the creature’s nesting tree, laying my head on its trunk and listening for something within.
Then I felt its pulse, images and sounds and scents rushing through me: The dance of fire at night, the scent of Grr’s fur, the cry of a newborn, Lorne’s touch on my cheek, the twinkling of the North Star, Brit’s shining eyes and the smell of the cookies she served in the Library. I closed my eyes and rested my cheek against the tree’s smooth bark, holding it and being held by the most living of living things. I’m not sure how long I stood there. I only know that I did not stir until, with the sound of rustling leaves and a glint of shimmering green, one leaf fluttered to rest at the toe of my boot.
I knelt at the foot of the tree, plucking the leaf from the grass and holding it between thumb and forefinger, studying each perfect vein from the base to the tip of the blade. I kissed it lightly and inhaled its scent, looking up to the tree with murmured thanks, before pulling a handkerchief from my pocket and wrapping the leaf neatly within. As I slid the small bundle into the folds of my skirt, I thought, “If only Grr could see this...it would make him whole....”
No sooner than the thought had formed, I found myself alone, standing in the wintry graveyard beside a cold slab nestled in the Toxian snow.
Lorne was nowhere to be seen.
Taking one hesitant step forward, then another, I was inexorably drawn into the Garden before me. The abundance of trees was overwhelming and beautiful in its greatness. The branches of the largest seemed to lift ever upward to the sky, its roots going down to the waters of the river. I turned my head this way and that as I walked, the sound of birdsong catching my ear. Each call was piercingly beautiful and more real than I had ever heard before. The smell of the air was crisp and green.
I stopped beside the river and stood still as a needle, breathing deeply, and taking in the sweet smell of cedar mingled with the fragrance of the other trees. After a moment I knelt at the water’s edge and dipped in my fingers, finding surprising warmth where I had expected the icy coldness of a spring. I brought my fingertips to my mouth, tasting the water’s sweetness. As I did so, the Garden began to become ever more green, its smells more intense. I felt as though I had never tasted water before, never before seen a real tree.
There was sparkle of light, then three stones glimmering in a small patch of sand on the riverbank caught my eye, all smooth and polished by the water. I couldn’t tell you why, but at that moment I felt a strong impulse to choose one. It seemed important somehow, even necessary. I ran my finger over each stone, but the one in the middle seemed to tingle under my touch. After a moment, I chose it and dropped it into my pocket. I straightened and stood, noticing for the first time two trees at the very center of the Garden.
Each of the trees was laden with ripe fruit, but a fruit that I’d never seen before. At the base of one, there bloomed a rose bush; in the lowest branch of the other there nested a bird with brilliant red and gold feathers, a single plume of purple cascading from its back. I walked softly toward the tree not wanting to frighten the bird away, each boot making an impression in the tufted grass beneath my feet. I knew only that I longed to touch the bird’s silken feathers, I hungered to look into its dark and seemingly endless gaze. As I extended one hand toward it, the bird’s nesting branch seemed to bend toward my touch. I reached out to brush the soft red and gold plumage with my fingertips, but as I did so my fingers passed through unexpectedly, the creature’s feathers turning to flame and nearly consuming it with my touch. Its ashes drifted like dark snowflakes before me in a sudden stirring breeze, and I heard a lone cry as the single, remaining purple plume fell into my outstretched hand.
I stared at the purple blaze and then looked at the empty place where the creature had been. I should have felt fear or perhaps sadness for its loss, but instead I felt wonder. Whatever had happened to the creature had been so utterly right that I knew it with every fiber of my being. Unbuttoning the collar of my jacket dress, I slid the feather between my undergarments and my skin, placing it over my heart. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around the creature’s nesting tree, laying my head on its trunk and listening for something within.
Then I felt its pulse, images and sounds and scents rushing through me: The dance of fire at night, the scent of Grr’s fur, the cry of a newborn, Lorne’s touch on my cheek, the twinkling of the North Star, Brit’s shining eyes and the smell of the cookies she served in the Library. I closed my eyes and rested my cheek against the tree’s smooth bark, holding it and being held by the most living of living things. I’m not sure how long I stood there. I only know that I did not stir until, with the sound of rustling leaves and a glint of shimmering green, one leaf fluttered to rest at the toe of my boot.
I knelt at the foot of the tree, plucking the leaf from the grass and holding it between thumb and forefinger, studying each perfect vein from the base to the tip of the blade. I kissed it lightly and inhaled its scent, looking up to the tree with murmured thanks, before pulling a handkerchief from my pocket and wrapping the leaf neatly within. As I slid the small bundle into the folds of my skirt, I thought, “If only Grr could see this...it would make him whole....”
No sooner than the thought had formed, I found myself alone, standing in the wintry graveyard beside a cold slab nestled in the Toxian snow.
Lorne was nowhere to be seen.
What was Eden like... when You were there?
We were interrupted in our discussion of Eden by the arrival of a number of vampires led by the Overlord, JonnyGio Forcella. Among them were Nessa, her mother, Morticia, and Nessa’s daughter, Ashe. Nessa ran up to Lorne, grabbing him roughly and laughing wildly. “You like this or d’ya like it rougher?” She curled around Lorne, bringing her face within inches of His. Ashe choked back laughter. “What, honey?” Nessa replied to Ashe’s unspoken comment, “Ain’t you seen him topless? He’s hot, I tell ‘ya.”
Morticia licked her lips, her tongue gliding over extended fangs. “Nessa, darling, never heard of sharing?” she asked slyly. I looked at each of the vampire women, their hunger for Lorne apparent and I straightened up, wary once again.
Nessa thrust out her hip and pressed into Lorne. “I don’t like to share, Mother. I’m greedy ‘n selfish.”
I watched as Lorne placed His index finger on the center of Nessa’s sternum and slowly pushed her back. "Your pardon, good lady. I am back from a long journey, and wouldn't want to contaminate you with supernatural miasmas."
Nessa affected an insincere pout. “Okay, Lorney, babe… I get ‘ya, doll face… maybe we can meet up later when you have been cleansed...” she laughed.
“Err, mum…” Ashe poked Nessa behind the back, “being greedy and selfish is a sin, I think....” She darted her head around Nessa to lick her lips at Lorne.
“Shhh, Ashe,” Nessa replied, “I’m trying to master all seven….”
The Overlord cut the banter short, moving quickly beyond the ability to see, to stand just beside the stone slab on which I sat. Looking at both Lorne and me, he said in a voice dry with age, “I do believe you are paying visit to the dead... or is this a private meeting in such an uncommon place?”
Lorne shook His head, turning to speak over His shoulder to the Overlord. “It seems Joah was more contemplating the dead, I was simply using the unique spiritual qualities she has to guide my way back to the physical plane.”
I didn’t relax, but I did shift slightly on the slab, pointing to the headstone by my side. “Mary Olive Faith Dewitt,” I said in reply.
Ashe hopped up on a nearby headstone and looked around, amusement twinkling in her eyes.
“Is there a empty tomb around here?” Morticia yawned, “I’m sleepy.” The night sky was beginning to lighten, the sun not yet up, but the stars were fading and twinkling out.
“Tombs are so outdated, Grandmother… I prefer my big comfy bed with heavy curtains to draw around it, and shuttered windows….” Ashe wrapped her arms around herself with a dreamy expression on her face.
Lorne looked back to Morticia, nodding as He gazed around the graveyard. “There is more than one I believe. As I understand it, there were relatively large numbers of funerals performed here after no body was recovered for one reason or another.”
The Overlord nodded to Morticia, dismissing her to explore. She drifted off, walking around various tombs and inspecting each one. His gaze, however, never wandered from Lorne. “Then you don’t mind if we stay here a bit contemplating the dead too... we used too do so once a week and I wish this practice to be restored.”
“To see an Overlord of the Kindred Alliance in the graveyard would not be an unwelcome sight in My opinion,” Lorne said evenly. “Your predecessor spent many hours here, tending the graves, and showing them reverence.”
“That is correct, indeed,” the Overlord agreed. “But lately we have not been so welcome here….”
From a tomb to the right of me, Morticia muttered, “They need to clean in here.” I looked over to see her rubbing a finger along the stone tresses of a blank-eyed girl in a summer bonnet. The girl sat frozen in time, her hand resting on the carved stump of a tree before her. A few toys and trinkets had been laid around her and in front of the tomb’s opening.
I turned back to the headstone beside me, brushing a bit of snow from it’s top. Mary Olive’s engraving was worn. Weeds poked up through the cracked surface at its base. “There’s much that needs tending here,” I said. “Their memories are all but lost.”
Lorne looked down at me with a wry, if light smile. “Hopefully not all.” He turned back toward the Overlord. “Your predecessor also once confided in Me his intention to eat god.”
Ashe bent over a nearby stone and began cutting the frozen weeds with her claw and crushing them to powder with her hands, a sad and angry expression on her face. The Overlord shifted slightly giving Lorne a tight smile.
“Vladimir’s ambitions were high, but I suppose he was within his rights to try.” The Overlord spread his hands as if offering an apology. “I’d not dare to try in such a challenge… not yet, at least,” he grinned.
Morticia closed her eyes. With a murmur barely spoken, she rose in the air, floating and slipping into a trance.
“Difficult to say which ambitions were his and which were those of the dead, but it was always fascinating to witness,” Lorne observed mildly.
The Overlord shrugged. “I have more urgent business to take care of right now.” He met Lorne’s eyes with a cold gaze. “Maybe in due time I will try. Who knows...after all we have eternity….”
Lorne looked at the Overlord a long moment. “I can't imagine the taste will be palatable, but it is your eternity to have, of course,” He grinned slightly.
The Overlord stepped back, his eyes roving over his family. “I shall leave you all for now, but I want you to come here to remember your ancient blood.... I want this habit restored.” Without a word, he turned and departed, his movements so smooth and quick that he appeared to be walking through the headstones instead of around them.
Lorne watched the Overlord retreat then turned slowly away from him and back toward me, answering the question I had asked and almost forgotten during the descent of the vampires. “In Eden, Joah, it was perfect,” He said. “And that is why Eden did not work.”
“I hate perfection… it’s odd,” Nessa muttered, then startled as Morticia snapped out of her trance and landed with a curse on the frozen ground.
“Perfect beauty,” I mused, “Perfect love... perfect minds... why wouldn't that work, Lorne?” I was genuinely puzzled.
“Maybe too perfect?” Ashe muttered as she rubbed some dirt off a headstone.
“Because humankind are creatures of change,” Lorne began, “and perfection is a static thing. Idealized love leads to wondering why the object of your love is not what you thought they were.”
As Lorne spoke, one by one the vampires began to drift away from the graveyard. “Sun’s almost up,” Ashe murmured. I nodded goodbye as she and Nessa and Morticia slipped away. Lorne stood watching, his arms folded in front of Him. He lifted a hand in farewell as they departed.
I twisted around slightly to look up at Him. “It would seem to me... that in a place of complete wholeness, the possibility for infinite change would be possible… creativity would know no limits.” I looked down at my lap. “Look at the creation of the world,” I said a bit tentatively, knowing something of Lorne's role in that.
“Therein lies a problem as well, Joah, perhaps the problem to being with. If one does their best to do something, perhaps it will grow beyond them and take on a life of its own. Now imagine that on the scale of deities.”
I lay on hand on Mary Olive’s headstone, pulling myself up to stand, my boots still on the slab that was nestled in the snow. “You’re well acquainted with creation taking on a life of it's own, I suppose.” My memories were mixed, all Pestilence and Lilith and Eve and Sariel… creation and loss. “Still… it seems….” I broke off, staring down at my boots.
Lorne cocked His head, placing his His hands again behind His back. “Is there something on your mind, Joah?”
I raised my head to meet His eyevoids and spoke with great hesitance. “You say that no one can go there... not anymore. Yet, sometimes I feel I belong there.” I turned away with confusion, gazing out over the graveyard, then up at the lightening sky, pretending to look for the stars.
I could feel Lorne watching me for a while, and as He did so, my attention was drawn once more to Him. He wasn’t angry with me; instead, He was smiling sweetly. He raised a hand, finger curled to draw up my cheek softly.
I tilted my face slightly to His touch. “I'm being foolish, aren't I? Just dreams, I suppose... an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato.” I felt embarrassed and ill at ease.
Lorne smiled broadly at me, pushing His fingertips through the hair at the side of my face, and back behind my ear, cupping my cheek. “Not a silly dream, nor a quote from an instance where an actual dream was being discussed either, silly or otherwise.” He dropped his hand and brought it back behind Him.
“I suppose that's true,” I said softly. “But how does one know... if the dream is... real?”
Lorne shook His head. “There is only deduction, and even that is not unflawed at the introduction of the idea of Descartes’ perfect dream, Joah.”
“You mean the senses can trick us?” I asked. I brushed a bit of snow from my skirts, my small, gloved hand moving delicately over the fabric as I smoothed away bits of frozen debris it had picked up from the stone slab.
“I mean if your senses were all of them fed false information, all of them, how would you know?” Lorne’s eyevoids tracked the movements of my hand.
“There must be a way to test the senses, Lorne.” I trailed off thinking about the problem of dreams and reality. “How do You know?”
Lorne Harlequin shook His head, turning to look away. “Apart from logical inconsistencies, and only if there is a mistake in the dream? I don't see a way that any can.”
“I want to go there,” I said, turning my face away Him. I felt that I was making an impossible request, one I that had for so long been afraid to speak.
“Go...to Paradise? Go to Eden?” Lorne raised His eyebrows slightly, looking back to me.
I slowly met His gaze, nodding hesitantly, but saying yes. “I feel it calls to me Lorne.” I was at a loss as to how to explain. “After the Eden soil, Your seed...the death of my... fear... it grows stronger, more vivid... and insistent."
