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Thread: Fixed and Consequent

  1. #21
    Inactive Member Desdenova's Avatar
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    Journal Entry 18, Eighteen Four

    Everything that came next, some of it is still coming, and it?s all so jumbled in my mind still. Maybe in ten more years, it will make sense to me. Follow a pattern or order.

    I sometimes go and see Talitha. She doesn?t know me, I don?t try to make myself known. A few times I was introduced, but I?m just another goth boy running around town, so I don?t worry about it. In any case, she?d ask me, ask me everything she asks everyone else, and I don?t have the answers she wants. They?re not mine to give.

    I guess it?s just morbid curiosity. How can you sit and watch and watch and watch for so long? Uninvolved, but not. It?s weird. It?s a stasis that time doesn?t ignore. Growth that never blossoms.

    I could be that, and I don?t want it. It?s not really living. There?s no fire. Nothing sparkles, it only shines. Reality loses itself, and then it just ...exists.

    The year turned on everyone in its ending. Deceptively kind. What was good was only a thin veiling for what was wrong and going worse by the moment.

    The fallout still presses on like a slow speed train wreck. I?m afraid, I?m so afraid that there won?t be anything left when it finally stops.

    It started with love and death. I suppose that?s fitting. It may end that way, too, but I really don?t have a lot of hope for the love part.

    Sam was killed. His things were sent to Cam. She gave me his watch. And then she took the watch back to open it, to take something out of the case before giving it back. That?s when I knew it wasn?t over at all.

    Fae never has any luck with men. She?s so lonely, I think, that she?ll take up with any man who professes to really love her, even though she knows in her heart that he?s just trying to get a quick roll in the hay.

    And then she had one. She?d known him a while, they?d been friends, and now they would be lovers. The only trouble with that was that the man had been for a very long while companion of some form to Zane. Well, more than a companion. He was the reason she never paid much attention to even the decent men that were looking for her attention.

    I was so torn. I still am. I?ve only met him once, and I hate him.

    I hate him.

  2. #22
    Inactive Member Desdenova's Avatar
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    Journal Entry 19, Eighteen Four

    Cam told me she was going to a psychiatrist, and I was glad except when I asked if was giving her anything for her problems with sleep and rage and stress, she said no. I?ve no problem with drugging her when she can?t sleep or can?t calm herself, but I?m not a doctor.

    It bothered me that the doctor she had wasn?t taking action on the symptoms. But Cam felt it was all right, so I just gave her vicodin or shots of Demerol when I had to, stayed with her to make sure she was okay.

    And then. And then. Chris was talking to a lady I didn?t know. Something bad happened. Something horrible. I asked what happened, and it felt like having a seizure and being aware of it every instant.

    Zane was hurt, Gisa said. Badly. A fight. What kind of fight, what happened, why are you trying to protect me? Even Chris did, and Chris is the last person in the world to do that. Which is why I like him so much.

    A dragon tore off - bit off - Zanes arm. Above the elbow. Gisa took me to see her, and I couldn?t stop crying. Zane cried. She said it hurt, and it wasn?t there. I didn?t know what to do, I couldn?t do anything anyhow. She cried. Her tears were so cold.

    I made myself purr. It kind of hurt, but I know how now, and it doesn?t. Maybe it was just that I was so scared and so upset, and it?s around my upper chest that it vibrates, and that?s why it hurt. Everything was so tense.

    But I did because I knew she liked it, and she thought it was cute and she knew I did it mainly when I was sleepy and leaning my head to her knee. I think she listened to it. She quieted a bit, anyhow, but she was pretty drugged and still in shock.

    I just crawled into bed with her and slept or passed out, I?m not sure. She?s so big. So tall, so strong, so alive, and she ...was so... like she?d shrunk... alone. Just so alone.

  3. #23
    Inactive Member Desdenova's Avatar
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    Journal Entry 20, Eighteen Four

    I wanted to ask if I had ?I am a wizard? written across my face, I really did. After all the pains I went through to keep this quiet, suddenly, I have my skills at magic called into question by people who as far as I could tell, shouldn?t even know where I work.

    Someone was able to break into Cams apartment. I picked up a framed photograph of Frank Sinatra and drew a ward on the back of it to give to her. He wasn?t the nicest person in the world, but he sang beautifully, and he did pay for Bela Lugosis? funeral, so the rest really doesn?t matter.

    Of course, the ward won?t work if it?s broken, and that?s just what happened a while later. They called Cam on the phone and she freaked out, the ward was a casualty of the thrown base unit.

    They, I wasn?t quite sure who they were. I don?t think she was, then, clearly, in any case. Either the people Sam had been working for or against. She wouldn?t tell me, she was afraid they?d come after me, and I wasn?t doing all that well.

    The next thing I know, I?ve got people who are suddenly well aware that I crafted that ward demanding to know why it failed and how large of an area can I protect with a similar work. To say I was appalled and furious would be an understatement.

