Again, as the emotions faded, I sifted through the memories, finding the next one that was important enough to the way of things that my Mistress would need them. Though all of the memories in the folder had been deemed important at the time, I am disappointed by what I find. Most of it is nonsensical, rubbish, trite...why have I stored this? My Mistress does not need to know of my struggles. Just of the outcome. Frantically, I am looking for the needed one, the one I marked so that in this situation, I could find it easily. "Aha!" The utterance crosses my lips without permission, but the success is welcome. I slide my claw across the seal absently, releasing the memory from the captivity I imposed on it at the time.
The winter flurries about us, its possession strong and rich with my fear.
I was being hunted.
This memory was not to show my Mistress my struggles. It was only for the purpose of the information I had gathered on that trip through the frozen winter streets. When I had tried to slice just the information into a folder, it had crumbled to pieces. So I had to keep adding more and more to it until this was included. Only memories with strong emotions attached could be archived properly and expected to last more than a year. Even those with the proper utilities for preserving smaller memories preferred strongly emotional things.
Hunted I was, and as the fear catches in my chest, I stumble. The hands that have been outstretched have me. Acting on the instinct that has preserved me thus far, I twist, buying momentary freedom and a hard hit to the head. I lay silent as if unconscious, knowing better than to struggle. Now, in my silence, I may learn what I would not have by fighting. Though my fear has a bit of say on that as well; I am all but paralyzed by it now, as I am roughly bagged and carried. But this crony of the Council has failed to realize that not all Misshapen are as human as they seem, and is foolishly proud of his capture.
He yammers away on his lenses, his booming voice clear as day, though the information he is receiving is a mystery to me; that has long been something inaudible to those around, transmitted directly into the brain. "Right. Edge of town to CERA's facilities, right?" It takes all that I am not to panic at that. CERA is the thinnest of front for a Misshapen torture center, calling itself a research facility. I can not betray that I am aware though; certain death lay down that path. "Beast tried to run, but I nabbed it easy. Without this'un broadcasting, the others should fall soon, and Shaen oughtn't be able to remember prop', right?"
The human knew! Which means the Council knows...and for this fool to be blurting it out without a hint of secrecy to his tone could mean something disastrous. I can feel my sibs gathering, but I warn them off. These words are enough to warrant my escape. The rest of the research would have to be done with more preparation, and could not be gathered if I were to die.
I had sealed the memory at this moment, knowing my escape was apparent, and the details were unimportant. Yet the simple truth remained that they knew about us in a way they hadn't before. "I have not found the source of that information leak Mistress." I say softly, while I tremble through the rest of the records for the last piece of her absence worth mentioning.
12.15.2007
Ding!
Actually, this is just a quick poll. I've gotten a few comments about the story so far which I really appreciate and I wanted to mention that I'll probably be moving the update time a bit earlier in the day. Posting right before I go to bed is becoming something that is too easy to forget, so I'm going to go ahead and post whenever I can in the day. Hopefully that time will regulate itself, but knowing me it won't.
The other thing I wanted to mention is the side stories. Whenever I post more than once in a day that doesn't have to do with catching up from the previous day, it'll be for a side story...so far. Would the current readers prefer an increase in frequency of side stories? Since they have little to do with Shaen's Universe, (in fact, so far, the only one who may also exist in Shaen's 'verse is Yaxley...and should that happen you'll know it) are they more distracting or just interesting tidbits to you all?
I'm just curious is all, really. XD I'm having fun, so I doubt they'll go away entirely, but I can start posting them elsewhere if they are TOO distracting.
Thanks for reading!
The other thing I wanted to mention is the side stories. Whenever I post more than once in a day that doesn't have to do with catching up from the previous day, it'll be for a side story...so far. Would the current readers prefer an increase in frequency of side stories? Since they have little to do with Shaen's Universe, (in fact, so far, the only one who may also exist in Shaen's 'verse is Yaxley...and should that happen you'll know it) are they more distracting or just interesting tidbits to you all?
I'm just curious is all, really. XD I'm having fun, so I doubt they'll go away entirely, but I can start posting them elsewhere if they are TOO distracting.
Thanks for reading!
1.5.3: Memories of Autumn's Fall
My apologies for another late post. Finals + the holiday season, silly excuses. Unfortunate circumstances. Blah Blah. Without further adieu.
The peace fell from my Mistress' face as the scene unraveled.
"Look at this foul Misshapen! Acting as if its Mistress," the way he acidly spat the word out as a mockery of our bond was causing my blood to boil again, though I kept a lock on my emotions to avoid flooding her with them. It would do neither of us any good for the backlash to send us into shared Rage. "were here. Know you not what you are, Misshapen fiend?" The Elder inquired, raising an eyebrow coolly at me. There was no time to answer before his gaze passed over the others, his head shaking as he began what I quickly recognized as the Call to Banning.