Lorne nodded slowly as I spoke. “I can take you there. To a part of it.”
“Please do,” I whispered. “Even if to a part of it... please....”
Silently, Lorne reached toward my cheek, as if in slow motion. As His fingers touched my skin, the world began to blur and brighten at the sound of rustling foliage and avian wings….
Morticia licked her lips, her tongue gliding over extended fangs. “Nessa, darling, never heard of sharing?” she asked slyly. I looked at each of the vampire women, their hunger for Lorne apparent and I straightened up, wary once again.
Nessa thrust out her hip and pressed into Lorne. “I don’t like to share, Mother. I’m greedy ‘n selfish.”
I watched as Lorne placed His index finger on the center of Nessa’s sternum and slowly pushed her back. "Your pardon, good lady. I am back from a long journey, and wouldn't want to contaminate you with supernatural miasmas."
Nessa affected an insincere pout. “Okay, Lorney, babe… I get ‘ya, doll face… maybe we can meet up later when you have been cleansed...” she laughed.
“Err, mum…” Ashe poked Nessa behind the back, “being greedy and selfish is a sin, I think....” She darted her head around Nessa to lick her lips at Lorne.
“Shhh, Ashe,” Nessa replied, “I’m trying to master all seven….”
The Overlord cut the banter short, moving quickly beyond the ability to see, to stand just beside the stone slab on which I sat. Looking at both Lorne and me, he said in a voice dry with age, “I do believe you are paying visit to the dead... or is this a private meeting in such an uncommon place?”
Lorne shook His head, turning to speak over His shoulder to the Overlord. “It seems Joah was more contemplating the dead, I was simply using the unique spiritual qualities she has to guide my way back to the physical plane.”
I didn’t relax, but I did shift slightly on the slab, pointing to the headstone by my side. “Mary Olive Faith Dewitt,” I said in reply.
Ashe hopped up on a nearby headstone and looked around, amusement twinkling in her eyes.
“Is there a empty tomb around here?” Morticia yawned, “I’m sleepy.” The night sky was beginning to lighten, the sun not yet up, but the stars were fading and twinkling out.
“Tombs are so outdated, Grandmother… I prefer my big comfy bed with heavy curtains to draw around it, and shuttered windows….” Ashe wrapped her arms around herself with a dreamy expression on her face.
Lorne looked back to Morticia, nodding as He gazed around the graveyard. “There is more than one I believe. As I understand it, there were relatively large numbers of funerals performed here after no body was recovered for one reason or another.”
The Overlord nodded to Morticia, dismissing her to explore. She drifted off, walking around various tombs and inspecting each one. His gaze, however, never wandered from Lorne. “Then you don’t mind if we stay here a bit contemplating the dead too... we used too do so once a week and I wish this practice to be restored.”
“To see an Overlord of the Kindred Alliance in the graveyard would not be an unwelcome sight in My opinion,” Lorne said evenly. “Your predecessor spent many hours here, tending the graves, and showing them reverence.”
“That is correct, indeed,” the Overlord agreed. “But lately we have not been so welcome here….”
From a tomb to the right of me, Morticia muttered, “They need to clean in here.” I looked over to see her rubbing a finger along the stone tresses of a blank-eyed girl in a summer bonnet. The girl sat frozen in time, her hand resting on the carved stump of a tree before her. A few toys and trinkets had been laid around her and in front of the tomb’s opening.
I turned back to the headstone beside me, brushing a bit of snow from it’s top. Mary Olive’s engraving was worn. Weeds poked up through the cracked surface at its base. “There’s much that needs tending here,” I said. “Their memories are all but lost.”
Lorne looked down at me with a wry, if light smile. “Hopefully not all.” He turned back toward the Overlord. “Your predecessor also once confided in Me his intention to eat god.”
Ashe bent over a nearby stone and began cutting the frozen weeds with her claw and crushing them to powder with her hands, a sad and angry expression on her face. The Overlord shifted slightly giving Lorne a tight smile.
“Vladimir’s ambitions were high, but I suppose he was within his rights to try.” The Overlord spread his hands as if offering an apology. “I’d not dare to try in such a challenge… not yet, at least,” he grinned.
Morticia closed her eyes. With a murmur barely spoken, she rose in the air, floating and slipping into a trance.
“Difficult to say which ambitions were his and which were those of the dead, but it was always fascinating to witness,” Lorne observed mildly.
The Overlord shrugged. “I have more urgent business to take care of right now.” He met Lorne’s eyes with a cold gaze. “Maybe in due time I will try. Who knows...after all we have eternity….”
Lorne looked at the Overlord a long moment. “I can't imagine the taste will be palatable, but it is your eternity to have, of course,” He grinned slightly.
The Overlord stepped back, his eyes roving over his family. “I shall leave you all for now, but I want you to come here to remember your ancient blood.... I want this habit restored.” Without a word, he turned and departed, his movements so smooth and quick that he appeared to be walking through the headstones instead of around them.
Lorne watched the Overlord retreat then turned slowly away from him and back toward me, answering the question I had asked and almost forgotten during the descent of the vampires. “In Eden, Joah, it was perfect,” He said. “And that is why Eden did not work.”
“I hate perfection… it’s odd,” Nessa muttered, then startled as Morticia snapped out of her trance and landed with a curse on the frozen ground.
“Perfect beauty,” I mused, “Perfect love... perfect minds... why wouldn't that work, Lorne?” I was genuinely puzzled.
“Maybe too perfect?” Ashe muttered as she rubbed some dirt off a headstone.
“Because humankind are creatures of change,” Lorne began, “and perfection is a static thing. Idealized love leads to wondering why the object of your love is not what you thought they were.”
As Lorne spoke, one by one the vampires began to drift away from the graveyard. “Sun’s almost up,” Ashe murmured. I nodded goodbye as she and Nessa and Morticia slipped away. Lorne stood watching, his arms folded in front of Him. He lifted a hand in farewell as they departed.
I twisted around slightly to look up at Him. “It would seem to me... that in a place of complete wholeness, the possibility for infinite change would be possible… creativity would know no limits.” I looked down at my lap. “Look at the creation of the world,” I said a bit tentatively, knowing something of Lorne's role in that.
“Therein lies a problem as well, Joah, perhaps the problem to being with. If one does their best to do something, perhaps it will grow beyond them and take on a life of its own. Now imagine that on the scale of deities.”
I lay on hand on Mary Olive’s headstone, pulling myself up to stand, my boots still on the slab that was nestled in the snow. “You’re well acquainted with creation taking on a life of it's own, I suppose.” My memories were mixed, all Pestilence and Lilith and Eve and Sariel… creation and loss. “Still… it seems….” I broke off, staring down at my boots.
Lorne cocked His head, placing his His hands again behind His back. “Is there something on your mind, Joah?”
I raised my head to meet His eyevoids and spoke with great hesitance. “You say that no one can go there... not anymore. Yet, sometimes I feel I belong there.” I turned away with confusion, gazing out over the graveyard, then up at the lightening sky, pretending to look for the stars.
I could feel Lorne watching me for a while, and as He did so, my attention was drawn once more to Him. He wasn’t angry with me; instead, He was smiling sweetly. He raised a hand, finger curled to draw up my cheek softly.
I tilted my face slightly to His touch. “I'm being foolish, aren't I? Just dreams, I suppose... an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato.” I felt embarrassed and ill at ease.
Lorne smiled broadly at me, pushing His fingertips through the hair at the side of my face, and back behind my ear, cupping my cheek. “Not a silly dream, nor a quote from an instance where an actual dream was being discussed either, silly or otherwise.” He dropped his hand and brought it back behind Him.
“I suppose that's true,” I said softly. “But how does one know... if the dream is... real?”
Lorne shook His head. “There is only deduction, and even that is not unflawed at the introduction of the idea of Descartes’ perfect dream, Joah.”
“You mean the senses can trick us?” I asked. I brushed a bit of snow from my skirts, my small, gloved hand moving delicately over the fabric as I smoothed away bits of frozen debris it had picked up from the stone slab.
“I mean if your senses were all of them fed false information, all of them, how would you know?” Lorne’s eyevoids tracked the movements of my hand.
“There must be a way to test the senses, Lorne.” I trailed off thinking about the problem of dreams and reality. “How do You know?”
Lorne Harlequin shook His head, turning to look away. “Apart from logical inconsistencies, and only if there is a mistake in the dream? I don't see a way that any can.”
“I want to go there,” I said, turning my face away Him. I felt that I was making an impossible request, one I that had for so long been afraid to speak.
“Go...to Paradise? Go to Eden?” Lorne raised His eyebrows slightly, looking back to me.
I slowly met His gaze, nodding hesitantly, but saying yes. “I feel it calls to me Lorne.” I was at a loss as to how to explain. “After the Eden soil, Your seed...the death of my... fear... it grows stronger, more vivid... and insistent."
Lorne nodded slowly as I spoke. “I can take you there. To a part of it.”
“Please do,” I whispered. “Even if to a part of it... please....”
Silently, Lorne reached toward my cheek, as if in slow motion. As His fingers touched my skin, the world began to blur and brighten at the sound of rustling foliage and avian wings….
Mary Olive Faith Dewitt
I felt restless. The snow continued to fall, covering the City in a blanket of white despite the toxic properties of the air through which it drifted. Grrbrool had called my true name – three times he had called me – and yet the confused and fearful look remained in his eyes. My stomach twisted with guilt and responsibility and the complete inability to completely rectify the wrongs I had done. It was in this frame of mind, that I walked to the graveyard, wondering about other lives that had gone amiss, seeking the company of spirits as restless as me.
I opened the Iron Gate, stepping beyond it into the cemetery proper. Many headstones listed to one side or the other, or had crumbled and fallen to the ground entirely, given up to the purchase of weeds. I was drawn to one headstone in particular. Before it lay what appeared to be a footstone, though it was really a large, solid slab. I was uncertain of its purpose, but I sat down on it anyway, facing the engraving before me, and touching my fingertips to the lettering in the stone.
The air hissed beside me and after a moment I heard it crackle. A line rose up from the air tracing an area that soon tore open into a great blue void. I startled and pulled back, every sense alert as I watched. Out of the tear squeezed a globe of brilliant blue, trailing arcs of plasma that licked and hissed against the ground, an apparent cocoon forming over a skeletal humanoid torso.
I watched warily as the figure began to form, readying myself for any eventuality when all at once, the globe disappeared with a loud pop, leaving the bones to grow legs, a feeble layer of skin, and cloth. The death's head grin on the skull began to grow into inscrutable, expressionless lips as a face bubbled out of bone. I pulled my knees up to my chest, watching and waiting, still as a cat while the form inflated with grotesque and fluid sounds muffled by the skin.
As I began to recognize the form a silent “Oh!” of surprise escaped my lips. Before me stood Lorne, holding His arms out as the cloth continued to grow after the inflation has desisted, and then lowering His arms the process completed. “Thank you, Joah,” He said, stepping closer. “You make some journeys much less of a bother to return from.”
I smiled with relief, seeing Him fully formed before me. Relaxing, I unwrapped my legs and began to stretch out along the slab below once again. “You gave me quite a scare, Lorne,” I smiled. “Journey?”
Lorne Harlequin cocked his head, taking another two steps toward me. He lifted a hand and shook His head with a nonchalant, shrugging-off expression. “Simply a small visit to planes nonphysical, hence the dramatic entrance.” He stopped, leaning down to see what I was fingering on the headstone.
I turned slightly, looking into His black eyevoids. “Mary Olive Faith Dewitt, 1706-1768,” I murmured, pressing my fingertip into the worn engraving. “Eternal Rest Grant Unto Her, Oh Lord,” I said softly. “I wonder if Mary Olive found that.”
I could see Lorne following the text, His lips pursed. After a moment, he responded. “Well, she won't have been allowed into Paradise, I am sure of that.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked with a small frown. “Did you know her?” I gazed around at the other stones for a moment, wondering if any of those lying beneath the frozen ground had found paradise.
Lorne smiled vaguely as He turned to look round the graveyard, seemingly for His own reasons. "I did not know her, but because I know no one is permitted into Paradise I thought the assumption safe to make.”
“Eden, you mean...not...Heaven,” I nodded, finally understanding. A feeling of wistfulness and longing so sharp it hurt flooded me. “I dream of the Garden, Lorne. It started the night that Omega made Nareth her Chylde. Then… after You... ” I grew quiet thinking of all that Lorne and Legion had done. “It's vivid,” I finally said. “What was it like...when You were there?”
I opened the Iron Gate, stepping beyond it into the cemetery proper. Many headstones listed to one side or the other, or had crumbled and fallen to the ground entirely, given up to the purchase of weeds. I was drawn to one headstone in particular. Before it lay what appeared to be a footstone, though it was really a large, solid slab. I was uncertain of its purpose, but I sat down on it anyway, facing the engraving before me, and touching my fingertips to the lettering in the stone.
The air hissed beside me and after a moment I heard it crackle. A line rose up from the air tracing an area that soon tore open into a great blue void. I startled and pulled back, every sense alert as I watched. Out of the tear squeezed a globe of brilliant blue, trailing arcs of plasma that licked and hissed against the ground, an apparent cocoon forming over a skeletal humanoid torso.
I watched warily as the figure began to form, readying myself for any eventuality when all at once, the globe disappeared with a loud pop, leaving the bones to grow legs, a feeble layer of skin, and cloth. The death's head grin on the skull began to grow into inscrutable, expressionless lips as a face bubbled out of bone. I pulled my knees up to my chest, watching and waiting, still as a cat while the form inflated with grotesque and fluid sounds muffled by the skin.
As I began to recognize the form a silent “Oh!” of surprise escaped my lips. Before me stood Lorne, holding His arms out as the cloth continued to grow after the inflation has desisted, and then lowering His arms the process completed. “Thank you, Joah,” He said, stepping closer. “You make some journeys much less of a bother to return from.”
