Sunday, January 25, 2009
And this feende...was all redy, and lay by hir, while she was slepynge
How know you that your lover
Of death’s tideless waters stoops to drink?
Severus glared at Nareth as his clawed fingertips trailed along the cheek of the lycan woman he held tightly in one arm. “You hypocrite... it is fine for all of you to rut and smear yourselves all over this building as you please... but now you deny me this?” He growled low, curling his towering frame over the lycan woman, shifting against her sensuously, and savoring the pleasure that radiated from her due to his touch. He felt more than heard the snap, and then his powerful arms loosened, startled and scenting her.
"If we rut and tear ourselves, as you say, we do it by mutual consent. I cannot hold the Old Woman back, Severus, and she can kill us all.” Nareth placed her hand on Severus' chest again. “I will not see this happen....”
Me by night doth mouldy darkness cover,
It makes me quake to think:
She stood, improbably, leaning on a cane. “Joah, you need to release that bastard. If that's even possible. He is a threat to us all.”
“And what would happen if I did, Nareth? He would be without restraint.”
“It’s your call, Joah. Unless it becomes Omega’s.”
All night long I feel his presence hover
Thro’ the darkness black as ink.
“I spent two hours talking him down… so that he
wouldn't take a lycan woman here in the library.”
“Nareth, yer standin’, that’s good.”
“Yes... Grr. I am standing. Just barely....”
Without a voice he tells me
The wordless secrets of death’s deep:
“Grr... you, Lycan... tell me the nature of your kind's soul….” Severus uttered fixing Grr with his burning black eyes.
“Tha nature of our souls, Maker? Complex. Wild and free, eternally cyclin’ and tied to tha cycle of tha world…. ”
If I sleep, his trumpet voice compels me
To stalk forth in my sleep:
“I wish to know if the souls of your kin are born damned as some have said... if there is no redemption for them after tasting the blood of mortals... is this correct?” Severus asked, his eyes wild and desperate.
“Not as far as my own leanin’s go, no, that ain’t correct. Redemption is fer all who seek it, soul or no. I don’t believe, nor does my totem, that anythin is unchangeable. Nothin’ is born damned, that’s somethin’ that happens to ya, or ya do yerself and everythin’ – everythin’ – can Change its own destiny. Even you.”
If I wake he rides me like a nightmare;
I feel my hair stand up, my body creep:
“That is not... the answer I had hoped,” Severus ground out between clenched fangs, his every word a struggle, strangely accented and slipping towards the First language. “I will not damn another....”
Without light I see a blasting sight there,
See a secret I must keep.
A Coast-Nightmare, C. Rossetti
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Þe quene þat by þe stod, of loue teres heo weop a flod
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
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
Saturday, January 10, 2009
The Summer Country
I lay upon the hill
That lay beneath the wolf sky
I felt the dark clouds forming
An omen apparition
And with the thunder rolling
A howl preceded the storm
We lay within the bird
That lay beneath the Wolf Sky
We lay within its wing and
We felt the bird within us
And with the thunder rolling
We left the ground for the sky
We drank the dark clouds deeper
And ran the wild moon hunting
Alive with fur and feather
As omen apparition
We left the moon suspended
And leapt back onto the ground
We lay upon the hill
That lay beneath the Wolf Sky
We felt the dark clouds forming
An omen apparition
And with the thunder rolling
A howl preceded the storm
We lay beneath the wolf sky
Wendy Rule, The Wolf Sky
Your Battle-Wounds are Scars upon My Heart
I stood near the large windows of the Library gazing at the milling crowd on Luxuria Lane. Rhaven and Zoe were at the open doorway, chatting about the snow, which, inexplicably, fell white and soft from the every hazy Toxian sky. At least, I presumed the snow was what they were discussing. I could only hear Rhaven’s half of the conversation, having blocked Zoe’s telepathic communications from my mind. Zoe, Rhaven told me, had lost the ability to speak as her telepathy grew. The new Omegan had persisted in her steadfast refusal to communicate in any other way, despite my warnings. I, as well as others, had many reasons to disallow any sort of telepathic communication. I knew I would have to deal with her later, but at the moment, my thoughts were on Grrbrool.