"This Misshapen does not hold any power here, friends. Though Shaen left her vote with it, her vote little matters while she wanders off on flights of fancy."
"Flights of fancy? What she does now she does for the mission as well as what you do now!" I defended loudly, but rather than acknowledge my words or even my presence, the Elder rose his voice, as if I were some creature mewling pathetically in the street to be spoken over. My glare is focused on him as I fall to silence in my frustration. If I am naught but Misshapen here, there is no point of attempting to speak now. All I can do is gather information of my Mistress' betrayal for her. I keep my eyes closed, do not dare look at her as the memory continues.
"This petty creature would like to remind you, likely, of the work Shaen does when she is here...so would I. It is shoddy and without any real consequence. It poorly reflects the Council. And she expects phenomenal rewards for her work when it does little to further our cause and often plants seeds of destruction that rally against us only after she has vanished. She promises us safety for as long as she is on our Council friends...that is not a partner. That is a protection racket...a scam. We must Ban her now, friends, before she returns and persuades us once more."
It was then that I had slunk backwards. My eyes had closed and for minutes, the memory was only enhanced sound, each voice attached with the memory of the name. The discussion was too short, with little resistance. The vote settled it. It was this day that my Mistress was banned, only weeks after Ritophe similarly lost his position. Standing, unnoticed, my eyes had opened again, and I heard myself promise something.
"You will find that my Mistress is more forgiving than I...but I doubt she will forget this, Councilors. When you do regret this decision, it will be after my brothers and sisters have stolen your young and made them like us, stolen their memories and replaced them with ones that paint you poorly...though perhaps, with some of you, that last part will not be necessary. That is the better case for me, no? That your children should join willingly with natural hate to be turned against you? When that day comes, Councilors, you will find yourself sorely in need of the protection you have lost yourselves. And you will find it nowhere in this world."
The flow of memory thinned for a moment as I tried to prevent the leakage of my Mistress' emotions from effecting my clarity of mind. The pity was almost overwhelming, and I could not continue reliving these days with it so fresh and bared to me. "Mistress, your shields." I whisper aloud, and feel the emotions lift from me again, and I squeeze her hand gently as I can to reassure her. It would only be a matter of time until she was back to full power.
I was already in the process of making it happen.
The peace fell from my Mistress' face as the scene unraveled.
"Look at this foul Misshapen! Acting as if its Mistress," the way he acidly spat the word out as a mockery of our bond was causing my blood to boil again, though I kept a lock on my emotions to avoid flooding her with them. It would do neither of us any good for the backlash to send us into shared Rage. "were here. Know you not what you are, Misshapen fiend?" The Elder inquired, raising an eyebrow coolly at me. There was no time to answer before his gaze passed over the others, his head shaking as he began what I quickly recognized as the Call to Banning.
"This Misshapen does not hold any power here, friends. Though Shaen left her vote with it, her vote little matters while she wanders off on flights of fancy."
"Flights of fancy? What she does now she does for the mission as well as what you do now!" I defended loudly, but rather than acknowledge my words or even my presence, the Elder rose his voice, as if I were some creature mewling pathetically in the street to be spoken over. My glare is focused on him as I fall to silence in my frustration. If I am naught but Misshapen here, there is no point of attempting to speak now. All I can do is gather information of my Mistress' betrayal for her. I keep my eyes closed, do not dare look at her as the memory continues.
"This petty creature would like to remind you, likely, of the work Shaen does when she is here...so would I. It is shoddy and without any real consequence. It poorly reflects the Council. And she expects phenomenal rewards for her work when it does little to further our cause and often plants seeds of destruction that rally against us only after she has vanished. She promises us safety for as long as she is on our Council friends...that is not a partner. That is a protection racket...a scam. We must Ban her now, friends, before she returns and persuades us once more."
It was then that I had slunk backwards. My eyes had closed and for minutes, the memory was only enhanced sound, each voice attached with the memory of the name. The discussion was too short, with little resistance. The vote settled it. It was this day that my Mistress was banned, only weeks after Ritophe similarly lost his position. Standing, unnoticed, my eyes had opened again, and I heard myself promise something.
"You will find that my Mistress is more forgiving than I...but I doubt she will forget this, Councilors. When you do regret this decision, it will be after my brothers and sisters have stolen your young and made them like us, stolen their memories and replaced them with ones that paint you poorly...though perhaps, with some of you, that last part will not be necessary. That is the better case for me, no? That your children should join willingly with natural hate to be turned against you? When that day comes, Councilors, you will find yourself sorely in need of the protection you have lost yourselves. And you will find it nowhere in this world."