    I know Cam didn?t tell them. She wouldn?t. She?s like Dad and Jackie, she kind of pretends it?s not there and accepts it when I do use it. If you ask her where the flowers I gave her came from, she?ll say I had them in my bag where I keep Bea at most. Zane wouldn?t either, and Fae would just shrug and say I don?t know.

    But I kept my mouth shut. I had to. When accused, silence is assent, certainly, but playing dumb goes a long way with some people.

    So that was that. Nanny was with me that whole time, simple enough to make anything mystical I might do to be the machinations of a powerful shadow tagging along at my heels. I taught Cam how to handle the heavy automatic rifles. I thought that made more sense than wringing my hands and trying to find someplace to keep her safe.

    There isn?t safe, not when someone is alive. It?s not even all that safe to be a ghost. That?s why so many remain in the graveyards, it?s usually holy ground.

    Without more information, all anyone would do is to eternally keep Cam in a nice box, warded seven ways to Sunday, and watch her go insane. It was her war, it wasn?t going to be fought with her taken from the front lines.

    Which was why I made sure she could handle the heavier rifles. Bonny Parker could handle a BAR, there wasn?t any reason why Cam couldn?t, she?s bigger and taller than Bonny was. There?s a school of thought that Bonny was possessed by demons and that?s why she could manage the weapons, but please, how mysengynistic can you get?

    In any case, there?s not much that?s cooler than a lady in high heels and one of those suit-dresses and a hat swinging around a Tommy gun. Well, a lady in full chain maille flipping a sword over her wrist, that?s pretty awesome too. I don?t understand why most of the men around here would rather take their weapons away and put them aside nice and safe. How boring.

    Those are probably the same guys who buy paintings of mostly naked ladies with improbable weapons and useless armor and usually panthers or wolves. Someone ought to bitchslap Rowena and tell her to paint real women in real conflict. Fire fighting or search and rescue or police work or military. I?d buy those.

  4. #24
    Inactive Member Desdenova's Avatar
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    [Interlude: Now]

    It wasn?t a Victrola. A Gold Star, old, so well kept it seemed new, clockwork accurate in its windings, timing adjusted to the instant. He smiled as he opened the antique player, setting aside the mahogany veneered lid to raise up the mast, a delicate touch suspending the morning glory painted tin horn.

    It was almost a matter of a mirical that such players caught on to become eventually electrified, the machines required patience and a light, deft touch. He had that and more. He understood the machine.

    As well kept, his records. Each heavy laquer disc in its sleeve in book like albums, each seeming as new as the day they were pressed to the labels pasted in the center. Yet he bypassed the heavier discs bearing long forgotten names, Count Basie, Cab Calloway, Katie Webster.

    A colorful case, strange as the era that produced it. A slight smile, burnt ironic and verging on a sneer, touched his lips as he slid the album free. It was never meant to be played on the accoustic machine, and still he threaded it onto the spindle.

    Once it had been performed at concert volumes, through Marshall stacks taller than a mans height, through Celestions the size of drum heads, a guitar army fortified with primitive keyboards, with the tube fired synthesizers, pickups the length of eighty eight keys, double bass cannons under the militant roll of the snare. War declared on the silence, a battle marching on not to his tastes.

    After a moments hesitation, he set the needle down up a few cuts. The clutch released, the turntable spun, up to speed with the crack stressed voice opening the piece. Soft, strange, tinny in the directing of the horn. He watched even as he listened, the first downbeat of bass pulling the rest of the music, swinging sequin studded hips of a lady you knew better than to follow home.

    You?re boned like a saint
    With the consciousness of a snake.

    You?re the kind of girl
    I?d like to find.
    Face like an angel
    But you?re boned like the devil.

    Your eyes have shifted from me
    Everyone saw what you did.
    You have slipped from beneath me
    Like a false and nervous squid.

    Oh no more horses horses,
    We?re gonna swim like a fish
    Into the hole, in which you planned to ditch me
    My lovely Vera Marie...

    You planned to leave me cold
    But you?ll never get your wish,
    On the 24th of May
    I?ll gather up your reins.

    You filled me with a vengeance
    And you touched me with your breath.
    I?m gonna pull you from this dance
    You?re gonna ride so easily.

    Oh no more horses horses,
    We're gonna swim like a fish
    Into the hole, in which you planned to ditch me
    My lovely Vera Marie...

    I was your victim,
    I was well deceived,
    Hell?s built on regret
    But I love your naked neck.

    Those evil lies that you told me
    Could make me believe that you?re two-faced.
    Because two faces have you,
    And they?re both gonna go.

    Oh no more horses horses,
    We?re gonna swim like a fish
    Into the hole, in which you planned to ditch me
    My lovely Vera Gemini.

    With the hiss of false silence between songs, he picked up the tone arm, set it back down to hear the cut once more. And again. Again. Until the spring ran down, slowing each word into a strange lull of distinction, distorting music into a distant lowing.