He hovered near the open hearth, alternately crouching and standing, the recent, familiar look of confusion and fear on his face. He sipped tea from an army-issue metal cup, such a mundane and heartbreaking thing to watch. It reminded me of how far from himself he still was. No one had been able to help him completely. Faye’Li had tried, even Rhaven; Dryl had sung to him. But the song wasn’t enough. He remained mute, only able to express himself through sad and bitter song.
I feared trying to reach out to him. The harm I’d done to him already weighed heavily upon me. I’d even sought traditional healers in an effort to avoid touching his essence. I’d visited the hospital to find medical assistance, but psychiatrists were few and far between in the City, and most would plainly benefit from receiving the services of their kind themselves. After seeing the painting, however, I knew that that the risk of touching him was one the Old Woman in the Walls wished me to take. It was an invitation, to a place about which I was greatly uncertain, but there was no mistaking who and what I’d seen upon the beach of the Summer Country’s shore. The Old Woman had told me more.
I turned away from the window and toward my Beloved, beginning to cascade warmth over his being, the image of a pup in the womb floating peacefully and securely, eager to be born in my mind. “I want to tell you about a place,” I whispered. “A place of pure love, a place where the Mother spent an age.”
Grr nodded slowly and swallowed, his eyes turning toward me as he set the cup on the floor beside him. “A world where all is peace, grace, and pleasure,” I continued gently. I walked closer to him, reaching out to wrap one arm about his waist, envisioning the pup born gently below warm waters.
Grr shuddered and lightly relaxed into my embrace. “There’s a blissful, crescent shaped island in an azure sea.” I spoke as if singing a lullaby, tendrils of essence enfolding him as the pup rose from the warm sea to a warm beach filled with delicious scents. Grr began swaying in the crook of my arm, relaxing, as I’d not seen him do in a long, long time.
“It’s a place you can't go to if you strive...” I whispered. Grr wrapped his arms around my back and waist, flattening his body to press against me, fur to flesh where exposed. “A place where your need takes you.” I leaned into him with my whole being, breathing in the scent of his fur, humming, envisioning the pup, a coyote pup, running along the shore...running up to the tree's edge, sniffing at each bright green plant.
“Hhh… rrr… how?” He stammered.
“When you accept the love of the Mother, Beloved,” I replied. “Accept her healing. I want to take you there.” And I did want to with every fiber of my being, although I didn’t know how. I am no planes-walker. I don’t know the outside over there, how to get to it or to come back. But the Old Woman had wanted me to offer this to him, and offer I did. I pulled back slightly to look deep in Grr's golden eyes. “I want to walk the path with you, Beloved.”
As he leaned his head over my shoulder, I felt a rumble from his throat. “We lay upon the hill that, lay beneath the Wolf Sky,” he sang. “I felt the dark, and with the thunder rolling, our howl preceded the storm…” he trailed off, burying his head softly against my neck.
I sang quietly back to him, “We lay within the bird hat lay beneath the Wolf Sky, we lay within its wing and we felt the bird within us….”
“And with the thunder rolling,” he replied, “We left the ground for the sky….” His mournful cadence broke off and he held me more tightly.
“And we will,” I whispered. “We will.” I pulled back again and looked at him deeply. “I’ll need your mirror, Beloved… if you want to go….”
“Always with the beloved crap,” a sharp voice interrupted. I stepped out of Grr’s embrace to see Ardere yawning and scowling slightly as she brushed snow off her shoulder with a curse under her breath. “So sappy.” The smirk on her face was evident as she stood flicking the razor sharp claws at the ends of her long, red fingers.
I shook my head, fearing the moment lost. “No, Ardere... please don't...."
“Please don’t what?” Ardere snickered loudly. “Wander where I can freely go?” Ardere arched a brow and tilted her head toward Grr. “Is that mongrel still spouting gibberish? I still stand by putting it down.” Grr had begun to look alarmed. He began patting himself, looking for his pouch.