I smiled with relief, seeing Him fully formed before me. Relaxing, I unwrapped my legs and began to stretch out along the slab below once again. “You gave me quite a scare, Lorne,” I smiled. “Journey?”
Lorne Harlequin cocked his head, taking another two steps toward me. He lifted a hand and shook His head with a nonchalant, shrugging-off expression. “Simply a small visit to planes nonphysical, hence the dramatic entrance.” He stopped, leaning down to see what I was fingering on the headstone.
I turned slightly, looking into His black eyevoids. “Mary Olive Faith Dewitt, 1706-1768,” I murmured, pressing my fingertip into the worn engraving. “Eternal Rest Grant Unto Her, Oh Lord,” I said softly. “I wonder if Mary Olive found that.”
I could see Lorne following the text, His lips pursed. After a moment, he responded. “Well, she won't have been allowed into Paradise, I am sure of that.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked with a small frown. “Did you know her?” I gazed around at the other stones for a moment, wondering if any of those lying beneath the frozen ground had found paradise.
Lorne smiled vaguely as He turned to look round the graveyard, seemingly for His own reasons. "I did not know her, but because I know no one is permitted into Paradise I thought the assumption safe to make.”
“Eden, you mean...not...Heaven,” I nodded, finally understanding. A feeling of wistfulness and longing so sharp it hurt flooded me. “I dream of the Garden, Lorne. It started the night that Omega made Nareth her Chylde. Then… after You... ” I grew quiet thinking of all that Lorne and Legion had done. “It's vivid,” I finally said. “What was it like...when You were there?”
Saturday, December 13, 2008
From Here On
Joah sits quietly in her small room at the top of the stairs, contemplating the moon, as she so often does. Tonight, the moon is full, two weeks ‘til the new moon, two weeks ‘til GrrBrool shifts to his near-human form. She wants badly to bring him back to her before then, to heal the broken creature that walks like a ghost through her days. Her sense of guilt overwhelms her, knowing that it was her own vulnerability and longing for the void that opened the door within her to Pestilence. Had it not been for Lorne…for the bit of the Garden…
So long ago, the Garden, she thinks.
But while she’d been a vessel of conflict and longing, Omega had been seduced by Her own desires for power and had opened Herself willingly. Joah’s earlier quiet accusation had hung in the air; Omega had failed to protect Her House, had, in fact, been the breaking stone that had shattered Grrbrool’s will and crushed his spirit.
“I thought…I could best it, Joah....” Omega had said quietly, the memory of War still tracing a shadow on her smooth face. “I thought...the power…I thought I could use it, to advantage. There were factors…I did not consider.”
Factors like the twist in Denenthorn, like Severus’s injuries, the problem of Del, the Harbinger…and a crew of loyal but inexperienced Omegans: Rhaven, Zoe, Wire, Blake. Still in all, Faye’Li had remained constant, seeking help of the Coven, leading the Institute to safety in a time of turmoil when its leaders had fallen.
Joah shifts as she gazes, wrapping her quilt around her and looking to the moon as if it could answer the questions in her heart. In the end, she remembers Lorne kneeling beside her as blood soaked through her stockings and her dress, pooling on the floor. Though a bitter frown clouded His face, He still gave His hand to Denenthorn, His strength to Rhaven, while Meng Po had joined in, whispering, “Pestilence has nearly stolen everything from her.” Joah had opened herself to their healing, the bright, warm touch of Denenthorn’s hand on her forehead, the feeling of rushing back into herself as energy from the four poured into her. So much life…so much loss.
“What is past... is past,” Omega had said. “We must not mire ourselves in regret. This experience has taught us…much about ourselves. Let it be worth the price we have paid for such knowledge.”
Joah looks at the moon.
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.
September 1, 1939
W.H. Auden
So long ago, the Garden, she thinks.
But while she’d been a vessel of conflict and longing, Omega had been seduced by Her own desires for power and had opened Herself willingly. Joah’s earlier quiet accusation had hung in the air; Omega had failed to protect Her House, had, in fact, been the breaking stone that had shattered Grrbrool’s will and crushed his spirit.
“I thought…I could best it, Joah....” Omega had said quietly, the memory of War still tracing a shadow on her smooth face. “I thought...the power…I thought I could use it, to advantage. There were factors…I did not consider.”
Factors like the twist in Denenthorn, like Severus’s injuries, the problem of Del, the Harbinger…and a crew of loyal but inexperienced Omegans: Rhaven, Zoe, Wire, Blake. Still in all, Faye’Li had remained constant, seeking help of the Coven, leading the Institute to safety in a time of turmoil when its leaders had fallen.
Joah shifts as she gazes, wrapping her quilt around her and looking to the moon as if it could answer the questions in her heart. In the end, she remembers Lorne kneeling beside her as blood soaked through her stockings and her dress, pooling on the floor. Though a bitter frown clouded His face, He still gave His hand to Denenthorn, His strength to Rhaven, while Meng Po had joined in, whispering, “Pestilence has nearly stolen everything from her.” Joah had opened herself to their healing, the bright, warm touch of Denenthorn’s hand on her forehead, the feeling of rushing back into herself as energy from the four poured into her. So much life…so much loss.
“What is past... is past,” Omega had said. “We must not mire ourselves in regret. This experience has taught us…much about ourselves. Let it be worth the price we have paid for such knowledge.”
Joah looks at the moon.
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.
September 1, 1939
W.H. Auden
Sunday, December 7, 2008
In the Time of Pestilence
She remembered it all.
Lorne, leaning over the balcony railing, armored and wings spread, full of cold and silence as He watched Joah floating above the mantelpiece, her fingertips dripping maggots to the floor. The rushing sound of Sariel’s Sword unsheathed, stained with War, Lorne’s voice demanding for the Thing to leave, to return home. The Thing felt Joah’s body, her spirit tug as It watched Him reaching down through her and laughed.
“It shall already have been,” He spoke. The Thing grinned in reply and fed upon the imprint of the Void within Joah. It taunted Him, shifting shape to His firstborn, Lilith, reminding him of his failures before, of what he had lost.
Lorne watched wordlessly, and then raised His hand, palm up, and lifting the Sword: a squeal of metal cutting through metal. It sheared through His gauntlet palm, flashing red, exuding pure self-destruction into the throne room the Thing had made in Joah’s psyche.
Rhaven stood quietly, gathering her energies, preparing for anything.
“Joah needs fixed,” Brianna said in a hushed tone.
Grrbrool sang and raved and quivered, but was of no use.
The stench of rotting garbage began to fill the Library. The Thing fought against itself, touched by War and without the strength from its lost Sister-Brothers. It too, reached along the cord between Lorne and Joah. It, too, knew His weaknesses. The Thing's face began to shift; it’s eyes opening wider as the smell of rotting flesh assaulted the room. Long red hair streamed from Its head, creamy skin upon a beautiful face, wide eyes approximating innocence. “You’d do this to me?” It lisped.
"Joah isn't Joah. She's Pestilence and had me infested with Death," Blue hissed.
Denenthorn growled, “I want that sorry excuse of a Horseman gone and I want Grr and Joah back, Lorne. BREAK HIS SPIRIT LIKE HE AND THE OTHER THREE BROKE GRRBROOL'S."
Severus watched in silence, absently picking at the fresh and still dripping scourge marks left by Lucifer, pale eyes staring blankly.
Lorne sheathed his Sword and moved closer. Not Brit, not Eve he thought looking at the face before him. A set of scales dropped from his torn, empty hand, a haze of black drifting after the red along the link way, "You are called too early, tool. That you are here before the intended hour means you are called not by the One you serve, but the Adversary."
A cruel smile formed upon the lovely mask as the Thing changed its appearance back again to Sariel’s firstborn. “You are the Adversary, Old One,” it hissed, grabbing its belly in pain as it felt the gnawing of Famine’s black mist. The roar of birds’ wings arose from the hearth, screams and caws and claws scratching. “The stars are right. My time is now.”
“Your time is up,” Denenthorn snarled.
Suyuan stepped up behind Rhaven, her small warm hand coming to rest upon Rhaven’s shoulder, exuding energy, as Rhaven extended her wards, drawing Zoe and those about her into a protective cocoon.
“Turmoil,” Brit murmured, peering inside and coughing at the stench even outside the Library’s door.
Lorne lowers His hand, the scales sinking back into His palm, stepping down the stairs closer to the Thing. As he nears, He raises both arms high to the side. From each palm there grows crawling tendrils of wood, cricking, and snapping until they form a handled staff. With a sound of metal on metal, the blade of Death’s scythe extends, and He swings it, sending it through the body inhabited by Pestilence, passing it through without any visible mark left behind.
The Thing jerks violently, shrieks from the walls as a flock of ravens bursts from the hearth and pelts to the floor, beginning to decay instantly. The visage of Lilith drops from the Thing’s face and her eyes blaze white. "You think this will stop me? How many vessels do you think you can protect at once? I'll just take another...and another...choose Old One...which of these should I take?"
“But she should be dead,” Brianna blinked, “not...not go into another...it worked with the rest...."
Denenthorn growled, “I hate something that doesn't know when to quit..."
“Just give Joah back,” Blue hissed at the Thing.
Lorne drops the scythe, which disintegrates before it hits the ground. He then reaches up, wrapping His fingers around Joah's ankle, pulling her bit by bit closer, while rearing His injured hand back. The Thing looks at the Old One and grins as she is pulled down. "I believe I'll grant Blue and Denenthorn’s wish," she laughs, looking at Brit. Joah's body slumps and a rush of locusts flies from her mouth toward Brit, shattering the Library windows. The stench of rotting ravens permeates everything as the locusts fly.
Brit screams as she is surrounded, turning one way and then another, seeming confused at the mass of insects that surround her. Lorne turns, opening His mouth in a deafening howl, trying to pull them into His mouth with gale force winds, as Blue sends streak after streak of fire after them. Denenthorn clutches Blue’s arm, transferring strength to her ‘til he understands the attack is aimed at Brit, and then rushes out the door.
“Fuck!” Grr howls.
“Oh, fuck no!” Denenthorn cries in alarm, unable to tear his eyes away from his daughter.
“Go, if you need to Denny,” Rhaven yells urgently through the swarm, “I’ll try to heal Joah…”
The whirlwind continues around the floating Thing, Its hair flying wildly, wind swirling through the broken glass, pummeling Brit, lifting and tossing her through the air to the outside wall of the Library. The glass grazes her skin in prickles and points, sticking like tailor’s pins as she attempts to stand, coughing and pulling locusts from her hair.
“Not my daughter, bitch!” Denenthorn snarls.
Suyuan gasps, covering her mouth as she recoils, gripping Rhaven as a cool breeze surrounds them both, and Meng Po materializes to gaze down at her.
Lorne rushes to Brit, his throat tight, fearing her dead, hands reaching for her shoulders, air still dragging harshly into His mouth. A red glow begins to emanate from him, and the Thing’s body contorts, Its eyes and ears leaking blood, though It continues to pound Brit, tumbling and turning her, glass flying in shards, as she covers her ears trying to block It from reaching into her mind. It roars back in anger, blocked by the thing about Brit’s neck, as it slams her into the wall once again and drops her to the concrete, bouncing once like a sack of flour. Severus whirls around, striding out of the Library, uttering in Enochian as he gestures towards Brit and draws a glowing Theban symbol with one clawed hand, expelling all of his stolen soul essence into her in the form of a protective healing ward. The cuts in Brit’s skin begin to visibly heal.
Denenthorn begins to glow with power as he feels Brit's every hurt and pain, the Library begins to sing in the minds of all as a shield of healing and comfort enters those that mean no harm.
Lorne closes His eyes, sighing, and reaching back along the link way within Joah, looking about for any trace of the Horseman left to grab onto. “Joah?” He says into her mind, “Joah? I need your help.”
“Come on Joah...Sister by fate,” Blue urges.
Joah’s mouth opens slowly, blood spilling from her lips as her body shakes. The Thing feels her resistance, feels Joah grabbing, grasping the link between her and Lorne. "Lorne...." she half stammers, half whispers in her own voice.
Kneeling in front of Brit, Lorne raises His hands, palms open, and speaks into Joah's mind, "Joah? Where is the sigil?" The wind whirls in a deafening roar as Joah pushes against the Thing, calling on Creation’s power, Legion’s words echoing in her mind. She lifts up her shaking hand as the thighbone of a rat appears upon it.
Lorne reaches forward to Brit, trying to hug her close. He holds His injured hand out, willing the thighbone to it as Brit uses his cape like a rope to get to her feet. She coughs again and stares wide-eyed at the thighbone as it melts into the bit of black shown through the gash in Lorne’s gauntlet. He holds her tighter as the gauntlet itself melts away in a wave leaving His original flesh and clothing behind, spreading until even His wings are gone.
Inside the Library, Joah falls to the floor with a thud, blood leaking between her legs, pooling on the floor.
Lorne, leaning over the balcony railing, armored and wings spread, full of cold and silence as He watched Joah floating above the mantelpiece, her fingertips dripping maggots to the floor. The rushing sound of Sariel’s Sword unsheathed, stained with War, Lorne’s voice demanding for the Thing to leave, to return home. The Thing felt Joah’s body, her spirit tug as It watched Him reaching down through her and laughed.
“It shall already have been,” He spoke. The Thing grinned in reply and fed upon the imprint of the Void within Joah. It taunted Him, shifting shape to His firstborn, Lilith, reminding him of his failures before, of what he had lost.
Lorne watched wordlessly, and then raised His hand, palm up, and lifting the Sword: a squeal of metal cutting through metal. It sheared through His gauntlet palm, flashing red, exuding pure self-destruction into the throne room the Thing had made in Joah’s psyche.