    Thoughtful, he finally cranked the machine back to power, removing the relic of the 1970s to replace it with a far earlier relic. As the brass tinged strains of Edwardian jazz sounded, he carefully cleaned the first album, a dark and even brow lifting quietly.

    I wonder what astrological sign he is...


    (The Revenge of Vera Gemini, Blue Oyster Cult)

  5. #25
    Inactive Member Desdenova's Avatar
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    Journal Entry 21, Eighteen Four

    Shadow started showing up again. Ogre girl, I always call her. I met her, I suppose you would say, as she was fleeing the wrath of an ired ogre. The irony was... interesting, to say the very least. I?d been talking to Chris, and he had just pulled me away from a very annoying girl who kept crying about her parents coming to kill her because she had two different colored eyes.

    Hello? Her parents knew she had two different colored eyes when she was born. They didn?t kill her then, so what?s their beef now? And I?m going to somehow take on these people? With what, my rapier wit and winning personality, not to mention my horrible hell hound, Bea?

    Chris said damsels in distress were a pain in the ass, try to catch them before they?re in distress and they?re more interesting. Well, I didn?t want them then, either. Chris is welcome to them. Which was fine with him.

    And as we were talking, here came Shadow and the ogre. I think she stole something from it, or he thought she did, and I really did not feel like dealing with an ired ogre. I think it was Joy I helped climb over the railing, I?m not sure, there?s been a few girls like her. They?re all right, but I?m just not really willing to be anyone?s hero.

    Anyhow, I suppose they drove off or killed the ogre, all the heroic sorts in the tavern at the time, but I was really surprised when Shadow didn?t go fluttering into any of their arms. I mean, she looked like a street rat, but some of them do. No, she climbed up onto the porch and talked some to Chris, but that was it.

    I?ve never seen anyone here do that. It really surprised me. She didn?t always have ogres chasing after her, but even once does leave a mental scar. I kept my distance, though got to know her well enough to talk to.

    Anyhow, she started showing up again, and it was kind of neat, she?d decided to go back to school and learn social manners and that. That really was a surprise, I?ve never seen anyone here strive to make more of themselves unless there was a prospective lover to gain from it.

    Zane started to get better, but most times I went to see her, I ended up just reading or talking to Gisa or the nurse. I guess her mind was kind of slipping a bit, she?d out of the blue take swings at people, and that?s still a lot of power behind a punch. So they kept her drugged up a lot.

    One night, though, she told me everything. Everything that happened. A dragon had attacked her, that?s what Gisa said. Well, the dragon was Zanes close and dear friend.

    Teflon gets more stuff stuck to it than some of the people around here, that?s all I have to say. On one hand, I want everything to work the way Zane wants and hopes, on the other, I?ve got an entire spell book of ways to permanently deal with disloyal souls and the advantage of inside information and surprise.

    I did astrological charts for a couple I met at the Red Dragon Inn that ended up a windfall for me in that regard. Kain Shingure, I still need to give him the chart I did for him, seems something of a procurer of the rare or obscure.

    Or, as Shakespeare wrote -- by the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes. I can picture him starting curio shop named ?Needful Things?.

    I didn?t do the wifes? chart, she didn?t ask for that. Beth, her name is, and I don?t know. She should be by all manner and account the utter upstanding and proper sort, but no two of her children had the same fathers. That can be accounted for in marriage and widowing, of course, but you wonder when you see a lady like that with a man like Kain.

    In any case, in exchange for the charts, Kain gave me four grimories. They deal with monsters, demons, and mages. Again, it makes me wonder at the motives of the man, but I can?t deny the works could be very helpful in this place.

    What I really need to find, though, is how to counter Matildes transformation spell. She did it to me again, when I had brought Feathyre, Zane, and Cam to the apothecary. One moment, I?m talking, the next, I?m a rabbit.

    Specifically, a lop.

    This wouldn?t have been so bad in itself, except that she took a photograph and sent it to Cam and Zane.

    Zane had her new arm by then, it?s really cool, this translucent blue stuff over an armature, and actually, trying to keep from stepping on me and getting her cel phone out to call Tainy to turn me back got her to use it. She?s better about it now, not nearly as self conscious.

    Everything she told me, though. It didn?t make sense, and it doesn?t seem like it?s going to any time soon. She said everyone knows how much she loves him, Fae used to say that you could see sparks between them when they were together.

    Except him, evidently. It?s hard for me to believe he wouldn?t know this, when even I know when someone?s getting too fond of me. Especially since he seems to run on his sex drive.

    Zane blames Fae, Fae feels she?s betrayed a friend for love, and neither of them are looking right between them at the person who walked right by Zane to take advantage of Fae?s wish to be loved.

    Still, still neither looks there. Why? How could anyone be worth a friend? He doesn?t sound like much of a friend to me. So far, I?ll I?ve heard of him is that he leaves the moment something difficult for him to deal with comes up.