“Tea…. ” Grr muttered, seemingly not understanding the danger at hand.
I stepped closer, sensing his alarm and realizing that his brief moment of lucidity was gone. I only hoped that Ardere wouldn’t make it worse. I shook my head at her again mouthing no.
“T-Tea…” Grr stammered. He began looking around the hearth, locating the metal cup he’d laid on the floor and picking it up with one paw.
Ardere grinned wider, quite pleased with unbalancing me. She winked and gave me a lascivious look, then blew a kiss. “Doesn’t matter, Joah,” she laughed. “Your sentimentality bores me.” She turned toward the door, her hips swaying. “Ta ta,” she wiggled her fingers in a mocking wave.
I turned back toward Grr, confused. “Tea?” I asked. I realized for the first time that his pouch… and the mirror… were missing.
Ardere stopped at the threshold of the door looking from Grr to me as he searched, cup in paw. She gazed at the place on his side where his pouch usually lay. “Maybe someone pinched it.... never know.... “ She laughed and left. I wouldn’t have put it past her to take it.
Grr nodded as she left, although I wasn’t sure to what. He held his muzzle closed as his ears flattened. He looked at me and pointed to the half empty, cooled tea in the metal mug, then drew close, dipped his paw into the tea and flicked it at my face. I startled at the wetness against my cheeks and began to exclaim surprise, when he redipped his paw and flicked the tea at the fire, where it sizzled for a moment.
Then the world fell away.
With thanks to Vera Brittain.
He hovered near the open hearth, alternately crouching and standing, the recent, familiar look of confusion and fear on his face. He sipped tea from an army-issue metal cup, such a mundane and heartbreaking thing to watch. It reminded me of how far from himself he still was. No one had been able to help him completely. Faye’Li had tried, even Rhaven; Dryl had sung to him. But the song wasn’t enough. He remained mute, only able to express himself through sad and bitter song.
I feared trying to reach out to him. The harm I’d done to him already weighed heavily upon me. I’d even sought traditional healers in an effort to avoid touching his essence. I’d visited the hospital to find medical assistance, but psychiatrists were few and far between in the City, and most would plainly benefit from receiving the services of their kind themselves. After seeing the painting, however, I knew that that the risk of touching him was one the Old Woman in the Walls wished me to take. It was an invitation, to a place about which I was greatly uncertain, but there was no mistaking who and what I’d seen upon the beach of the Summer Country’s shore. The Old Woman had told me more.
I turned away from the window and toward my Beloved, beginning to cascade warmth over his being, the image of a pup in the womb floating peacefully and securely, eager to be born in my mind. “I want to tell you about a place,” I whispered. “A place of pure love, a place where the Mother spent an age.”
Grr nodded slowly and swallowed, his eyes turning toward me as he set the cup on the floor beside him. “A world where all is peace, grace, and pleasure,” I continued gently. I walked closer to him, reaching out to wrap one arm about his waist, envisioning the pup born gently below warm waters.
Grr shuddered and lightly relaxed into my embrace. “There’s a blissful, crescent shaped island in an azure sea.” I spoke as if singing a lullaby, tendrils of essence enfolding him as the pup rose from the warm sea to a warm beach filled with delicious scents. Grr began swaying in the crook of my arm, relaxing, as I’d not seen him do in a long, long time.
“It’s a place you can't go to if you strive...” I whispered. Grr wrapped his arms around my back and waist, flattening his body to press against me, fur to flesh where exposed. “A place where your need takes you.” I leaned into him with my whole being, breathing in the scent of his fur, humming, envisioning the pup, a coyote pup, running along the shore...running up to the tree's edge, sniffing at each bright green plant.
“Hhh… rrr… how?” He stammered.
“When you accept the love of the Mother, Beloved,” I replied. “Accept her healing. I want to take you there.” And I did want to with every fiber of my being, although I didn’t know how. I am no planes-walker. I don’t know the outside over there, how to get to it or to come back. But the Old Woman had wanted me to offer this to him, and offer I did. I pulled back slightly to look deep in Grr's golden eyes. “I want to walk the path with you, Beloved.”