Rhaven stood quietly, gathering her energies, preparing for anything.
“Joah needs fixed,” Brianna said in a hushed tone.
Grrbrool sang and raved and quivered, but was of no use.
The stench of rotting garbage began to fill the Library. The Thing fought against itself, touched by War and without the strength from its lost Sister-Brothers. It too, reached along the cord between Lorne and Joah. It, too, knew His weaknesses. The Thing's face began to shift; it’s eyes opening wider as the smell of rotting flesh assaulted the room. Long red hair streamed from Its head, creamy skin upon a beautiful face, wide eyes approximating innocence. “You’d do this to me?” It lisped.
"Joah isn't Joah. She's Pestilence and had me infested with Death," Blue hissed.
Denenthorn growled, “I want that sorry excuse of a Horseman gone and I want Grr and Joah back, Lorne. BREAK HIS SPIRIT LIKE HE AND THE OTHER THREE BROKE GRRBROOL'S."
Severus watched in silence, absently picking at the fresh and still dripping scourge marks left by Lucifer, pale eyes staring blankly.
Lorne sheathed his Sword and moved closer. Not Brit, not Eve he thought looking at the face before him. A set of scales dropped from his torn, empty hand, a haze of black drifting after the red along the link way, "You are called too early, tool. That you are here before the intended hour means you are called not by the One you serve, but the Adversary."
A cruel smile formed upon the lovely mask as the Thing changed its appearance back again to Sariel’s firstborn. “You are the Adversary, Old One,” it hissed, grabbing its belly in pain as it felt the gnawing of Famine’s black mist. The roar of birds’ wings arose from the hearth, screams and caws and claws scratching. “The stars are right. My time is now.”
“Your time is up,” Denenthorn snarled.
Suyuan stepped up behind Rhaven, her small warm hand coming to rest upon Rhaven’s shoulder, exuding energy, as Rhaven extended her wards, drawing Zoe and those about her into a protective cocoon.
“Turmoil,” Brit murmured, peering inside and coughing at the stench even outside the Library’s door.
Lorne lowers His hand, the scales sinking back into His palm, stepping down the stairs closer to the Thing. As he nears, He raises both arms high to the side. From each palm there grows crawling tendrils of wood, cricking, and snapping until they form a handled staff. With a sound of metal on metal, the blade of Death’s scythe extends, and He swings it, sending it through the body inhabited by Pestilence, passing it through without any visible mark left behind.
The Thing jerks violently, shrieks from the walls as a flock of ravens bursts from the hearth and pelts to the floor, beginning to decay instantly. The visage of Lilith drops from the Thing’s face and her eyes blaze white. "You think this will stop me? How many vessels do you think you can protect at once? I'll just take another...and another...choose Old One...which of these should I take?"
“But she should be dead,” Brianna blinked, “not...not go into another...it worked with the rest...."
Denenthorn growled, “I hate something that doesn't know when to quit..."
“Just give Joah back,” Blue hissed at the Thing.
Lorne drops the scythe, which disintegrates before it hits the ground. He then reaches up, wrapping His fingers around Joah's ankle, pulling her bit by bit closer, while rearing His injured hand back. The Thing looks at the Old One and grins as she is pulled down. "I believe I'll grant Blue and Denenthorn’s wish," she laughs, looking at Brit. Joah's body slumps and a rush of locusts flies from her mouth toward Brit, shattering the Library windows. The stench of rotting ravens permeates everything as the locusts fly.
Brit screams as she is surrounded, turning one way and then another, seeming confused at the mass of insects that surround her. Lorne turns, opening His mouth in a deafening howl, trying to pull them into His mouth with gale force winds, as Blue sends streak after streak of fire after them. Denenthorn clutches Blue’s arm, transferring strength to her ‘til he understands the attack is aimed at Brit, and then rushes out the door.
“Fuck!” Grr howls.
“Oh, fuck no!” Denenthorn cries in alarm, unable to tear his eyes away from his daughter.
“Go, if you need to Denny,” Rhaven yells urgently through the swarm, “I’ll try to heal Joah…”
The whirlwind continues around the floating Thing, Its hair flying wildly, wind swirling through the broken glass, pummeling Brit, lifting and tossing her through the air to the outside wall of the Library. The glass grazes her skin in prickles and points, sticking like tailor’s pins as she attempts to stand, coughing and pulling locusts from her hair.
“Not my daughter, bitch!” Denenthorn snarls.
Suyuan gasps, covering her mouth as she recoils, gripping Rhaven as a cool breeze surrounds them both, and Meng Po materializes to gaze down at her.
Lorne rushes to Brit, his throat tight, fearing her dead, hands reaching for her shoulders, air still dragging harshly into His mouth. A red glow begins to emanate from him, and the Thing’s body contorts, Its eyes and ears leaking blood, though It continues to pound Brit, tumbling and turning her, glass flying in shards, as she covers her ears trying to block It from reaching into her mind. It roars back in anger, blocked by the thing about Brit’s neck, as it slams her into the wall once again and drops her to the concrete, bouncing once like a sack of flour. Severus whirls around, striding out of the Library, uttering in Enochian as he gestures towards Brit and draws a glowing Theban symbol with one clawed hand, expelling all of his stolen soul essence into her in the form of a protective healing ward. The cuts in Brit’s skin begin to visibly heal.
Denenthorn begins to glow with power as he feels Brit's every hurt and pain, the Library begins to sing in the minds of all as a shield of healing and comfort enters those that mean no harm.
Lorne closes His eyes, sighing, and reaching back along the link way within Joah, looking about for any trace of the Horseman left to grab onto. “Joah?” He says into her mind, “Joah? I need your help.”
“Come on Joah...Sister by fate,” Blue urges.
Joah’s mouth opens slowly, blood spilling from her lips as her body shakes. The Thing feels her resistance, feels Joah grabbing, grasping the link between her and Lorne. "Lorne...." she half stammers, half whispers in her own voice.
Kneeling in front of Brit, Lorne raises His hands, palms open, and speaks into Joah's mind, "Joah? Where is the sigil?" The wind whirls in a deafening roar as Joah pushes against the Thing, calling on Creation’s power, Legion’s words echoing in her mind. She lifts up her shaking hand as the thighbone of a rat appears upon it.
Lorne reaches forward to Brit, trying to hug her close. He holds His injured hand out, willing the thighbone to it as Brit uses his cape like a rope to get to her feet. She coughs again and stares wide-eyed at the thighbone as it melts into the bit of black shown through the gash in Lorne’s gauntlet. He holds her tighter as the gauntlet itself melts away in a wave leaving His original flesh and clothing behind, spreading until even His wings are gone.
Inside the Library, Joah falls to the floor with a thud, blood leaking between her legs, pooling on the floor.
Friday, October 31, 2008
What Lorne Took
I sat on the sofa of KTOX, listening to Starwalker spin tales as I took in the music. I’d brought along someone new to the city, Bella Demina. She’d come following a voice, a voice that had drawn her to many places and many cities, ‘til finally this one. She lay exhausted on the sofa beside me, drifting toward sleep. GrrBrool stood at the decks, thumbing the scratched iPod he’d taken off a dead man.
“It’s been quieter than yesterday, though I don't expect it to be too quiet for much longer,” Star said. I nodded; I didn’t expect it to stay quiet either. I tried unsuccessfully to catch Grr’s gaze, but he still refused to look at me. I gave up and stared at a spot on the floor.
“Anybody wanna hear anythin?” Grr asked.
“Anything by Twisted Sister,” Starwalker said with is usual incongruent cheer. “Or KISS.” Bellaa nodded to the last request, then shifted on the couch, turning onto her side and gazing out the windows.
“Twisted Sister I can do, or…maaaybe some KISS,” Grr replied.
Starwalker sighed, changing the subject. “Hell of a fight here yesterday, three or four deaders attacking residents….”
“Who won?” Grr asked while he continued to queue up songs.
“Well, the fighting isn't still going on…so I guess we did for now.” Starwalker stared out the window. “With all the gun fire, I was up on the fire escape casting my healing magicks on those below that fought. Took them a while to figure out that they were shooting each other up in cross fire as much as they were getting hurt by the risen dead.”
I listened as Starwalker spoke, then finally glanced up and said quietly to Grr, “I'd like to hear The Wolf Sky.” He looked sharply across at me, mixed emotions flashing across his face: anger, fear, deep sadness. I stared at the floor again. I didn’t understand why he either wouldn’t look at me or why he had looked at me the way he’d just done, but I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I reached over to brush Bellaa's hair back. She jumped slightly, the touch on her head waking her from the daydream that she had slipped into as she was staring out the window.
“I should probably get some rest,” Bella murmured. “It’s been a huge day for me. Joah, where did you say I could…or should sleep?” As she looked up at me, Starwalker said something about checking the Library. He unfurled his wings and stepped out of the second story window.
“You can rest in the Shelter, Bellaa,” I replied. “But if you feel comfortable there, you may also rest in the Library. We have cots upstairs, although you are welcome to rest on my bed. It’s in the small room next to the Lady's office.”
Bellaa stood and stretched. “Thanks Joah. I think I will head back that way and see if I can get some form of rest, at least for a little while...” She turned toward Grr, “Nice meeting you.”
Grr nodded. “And you, dont get killed.”
Bella laughed nervously. “Umm...one last question...which way do I go to not get killed?”
“North, head north.” Grr pointed behind him, over his left shoulder. “That way, one block over, three blocks up.”
Bellaa nodded. “Gotcha, and thanks.” She waved a goodbye, trying to smile bravely as she headed out.
And then we were alone. I looked up again at Grr, worry clouding my face. He continued working as if I weren’t there. The minutes ticked on. Finally, I closed my eyes and listened quietly to the music. I didn’t even try to dance.
“Where do tha coins come from?” Grr’s voice interrupted my scattered thoughts. “Spirit Gal? where do yer coins come from?” The question was abrupt.
I sighed. “It…depends. Do you mean the coins I gave the waitress?”
Grr nodded, then spoke brusquely. “That too. Legion eats memories. You gave Lorne a coin. Ya arrived here with lots of memories gone, and pockets full of old coins.”
I slipped one hand in my pocket, holding up an ancient looking copper coin. “The coins in my pocket…I'm not sure where they came from, to be honest. What I gave Lorne was not one of those. As for Legion…Legion has taken none of what memories I do have.” I slipped the coin back into my pocket.
“Fine.” One word. That was all he said. I winced at his tone of voice.
“Grr,” I began, not knowing quite what to say. “I sacrificed something to Lorne…the coin…was just a representation of it. It was small and cold and misshapen…but it was a representation, nonetheless.”
Grr turned swiftly toward me. “Ya could have asked,” he said, his words coming out in a rush. “I'd have left ya alone.”
I was confused. “Left me alone? But…but I don't want you to leave me alone.”
“Well, I'll be sure ta avoid humpin yer leg,” Grr said in a cold mimicry of Lorne’s words.
My eyes widened with understanding. “Oh, Grr…He didn't mean…I mean…when He took what He took….” I trailed off.
“Yeah,” Grr said, voice full of pain. “And when “it” rubs on yer leg, ya wont have ta feel a thing.”
“No…no, Grr.” I shook my head. “Lorne wasn't speaking about you.”
“Huh?” A puzzled expression crossed his face. “Then who?”
I took a deep breath. “Do you remember, I asked Him how to fight the powers of an Incubus? He was taunting Severus.”
“Yeah…lust,” Grr nodded. “When? What? Tha Maker?” Grr’s expression of puzzlement had turned to surprise.
I nodded. “What Lorne said to me was…well, he suggested that if I did not want Severus' body, I should sacrifice any taste I had for it to Him. And…I agreed.” Breathe, I kept telling myself. Breathe. “The coin…was something he pulled from within me. Not from my pockets.”
“Tha Maker?” Grr asked again.
“No,” I replied. “Lorne pulled it from me.”
Once more Grr asked, “About tha Maker?”
“Yes, Grr. My desire for the Maker…to free me from the effects of the Incubus.”
“Not me?” he asked, a strange look washing over his face.
“Severus…only. Not you, beloved. Not ever you,” I sighed.
“I…” Grr began. “Not me? Not me!”
“No, never, you, Grr.”
Suddenly, there was a streak of fur and paws as he ran over. He scooped me up and began swinging me about, laughing. “Rah seh nacs sherrr rash grrrah charrrkk,” he said between laughs. I smiled and tried to wrap my arms around his neck as he began dancing to the song that was playing, carrying me effortlessly.
“You are…you have all my desire,” I whispered. He gently plopped me down and pressed his muzzle against my face.
“I don’t need it all, Spirit Gal, just any.” I could feel the softness of his fur against my skin.
“Well,” I began blushing. “Denenthorn has all my desire, too.” I kissed Grr's muzzle affectionately, breathing in the scent of his fur.
Grr opened a single golden eye, in line with mine. He swiveled and looked into me. “Any, all I need.”
I nodded, smiling, “All you need.”
“Ahoy!” Faye'Li shouted, grinning as she walked up the stairs.
Grr looked up, “Err, yer a pirate now, Messenger? Oop! Song!”
“Yes…back to work, you,” I said before smiling warmly at Faye’Li, all traces of worry gone from my face.
Faye’li looked from me to Grr and back. “Glad you're both ok.”
“Am now,” Grr beamed. “Had a worry there fer a bit.”
“Oh? problem?” Faye’Li asked, as she moved toward the arm chair and settled herself comfortably in it.
“We had a magickal misunderstandin, Messenger,” Grr explained, “Tha Spirit Gal and me.”
“Oh, hope is alright now,” Fay’Li said politely.
“Yup! All bloody good!” Grr beamed.
I smiled as I felt a warm flush creep up my cheeks. “Yes…all good.”
Faye'Li chuckled. “I…see,” she giggled, and then the talk turned to other things.