The flow of memory thinned for a moment as I tried to prevent the leakage of my Mistress' emotions from effecting my clarity of mind. The pity was almost overwhelming, and I could not continue reliving these days with it so fresh and bared to me. "Mistress, your shields." I whisper aloud, and feel the emotions lift from me again, and I squeeze her hand gently as I can to reassure her. It would only be a matter of time until she was back to full power.
I was already in the process of making it happen.
12.13.2007
1.5.2 : Tales of Autumn's Rising
Suddenly, I wince, realizing that I have, yet again failed my Mistress. Had I not told her before I checked when she last remembered that I would simply immerse her in my memories? I had, and she seems to be remembering that now, agitation on her features. I didn't grind my teeth, this time. Taking her hand in my two small gloved hands, I look away from her. "My apologies. Here they are." The formal words complete, I settle into my mind quietly.
I take a moment first, to find the memories. I had cataloged them for when she would return, knowing that I would need them. Calling up the mental image of a filing system, I thumb through the files, finding the one marked 'important: disappearance XIV.' Extracting it, I review the memory quickly, allowing it to take over my mind completely before allowing her in as well, opening the path between our minds.
Momentarily, I stop breathing. Her thoughts flood into my mind at first; she has forgotten how to shield. Knowing better than to panic, as it would spread between us too quickly at this rapture, I snap shields over her quickly. The thoughts stopped attacking my mind all at once, and only the remnants of her embarrassment tainted the air as I released the river of memories between us, filtering them in chronological order to make confusion minimum.
I watch the images, reliving the last few months as she lives them through my form.
We step into autumn, when the acid rains have moved on and only the destruction and cold remain. I am walking through the streets of the city, preparing for another Council meeting. Though Ritophe was threat no more, there were others that doubted my Mistress' complete control, and in her absence, my presence would serve reminder. I take pride in that, and that pride had filled me on the day that we had stepped into.
It was not enough, though, to be convincing, as the Eldest started to pick apart my Mistress' exit again. Attempting to intervene, I stand up in frustration. "You have never doubted her in the past. She will return, and once more, she will be stronger than before as always." I watch myself utter, slamming my fist on the table, grabbing their attention at last. It has always been my way to be silent at the meetings. It lends more attention to my voice when I need it. The rest of the Council stared at me, as I held the glare of the Eldest. Anger resonated within me still, even now.
My Mistress' approval of my behavior prodded me onward.
I take a moment first, to find the memories. I had cataloged them for when she would return, knowing that I would need them. Calling up the mental image of a filing system, I thumb through the files, finding the one marked 'important: disappearance XIV.' Extracting it, I review the memory quickly, allowing it to take over my mind completely before allowing her in as well, opening the path between our minds.
Momentarily, I stop breathing. Her thoughts flood into my mind at first; she has forgotten how to shield. Knowing better than to panic, as it would spread between us too quickly at this rapture, I snap shields over her quickly. The thoughts stopped attacking my mind all at once, and only the remnants of her embarrassment tainted the air as I released the river of memories between us, filtering them in chronological order to make confusion minimum.
I watch the images, reliving the last few months as she lives them through my form.
We step into autumn, when the acid rains have moved on and only the destruction and cold remain. I am walking through the streets of the city, preparing for another Council meeting. Though Ritophe was threat no more, there were others that doubted my Mistress' complete control, and in her absence, my presence would serve reminder. I take pride in that, and that pride had filled me on the day that we had stepped into.
It was not enough, though, to be convincing, as the Eldest started to pick apart my Mistress' exit again. Attempting to intervene, I stand up in frustration. "You have never doubted her in the past. She will return, and once more, she will be stronger than before as always." I watch myself utter, slamming my fist on the table, grabbing their attention at last. It has always been my way to be silent at the meetings. It lends more attention to my voice when I need it. The rest of the Council stared at me, as I held the glare of the Eldest. Anger resonated within me still, even now.
My Mistress' approval of my behavior prodded me onward.
0.3 : Severely Mistaken
If you think you know what you're getting into with her, you're so incredibly wrong.
She's not dumb, you know. She can see through you. You already know that, look at those eyes, girl, damn. They know. She knows. She already knows, but still, she's standing there like she wants you to do something about it.
You're not going to do anything about it though, are you? That's fine. Just make that decision now, not after you've approached her and made a fool of yourself. Stop staring at her and move. Now, or you're going to figure out very, very quickly that this isn't going to work at all.
But she is...she is words. They flow through her like they remain static in books. Oh god's above, she is made of them, made of them like perfection. You can not talk to her. You will...you will end up destroying her if you stick around. Move, boy, move. You can not afford to do this again. There is so much left to do. So much that does not involve losing your grip.
Move on now, before the angel sees you watching and realizes that she can use you to her advantage. Kill this fantasy now. Move.