    As if you prove to him all over again how mean everyone is if you don?t accept everything he does, no matter how low and vicious it was. But it wasn?t him, it was this evil part of him, and if you don?t accept that too, and never say a word against it, you?re another one of the mean souls who just can?t understand him.

    If I went around saying that any damage I caused when I had a seizure wasn?t my fault and I couldn?t be held liable for it, my parents would smack me into next week and take me right back home for being too immature to be on my own. I can?t control my seizures, but I usually know when they?re going to happen. I can minimize how it affects others, and I do. I apologize because I know it?s frightening, and I deal with it face on.

    I would always ask ?what else would I do?? when people remarked on the fact that I clean up my own messes, that I face the aftermath of my own disability, and I really didn?t know what else I would or could do. Apparently, I could also sneer and walk away saying ?tough luck, bint, it wasn?t my fault.?

    I can?t see how anyone can live that way. How they can look at themselves in the mirror. How they can think they?re gaining anything.

  6. #26
    Inactive Member Desdenova's Avatar
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    Street Interlude

    He knew Zane. He knew Zane better. Streetwise, smart, savvy. Zip had what Desdenova needed, badly, to pass on information to Zane. The youth knew well when he was in over his head and when to seek for those with the experience and, in this case, the cold hard impersonality.

    The trouble was that Desdenova had no idea where to find Zip.

    Yet, a tossed off remark at the Halloween party, a few conversations, words overheard, and most telling, the chemical and blood scents often in aura around Zip, those gave the youth a good idea of how to bring the man to ground.

    Another vampire. A lothlario of the inns and taverns, impeccably dressed and an utter disgrace to Bela, an easy target. Easily lured to an alley, into the touch of shadow...

    The youth stumbled when he left the dark access road, recovered quickly to his inevitable return to the Medieval Tavern. Careful to leave a trail, so precisely spaced each drop of blood that it could only be a trail. In the bathroom, more tangible, his shirt crumpled and shoved under the sink with the note requesting Zips attention for a small matter concerning Zane.

    Left to be found, to be spoken of among the shadows and vermin, a Toreador, hammered to the timber wall though chest and throat with heavy iron railroad spikes, inverted, to let the lower body drape over the upper. Desiccated internal organs split with a precision keenness from the body.

    Stolen blood painted boldly above the twist of carcass, 'Eric 1, Hyde 0.' A single steel scalpel, the weapon used to open the eviscera, jammed as precisely through an eye socket, but it was not the weapon that killed the vampire.

    Apparently, the scalpel there only as insult to injury, or to point out the burns around the mans mouth and tongue in the very faint chance Zip would not be able to scent that high, acrid corrosive mixed in the spilled blood.

    Desdenova bet that the situation was unusual enough to be remarked upon. He knew that even should the body be removed, the scents would remain. He simply hoped this would bring out Zip soon. There wasn't much concealing ones tangling with vampires, and Desdenova was just a young chemist and astronomer.

    crucifiction

  7. #27
    Inactive Member Desdenova's Avatar
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    Journal Entry 22, Eighteen Four

    It bothered me. A lot. It still does. Zane deserves so much more, and she just doesn?t see it like I do. Excuses after excuses, all poor, and it?s like she?s special if she can swallow them. If she doesn?t take it, he leaves.

    He leaves anyhow.

    It occurred to me that Zip knew Zane a lot better than I do. There?s Rex, but Rex doesn?t seem to know Zane so much as he knows what he wishes that she was.

    The only trouble is that it?s difficult to find Zip. I knew he?d been staying at the tavern, but I wasn?t going to go knocking on doors. There?s a fashionable and exclusive little club not far from the tavern, though, it attracts the beau monde, the typically Toreador sorts. High class and snobby, that hopeful French sensuality sort of thing.

    I am good looking, and it doesn?t take a lot to make people think I am a victim. It amazes me how careless those vampires are. All I did was stare at one and then smile a little, and he was all over me like ugly on an ape.

    I started sighing over how fascinated I was with the whole vampire scene, had to listen to him blather back lines that someone should curb stomp Anne Rice for writing in the first place, and got him to come out to the alley with me.

    I had to let him bite me, and I swear the next time I hear someone whimper about how sensual it is, I am going to bitch slap them into next week. It hurt. A lot. Four freaking spikes driven into your throat is not sensual unless you have absolutely no nerve endings and your brain functions only at the cerebral cortex.

    I wasn?t sure how well it would work. I know my blood is toxic to a lot of things, but not how much. If there?s ever been tests done on it, I?ve never seen them. I couldn?t ask Jackie or she?d immediately want to know why I was curious about it. Mom and Dad wouldn?t even ask that much, they?d just assume I was up to no good and take me home.

    It worked, however, just not as fast as I would have liked. I?m not sure if that?s because of the nature of the beast or because I?m technically only half bred. Or two thirds, because the same blood is in Dads? system, but he wasn?t born with it, and I?m not sure if it made any physiological changes when he received it. He did say it hurt a hell of a lot.