“It’s been quieter than yesterday, though I don't expect it to be too quiet for much longer,” Star said. I nodded; I didn’t expect it to stay quiet either. I tried unsuccessfully to catch Grr’s gaze, but he still refused to look at me. I gave up and stared at a spot on the floor.
“Anybody wanna hear anythin?” Grr asked.
“Anything by Twisted Sister,” Starwalker said with is usual incongruent cheer. “Or KISS.” Bellaa nodded to the last request, then shifted on the couch, turning onto her side and gazing out the windows.
“Twisted Sister I can do, or…maaaybe some KISS,” Grr replied.
Starwalker sighed, changing the subject. “Hell of a fight here yesterday, three or four deaders attacking residents….”
“Who won?” Grr asked while he continued to queue up songs.
“Well, the fighting isn't still going on…so I guess we did for now.” Starwalker stared out the window. “With all the gun fire, I was up on the fire escape casting my healing magicks on those below that fought. Took them a while to figure out that they were shooting each other up in cross fire as much as they were getting hurt by the risen dead.”
I listened as Starwalker spoke, then finally glanced up and said quietly to Grr, “I'd like to hear The Wolf Sky.” He looked sharply across at me, mixed emotions flashing across his face: anger, fear, deep sadness. I stared at the floor again. I didn’t understand why he either wouldn’t look at me or why he had looked at me the way he’d just done, but I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I reached over to brush Bellaa's hair back. She jumped slightly, the touch on her head waking her from the daydream that she had slipped into as she was staring out the window.
“I should probably get some rest,” Bella murmured. “It’s been a huge day for me. Joah, where did you say I could…or should sleep?” As she looked up at me, Starwalker said something about checking the Library. He unfurled his wings and stepped out of the second story window.
“You can rest in the Shelter, Bellaa,” I replied. “But if you feel comfortable there, you may also rest in the Library. We have cots upstairs, although you are welcome to rest on my bed. It’s in the small room next to the Lady's office.”
Bellaa stood and stretched. “Thanks Joah. I think I will head back that way and see if I can get some form of rest, at least for a little while...” She turned toward Grr, “Nice meeting you.”
Grr nodded. “And you, dont get killed.”
Bella laughed nervously. “Umm...one last question...which way do I go to not get killed?”
“North, head north.” Grr pointed behind him, over his left shoulder. “That way, one block over, three blocks up.”
Bellaa nodded. “Gotcha, and thanks.” She waved a goodbye, trying to smile bravely as she headed out.
And then we were alone. I looked up again at Grr, worry clouding my face. He continued working as if I weren’t there. The minutes ticked on. Finally, I closed my eyes and listened quietly to the music. I didn’t even try to dance.
“Where do tha coins come from?” Grr’s voice interrupted my scattered thoughts. “Spirit Gal? where do yer coins come from?” The question was abrupt.
I sighed. “It…depends. Do you mean the coins I gave the waitress?”
Grr nodded, then spoke brusquely. “That too. Legion eats memories. You gave Lorne a coin. Ya arrived here with lots of memories gone, and pockets full of old coins.”
I slipped one hand in my pocket, holding up an ancient looking copper coin. “The coins in my pocket…I'm not sure where they came from, to be honest. What I gave Lorne was not one of those. As for Legion…Legion has taken none of what memories I do have.” I slipped the coin back into my pocket.
“Fine.” One word. That was all he said. I winced at his tone of voice.
“Grr,” I began, not knowing quite what to say. “I sacrificed something to Lorne…the coin…was just a representation of it. It was small and cold and misshapen…but it was a representation, nonetheless.”
Grr turned swiftly toward me. “Ya could have asked,” he said, his words coming out in a rush. “I'd have left ya alone.”
I was confused. “Left me alone? But…but I don't want you to leave me alone.”
“Well, I'll be sure ta avoid humpin yer leg,” Grr said in a cold mimicry of Lorne’s words.
My eyes widened with understanding. “Oh, Grr…He didn't mean…I mean…when He took what He took….” I trailed off.
“Yeah,” Grr said, voice full of pain. “And when “it” rubs on yer leg, ya wont have ta feel a thing.”
“No…no, Grr.” I shook my head. “Lorne wasn't speaking about you.”
“Huh?” A puzzled expression crossed his face. “Then who?”
I took a deep breath. “Do you remember, I asked Him how to fight the powers of an Incubus? He was taunting Severus.”
“Yeah…lust,” Grr nodded. “When? What? Tha Maker?” Grr’s expression of puzzlement had turned to surprise.
I nodded. “What Lorne said to me was…well, he suggested that if I did not want Severus' body, I should sacrifice any taste I had for it to Him. And…I agreed.” Breathe, I kept telling myself. Breathe. “The coin…was something he pulled from within me. Not from my pockets.”
“Tha Maker?” Grr asked again.
“No,” I replied. “Lorne pulled it from me.”
Once more Grr asked, “About tha Maker?”
“Yes, Grr. My desire for the Maker…to free me from the effects of the Incubus.”
“Not me?” he asked, a strange look washing over his face.
“Severus…only. Not you, beloved. Not ever you,” I sighed.
“I…” Grr began. “Not me? Not me!”
“No, never, you, Grr.”
Suddenly, there was a streak of fur and paws as he ran over. He scooped me up and began swinging me about, laughing. “Rah seh nacs sherrr rash grrrah charrrkk,” he said between laughs. I smiled and tried to wrap my arms around his neck as he began dancing to the song that was playing, carrying me effortlessly.
“You are…you have all my desire,” I whispered. He gently plopped me down and pressed his muzzle against my face.
“I don’t need it all, Spirit Gal, just any.” I could feel the softness of his fur against my skin.
“Well,” I began blushing. “Denenthorn has all my desire, too.” I kissed Grr's muzzle affectionately, breathing in the scent of his fur.
Grr opened a single golden eye, in line with mine. He swiveled and looked into me. “Any, all I need.”
I nodded, smiling, “All you need.”
“Ahoy!” Faye'Li shouted, grinning as she walked up the stairs.
Grr looked up, “Err, yer a pirate now, Messenger? Oop! Song!”
“Yes…back to work, you,” I said before smiling warmly at Faye’Li, all traces of worry gone from my face.
Faye’li looked from me to Grr and back. “Glad you're both ok.”
“Am now,” Grr beamed. “Had a worry there fer a bit.”
“Oh? problem?” Faye’Li asked, as she moved toward the arm chair and settled herself comfortably in it.
“We had a magickal misunderstandin, Messenger,” Grr explained, “Tha Spirit Gal and me.”
“Oh, hope is alright now,” Fay’Li said politely.
“Yup! All bloody good!” Grr beamed.
I smiled as I felt a warm flush creep up my cheeks. “Yes…all good.”
Faye'Li chuckled. “I…see,” she giggled, and then the talk turned to other things.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
To Resist His Charms
“Lorne, may I ask You a question?” I spoke with hesitance. He raised His eyebrows to me attentively, and I continued. “How does one resist an incubus?”
Lorne gave a nod, letting out a slow breath as He stood more comfortably. “Old, old magic. If you ask for help, and you make a sacrifice, there is a great deal I can do for you.” He paused as a portal opened, and with a rush of cold air, Severus appeared. Lorne continued, gesticulating toward Severus as if presenting, “You don't want this? Sacrifice your taste for it to Me.”
Glancing at Lorne with supreme distaste, Severus gestured dismissively with one large pale-clawed hand. “Whatever it is...I think not,” he drawled with his usual sarcasm.
I watched Severus carefully for a moment, then stepped closer to Grr, laying a hand on his arm. Grr looked up at Severus. “G'day Maker. Water botherin ya?”
Severus shrugged his broad shoulders slightly. “No worse than it did millennia ago….”
Lorne caught my eye and waved off Severus' response. “There, there, big guy, I know you don't like Me. Of course, I wasn't speaking to you, so the point is moot.”
“Don’t think yourself special,” Severus snorted. “I don’t like anyone.”
Lorne grinned. “Not even yourself. Yes, we know.”
“Nothing like a master of the obvious, Lorne,” Severus muttered dryly.
I glanced from Severus to Lorne and back, watching both demons warily, awaiting Lorne’s response when it dawned on me that He’d already answered. My eyes widened with understanding. It barely registered to me that Omega and come into the Library, I was so focused on the matter at hand. I bit my lip and met Lorne's gaze.
Lorne looked back at me, grinning. “To fight hellfire with hellfire. The irony itself is something to be appreciated. Granted, I never have resided in hell, nor in fire of that name, but let's just leave that pass, shall we?”
With bluster and the sound of wet boots on stone, Denenthorn swept into the Library. “Hullo Lorne, Sev, My Sweet, Coyote, Lady Grace....” Denenthorn has taken to calling me that. Lady Grace. He yawned loudly. “What's up?”
“I’ve no idea, just got here,” Severus muttered, giving me a pointed look.
“Water levels, fer one,” Grr replied, “And tha zombies….”
Denenthorn shrugged, “I've fought it all before, bring it on,” he replied lazily.
“Lorne,” Omega said with mild sarcasm, “Such a pleasure to see you again. Have you bought cake?”
Lorne did not reply to the Lady and let others field Denenthorn’s question. He raised His eyebrows expectantly to me, holding a hand out as if to prompt. “It starts simply, really. You needn't even say it out loud...I want....”
I looked steadily at Lorne, shifting slightly in His direction. I took a deep breath and nodded my head. “Yes.”
Grr immediately alerted, looking from me to Lorne and back, then from me to Severus and to Omega, and back to me. “What are ya askin?” he spoke with alarm.
Lorne said nothing, but held my eyes. As I nodded, His hand closed abruptly, and He looked down to it. Opening His palm, a rather corroded looking coin, crude and uneven, lay there in His palm. He took it, and slipped it into His breast pocket, patting it as He looked to Omega, finally answering her question. “I'm afraid I don't deal or gift in lies, Omega. I had a gift, but it's already been given.”
I shook my head as if waking up when the coin appeared in Lorne's hand. I felt…different. I looked at Him again and smiled, murmuring, “Thank you.”
Grr opened his mouth at the sight of the coin and looked at me, still open-mouthed. “Coins…Spirit Gal, what did you do?”
Lorne gazed at me. “Not at’all. If it oils its nude body in front of you, and starts humping your leg, as if it would, you will feel not the mildest tingle.”
Omega turned toward me with a raised brow. I started to speak but was taken aback by the stricken look on Grr’s face.
“I…I….I have ta go,” he said in a rush of words, bounding out into the water of the flooded first floor, sloshing in the direction of the Hotel. Omega sighed, watching his retreat. I stared after him as he bolted away, full of concern and not understanding what had happened.
Severus blinked at Grr's disappearance and then glanced back to me. “Joah...so I repeat...what’s all this then?” he muttered irritably.
“Would you like me to show you?” I asked, turning toward Severus.
“Probably not,” he replied tersely, “But you can go ahead and spit it out.”
In answer, I simply began walking slowly toward Severus as he gave a heavy sigh and glowered down at me. He watched me warily, his towering frame taught, as if ready to spring away from my touch. I stopped, full of uncertainty. I looked from Severus to Lorne, hesitating.
“No cause to worry, Joah,” Lorne said quietly. “I have it all right here.” He patted his pocket.
I nodded to Lorne, then stepped very close to Severus and placed my hand in the sigil on his thigh. Severus scowled blackly as my hand passed through his ward to touch him. “What the bloody hell are you on about?” he said with anger, taking a step backward.
I said nothing, but stepped closer again, pulling off one of my HazMat gloves and placing my bare hand on Severus' chest. Lorne raised His brows expectantly, turning His head slightly to the side. “Anything?” he asked.
“No…nothing,” I replied with a smile. “Not a tingle.”
“What the fuck did I just miss?” Denenthorn blinked.
Omega whirled around, “Joah? What have you done?”
Severus glared icily as I touched him again. I knew that the reflex of his skin would send a torrent of pure lust to course through me, yet there I stood: unaffected. Severus tensed, his pale body growing taut as he drew in a sharp breath through fangs. “What the hell did you do?”
Lorne nodded, smiling. “Excellent.”
“I sacrificed something, Severus,” I said quietly, my hand remaining on his chest. There was nothing, just as Lorne had promised. Not a tingle.
Denenthorn looked on rather confused “Can someone tell me what in the world is going on?”
Severus narrowed his piercing pale eyes sharply at me, brushing my hand aside. “So now, not only do you have no soul but no desire? Of all the utter bloody stupid....” He ground out between clenched fangs: “Why?”
Lorne gestured towards Severus, and then to me. “I believe she may be getting to the exposition right now.”
“I still have desire, Severus,” I replied. “But I won't be left in the Dreaming again by you.” Denenthorn studied me a confused, concerned expression on his face.
“Lorne has, it seems…given Joah a charm against…well, Severus' charms,” Omega said coolly. “Am I correct?”
I shook my head. “Not a charm, Omega. He holds in His hand…my desire for Severus.”
Lorne looked over to Omega, reaching for His pocket as He gazed at me. “Well, in My pocket, but close enough.”
Omega gave me a long look. “Joah, why would you give him such a thing? Have you learned nothing from us…from Nareth?” Nareth had gone willingly to Lorne, trying to summon…something. In the process, Lorne had slain Nareth, feeding her in bits to the Shadows…keeping only her heart.
I turned toward Omega, watching her carefully, but saying nothing.
Lorne pulled out the coin from his pocket, looking down to it, then up again to Omega. “Do explain that to Severus, won't you?”
Severus continued glaring at me. “I certainly dont scent her,” he said as if I were no longer in the room. “You did all this just because of that...I repeat, utterly absurd....” he trailed off with a dark scowl.
“It is hard to feel pity for a lamb that will not stop straying into the abattoir, Joah,” said Omega with more than a trace of anger in her voice.