Oh god. It's too late. It's too fucking late. Run. Run NOW. No. The fear is not immobilizing you if you refuse to move you fool, you're just fucking refusing to move. Pick up your bloody feet and move if you want to retain any semblance of normalcy to your pathetic life. Make your excuses. Get out of here, get out of here, get out of here, no, stay.
She's smiling at you.
She's smiling at me.
"Hi."
She's not dumb, you know. She can see through you. You already know that, look at those eyes, girl, damn. They know. She knows. She already knows, but still, she's standing there like she wants you to do something about it.
You're not going to do anything about it though, are you? That's fine. Just make that decision now, not after you've approached her and made a fool of yourself. Stop staring at her and move. Now, or you're going to figure out very, very quickly that this isn't going to work at all.
But she is...she is words. They flow through her like they remain static in books. Oh god's above, she is made of them, made of them like perfection. You can not talk to her. You will...you will end up destroying her if you stick around. Move, boy, move. You can not afford to do this again. There is so much left to do. So much that does not involve losing your grip.
Move on now, before the angel sees you watching and realizes that she can use you to her advantage. Kill this fantasy now. Move.
Oh god. It's too late. It's too fucking late. Run. Run NOW. No. The fear is not immobilizing you if you refuse to move you fool, you're just fucking refusing to move. Pick up your bloody feet and move if you want to retain any semblance of normalcy to your pathetic life. Make your excuses. Get out of here, get out of here, get out of here, no, stay.
She's smiling at you.
She's smiling at me.
"Hi."
12.12.2007
1.5.1 : Tales of Summer's End
I look up at my Mistress with wonderment, hardly believing my luck that she has returned now. It has been a rather absurd time since she left once more. Not that her return will bring an end to the absurdity, and not that I wish a semblance of life that is less absurd. That is not, as my Mistress's cycles remind me so often, real life. That is a less-than life, a life which sleeping through seems to be no crime. But she awaits my tale with less-than patience, a sign of her less-than life of the last few months, a knowledge that she has missed more than intended.
"I am not sure Mistress, where you last remember. What season was it then?" I inquire humbly as she settles in next to me more, pale fingers stroking my crest, emotions bared through the intensity of the gentle stroking action. Though it was liable to be a source of pain when we got to that part of the tale, I know it soothes her, and would never request anything so enormous of her such as a release of my feathers. That would be...well, it would be without honor, that is for certain! And as she describes the slow destruction of her last trench coat caused by the acid rains, I understand that it has been longer than even I had realized. The rains are coming again shortly, after all, and they only happen twice a year. And given she mentioned her trench coat rather than her less-than destroyed acid-resistant get-up I had completed at the end of the last Acid Season, I knew precisely where to start.
"Ah, it had been summer then. I am sorry, but the days pass oddly without you, my Mistress. Time seems to flow in a way that is unique to your absence." The compliment treads cautiously from my lips; it was the right choice this time, apparently, because while her features do not relax, she finds the itch at the base of my skull and scratches it obligingly as is often my reward. "The end of the Summer Rains came just as I finished your new coat. I think you will find it much more sturdy when the Rains come again in the coming weeks, Mistress." I take care not to beam, knowing it is humility she prizes most.
A non-committal sound from Her lets me know that I am taking too much time. Cursing my pride momentarily, feeling her fingers leave the itch and work away from it and into my crest, I quickly begin the tale properly. "As the rains left the City again, Ritophe made a play for your open spot on the council." There was a small growl from her throat that was coupled with a much rougher pull on my beautiful feathers. "But it was ignored almost uniformly. The council has officially banned Ritophe from making any power plays until he does something successful." The sharper pain was replaced by a duller pain that did not bother me. Worse will be done to me soon, and I will take honor in that as well. I always take honor in serving my Mistress, no matter the size of the task.
The momentary relaxation does not relieve me of my duties...I am uncertain that I have even covered any material that occurred after the exodus to not-life she had made. It is possible that the news of the bureaucratic decision had not at that point filtered down, but there was much to be told yet. Of those things, much was bad, but I had a tidbit of good to share, a smug bit of gossip that I prided myself on gathering.
"Actually, it may please you to know that Ritophe's life outside the Council is similarly failing. His oldest daughter has recently turned to the Crusade for aid. It was in the papers. He is discredited." I thrill in the smirk that lights those precious pale lips. It sets her features aflame with life. It is this that I live for, and her pleasure is nearly inescapably contagious. Giddiness threatens my composure; I regain it before she notices my loving glance towards her. A punishment would come from that had she caught me, but this time, she is too happy in His defeat.
Hopefully, her joy with summer's end will save me from too much injury when I have finished fall's travesty. It will be difficult to serve her if she does not control her temper this time.