    Anyhow, I had to make it good or it wouldn?t get Zips attention. It had to be creative, and I think it was. I found a few railroad spikes, I left a scalpel in the things eye because that would show the burns from my blood. I really had to hope Zip was as intelligent as he seemed and I?d been told, I wrote ?Eric One, Hyde, Zero? over the body.

    I left a mess, but I had no choice. I left a trail back to the tavern, changed my shirt, left the old one there. Cleaned out the wound and bandaged it and walked out -- right into Gisas path.

    That wasn?t bad enough, no, Feathyre and Rex both showed up moments later, and here I was with a fresh set of fang marks across my throat, faint and in pain, and they wanted to know who did it.

    Well, I showed them the middle of the trail and let them follow it. I insisted that this dude jumped me, and before he could really hurt me, some hero sort came out of nowhere to rescue me.

    The ironic thing was that apparently, Rex had gone into a frenzy not too far from this alley and had killed a large number of... something, I?m not sure what. So I simply let him assume that while still in that rage, he walked away from the first site, recognized me, and that I was in danger, and pulled me out.

    I?m not sure Gisa bought that at all. She kept sniffing at my blood, and the writing on the wall over the vampire certainly wasn?t Rex?s style, but she didn?t say anything.

    Feathyre was the most difficult to deal with. She can be horribly single minded, and even when she knows what occurred, will choose a course of action and follow it, right or wrong. I had to keep reminding her that she really didn?t have all the skills she needed to become a vampire hunter in all truth.

    I don?t know if that?s because she?s young, or if it?s a hippogriff trait. They protect, I know that, it?s a hold over from the original gargoyles, but still, they aren?t any closer to what they were created to be as most races. Perhaps they didn?t inherit all that much of the gryphons truth seeking, or too much of it. The truth and the facts, after all, are two wildly different things.

    I gave them facts, but I interpreted them. It was so easy. I never dreamed it would be that easy. Gisa was the only one that seemed to draw her own conclusions. Cam only suspected, Zane seemed to accept it, everyone else patted Rex on the back and told him well done.

    Telling Rex that, however, only tends to make him more morose and depressed over what he is. I thought I was moody and had severe bouts of depression over being what I am. I am a rank amateur, comparatively speaking.

    I really don?t understand Rex, honestly, but I try. I try very hard because it?s so similar to what I go through. In fits of rage, he becomes larger, stronger, more violent, animalistic.

    He becomes powerful, and this upset him. Maybe it?s because he has no control over it, maybe it?s because it takes him longer to get over it, maybe it?s because he doesn?t recognize people while he?s in that state.

    I suppose I would be upset if a seizure meant that I took out a city block, too, but it would be a lot more interesting that just collapsing and twitching. It would be a lot nicer to know I wasn?t going to get killed in the midst of one. That in a situation that was dangerous, pitting me against some foe or another, seizing in the middle of it would mean kicking serious ass.

    Rex?s spells or whatever they are don?t seem to be random events, though. They have specific triggers, rage or pain, and always aim him at whatever is trying to kill him. I would be overjoyed to have a specific trigger, instead of just vaguely knowing stress will most times cause me to seize.

    Most times, but not always. It?s hellish when I know I?m stressed, and yet, I don?t seize. I start hoping that maybe finally the meds are working, and that alleviates the stress, and the next thing I know, I?m picking myself out of a ditch or off of the bathroom floor or something.

    Maybe that?s the second occasional trigger, the release from stress, but it never happens suddenly. It?s always slow.

    It doesn?t matter, I suppose, it?s still a slap in the face.

  8. #28
    Inactive Member Desdenova's Avatar
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    Journal Entry 23, Eighteen Four

    Feathyre turns into Fallyn, and Fallyn into Feathyre, but they don?t quite share the same memories. It?s interesting, something like a dual personality that is aware of itself. Fallyn?s a nice girl, from what I?ve seen of her. She?s bright and cheerful, sometimes a bit too energetic, but so is Feathyre.

    The difficult part is both sides, if you will, keep resurrecting a horrible crush on me, which is very uncomfortable for me, because both seem more like sisters to me. I suppose that must be difficult to accept when you want more, but I just don?t have more.

    They?ve both been so hurt with love, well, that?s the best reason I can think of to just steer the hell clear, but that?s kind of like saying ?stop breathing? to some people. So I remind her that she can?t love anyone unless she loves herself. And I can?t show her how to do that, because that?s just me putting myself into the position of being the one she really loves, and not herself at all.

    So it goes, round and round. As I wrote before, she gets something into her head, and it?s like pulling teeth to get her to let it go. I explain that I?m disabled, I can?t take care of myself very well, I don?t want to be taken care of, and she says things about sharing lives. I just got this life, I?m not going to share it with someone right out of the box, as it were.