As he leaned his head over my shoulder, I felt a rumble from his throat. “We lay upon the hill that, lay beneath the Wolf Sky,” he sang. “I felt the dark, and with the thunder rolling, our howl preceded the storm…” he trailed off, burying his head softly against my neck.
I sang quietly back to him, “We lay within the bird hat lay beneath the Wolf Sky, we lay within its wing and we felt the bird within us….”
“And with the thunder rolling,” he replied, “We left the ground for the sky….” His mournful cadence broke off and he held me more tightly.
“And we will,” I whispered. “We will.” I pulled back again and looked at him deeply. “I’ll need your mirror, Beloved… if you want to go….”
“Always with the beloved crap,” a sharp voice interrupted. I stepped out of Grr’s embrace to see Ardere yawning and scowling slightly as she brushed snow off her shoulder with a curse under her breath. “So sappy.” The smirk on her face was evident as she stood flicking the razor sharp claws at the ends of her long, red fingers.
I shook my head, fearing the moment lost. “No, Ardere... please don't...."
“Please don’t what?” Ardere snickered loudly. “Wander where I can freely go?” Ardere arched a brow and tilted her head toward Grr. “Is that mongrel still spouting gibberish? I still stand by putting it down.” Grr had begun to look alarmed. He began patting himself, looking for his pouch.
“Tea…. ” Grr muttered, seemingly not understanding the danger at hand.
I stepped closer, sensing his alarm and realizing that his brief moment of lucidity was gone. I only hoped that Ardere wouldn’t make it worse. I shook my head at her again mouthing no.
“T-Tea…” Grr stammered. He began looking around the hearth, locating the metal cup he’d laid on the floor and picking it up with one paw.
Ardere grinned wider, quite pleased with unbalancing me. She winked and gave me a lascivious look, then blew a kiss. “Doesn’t matter, Joah,” she laughed. “Your sentimentality bores me.” She turned toward the door, her hips swaying. “Ta ta,” she wiggled her fingers in a mocking wave.
I turned back toward Grr, confused. “Tea?” I asked. I realized for the first time that his pouch… and the mirror… were missing.
Ardere stopped at the threshold of the door looking from Grr to me as he searched, cup in paw. She gazed at the place on his side where his pouch usually lay. “Maybe someone pinched it.... never know.... “ She laughed and left. I wouldn’t have put it past her to take it.
Grr nodded as she left, although I wasn’t sure to what. He held his muzzle closed as his ears flattened. He looked at me and pointed to the half empty, cooled tea in the metal mug, then drew close, dipped his paw into the tea and flicked it at my face. I startled at the wetness against my cheeks and began to exclaim surprise, when he redipped his paw and flicked the tea at the fire, where it sizzled for a moment.
Then the world fell away.
With thanks to Vera Brittain.
Monday, January 5, 2009
The Painting in the Room of Lost Works
The peculiar thing was that I’d never seen the painting before. I’d been working for hours in the Library’s private collection, hidden away in the quiet, undoored room beside Omega’s office. I’d finished mending Cato’s Carmen de Moribus, puzzling over the incantations for the dead, when I happened to glance at the wall to my left. Next to the deep, burnished bookshelves there hung a small painting of what appeared to be an island.
I rose to examine it. As I drew closer, the details of each tiny image became clearer and more distinct. At first, it appeared to me to be a painting of a crescent-shaped island in a tranquil blue sea, lush tropic greenery visible just beyond the waters’ edge. As I drew near, however, so did the place before me. I could smell the tang of saltwater, feel a warm breeze drifting toward me. I shook my head as I felt a light spray of seawater on my face while I watched the gentle surf lap at the shore.