"I am not sure Mistress, where you last remember. What season was it then?" I inquire humbly as she settles in next to me more, pale fingers stroking my crest, emotions bared through the intensity of the gentle stroking action. Though it was liable to be a source of pain when we got to that part of the tale, I know it soothes her, and would never request anything so enormous of her such as a release of my feathers. That would be...well, it would be without honor, that is for certain! And as she describes the slow destruction of her last trench coat caused by the acid rains, I understand that it has been longer than even I had realized. The rains are coming again shortly, after all, and they only happen twice a year. And given she mentioned her trench coat rather than her less-than destroyed acid-resistant get-up I had completed at the end of the last Acid Season, I knew precisely where to start.
"Ah, it had been summer then. I am sorry, but the days pass oddly without you, my Mistress. Time seems to flow in a way that is unique to your absence." The compliment treads cautiously from my lips; it was the right choice this time, apparently, because while her features do not relax, she finds the itch at the base of my skull and scratches it obligingly as is often my reward. "The end of the Summer Rains came just as I finished your new coat. I think you will find it much more sturdy when the Rains come again in the coming weeks, Mistress." I take care not to beam, knowing it is humility she prizes most.
A non-committal sound from Her lets me know that I am taking too much time. Cursing my pride momentarily, feeling her fingers leave the itch and work away from it and into my crest, I quickly begin the tale properly. "As the rains left the City again, Ritophe made a play for your open spot on the council." There was a small growl from her throat that was coupled with a much rougher pull on my beautiful feathers. "But it was ignored almost uniformly. The council has officially banned Ritophe from making any power plays until he does something successful." The sharper pain was replaced by a duller pain that did not bother me. Worse will be done to me soon, and I will take honor in that as well. I always take honor in serving my Mistress, no matter the size of the task.
The momentary relaxation does not relieve me of my duties...I am uncertain that I have even covered any material that occurred after the exodus to not-life she had made. It is possible that the news of the bureaucratic decision had not at that point filtered down, but there was much to be told yet. Of those things, much was bad, but I had a tidbit of good to share, a smug bit of gossip that I prided myself on gathering.
"Actually, it may please you to know that Ritophe's life outside the Council is similarly failing. His oldest daughter has recently turned to the Crusade for aid. It was in the papers. He is discredited." I thrill in the smirk that lights those precious pale lips. It sets her features aflame with life. It is this that I live for, and her pleasure is nearly inescapably contagious. Giddiness threatens my composure; I regain it before she notices my loving glance towards her. A punishment would come from that had she caught me, but this time, she is too happy in His defeat.
Hopefully, her joy with summer's end will save me from too much injury when I have finished fall's travesty. It will be difficult to serve her if she does not control her temper this time.
1.4 : Spring
Sorry that this is late...and short. But I'll be making up for it this evening, you can count on that!
Time failed to act for a while as she absorbed her surroundings. The rhythmic breath of Chael punctuated each long draw over her lair. It had been many things in its time, rarely serving the purpose of a proper apartment. Sleep was a luxury, and Shaen would rather her luxuries be in the form of power and clothing than sleep. Not that it seemed to effect her too much, really. Or had it? Was that why she had been so stuck last time in that stupid grind? No, that didn't make a lick of sense, sleep had been long proved to be unimportant and in fact, an impediment on productivity.
At long lost, her eyes fell on Chael again, a frown crossing the wind-licked lips at first. That he was sleeping was somewhat disturbing. The man never slept when she was away unless...the frown deepened as she approached the coach without her regular silence, cursing the squeak of the new vinyl boots. It would take some time for them to be properly broken into silence again. Rousing him from his slumber, the poor thing looked confused for a moment, apparently lost in some half-dream. This passed quickly though as she continually attempted to get his attention.
"Mistress Shaen? You're back?" The not-quite-human finally annunciated, finally understanding. A grin split his features, though the eerily black holes that ought to have been eyes did not change with the smile, giving it a shallow feel. But Shaen knew better than to judge based on that, and tousled his silver crest feathers gently, enjoying the way they felt on her long numb fingers entirely too much. A delighted sound escaped from Chael's throat, a cross between a lovebird's trill and a kitten's purr. Sitting properly up as she took a seat next to him, Shaen bade him to tell her of what had passed in her absence.
"Much, Mistress. Much more than my throat is capable of uttering. I will share the memories with you instead. They will be truer than my words, though you know I would never willingly deceive you.
Time failed to act for a while as she absorbed her surroundings. The rhythmic breath of Chael punctuated each long draw over her lair. It had been many things in its time, rarely serving the purpose of a proper apartment. Sleep was a luxury, and Shaen would rather her luxuries be in the form of power and clothing than sleep. Not that it seemed to effect her too much, really. Or had it? Was that why she had been so stuck last time in that stupid grind? No, that didn't make a lick of sense, sleep had been long proved to be unimportant and in fact, an impediment on productivity.