    I don?t want to have to rescue someone if they?re going to start making bad choices just because I won?t give in and agree to be in love. I?ve gone that route before, and I?m just not going to do it again. It still disgusts me that I did allow myself to be cornered like that.

    I?m not going to suddenly realize what I?ve had right before me all this time because though Mom was born in the South, sisters and cousins just are not all that attractive. I?ve seen people do that, suddenly deciding the person they?ve thought of as a sibling all these years is someone they want to make a husband or a wife, and that is so gross. It either means someone?s got some problems in the head or they were just lying to themselves.

    And really, when it comes down to it, I don?t give very much at all. I listen, and that?s about all I can do. That?s not enough to make a deep and abiding love from. It?s difficult because nothing I see really works out more between us than friendship, but she?s got it into her head that being treated decently is love.

    I don?t want to get angry and ugly, but sometimes, I?ve been so frustrated, I?ve had to really stop myself. She?ll abruptly become horribly hostile to any woman or girl I?m speaking to, she?s been jealous of both Cam and Zane both, she sometimes makes me feel like I?m helpless. I just don?t know what to do other than to keep saying ?no?.

    I know she?s young and has a lot to learn, I just wish she?d lay off the romantic love end and work on self and family love. Or anything else. Anything. She gets upset when I say things to that effect and will announce how all love is bad, and I just want to scream. My point went whizzing right past her and all that remains is disturbed air.

    I guess it?s really not too different from when Jackie would sit and insist on telling me about who she liked and didn?t like and like-liked and all that, except that this time, she?s got a crush on me. The ironic thing is that every time I have to remind Feathyre that I can?t return the crush, it puts me more in mind of being a brother.

    When I was around girls that I could be friends with, I never had to spend so much time, any at all, really, defending my ways. We just did stuff. Talked about things. We just had fun. Sometimes we?d complain about things, but I never found myself reminding them that I wasn?t in any way shape or form ready for any sort of a romantic relationship.

    I really don?t like it when Feathyre makes me feel like I?ve been staked out and back off, I own him. I really don?t. She hasn?t done that recently, but it still irritates me.

    Why is it so hard to understand that I like being alone? It?s not like I?m secretly longing to be loved and for foolish reasons like wanting a career and independance, I?m denying myself. I realize most people around here spent most of their lives alone and don?t like it, but that?s not how I have lived.

    I?m not really alone. I have my family. I can be a million miles away, and I?m not alone because they love me, and I love them. No one can take the place of that. Nothing can. But no one understands that here. I don?t have a lover, so I must be alone.

    If I have to be completed by someone else, I will shoot myself in the head. That is the most repellent thing I have ever heard. I am my own person. I?m not half a man because I don?t have a good woman helping me along. My parents didn?t complete each other, they were perfectly fine in their own right. They were and are whole people.

    I thought about it, too, from the point of veiw of not having a family, and I knew that if I didn?t have them, I would find people that would be my family. I wouldn?t try to replace what I was missing with a lover when what I really wanted was a parent or a sibling.

    So many do that. It gives me the horrors when I see it. A man literally raising a girl while she is his lover. A woman grooming a boy to be her lover. They may all be of legal ages, but it?s a bizarre ...pedophilia of mind. It?s disgusting.

    Ugh, I?m doing it again. I ended up naming off all the sorts of girls I did not want to have to do with, and I swear I eliminated almost every female in this reality. I suppose it could be considered horribly arrogant, but I see no reason why I should make myself miserable just to make someone happy who can?t make their own self happy.

    I wonder sometimes I that will ever happen to me. If I?d fall in love with someone who sees me as a brother. If I?d have to make the decision to swallow my feelings and be a brother or walk away.

    I?d like to think I?d be able to put aside what I felt and be a brother, but I don?t know. I look at Mom and Dad, and I see that they respect and like each other very much, and I know that no matter how things would have worked out, they?d be close. On the other hand, they?ve never been apart since before they were married, and really don?t seem to know anything besides being married even though they were both on their own and alone for a very long time.

    I know it?s got to be a terrible blow to Feathyres ego and pride, but it?s not as if I?m offering second place, as it were. It?s the best I have. And as often as she insists she?s still learning, well, she is. Liking someone because they?re nice is totally different from respect, admiration, and all that.

    It would be horribly ironic to lose a friend, a sister, over love. I?m so glad sometimes I?ve never felt all this. I sometimes pray I don?t. I can?t imagine living like that. So constantly emotionally unbalanced... I?d probably never stop seizing.

  9. #29
    Inactive Member Desdenova's Avatar
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    Journal Entry 24, Eighteen Four

    Well, my throat hurt a lot. I couldn?t do what?d I done for Cam when that moron left her to face that vampire. That was a lot of work, and it still left a scar. I think I?ll start nagging Cam to fix that, too.