On the beach stood a golden creature, fur rippling in the breeze and glinting in the light of the morning sun. He bent to crouch over the waves, paws darting in and out as if fishing in the shallows. I stepped back a pace, wondering if this small painting was a gate to another place, but as I did so, the waves and the breeze ceased. The delicate painting of the island hung in stillness on the wall before me. I lifted one hand to touch its frame and noticed, for the first time, a signature I couldn’t quite make out beneath an elegant inscription: The Summer Country.
I rose to examine it. As I drew closer, the details of each tiny image became clearer and more distinct. At first, it appeared to me to be a painting of a crescent-shaped island in a tranquil blue sea, lush tropic greenery visible just beyond the waters’ edge. As I drew near, however, so did the place before me. I could smell the tang of saltwater, feel a warm breeze drifting toward me. I shook my head as I felt a light spray of seawater on my face while I watched the gentle surf lap at the shore.
On the beach stood a golden creature, fur rippling in the breeze and glinting in the light of the morning sun. He bent to crouch over the waves, paws darting in and out as if fishing in the shallows. I stepped back a pace, wondering if this small painting was a gate to another place, but as I did so, the waves and the breeze ceased. The delicate painting of the island hung in stillness on the wall before me. I lifted one hand to touch its frame and noticed, for the first time, a signature I couldn’t quite make out beneath an elegant inscription: The Summer Country.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
What Would You Choose?
“I… hate snow,” Grrbrool growled, pacing in front of the Library’s hearth. Heading down the stairs I could see Grr’s fur glinting in the firelight, his tail swishing angrily. The snow fell in a gentle drift outside the windows, powdering the night air. Severus stood grim as usual, not a pace away from Grr. “It’s wrong,” Grr continued, “And not in December neither, it should be HOT now…” He dropped to a crouch.
I walked over to him and leaned down to kiss the top of his head, lingering a bit as my lips touched his fur. “You’re in the wrong hemisphere for that, Beloved,” I smiled wryly. I rose and began stroking Grr’s fur absently, watching Severus turn away with disgust, as he was wont to do at any display of physical affection. “Severus,” I said after a moment.
The Incubus scowled and turned away to stare out the window. “What….” he uttered flatly.
“You and I... share a bond we didn't share before.” I was trying to choose my words carefully, watching his every move for a reaction. Severus had returned from Hell lost in an illusion of torment, new wounds reinforcing his perception that Lucifer had not let him go. Many had tried to help him back, but none had succeeded except to restore his body somewhat.
I’d been reluctant to try to help him at all, given my past failures, but try I did. I’d done something I rarely do. I’d pulsed into him, into his very being… not entirely with his consent due to his incapacitated state… and I’d seen something. I’d learned something about him no one else knew.
Severus shrugged his broad shoulders. “We share nothing,” he said dismissively. “You have something of mine, just as Lucifer does... to control me.”
Grr nodded slowly, his face still confused and his memories of his days as a soldier coloring all his responses. “Rank gives control… chain of Command runs both ways.”
That I had, as Severus had put it – something that belonged him – was a shocking realization to me. In my efforts within his broken psyche, I’d seen what Lucifer had placed within him. To my knowledge, this was something only one Other had ever seen. But I’d also learned something about Severus that no one else knew: I’d discovered his true name within him and used it to call him forth. I’d found after having done so that this required him to obey me.
I looked on impassively, not responding to Severus’s barb. “I’m not Lucifer... and Grrbrool is correct.”
“Orders and my name work just as well,” Severus snorted derisively.
“Affirmative,” Grr replied, not understanding Severus’ meaning. “ Ta live is ta serve… and ta serve, is ta live.”
Severus narrowed his pale eyes. “Perhaps for you, were-creature. I have never had a choice in the matter.”
“Serve or die, learn or die, fight or die,” Grr continued. For a moment, he no longer seemed lost in his own world. “I ain’t immortal… not a real good choice.”
I continued to study Severus, my eyes running down the wounds at his back, lingering over his broken wings. “What if you were given the choice, Maker? What would you do with it?”
“I would die as i should have long ago,” Severus said quietly, lowering his shadowed and haunted eyes. “l... I would seek oblivion. There’s nothing for me here....”