At long lost, her eyes fell on Chael again, a frown crossing the wind-licked lips at first. That he was sleeping was somewhat disturbing. The man never slept when she was away unless...the frown deepened as she approached the coach without her regular silence, cursing the squeak of the new vinyl boots. It would take some time for them to be properly broken into silence again. Rousing him from his slumber, the poor thing looked confused for a moment, apparently lost in some half-dream. This passed quickly though as she continually attempted to get his attention.
"Mistress Shaen? You're back?" The not-quite-human finally annunciated, finally understanding. A grin split his features, though the eerily black holes that ought to have been eyes did not change with the smile, giving it a shallow feel. But Shaen knew better than to judge based on that, and tousled his silver crest feathers gently, enjoying the way they felt on her long numb fingers entirely too much. A delighted sound escaped from Chael's throat, a cross between a lovebird's trill and a kitten's purr. Sitting properly up as she took a seat next to him, Shaen bade him to tell her of what had passed in her absence.
"Much, Mistress. Much more than my throat is capable of uttering. I will share the memories with you instead. They will be truer than my words, though you know I would never willingly deceive you.
12.10.2007
1.3 : Trembling
At long last, the fashion-defying loafers impacted with the concrete sidewalk. It was a good thing the Company had no interest in her when she was alive. It really wouldn't have been a problem to catch the woman who now panted at the bottom of the stairs in a rather uncomfortable way, thin fingers perched atop her knees. Yet this stop was less needed than the first had been, and she recovered rather quickly now, all things considered. Shaen felt the demoralizing night as it captured the City once more as a single moment, not the slow advance that the sunset would imply. There was a way in which, with only the warning of the death of the day, it closed in with a finality that was unmistakable to the past and future Conquerer of All. It was as clear as the Call of Gods was to those that still heard Them. Night had always been Shaen's time for action, and it invigorated her as it froze the citizens in their homes.
Rejecting the ice of the air, she drew herself to standing once more, feeling well and far more ready for the business at hand than the panting she had only moments ago ceased would generally denote. The snapping of evening into place had coincided with life flowing through her, bringing with it passion and the madness that often characterized her memories. The daydreams that she had hidden away ran rampant now as she started down the streets, keeping away from the street lamps. Her current attire hardly marked her as a streetwalker, but that certainly hadn't stopped the assumption in the past. Of course, her desired costuming actually did little to discourage the thought of an alternative career that involved a certain variety of conquest.
Each step in the shadows was accompanied with a surge of guilt for having left the City alone so long again. How she kept forgetting about it was beyond her, but with the softness of sight that accompanied her now, she was hardly fit to pursue that line of thought. For some reason, spectacles were intricately related to her success rate when it came to gathering formal intell about the soul-death.
Right. There was that part of her previous research to pick up as well. Damn, she had really fucked up this little lapse of time. Thinking about it now, with the enticing gloom around her, she was starting to recall the time before this last interval of office work. Gathering her new location, providence seemed to be with her tonight as she noted the intersection. Apparently, she had picked this location of soul-death well, as she was rather close to her favorite after-dark clothier. And the first step to getting back to herself was looking like it.
After a fashion montage and the swipe of a credit card belonging to Shaen Caliomoch that would likely cease to be paid in the near future, she exited the shop, carrying a rather small package, given the amount charged. But said small package carried a particularly full wardrobe, one that would soon be taking home in the apartment she kept for just such occasions.
Actually, she had been rather hard on herself for the length of time she had been in the other state. It really didn't get much better than having fresh clothing within walking distance from a place to scheme. Relieving the burden of regret some, the finely dressed woman re-entered what had been her home time and time again, ignoring the dust and inhaling the information.
There was much to be done.
WC:594
Rejecting the ice of the air, she drew herself to standing once more, feeling well and far more ready for the business at hand than the panting she had only moments ago ceased would generally denote. The snapping of evening into place had coincided with life flowing through her, bringing with it passion and the madness that often characterized her memories. The daydreams that she had hidden away ran rampant now as she started down the streets, keeping away from the street lamps. Her current attire hardly marked her as a streetwalker, but that certainly hadn't stopped the assumption in the past. Of course, her desired costuming actually did little to discourage the thought of an alternative career that involved a certain variety of conquest.
Each step in the shadows was accompanied with a surge of guilt for having left the City alone so long again. How she kept forgetting about it was beyond her, but with the softness of sight that accompanied her now, she was hardly fit to pursue that line of thought. For some reason, spectacles were intricately related to her success rate when it came to gathering formal intell about the soul-death.