    So I was taking Darvon, and that tends to mellow me out a little too much, as it were. I wasn?t much good for anything, but when I get up in the morning, I take a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast and go to work. I?ll find myself walking to work even on the weekends. I usually stop to get coffee, which is usually a good thing, it?s less of a walk to get sent home from the tavern than work.

    Vee was there that morning, she?s a harpy. But she only has two boobs, and her wings are like a dragons. She?s nice, but I wonder sometimes why she?ll allow a lot of the things that she does. It?s kind of typical, though, around here. I try not to say anything, I guess if they?re doing it so much, they must enjoy it.

    Feathyre and Fae were there, and then Tainy came by. I knew who she was, but I?d never seen her before. I only knew she was a fairy. She?s tiny, she can stand in my palm without any trouble at all. She left tiny handprints of fairy dust that glowed.

    Things like that tend to fascinate me when I?m not stoned out of my gourd, and well, I was, quite frankly. I started wondering if someone could turn a fairy into other things, since she could just turn me back from a bunny, and well, I didn?t think it through very well.

    I cast a spell to turn Tainy into a sparrow, and it bounced. The spell, I mean. I?ve never seen a casting go haywire like that, and I remembered right as I did it that fairy magic can do that, and often does, to the spells of mages.

    Well, Tainy gained a pair of wings and a beak, Vee?s wings turned from leathery to feathered like a giant pair of sparrows, and worst of all, Paige was coming around the corner and turned entirely into a sparrow.

    Oh wow, can she cuss. I understood her until Tainy whizzed over and quickly changed her back. I was so glad Tainy did because I was so shocked, I couldn?t do much more than just stare. Then Paige was cussing in Italian, I think, which I couldn?t understand.

    I could have fainted, but I didn?t. She was very nice about it, for which I was glad. I don?t usually do things like that, and I couldn?t say, oh, well, I?m on Darvon, I?m beat up and still recovering from being bitten by some geek vampire.

    I was really glad Tainy was there, too, because Paige was pregnant, and though the spell shouldn?t affect that, it?s good to know, and for all I know, it could have. I don?t know what Paige is outside of what she appears to be. Tainy was able to check and all, I was really too shaken up to be much use.

    Paige told me I had to tell her husband this, and all I could really do was hope he wasn?t the sort to shoot first and ask questions later. So I went the next day, and I didn?t take any Darvon. He was at a little airfield, and the airplanes that were out were so beautiful.

    He just said his name was Rick, and I?d heard about him around the tavern. I?d met Paige a few times, she?s nice. Their last name is Halliburton, and I didn?t think any thing of it until I met him.

    It was him. The writer. I was so stunned, I didn?t say anything. It was just so strange, standing there, talking to someone declared dead long before I was born. It was really strange when I realized I?m a little taller than he is.

    Rick wasn?t mad, he seemed a little surprised, I don?t know why, maybe because I was there at all or maybe because I just said I wasn?t thinking when I cast the spell. Maybe because I don?t look like a mage sort, I?m not sure. He insisted on looking at the bites, and I let him, but he still was looking at me oddly.

    He told me if I wanted to make it up, to get the air fields books caught up, and I did, that was simple. It only took me a little time to do that, so I snuck out of the office to watch them working on the planes and the ones coming in and going.

    I just wonder if they know how lucky they are. They can climb into an airplane any time they want and take off. There?s a boy working there, Colm, he caught me watching and asked if I wanted to help. He was doing some body work on a Cessna, and I know how to do body work, but I?ve never done it on aircraft.

    Mom?s got her Aeronica, but it?s always pristine. Dad or she will work on the engine, it?s not original, it?s got a Wasp in it. Anyhow, Colm seemed pretty happy with my help, not like I was getting into his way or anything.

    Colm showed me his car, it was a hearse, but he?s made it into a rolling gothic chapel. It?s incredible. It started with a mid eighties Cadillac hearse, he put a Yugo on it as a dome, then all sorts of odd things. It?s like Carthedral, but his own version. He?s really devoted to his mom and dad, too, it was nice to meet someone that understood being close to family.

    Rick gave me a ride back to the cemetary, which I was glad of, I was tired and my neck was aching something fierce. He asked if I wanted to go up flying sometime, and I said yes before I knew what I was saying. I was lucky that day, and that luck never holds. Most times when I do get to fly with Mom, I still seize. She has to disable the door handle when I go with her, because I?ll always unbuckle and open the door if I can.

    I want to go, but I can?t unless I explain, and I just don?t want to. I don?t want to explain to someone like Rick that I?d never manage it. I don?t know if it?s pride or embarrassment or just hating the thought that I can?t do any of the things he?s written about and I?ve wanted to do.

    It was easier when he was another writer from a place and time that are long gone, you can almost fancy it?s fantasy and wasn?t real at all. But it wasn?t and isn?t.

    He?s nice, though. It was too easy to see the sympathy that would be all over his face. Or the worry or fear.

    I did finally tell him, though. It?s always a little harder to tell men, I don?t know why. I guess because I am male, too, and I don?t want to admit to a weakness. Or because it?s easier to think a woman can deal with the possibility that I might drop in my tracks.