Denenthorn appeared deep in thought. With a small frown on his face, all he said was, “I see....”
“Lorne,” Omega said sharply, “If I were the megalomaniac you think me, I would not allow Joah to do this thing. Nor would I allow her to continue to indulge your...obsessive meddling.”
Severus gestured dismissively at me. “If you had wanted me to be less than nothing, you certainly succeeded. I trust you're satisfied,” he murmured, his voice dull.
I watched Severus thoughtfully and sadly as he opened a portal and disappeared without a word. I then turned toward Omega, glancing briefly at Lorne. Breathing deeply, I replied, “He was not meddling. I asked Him.”
Lorne smiled warmly at Omega. “I do enjoy our little chats. I just may grow a wide mustache if there is a next time...I would defend Myself, really, I would, but...” He sighed dreamily, “you paint such vivid picture, I find Myself swept away.”
Denenthorn rolled his eyes. “Both of you argue too much. It's bad for yer health....”
“Nonsense, Denny,” Lorne grinned. “I'm teasing her, not arguing. If there were any purpose in arguing, her side of this marry old capering would not have grown new, and exciting limbs.”
Omega shook her head and watched Lorne in cold, icy silence.
Lorne creased His brow, turning back towards Omega, muttering with a wry sort of soft tone, “Exciting limbs. What a ridiculous phrase. I like it.”
I turned away from Omega and Denenthorn, nodded my head slightly to Lorne, and headed upstairs.
Lorne gave a nod, letting out a slow breath as He stood more comfortably. “Old, old magic. If you ask for help, and you make a sacrifice, there is a great deal I can do for you.” He paused as a portal opened, and with a rush of cold air, Severus appeared. Lorne continued, gesticulating toward Severus as if presenting, “You don't want this? Sacrifice your taste for it to Me.”
Glancing at Lorne with supreme distaste, Severus gestured dismissively with one large pale-clawed hand. “Whatever it is...I think not,” he drawled with his usual sarcasm.
I watched Severus carefully for a moment, then stepped closer to Grr, laying a hand on his arm. Grr looked up at Severus. “G'day Maker. Water botherin ya?”
Severus shrugged his broad shoulders slightly. “No worse than it did millennia ago….”
Lorne caught my eye and waved off Severus' response. “There, there, big guy, I know you don't like Me. Of course, I wasn't speaking to you, so the point is moot.”
“Don’t think yourself special,” Severus snorted. “I don’t like anyone.”
Lorne grinned. “Not even yourself. Yes, we know.”
“Nothing like a master of the obvious, Lorne,” Severus muttered dryly.
I glanced from Severus to Lorne and back, watching both demons warily, awaiting Lorne’s response when it dawned on me that He’d already answered. My eyes widened with understanding. It barely registered to me that Omega and come into the Library, I was so focused on the matter at hand. I bit my lip and met Lorne's gaze.
Lorne looked back at me, grinning. “To fight hellfire with hellfire. The irony itself is something to be appreciated. Granted, I never have resided in hell, nor in fire of that name, but let's just leave that pass, shall we?”
With bluster and the sound of wet boots on stone, Denenthorn swept into the Library. “Hullo Lorne, Sev, My Sweet, Coyote, Lady Grace....” Denenthorn has taken to calling me that. Lady Grace. He yawned loudly. “What's up?”
“I’ve no idea, just got here,” Severus muttered, giving me a pointed look.
“Water levels, fer one,” Grr replied, “And tha zombies….”
Denenthorn shrugged, “I've fought it all before, bring it on,” he replied lazily.
“Lorne,” Omega said with mild sarcasm, “Such a pleasure to see you again. Have you bought cake?”
Lorne did not reply to the Lady and let others field Denenthorn’s question. He raised His eyebrows expectantly to me, holding a hand out as if to prompt. “It starts simply, really. You needn't even say it out loud...I want....”
I looked steadily at Lorne, shifting slightly in His direction. I took a deep breath and nodded my head. “Yes.”
Grr immediately alerted, looking from me to Lorne and back, then from me to Severus and to Omega, and back to me. “What are ya askin?” he spoke with alarm.
Lorne said nothing, but held my eyes. As I nodded, His hand closed abruptly, and He looked down to it. Opening His palm, a rather corroded looking coin, crude and uneven, lay there in His palm. He took it, and slipped it into His breast pocket, patting it as He looked to Omega, finally answering her question. “I'm afraid I don't deal or gift in lies, Omega. I had a gift, but it's already been given.”
I shook my head as if waking up when the coin appeared in Lorne's hand. I felt…different. I looked at Him again and smiled, murmuring, “Thank you.”
Grr opened his mouth at the sight of the coin and looked at me, still open-mouthed. “Coins…Spirit Gal, what did you do?”
Lorne gazed at me. “Not at’all. If it oils its nude body in front of you, and starts humping your leg, as if it would, you will feel not the mildest tingle.”
Omega turned toward me with a raised brow. I started to speak but was taken aback by the stricken look on Grr’s face.
“I…I….I have ta go,” he said in a rush of words, bounding out into the water of the flooded first floor, sloshing in the direction of the Hotel. Omega sighed, watching his retreat. I stared after him as he bolted away, full of concern and not understanding what had happened.
Severus blinked at Grr's disappearance and then glanced back to me. “Joah...so I repeat...what’s all this then?” he muttered irritably.
“Would you like me to show you?” I asked, turning toward Severus.
“Probably not,” he replied tersely, “But you can go ahead and spit it out.”
In answer, I simply began walking slowly toward Severus as he gave a heavy sigh and glowered down at me. He watched me warily, his towering frame taught, as if ready to spring away from my touch. I stopped, full of uncertainty. I looked from Severus to Lorne, hesitating.
“No cause to worry, Joah,” Lorne said quietly. “I have it all right here.” He patted his pocket.
I nodded to Lorne, then stepped very close to Severus and placed my hand in the sigil on his thigh. Severus scowled blackly as my hand passed through his ward to touch him. “What the bloody hell are you on about?” he said with anger, taking a step backward.
I said nothing, but stepped closer again, pulling off one of my HazMat gloves and placing my bare hand on Severus' chest. Lorne raised His brows expectantly, turning His head slightly to the side. “Anything?” he asked.
“No…nothing,” I replied with a smile. “Not a tingle.”
“What the fuck did I just miss?” Denenthorn blinked.
Omega whirled around, “Joah? What have you done?”
Severus glared icily as I touched him again. I knew that the reflex of his skin would send a torrent of pure lust to course through me, yet there I stood: unaffected. Severus tensed, his pale body growing taut as he drew in a sharp breath through fangs. “What the hell did you do?”
Lorne nodded, smiling. “Excellent.”
“I sacrificed something, Severus,” I said quietly, my hand remaining on his chest. There was nothing, just as Lorne had promised. Not a tingle.
Denenthorn looked on rather confused “Can someone tell me what in the world is going on?”
Severus narrowed his piercing pale eyes sharply at me, brushing my hand aside. “So now, not only do you have no soul but no desire? Of all the utter bloody stupid....” He ground out between clenched fangs: “Why?”
Lorne gestured towards Severus, and then to me. “I believe she may be getting to the exposition right now.”
“I still have desire, Severus,” I replied. “But I won't be left in the Dreaming again by you.” Denenthorn studied me a confused, concerned expression on his face.
“Lorne has, it seems…given Joah a charm against…well, Severus' charms,” Omega said coolly. “Am I correct?”
I shook my head. “Not a charm, Omega. He holds in His hand…my desire for Severus.”
Lorne looked over to Omega, reaching for His pocket as He gazed at me. “Well, in My pocket, but close enough.”
Omega gave me a long look. “Joah, why would you give him such a thing? Have you learned nothing from us…from Nareth?” Nareth had gone willingly to Lorne, trying to summon…something. In the process, Lorne had slain Nareth, feeding her in bits to the Shadows…keeping only her heart.
I turned toward Omega, watching her carefully, but saying nothing.
Lorne pulled out the coin from his pocket, looking down to it, then up again to Omega. “Do explain that to Severus, won't you?”
Severus continued glaring at me. “I certainly dont scent her,” he said as if I were no longer in the room. “You did all this just because of that...I repeat, utterly absurd....” he trailed off with a dark scowl.
“It is hard to feel pity for a lamb that will not stop straying into the abattoir, Joah,” said Omega with more than a trace of anger in her voice.
Denenthorn appeared deep in thought. With a small frown on his face, all he said was, “I see....”
“Lorne,” Omega said sharply, “If I were the megalomaniac you think me, I would not allow Joah to do this thing. Nor would I allow her to continue to indulge your...obsessive meddling.”
Severus gestured dismissively at me. “If you had wanted me to be less than nothing, you certainly succeeded. I trust you're satisfied,” he murmured, his voice dull.
I watched Severus thoughtfully and sadly as he opened a portal and disappeared without a word. I then turned toward Omega, glancing briefly at Lorne. Breathing deeply, I replied, “He was not meddling. I asked Him.”
Lorne smiled warmly at Omega. “I do enjoy our little chats. I just may grow a wide mustache if there is a next time...I would defend Myself, really, I would, but...” He sighed dreamily, “you paint such vivid picture, I find Myself swept away.”
Denenthorn rolled his eyes. “Both of you argue too much. It's bad for yer health....”
“Nonsense, Denny,” Lorne grinned. “I'm teasing her, not arguing. If there were any purpose in arguing, her side of this marry old capering would not have grown new, and exciting limbs.”
Omega shook her head and watched Lorne in cold, icy silence.
Lorne creased His brow, turning back towards Omega, muttering with a wry sort of soft tone, “Exciting limbs. What a ridiculous phrase. I like it.”
I turned away from Omega and Denenthorn, nodded my head slightly to Lorne, and headed upstairs.
Sariel and Raven
“After Nareth, it's real important we don’t lose another like that. Tha Huntress walked tha path on purpose. I can deal with that, as bitter tha thought is that I couldn’t bring her back,” Grr said seriously.
“I don't want to lose Abi, either,” I replied, “But she thinks she is a parasite…because of what I said to her.”
Grr seemed lost in thought. “In tha end, I saw it was her own path.” He wasn’t talking about Abi any more. He was reliving his failure to help Nareth. “If she had wanted ta Cross, I woulda taken her to tha Wide River, but, she peferred tha Nothin…and then, tha Boit, and then, more Nothin….I'd have carried her across, its an old duty, but, I woulda, ya both have ta believe me, if she had wanted ta Cross…”
Lorne Harlequin silently gazed at us, and then shook His head at Grr. “You’ll remember meeting the Raven once when We spoke. I understand.” I didn’t understand what they meant. Raven, the eater of the eyes of the dead, a Trickster who delights in tricking others into doing something for him they may not actually want to do, something that may cost them dearly. I couldn’t grasp what Raven had to do with GrrBrool.
“Exactly,” Grr said quietly. “But I got ta help tha passin, from It ta tha Bot, at least, ta make that end, so, that’s something….”
Lorne looked somehow profoundly tired, a slight hint of reverberance as He spoke in a voice that may as well have been made of sand and stone. “It's a cruel love to have, taking everyone you ever care for to...away.”
“Well, point is, Lorne, if tha Little One is stuck, and she don’t know she's stuck, because she's beatin her self up….”
Lorne continued to speaking, barely acknowledging Grr’s words, as if He were speaking through us, His words distant. "And you...who have not dispensation to go...She knows.” He paused for a moment, blinking out of His distance. “I can take you to her. Ties that bind, and all that,” He said with a defeated smile.
“You would take us to her?” I stammered.
“Though I would insist it wait for a window of receptivity,” Lorne nodded. “I can't imagine you would object.”
“I don't want to lose Abi, either,” I replied, “But she thinks she is a parasite…because of what I said to her.”
Grr seemed lost in thought. “In tha end, I saw it was her own path.” He wasn’t talking about Abi any more. He was reliving his failure to help Nareth. “If she had wanted ta Cross, I woulda taken her to tha Wide River, but, she peferred tha Nothin…and then, tha Boit, and then, more Nothin….I'd have carried her across, its an old duty, but, I woulda, ya both have ta believe me, if she had wanted ta Cross…”
Lorne Harlequin silently gazed at us, and then shook His head at Grr. “You’ll remember meeting the Raven once when We spoke. I understand.” I didn’t understand what they meant. Raven, the eater of the eyes of the dead, a Trickster who delights in tricking others into doing something for him they may not actually want to do, something that may cost them dearly. I couldn’t grasp what Raven had to do with GrrBrool.
“Exactly,” Grr said quietly. “But I got ta help tha passin, from It ta tha Bot, at least, ta make that end, so, that’s something….”
Lorne looked somehow profoundly tired, a slight hint of reverberance as He spoke in a voice that may as well have been made of sand and stone. “It's a cruel love to have, taking everyone you ever care for to...away.”
“Well, point is, Lorne, if tha Little One is stuck, and she don’t know she's stuck, because she's beatin her self up….”
Lorne continued to speaking, barely acknowledging Grr’s words, as if He were speaking through us, His words distant. "And you...who have not dispensation to go...She knows.” He paused for a moment, blinking out of His distance. “I can take you to her. Ties that bind, and all that,” He said with a defeated smile.
“You would take us to her?” I stammered.
“Though I would insist it wait for a window of receptivity,” Lorne nodded. “I can't imagine you would object.”
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Little Girl Lost
I folded my arms across my chest, the Hazmat suit making a slight metal-on-metal sound. “While you are here, Lorne, I probably should talk with you about Abi. She's still missing.”
Lorne nodded “Yes. Last I saw her she had herself suspended in a cage by hooks. I attempted to tutor her on the details of the mod equivalence relation,” he explained.
