Fixed and Consequent

[Desdenova]

[Interlude: Practice]

His mother watched. Keen, intelligent, intent. Proud. He could feel that gaze through the deceptively thin glass like walls. It was only her, today, seated in the low bleachers overlooking the eerily sparse and clean sparring room.

There was a connection, but it was so old, so faint. She chose to honor it. Pleased to see her disabled child stripped down to little better than lycra work out pants and sneakers, facing a man over twice his weight and with a fair foot of height on him. With nothing more than a curved length of steel.

She gave it to him. One of his aunts forged it. Fine steel, honed true. Light, lethal. Made so well Hor'zt whistled softly upon testing it, his eyes gone wide and round, and reverently requested one like it in return for teaching the youth the way of the strange blade.

A bat'leth.

Hor'zt and Desdenova gave up long ago their speculations of what moved the youths' overprotective parents to find nothing wrong with such lessons. They were not approving of the intercompany sponsered matches and leagues, but then, neither was Hor'zt.

It didn't stop Desdenova from competing when he could. Never a winner, but never the loser, either. Against the heavy weight races such as the Klingons, that was saying something.

"You improve slightly," Hor'zt growled, an unwilling compliment in a moment taken to guage over again the slender youth faced off before him. The tense and hard curve of spine, the set of narrow shoulders, the ability to swiftly elude the heavier, more powerful man; it was as deceptive as the youths quiet demeanor.

"You're tired," Desdenova responded, flat and annoyed at it. He could see the sluggish edge of movement, the sweat that rarely broke over the bronzed giant of a man.

"Why not take advantage, little one?" Hor'zt grinned, vicious as a bear at bay. The youths head tilted, the lightless gaze hard, merciless, in a face as still as ivory.

No, he would not underestimate. That was never a fault. Hor'zt knew that as well as Desdenova, and was pleased of it. The youth would not underestimate even in practice.

Steel sang dragged against the still air, fluid intensity of attack taken against the huge Klingon. Astonishingly swift, Hor'zt realized he was forced back a step to counter the blow. In the countering, his right was opened up and abruptly tagged. The little brat was getting all too good a using his opponants' size against them, indeed, and Hor'zt considered the slice down his arm to be a proper payment for not giving that its full respect.

Lithe and more powerful than he seemed, Desdenova braced with a peculiar ability to absorb the shocks of the retaliatory overhead doublehanded blows of the bat-leth, only a faint sliding sensation of steel meeting steel giving warning before the youth crumpled under the combined force of Hor'zts weight and momentum of blade.

Hor'zt knew in the chill confidence of the youths' gaze that he'd made a mistake. A serious one. What usually had ended the spar by disarming and cutting a garish stripe of red across Desdenovas' pale chest was suddely a horrible over-extension of the Klingons reach when the youth rolled aside, leverage of an elbow off of the floor to the bat-leth twisting and shoving aside the older mans' weapon and downwards force.

Desdenova pushed upwards, lateral, taking a cut down his thigh, but slapping a hard chopping blow across the off-balanced Hor'tzs' back. Dark purple blood splattered the pristine white with the red, and Hor'zt roared, more pleased at the audacity of tactic than outraged.

Every match, after all, Hor'zt saw that confidence more and more. Fairly earned with each small advancement of skill, with every blow won in tactical and physical ability. It was imperitive to the weapon.

Which finally gave the Klingon opportunity for another lesson in combat rather than in just the weapon, itself.

Steel rang almost maddenly steady as a mechanical heart, offense, defense traded off with advantage pressed or surrendered for an attempt at getting around the other. It took a lot to tire Desdenova, Hor'zt knew, but that wasn't his aim. Tired was desperate. Desperate was dangerous.

Slinging in bat-leth hard before the whole of his weight, Hor'zt rocked the blade right to left over the pivot of Desdenovas' solid block, and without warning, loosed a hand off of the weapon and slammed his palm into the youths jaw. Stunned, Desdenova actually was able to push Hor'zt back with an upwards rake of blade, and turned the bat'leth to swing it back downwards.

Too late. Desdenova felt it in a rush of liquid fire and icing of mind in sheer agony. He didn't fall prey to the impulse to look and see that Hor'zt had cut deeply into the muscle of his back and side, he simply fought for the discipline to continue the blow he had aimed at the Klingons' shoulder.