    Or just a male thing, I?ve always been like that. Maybe because I didn?t like reminding Dad I only look like him and not much is the same inside. I know that?s stupid, I know he doesn?t care as I?m happy and as healthy as I can be. Maybe that?s where all the ego I have went. Towards obsessing on being what I think I should be and ascribing it to what Dad might think I should be.

    Rick didn?t react at all when I told him, though, he just nodded and asked a few questions. Like a doctor would. Do I need to bring along any special equipment, do you need someone with you, how bad are the seizures usually, will you need any special care after one?

    That made it a lot easier. I wasn?t sure how he?d know how to ask those questions. Maybe it?s just something they teach pilots in case they?re transporting patients. I told him that Mom has to disable the door latches, because for some reason, any time I?m in a moving vehical and have one, I immediately try to get out.

    He said that was probably my equalibrium protesting the added work, and not to worry, we?d go up in the DC-3, it doesn?t have any side doors in the cockpit, and the passage back to the cabin was narrow, he?d be able to grab me and put me back in the seat.

    Which meant I?d get to fly in the cockpit of the DC-3, and I was completely stunned.

    A lot of people tell me they?re going to take me riding or flying, but it never happens. I think about it, and sometimes I?m almost glad they don?t. I want to, yes, a lot, but I hate knowing that I?m just not going to make it.

  10. #30
    Inactive Member Desdenova's Avatar
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    Journal Entry 25, Eighteen Four

    A madman among the mad,
    A monster in the cellar
    A facade that's iron clad
    He's Hells auctioneer

    The Doctor's not a doctor,
    The Doctor's gone insane
    The Doctor's not a doctor,
    Trapped us all in his twisted game.

    Don't you know who I mean
    Don't you have the man I've seen
    The asylum's doors are open
    And the worst free of his pen

    The Doctor's not a doctor,
    The Doctor's gone insane
    The Doctor's not a doctor,
    Trapped us all in his twisted game.

    Can't you see it in him
    Using us all to his whim
    There's magic in his eyes
    And all he says is lies...
    (Park Place Productions, all rights reserved)

    It?s a sad kind of insanity when you?re willing to betray yourself for monetary gain, but you don?t have the guts to ride it out.

    It was also kind of annoying to have to lose a psychiatrist willing to work for lower aims than mental health, but he hurt Cam. Set her up to be worked over. That had to be answered, and you?d think he?d have known that.

    He was afraid. Too afraid, the scent alone was irritating. You can yell and scream and snarl at these sorts, and it doesn?t do much more than make them gibber like morons. It?s better to just give them a quiet show of your obsessions.

    I felt sorry for him, actually. I was going to leave him there to the tender auspices of the mob boss he was working for, but you know, just talking to him like Cam and I were, he was practically in extremis. It?s easier to keep the blood from splashing on you when you?re left handed, anyhow.

    I didn?t deal with the receptionist, and I should have, I know, but it ended up working out all right. She gave my description to the cops, but I?d signed Zips? name on the sign in sheet. Zip and a thousand other skinny goth boys answer my description, after all, and Zip?s got a record that the cops around here aren?t going to want to go near.

    He thought it was funny, and probably hoped that some of the thugs after Cam came after him, it worked out.

    I think it kind of shocked Cam that I could or would do that. What else could I do? The man set her up to be hurt. You can?t just walk away from that, turn the other cheek. I?m not a Christian, and I can?t see too many Christians not wanting some sort of vengeance.

    Cam calls me Little Evil and Evil Light, but I don?t think I am. Evil. I can?t touch it. I can touch good easier than evil. Both hurt, a lot, sometimes. Sometimes, it?s all in my own perception rather than what is. Other times, what calls itself evil or good isn?t. That happens a lot, actually, around here.

    I had Cam staying with me by then, and I actually kind of liked it. She wasn?t doing so good, and I was able to take care of her some. I don?t mean like I was babysitting her, but to make sure she ate and slept. I learned to cook more vegetarian meals because she is, and though I like to tease her sometimes by making sausages squeal or eggs scream, I wouldn?t go much further.

    I made her come home with me the night there was a conjunction of planets an hour before dawn. She was too tired to argue, and I?d drank coffee at midnight. And after everything else, well, Jace just packed up her stuff and sent it over, too.

    I like it when they crawl in bed with me, too, which I suppose most psychiatrists would have a field day with. Sleeping with your sisters and all. But I do, really, it?s nice to know they?re there and I can hear them breathing and their hearts beating.

    I like to think I can drive off their nightmares, too, but I can?t always. Sometimes, if I?m awake and they?re asleep and I see it. I want to, but some things just can?t be altered.

    I just hope I don?t cause any. I probably do, but I try not to.

    <font color="#999999" size="1">[ May 29, 2005 04:37 AM: Message edited by: Desdenova ]</font>

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