“Ya know, Lorne, Spirit Gal here and Bright Gal went huntin fer yer pup,” Grr began. “Tha Maker contracted ta take em to her. The dumped Spirit Gal in Dream.”
“The Maker?” Lorne asked.
“Severus,” I replied. “The Incubus. He and I had a disagreement, you might say.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Grr apologized.
Lorne smirked, His lips curling from closed to exposing His teeth. “Ah. The whore, yes.”
Grr went on. “He says he was just a step to tha side on tha path, but when they didn’t come back, and I took a jaunt myself, I found Spirit Gal all alone and asleep in Dream.” Grr gave a canine frown. “Even I know ya dont go ta sleep in Dream…that’s fucked up.”
I nodded. “When I wouldn't…when I didn't...well…at any rate, he let go of my hand. That's the last thing I remember, until I felt Grr's teeth in my shoulder. He didn't break skin, thank goodness.”
Grr shook his head up and down, “Well, no hands….” He’d been in his native form, a pure coyote.
“But we didn't find her,” I continued. “Although Severus says his contract isn't complete, that he'll go back until we do, I'm…a little uncertain of his methods. And Abi may need some persuasion. She doesn't understand about…the need for an equal exchange. She thinks there’s something wrong with her.”
Lorne nodded slightly, then shook His head. “Indeed. I can just imagine poor, poor Severus enduring the guilt of having caused you to lose your mind into a perpetual limbo state.” Lorne wrapped His arms round Himself, and began rocking back and forth, affecting a high-pitched, mocking tone "Boo. Boo hoo. I'm such a horrible, dirty, broken widdle pawn.” He motioned as though He was shying away from someone's touch "No. No. Don't try and comfort me.”
“Oh, ya HAVE met tha Maker,” Grr said.
“So I have, yes,” Lorne nodded. “Not the first Incubus to employ the tired technique of open self-loathing.”
“But thing is, Lorne, yer Pup is still locked up. Maybe its doin her good, maybe she’s in torment fer no reason,” Grr replied.
Lorne nodded again, his face becoming a bit more somber. “There is a problem in that this exile is ultimately self-imposed.” He gave a thoughtful sigh. “I spoke with her. She believes she cannot love. There is a lesson one must learn before they can love any other.”
“And what is that?” I asked quietly.
Lorne looked at me evenly. “Before you may truly love another you must learn to love yourself....”
Lorne nodded “Yes. Last I saw her she had herself suspended in a cage by hooks. I attempted to tutor her on the details of the mod equivalence relation,” he explained.
“Ya know, Lorne, Spirit Gal here and Bright Gal went huntin fer yer pup,” Grr began. “Tha Maker contracted ta take em to her. The dumped Spirit Gal in Dream.”
“The Maker?” Lorne asked.
“Severus,” I replied. “The Incubus. He and I had a disagreement, you might say.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Grr apologized.
Lorne smirked, His lips curling from closed to exposing His teeth. “Ah. The whore, yes.”
Grr went on. “He says he was just a step to tha side on tha path, but when they didn’t come back, and I took a jaunt myself, I found Spirit Gal all alone and asleep in Dream.” Grr gave a canine frown. “Even I know ya dont go ta sleep in Dream…that’s fucked up.”
I nodded. “When I wouldn't…when I didn't...well…at any rate, he let go of my hand. That's the last thing I remember, until I felt Grr's teeth in my shoulder. He didn't break skin, thank goodness.”
Grr shook his head up and down, “Well, no hands….” He’d been in his native form, a pure coyote.
“But we didn't find her,” I continued. “Although Severus says his contract isn't complete, that he'll go back until we do, I'm…a little uncertain of his methods. And Abi may need some persuasion. She doesn't understand about…the need for an equal exchange. She thinks there’s something wrong with her.”
Lorne nodded slightly, then shook His head. “Indeed. I can just imagine poor, poor Severus enduring the guilt of having caused you to lose your mind into a perpetual limbo state.” Lorne wrapped His arms round Himself, and began rocking back and forth, affecting a high-pitched, mocking tone "Boo. Boo hoo. I'm such a horrible, dirty, broken widdle pawn.” He motioned as though He was shying away from someone's touch "No. No. Don't try and comfort me.”
“Oh, ya HAVE met tha Maker,” Grr said.
“So I have, yes,” Lorne nodded. “Not the first Incubus to employ the tired technique of open self-loathing.”
“But thing is, Lorne, yer Pup is still locked up. Maybe its doin her good, maybe she’s in torment fer no reason,” Grr replied.
Lorne nodded again, his face becoming a bit more somber. “There is a problem in that this exile is ultimately self-imposed.” He gave a thoughtful sigh. “I spoke with her. She believes she cannot love. There is a lesson one must learn before they can love any other.”
“And what is that?” I asked quietly.
Lorne looked at me evenly. “Before you may truly love another you must learn to love yourself....”
A Respite From the Flood
I walked into the Library from the flooded streets, wearing a heavy duty, waterproof HazMat suit. It was clunky and heavy, but it kept out the toxic floodwaters, the overflowing sewage, and the floating debris. Lorne was there with Brianna, talking to Grr and taking a respite from the constant downpour. “Well, less sulfuric acid left, and more nothing but lead sulfate,” Lorne mused, “Still....” He turned toward me, knitting his brow. “Are you wearing a powered hard suit, Joah?”
GrrBrool grinned, “Ah, how’s tha HazMat suit workin Spirit Gal?” I met Grr’s eyes as he grinned at me with obvious delight and probably a bit of bemusement at the contrast between my pinned up pigtails and the Hazmat suit. I was lost in his deep, golden gaze for a moment.
Brianna giggled something about me be being half robo-man, while I tried to determine whether I could actually sit in one the of the armchairs while wearing the suit. The lining had begun to itch dreadfully, but I was reluctant to take the whole thing off in case I needed to venture out into the floodwaters again. “It’s a HazMat suit, Lorne, and it’s working well, actually. Of course the water still comes up to my shoulders....”
Lorne held His hand to about the level of my neck in His field of vision. “Bit of a larger percentage than that, methinks. That's for the water?”
I nodded again, deciding to stand rather than attempt a chair. “What were you saying about acids, Lorne?” I asked, moving closer to Grr and laying a hand on the small of his back.
“Bri here lugs a car battery about in her pack, Joah,” Grr smiled. “Must be what gived her those calves….”
Brianna is cute, very cute. Cuddly and adorable, almost. But she is a Shadow. And as Grr so often reminds me, one can only trust the Shadows to be what they are. Brianna had been reading in the Library, studying books on the effects of electrocution. She’d been most eager to find “patients” to try her theories out on. I turned toward her. “Umm…is your experiment working, Bri?"
Brianna began pouting with sweet, pink lips. “Well…with all this water it is hard to find a patient, and I've been fighting skeleton men all day.” She shivered, “Cold, icky water all over....” Grr and I had treated many of those who had been injured in the floodwaters. The level of debris, sewage and chemical contaminants…not to mention the blood bath contamination and the unearthed decomposing bodies…had created a toxic soup that poured into many of the buildings in the City, including the Library. I looked Bri over, but she seemed to be unharmed. She flicked her tail back and forth, giving a slight yawn.
Lorne looked up to Grr, then to me. “Did you collect Warhammer figurines at some point?”
“I knew a guy that used a hammer,” Grr replied, “But, I dont think thats whatcha mean….” I leaned my head on Grr’s arm, turning toward the fire as I did so, studying the blaze in the hearth to make sure it was still burning brightly. “We had an engineer, from tha Feline Corps, who wore somethin like that,” Grr continued. “Tha FURF's had some funny ideas, but they got stuck in, no slackers, well fer kits at least.”
“What is Warhammer, Lorne?” I asked.
Lorne blinked, His expression becoming more present. “Warhammer is a table-top game of strategy played with miniatures, many of them wearing powered armor.”
“Oh,” Grr, mused, “Tactical simulation trainin, i getcha…”
“I'm unfamiliar with such games, Lorne.” I continued to gaze into the fire, causing it to lick up brightly and boil the water around it. Two sets of dark eyes could barely be seen among the logs, two small heads, and two red and orange tails. There was scampering as I directed the flame, until one of the logs shifted slightly, emitting a shower of sparks.
Grr wrapped his arm around me briefly and whispered. “I never get tired of watchin yer fire-critters, Spirit Gal.” I hugged him in return, then shifted around to face Lorne and Brianna.
Lorne smiled at me. “Yes. Somehow, when I look at you, weighing all that I am aware of in your person, the first thing that comes to mind is not ‘This is a person who likely enjoys collecting small metal figurines for the purpose of painting them intricately, and simulating intergalactic wars.’”
Grr looked puzzled, “Err…what do ya think, then, Lorne?”
I lifted my head from Grr’s arm. “Yes, Lorne…what do you think?”
Lorne turned His head slightly down and back, looking sidelong at the Grr and me with a demurring smile. “Ah, but that would be telling.”
GrrBrool grinned, “Ah, how’s tha HazMat suit workin Spirit Gal?” I met Grr’s eyes as he grinned at me with obvious delight and probably a bit of bemusement at the contrast between my pinned up pigtails and the Hazmat suit. I was lost in his deep, golden gaze for a moment.
Brianna giggled something about me be being half robo-man, while I tried to determine whether I could actually sit in one the of the armchairs while wearing the suit. The lining had begun to itch dreadfully, but I was reluctant to take the whole thing off in case I needed to venture out into the floodwaters again. “It’s a HazMat suit, Lorne, and it’s working well, actually. Of course the water still comes up to my shoulders....”
Lorne held His hand to about the level of my neck in His field of vision. “Bit of a larger percentage than that, methinks. That's for the water?”
I nodded again, deciding to stand rather than attempt a chair. “What were you saying about acids, Lorne?” I asked, moving closer to Grr and laying a hand on the small of his back.
“Bri here lugs a car battery about in her pack, Joah,” Grr smiled. “Must be what gived her those calves….”
Brianna is cute, very cute. Cuddly and adorable, almost. But she is a Shadow. And as Grr so often reminds me, one can only trust the Shadows to be what they are. Brianna had been reading in the Library, studying books on the effects of electrocution. She’d been most eager to find “patients” to try her theories out on. I turned toward her. “Umm…is your experiment working, Bri?"
Brianna began pouting with sweet, pink lips. “Well…with all this water it is hard to find a patient, and I've been fighting skeleton men all day.” She shivered, “Cold, icky water all over....” Grr and I had treated many of those who had been injured in the floodwaters. The level of debris, sewage and chemical contaminants…not to mention the blood bath contamination and the unearthed decomposing bodies…had created a toxic soup that poured into many of the buildings in the City, including the Library. I looked Bri over, but she seemed to be unharmed. She flicked her tail back and forth, giving a slight yawn.
Lorne looked up to Grr, then to me. “Did you collect Warhammer figurines at some point?”
“I knew a guy that used a hammer,” Grr replied, “But, I dont think thats whatcha mean….” I leaned my head on Grr’s arm, turning toward the fire as I did so, studying the blaze in the hearth to make sure it was still burning brightly. “We had an engineer, from tha Feline Corps, who wore somethin like that,” Grr continued. “Tha FURF's had some funny ideas, but they got stuck in, no slackers, well fer kits at least.”
“What is Warhammer, Lorne?” I asked.
Lorne blinked, His expression becoming more present. “Warhammer is a table-top game of strategy played with miniatures, many of them wearing powered armor.”
“Oh,” Grr, mused, “Tactical simulation trainin, i getcha…”
“I'm unfamiliar with such games, Lorne.” I continued to gaze into the fire, causing it to lick up brightly and boil the water around it. Two sets of dark eyes could barely be seen among the logs, two small heads, and two red and orange tails. There was scampering as I directed the flame, until one of the logs shifted slightly, emitting a shower of sparks.
Grr wrapped his arm around me briefly and whispered. “I never get tired of watchin yer fire-critters, Spirit Gal.” I hugged him in return, then shifted around to face Lorne and Brianna.
Lorne smiled at me. “Yes. Somehow, when I look at you, weighing all that I am aware of in your person, the first thing that comes to mind is not ‘This is a person who likely enjoys collecting small metal figurines for the purpose of painting them intricately, and simulating intergalactic wars.’”
Grr looked puzzled, “Err…what do ya think, then, Lorne?”
I lifted my head from Grr’s arm. “Yes, Lorne…what do you think?”
Lorne turned His head slightly down and back, looking sidelong at the Grr and me with a demurring smile. “Ah, but that would be telling.”
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
A more equal exchange
I sat staring out the window from my chair, looking quietly at the rain when I heard GrrBrool’s padding steps. I glanced up at the banister, where he stood giving me a canine smile.
“Hello there, Spirit Gal…quiet night?”
“Quiet?” I replied. “No...not exactly. Abi's still missing.”
Grr nodded thoughtfully. “Locked in a punishment realm…some dream realm…or both.”
“What makes you say a punishment realm?” I asked.
“Cages, chains, no eyeballs…sounds pretty punishmenty ta me,” Grr sighed, walking down the stairs to the drawing room. “That and apparently she said it was punishment.”
My eyes widened with surprise. “You've…talked with her?”
Grr shook his head. “No. Blue of all people. Came in and wanted ta help. How’s that fer screwy?”
I couldn’t help smiling, thinking of Blue and our improbable friendship, formed over a shared bottle of vodka. She’d broken more bones and tortured more people than I cared to count…and her blood had poisoned Grr…yet some indefinable bond drew us together. Grr’s eyes sought mine.
“You like her, dontcha?” Grr smiled.
“I do,” I nodded. Thinking again of Abi, I focused my attention on the lycan. “Grr, Severus is going to take us to Abi. He won't take a price,” I murmured. “Lar would give it freely, but he won't take it. He chooses punishment instead. He won't…let us stand with him in that, either. But he will take us.”