Right. There was that part of her previous research to pick up as well. Damn, she had really fucked up this little lapse of time. Thinking about it now, with the enticing gloom around her, she was starting to recall the time before this last interval of office work. Gathering her new location, providence seemed to be with her tonight as she noted the intersection. Apparently, she had picked this location of soul-death well, as she was rather close to her favorite after-dark clothier. And the first step to getting back to herself was looking like it.
After a fashion montage and the swipe of a credit card belonging to Shaen Caliomoch that would likely cease to be paid in the near future, she exited the shop, carrying a rather small package, given the amount charged. But said small package carried a particularly full wardrobe, one that would soon be taking home in the apartment she kept for just such occasions.
Actually, she had been rather hard on herself for the length of time she had been in the other state. It really didn't get much better than having fresh clothing within walking distance from a place to scheme. Relieving the burden of regret some, the finely dressed woman re-entered what had been her home time and time again, ignoring the dust and inhaling the information.
There was much to be done.
WC:594
12.09.2007
0.2 The Blood Tree: Raccoon Boy
Even with steam filling my lungs as I shower, I just can't seem to get warm anymore. Not since...wincing against the hot bullets, I turn the temperature up to try and get some heat past my skin. It doesn't work of course, but it gives the illusion of color to my skin for a moment, beating it red. Not red hot, but oh well. The ritual is completed, and I turn the water off without any real thought. Pushing the curtains out of the way, I reach for the towel I left outside before I got in in the first place. Finding it blindly, I dry off my face before wrapping it around my waist and clearing off the steam from the mirror, examining my face once again.
This is just part of the ritual, though it serves a different purpose than it did when I was younger. When I was about ten, I always jumped out of the shower to see if maybe this would be the time that I would definitely need to start shaving. That time never really came, but my body still goes through the motions, giving clear view of what I am now instead of the man that I'd always thought I'd become.
The holes that stare back at me are familiar in their strangeness. I still can't reconcile what I look like and my inner image. I know the dark circles belong to me, I can feel the puffy quality to the near black skin. I don't know, on the other hand, when it was that I stopped sleeping. I had never had too much color, but save for the back of my arms, I am so pale now. Like a ghost. Like her ghost might look, maybe.
"You don't deserve to think of her, you know." I am no longer surprised when the face in the mirror talks to me. I talk back these days. But then, I started in the first place. It'd be rude to ignore myself, I think. Maybe. It's mostly circles, the same old ones, the ones that lead me nowhere at all. But that's what circles are all about, aren't they? Going nowhere?
So I play along again. "I don't deserve the relief of not thinking about her." I retaliate, and off I go, and I argue the case down to nothing but the facts. If there is such a thing as truth anymore when I spend my mornings talking to myself in the mirror. A knock sounds off the door, and the face in the mirror winces in a foul way, bringing the monster out of the features I can't call mine.
"Evan...I have work in an hour. I need the shower." Pereginne says through the door, continuing to pretend that she does not hear the discussions I have with myself. She is a good little sister for that, for ignoring my madness. Though even that she does not do all of her own accord, I think. I think I did something to make her ignore it on purpose. I don't remember doing anything specific, but I spent weeks in the depths of my booze pit, and I do not trust my memory of those times.
"I'm out...just a sec Ginne." I utter in the voice that no longer belongs to me. My hand moves to check the security of the towel in ritual action. Then I open the door and sacrifice the heat that had let me forget for a moment of the perpetual inward cold. The air stings just as the hot water had and I do my best to smile for my little sister. She doesn't look up as I exit. Maybe one day she will be able to see me and not think of whatever it was that I did or did not do.
I'm fairly certain that it is on that day I will sleep once more.
So I smile, weak as the expression is on my deformed face, hoping for the day that she will see it and return it.
WC: 671
This is just part of the ritual, though it serves a different purpose than it did when I was younger. When I was about ten, I always jumped out of the shower to see if maybe this would be the time that I would definitely need to start shaving. That time never really came, but my body still goes through the motions, giving clear view of what I am now instead of the man that I'd always thought I'd become.
The holes that stare back at me are familiar in their strangeness. I still can't reconcile what I look like and my inner image. I know the dark circles belong to me, I can feel the puffy quality to the near black skin. I don't know, on the other hand, when it was that I stopped sleeping. I had never had too much color, but save for the back of my arms, I am so pale now. Like a ghost. Like her ghost might look, maybe.
"You don't deserve to think of her, you know." I am no longer surprised when the face in the mirror talks to me. I talk back these days. But then, I started in the first place. It'd be rude to ignore myself, I think. Maybe. It's mostly circles, the same old ones, the ones that lead me nowhere at all. But that's what circles are all about, aren't they? Going nowhere?