“There is no death, Maker,” I said. “You know there’s no true ending... not in the sense that you seek. Or do you wish your spirit to wink into nothingness as well as your body?” I asked.
Grr looked thoughtful. “You could go ta Oblivion's edge…. It’s a place, just a hop and boop, off ya go…”
“Yes,” I nodded. “Or you could drink Meng-Po's five flavored tea...and forget… if that is what you truly desire.”
“I don’t wish to exist any longer,” Severus spat. “I have no true purpose aside from Lucifer's compelling... and forgetting won’t solve anything aside from making me a slave to desire again... no doubt Lucifer would be pleased if I forgot what I once was,” he muttered bitterly. He lifted his hand to the air and, without a word, opened a portal and stepped through, a loud cracking noise following him as the portal closed.
“He's bonkers too… “ Grr said sadly.
I walked over to him and leaned down to kiss the top of his head, lingering a bit as my lips touched his fur. “You’re in the wrong hemisphere for that, Beloved,” I smiled wryly. I rose and began stroking Grr’s fur absently, watching Severus turn away with disgust, as he was wont to do at any display of physical affection. “Severus,” I said after a moment.
The Incubus scowled and turned away to stare out the window. “What….” he uttered flatly.
“You and I... share a bond we didn't share before.” I was trying to choose my words carefully, watching his every move for a reaction. Severus had returned from Hell lost in an illusion of torment, new wounds reinforcing his perception that Lucifer had not let him go. Many had tried to help him back, but none had succeeded except to restore his body somewhat.
I’d been reluctant to try to help him at all, given my past failures, but try I did. I’d done something I rarely do. I’d pulsed into him, into his very being… not entirely with his consent due to his incapacitated state… and I’d seen something. I’d learned something about him no one else knew.
Severus shrugged his broad shoulders. “We share nothing,” he said dismissively. “You have something of mine, just as Lucifer does... to control me.”
Grr nodded slowly, his face still confused and his memories of his days as a soldier coloring all his responses. “Rank gives control… chain of Command runs both ways.”
That I had, as Severus had put it – something that belonged him – was a shocking realization to me. In my efforts within his broken psyche, I’d seen what Lucifer had placed within him. To my knowledge, this was something only one Other had ever seen. But I’d also learned something about Severus that no one else knew: I’d discovered his true name within him and used it to call him forth. I’d found after having done so that this required him to obey me.
I looked on impassively, not responding to Severus’s barb. “I’m not Lucifer... and Grrbrool is correct.”
“Orders and my name work just as well,” Severus snorted derisively.
“Affirmative,” Grr replied, not understanding Severus’ meaning. “ Ta live is ta serve… and ta serve, is ta live.”
Severus narrowed his pale eyes. “Perhaps for you, were-creature. I have never had a choice in the matter.”
“Serve or die, learn or die, fight or die,” Grr continued. For a moment, he no longer seemed lost in his own world. “I ain’t immortal… not a real good choice.”
I continued to study Severus, my eyes running down the wounds at his back, lingering over his broken wings. “What if you were given the choice, Maker? What would you do with it?”
“I would die as i should have long ago,” Severus said quietly, lowering his shadowed and haunted eyes. “l... I would seek oblivion. There’s nothing for me here....”
“There is no death, Maker,” I said. “You know there’s no true ending... not in the sense that you seek. Or do you wish your spirit to wink into nothingness as well as your body?” I asked.
Grr looked thoughtful. “You could go ta Oblivion's edge…. It’s a place, just a hop and boop, off ya go…”
“Yes,” I nodded. “Or you could drink Meng-Po's five flavored tea...and forget… if that is what you truly desire.”
“I don’t wish to exist any longer,” Severus spat. “I have no true purpose aside from Lucifer's compelling... and forgetting won’t solve anything aside from making me a slave to desire again... no doubt Lucifer would be pleased if I forgot what I once was,” he muttered bitterly. He lifted his hand to the air and, without a word, opened a portal and stepped through, a loud cracking noise following him as the portal closed.
“He's bonkers too… “ Grr said sadly.
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