Grr wheeled about at my words. “Really? Fuck.” He began scowling. “Fuck. I should just yank her myself…Fuck tha risk.”
“I'm not sure that you can, Grr,” I sighed. “There is…a Magician…” I looked up from my cushion to see Omega suddenly still before the hearth. Her red hair gleamed in the firelight. She stood regally in blood red corset dress, the bodice overlayed with beadwork, and ribbons cinching up her waist.
“Yer Ladyship.” Grr gave a slight bow. I nodded a greeting, relief washing over me at Omega’s arrival. Grr turned back, speaking to me. “I'd not count on that, Spirit Gal.” Grr walks to the Other place, between the planes and among them. I had no doubt he could go after Abi. Whether he would return whole was another matter.
“Grr,” I explained, “The deal with the Lightbringer has been made. The die cast. Severus will be punished whether he goes or not.”
“Well,” sighed Grr, “I guess it’s too late then.”
Omega looked at both of us, smiling evenly. “Hello GrrBrool, Joah…are we still speaking of Severus?”
“Well, tha Little One, actually,” Grr frowned.
Omega turned to face the fire. “One who won't feed, and one who won't stop….”
Grr nodded. “We should mate ‘em.”
“I am not sure who that would be more cruel to, Grrbrool,” Omega replied.
I looked at Omega. “Nor I. Rago would be heartsick. As would Abi. And when she returns…what then? This feeding…I suspect it’s been going on all along. I need to speak with her Father. He warned her of this. Repeatedly.”
Omega frowned. “And what do you think Lorne can do, now?”
“He can explain to me more of her nature, Lady. Perhaps help me to help her…find a more equal exchange for her magicks.”
“I dunno.” Grr padded over and placed one paw on my shoulder. “Can we trust…Lorne?”
Omega nodded her head. “Perhaps in matters of Abi's welfare. Perhaps. Then again, feeding Nareth to the Shadows was hardly in Abi's best interests, was it?”
I looked at the floor. “I…trust him,” I said quietly.
“Well, Joah,” Omega replied, “Lorne has always been completely trustworthy...to act in his own interest.”
Grr smiled grimly. “That we can trust.”
“But Legion…” I trailed of.
“It is another matter entirely,” Grr growled. “I don’t trust It. And I don’t understand it.”
I said nothing for a moment and continued to stare at the floor. “She helped me…with Nareth’s blade, Grr. And She helped me…leave the fear behind.” I sighed. “I don't understand Her either, Grr. But….” I was lost for words.
“Joah,” Omega began, “Legion gave me the Eden Soil. It enabled me to save Nareth, to make her my Childe. Without it, Nareth would have died…but like all of Legion's gifts...it has come at a price. Legion does not give from kindness. And all her gifts have a price.”
“I didn’t say It wasn't powerful, Spirit Gal,” Grr said gently.
“But if She…or Lorne…are able to help, Abi….” I stammered.
Grr sighed and pinched his muzzle. “Why can’t we ever have nice things?”
His comment confused me. “Nice…things?” I asked.
“Errr, old sayin, Spirit Gal,” Grr replied. “We should do this on our own.”
“Hello there, Spirit Gal…quiet night?”
“Quiet?” I replied. “No...not exactly. Abi's still missing.”
Grr nodded thoughtfully. “Locked in a punishment realm…some dream realm…or both.”
“What makes you say a punishment realm?” I asked.
“Cages, chains, no eyeballs…sounds pretty punishmenty ta me,” Grr sighed, walking down the stairs to the drawing room. “That and apparently she said it was punishment.”
My eyes widened with surprise. “You've…talked with her?”
Grr shook his head. “No. Blue of all people. Came in and wanted ta help. How’s that fer screwy?”
I couldn’t help smiling, thinking of Blue and our improbable friendship, formed over a shared bottle of vodka. She’d broken more bones and tortured more people than I cared to count…and her blood had poisoned Grr…yet some indefinable bond drew us together. Grr’s eyes sought mine.
“You like her, dontcha?” Grr smiled.
“I do,” I nodded. Thinking again of Abi, I focused my attention on the lycan. “Grr, Severus is going to take us to Abi. He won't take a price,” I murmured. “Lar would give it freely, but he won't take it. He chooses punishment instead. He won't…let us stand with him in that, either. But he will take us.”
Grr wheeled about at my words. “Really? Fuck.” He began scowling. “Fuck. I should just yank her myself…Fuck tha risk.”
“I'm not sure that you can, Grr,” I sighed. “There is…a Magician…” I looked up from my cushion to see Omega suddenly still before the hearth. Her red hair gleamed in the firelight. She stood regally in blood red corset dress, the bodice overlayed with beadwork, and ribbons cinching up her waist.
“Yer Ladyship.” Grr gave a slight bow. I nodded a greeting, relief washing over me at Omega’s arrival. Grr turned back, speaking to me. “I'd not count on that, Spirit Gal.” Grr walks to the Other place, between the planes and among them. I had no doubt he could go after Abi. Whether he would return whole was another matter.
“Grr,” I explained, “The deal with the Lightbringer has been made. The die cast. Severus will be punished whether he goes or not.”
“Well,” sighed Grr, “I guess it’s too late then.”
Omega looked at both of us, smiling evenly. “Hello GrrBrool, Joah…are we still speaking of Severus?”
“Well, tha Little One, actually,” Grr frowned.
Omega turned to face the fire. “One who won't feed, and one who won't stop….”
Grr nodded. “We should mate ‘em.”
“I am not sure who that would be more cruel to, Grrbrool,” Omega replied.
I looked at Omega. “Nor I. Rago would be heartsick. As would Abi. And when she returns…what then? This feeding…I suspect it’s been going on all along. I need to speak with her Father. He warned her of this. Repeatedly.”
Omega frowned. “And what do you think Lorne can do, now?”
“He can explain to me more of her nature, Lady. Perhaps help me to help her…find a more equal exchange for her magicks.”
“I dunno.” Grr padded over and placed one paw on my shoulder. “Can we trust…Lorne?”
Omega nodded her head. “Perhaps in matters of Abi's welfare. Perhaps. Then again, feeding Nareth to the Shadows was hardly in Abi's best interests, was it?”
I looked at the floor. “I…trust him,” I said quietly.
“Well, Joah,” Omega replied, “Lorne has always been completely trustworthy...to act in his own interest.”
Grr smiled grimly. “That we can trust.”
“But Legion…” I trailed of.
“It is another matter entirely,” Grr growled. “I don’t trust It. And I don’t understand it.”
I said nothing for a moment and continued to stare at the floor. “She helped me…with Nareth’s blade, Grr. And She helped me…leave the fear behind.” I sighed. “I don't understand Her either, Grr. But….” I was lost for words.
“Joah,” Omega began, “Legion gave me the Eden Soil. It enabled me to save Nareth, to make her my Childe. Without it, Nareth would have died…but like all of Legion's gifts...it has come at a price. Legion does not give from kindness. And all her gifts have a price.”
“I didn’t say It wasn't powerful, Spirit Gal,” Grr said gently.
“But if She…or Lorne…are able to help, Abi….” I stammered.
Grr sighed and pinched his muzzle. “Why can’t we ever have nice things?”
His comment confused me. “Nice…things?” I asked.
“Errr, old sayin, Spirit Gal,” Grr replied. “We should do this on our own.”
Saturday, September 20, 2008
My Darling Bella
June 25
My Darling Bella,
There is little time now, and I am expected. I would have you know that, in my way, I have cared much for you, though I know I am too poor instrument for the expression of compassion. You know that well enough, as you know that, in all the ages of my life, you are one of the few who has provided me with genuine companionship and in whom I have been able to confide. As the walls of my existence crumble and all my days and faces blur together, I will abide in you one last secret.
I have spoken to you of my games of "tag" plenty enough times, though I know the matter remains largely a mystery to you. I will speak this as plainly as I am able. I have forseen the hour of my undoing, and against that day have I placed a means that I might one day be returned to myself. A means by which the scattered pieces of my being may be reassembled, even when I seem completely beyond recall. When the first of these opportunities presents itself, I believe you will know her, if only by the name we share. She will no doubt speak of her meeting with me, which, of course, was but a meeting with herself.
Many things are hidden to me. But I know that any of those I have touched, any of those displaced in my passing, may serve as the vessel of my rebirth. Only that part of me held by Lorne cannot be easily enough regained. And I may have no true need of that sliver.
Guard the sigil, and the child of Larissa, the phial of blood I have given you, and everything else I have entrusted to you. My Sire may or may not desire my true resurrection. If she does, she and the OI will be a great aid. If not, you must find some other path and not hesitate to follow it.
All is not lost, even knowing the storm that approaches me. I may yet be far more than those who designed me intended, and, also far less. I desire to be no mere gate for the trespass of gods, no machine, and I have seen worlds where I am a mortal woman. From one of these templates might I be rebuilt and my mind restored. She will come to you. I will come to you.
There is no time left to me. The Pit is waiting, and work. I do not regret, for I am not able, but even now I feel your absence.
In Time,
Nareth
My Darling Bella,
There is little time now, and I am expected. I would have you know that, in my way, I have cared much for you, though I know I am too poor instrument for the expression of compassion. You know that well enough, as you know that, in all the ages of my life, you are one of the few who has provided me with genuine companionship and in whom I have been able to confide. As the walls of my existence crumble and all my days and faces blur together, I will abide in you one last secret.
I have spoken to you of my games of "tag" plenty enough times, though I know the matter remains largely a mystery to you. I will speak this as plainly as I am able. I have forseen the hour of my undoing, and against that day have I placed a means that I might one day be returned to myself. A means by which the scattered pieces of my being may be reassembled, even when I seem completely beyond recall. When the first of these opportunities presents itself, I believe you will know her, if only by the name we share. She will no doubt speak of her meeting with me, which, of course, was but a meeting with herself.
Many things are hidden to me. But I know that any of those I have touched, any of those displaced in my passing, may serve as the vessel of my rebirth. Only that part of me held by Lorne cannot be easily enough regained. And I may have no true need of that sliver.
Guard the sigil, and the child of Larissa, the phial of blood I have given you, and everything else I have entrusted to you. My Sire may or may not desire my true resurrection. If she does, she and the OI will be a great aid. If not, you must find some other path and not hesitate to follow it.
All is not lost, even knowing the storm that approaches me. I may yet be far more than those who designed me intended, and, also far less. I desire to be no mere gate for the trespass of gods, no machine, and I have seen worlds where I am a mortal woman. From one of these templates might I be rebuilt and my mind restored. She will come to you. I will come to you.
There is no time left to me. The Pit is waiting, and work. I do not regret, for I am not able, but even now I feel your absence.
In Time,
Nareth
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
A cluster of thoughts
Did she push me or did I fall? I remember only being asked to help with a lesson. She opened up the void within her; I felt the lifeblood drained from me and a bitter cold within. She said I had no choice but to drink from her. She said she saved my life. Perhaps she did. I would have frozen in the abyss that is Nareth.
I could not be with her, yet I could not leave. I both longed for her and despised her. The blood of the Omega runs through her veins. And that is not a gift to be rejected lightly.
I chose to walk away. Nicholette, for your sake, I hope I did the right thing. . . .
*****
Burned and black. Burned and black. Larissa, dear friend, you would not have forth told were it not to be. Yet this dream of death must be mutable. Despite Pontifex’s mocking, there must be free will. The Creator has made it so. Dear friend, you placed a white rose in my hand--a funerary ornament or the way to rebirth?
*****
A lovely pink heart. A silly pink mustache. I watched with amazement as Brit drew them sparkling in the air. She said Lorne had given her dream ink in which to dip her colors. A two-edged demon gift. Not all dreams are those we wish to come true. There is the dark side, the nightmares we keep hidden within. I wondered, though, whether a nightmare so beckoned might prove to protect Brit if other defenses failed. “Can you draw one”, I asked? “You mean a scary picture?” Brit questioned. She closed her eyes and lifted her hand, crayon poised . . . and a toxic waste monster appeared. . . .
*****
I walked the streets and the shore, searching to satisfy my hunger. The building drew me. Would there be answers inside? The woman, Scarlette, had said she descries the future, not by crystal ball, but by the cards. “Watch me read,” she invited. Perhaps I was too much of a Silver-Hair, though I tested neither beds nor porridge. Yet a sword was drawn on me, with the threat of sending me back to the Omega in pieces. I only sought answers.
I could not be with her, yet I could not leave. I both longed for her and despised her. The blood of the Omega runs through her veins. And that is not a gift to be rejected lightly.
I chose to walk away. Nicholette, for your sake, I hope I did the right thing. . . .
*****
Burned and black. Burned and black. Larissa, dear friend, you would not have forth told were it not to be. Yet this dream of death must be mutable. Despite Pontifex’s mocking, there must be free will. The Creator has made it so. Dear friend, you placed a white rose in my hand--a funerary ornament or the way to rebirth?
*****
A lovely pink heart. A silly pink mustache. I watched with amazement as Brit drew them sparkling in the air. She said Lorne had given her dream ink in which to dip her colors. A two-edged demon gift. Not all dreams are those we wish to come true. There is the dark side, the nightmares we keep hidden within. I wondered, though, whether a nightmare so beckoned might prove to protect Brit if other defenses failed. “Can you draw one”, I asked? “You mean a scary picture?” Brit questioned. She closed her eyes and lifted her hand, crayon poised . . . and a toxic waste monster appeared. . . .
*****
I walked the streets and the shore, searching to satisfy my hunger. The building drew me. Would there be answers inside? The woman, Scarlette, had said she descries the future, not by crystal ball, but by the cards. “Watch me read,” she invited. Perhaps I was too much of a Silver-Hair, though I tested neither beds nor porridge. Yet a sword was drawn on me, with the threat of sending me back to the Omega in pieces. I only sought answers.
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