So I play along again. "I don't deserve the relief of not thinking about her." I retaliate, and off I go, and I argue the case down to nothing but the facts. If there is such a thing as truth anymore when I spend my mornings talking to myself in the mirror. A knock sounds off the door, and the face in the mirror winces in a foul way, bringing the monster out of the features I can't call mine.
"Evan...I have work in an hour. I need the shower." Pereginne says through the door, continuing to pretend that she does not hear the discussions I have with myself. She is a good little sister for that, for ignoring my madness. Though even that she does not do all of her own accord, I think. I think I did something to make her ignore it on purpose. I don't remember doing anything specific, but I spent weeks in the depths of my booze pit, and I do not trust my memory of those times.
"I'm out...just a sec Ginne." I utter in the voice that no longer belongs to me. My hand moves to check the security of the towel in ritual action. Then I open the door and sacrifice the heat that had let me forget for a moment of the perpetual inward cold. The air stings just as the hot water had and I do my best to smile for my little sister. She doesn't look up as I exit. Maybe one day she will be able to see me and not think of whatever it was that I did or did not do.
I'm fairly certain that it is on that day I will sleep once more.
So I smile, weak as the expression is on my deformed face, hoping for the day that she will see it and return it.
WC: 671
1.2 : Bruises
Sliding down the stairs would've been more dramatic, but Shaen hadn't had control of herself again to grab a binder or something equivalently flat-like to span the steps. So she ran down them two at a time, each downward leap sending a shock through her atrophied muscles. How long had it been this time that she had been so damn ordinary anyway? Sitting at her desk like a statue, oblivious to the fact that New NewLosSan Tokyorkdonton was just out of her grasp. Growling at herself for having lost sense of time again, she flew down the stairs, passing the floors at great speed.
There were still many more floors to go when she suddenly stopped, her legs trembling as she hung onto the railing, grasping onto it for dear life. Why in the name of all things destroyable had she chosen to work so high up in the Company anyway? At the time, it must have had something to do with being able to control people or something. Before she had started to die so quickly again, with the Company telling her what to use and how to type. Standing was taking too much strength with all those flights behind her, and Shaen was aware as she hadn't been in ages of her body.
It ached. There was a glory in that, there was no mistake about that. But, glory still hurt, and that was made all the more terrible for how long it had been since such a sensation had gripped her muscles and tore at her lungs. Even the cold was piercing here from inside, each sharp breath introducing more jagged ice spears to remind her. As much as the pain alleviated her concerns about if she had actually died this time, it was aggravating and incapacitating for the moment. Rather than risk body-death by continuing without rest, she sat on the escape, regardless of the dirt that now clung to the previously immaculate black slacks.
The blood in the sky was being driven down by the oppressive night. Resting her chin on the lower of the two support rails that laid beneath the hand-bar, Shaen wondered if this time would be any different. There were some memories that came easily to her still, things that she had long ago learned from and knew better than to ignore. But there were other small losses that were beyond her comprehension even now, sitting in this place and becoming one with her body again. Defeat was a rugged, angry thing that she knew all too well. Scowling as dusk's end was made as clear as hers had been so many times before, it became clear that she would need to keep moving.
With the eve properly fallen, she had work to do that could not be put off simply because her body was busy adjusting to being used again.
WC: 476
There were still many more floors to go when she suddenly stopped, her legs trembling as she hung onto the railing, grasping onto it for dear life. Why in the name of all things destroyable had she chosen to work so high up in the Company anyway? At the time, it must have had something to do with being able to control people or something. Before she had started to die so quickly again, with the Company telling her what to use and how to type. Standing was taking too much strength with all those flights behind her, and Shaen was aware as she hadn't been in ages of her body.
It ached. There was a glory in that, there was no mistake about that. But, glory still hurt, and that was made all the more terrible for how long it had been since such a sensation had gripped her muscles and tore at her lungs. Even the cold was piercing here from inside, each sharp breath introducing more jagged ice spears to remind her. As much as the pain alleviated her concerns about if she had actually died this time, it was aggravating and incapacitating for the moment. Rather than risk body-death by continuing without rest, she sat on the escape, regardless of the dirt that now clung to the previously immaculate black slacks.
The blood in the sky was being driven down by the oppressive night. Resting her chin on the lower of the two support rails that laid beneath the hand-bar, Shaen wondered if this time would be any different. There were some memories that came easily to her still, things that she had long ago learned from and knew better than to ignore. But there were other small losses that were beyond her comprehension even now, sitting in this place and becoming one with her body again. Defeat was a rugged, angry thing that she knew all too well. Scowling as dusk's end was made as clear as hers had been so many times before, it became clear that she would need to keep moving.
With the eve properly fallen, she had work to do that could not be put off simply because her body was busy adjusting to being used again.
WC: 476
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