But he knew it was over simply from the warmth of Hor'zts' hand gripped over the wound, the slow folding of his knees until he was prone in a spreading pool of his own blood. Desdenovas' jaw clamped shut to prevent either utterance of pain or protest, his sight swimming with pain.

"Your self confidence serves you well, little one, but never forget that there are those who know it better than you; and know how to use it," Hor'zt murmured, as fond as another parent, fearless even as the youths' mother glided calmly from the bleachers to the practice room.

"You cheated," Desdenova gasped, astonished.

"You knew I would never cheat. I would never cheat. But you will not always be fighting against me. Not all fight with honor. You know that," Hor'zt agreed with a ferocious grin. Watching as the youths' gaze showed its understanding even as he fought to remain conscious.

Desdenova managed not to cry out at the light and cool touch of his mothers hand over the deep wound. He wondered how she could be so calmly accepting of it when she had fought more viciously than either he or Hor'zt together could have hoped to for her sons' very life.

And she never healed those wounds completely. Sometimes not at all. This one, threatened the youths' life, and so, the deep gash closed under the peculiar grayed illumination shining from his mothers' left hand. Closed, but bruising rose after it promptly under the sweat and blood wet pale skin.

With that, as a mother should, she rose, waiting for him to pick up his bat-leth and get back to his feet on his own. Pleased, proud. As Hor'zt was. As his father would be.

Even though he had lost.

Desdenova forced himself to grip the weapon. Such a temptation to use it to help him stand. He didn't. It seemed to take forever, as if his body had forgotten how to move, protesting violently each shifting of weight.

It seemed to take several moments for him to realize that he was standing. Soundless roaring filled his ears, his sight was dull, all he saw dim and haloed. Shock, he knew that.

The proper words were spoken, unmodulated, harsh; and he bowed in respect of a lesson well given.

Hor'zt caught the youth easily when he fainted.

"Enjoy it while you can, Hor'zt. Another year or two, and he's going to start beating you consistantly."

Hor'zt beamed at the calm confidence of the boys mother even as he carried Desdenova from the practice room.

"That is the intention, Madam."

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 53, Eighteen Four

Cam was seeing Oliver a while ago, and then he just disappeared. For a long time, that?s when she started dating Jace. A lot of people seem to do that. They literally haunt someone until they agree to like or love you, and then poof, they?re gone.

Then they?re gone until the person gets fed up and starts seeing other people. And right back they come and they always have the absolute balls to whine about how their beloved should have been faithful till the end of time even though they just left without a word.

I really don?t understand that. It?s like the only reason the person is there in the first place. Sex. But not just sex. The entire person. They want everything, love, loyalty, constance, everything that person has to give. And once they have it, it?s time to move on, because they?re no longer interesting.

I?d swear I could break in to some of these peoples? private files and find a Rolodex of their lovers caught and held in limbo. Like a demon collecting souls. One after another, and none are given closure. At most, someone will come by and note well, they think they saw the guy (I say guy, it?s usually men, but women do this too) killed in some dramatic battle or something.

It?s like a sport. How many people can you get trussed up and waiting for you, and how long can you keep them waiting before you make another appearance?

I just don?t get it. What?s the fun in that? A friend is more fun when you know them. I would think a lover would be, too. I mean, my parents say they have far more fun now than they did when they were single. They don?t do everything together, no, but then they can talk about that to each other and it?s fun, too.

But I guess it?s not really about love when I see these people doing this. It?s about conquest. Winning. After that, there?s nothing really interesting about the person, so they go on. The one they insist they can?t live without is completely boring if they aren?t trying to win their love.

I wish Cam would focus on the men that just want to be friends, because they?re there for reasons besides sex and romance, but like she says, there?s not very many of those, and most are already taken. And it?s hard to say, sometimes, what a person is there for.

Then again, I wish she?d just tell the romeos that they need to prove that they?re there for reasons outside of love and sex before she dates them, but she?s really soft hearted sometimes. ...Well, in a funny way. It?s like this resignation to being their catch of the day. Like she?s supposed to have some guy to call boyfriend.

I don?t know if Oliver is really like that, but... He does kind of ...disappear when he doesn?t feel like he?s got to win Cams? heart or hand. It?s only when there is some sort of... Well, usually, Oliver will show up if another man is paying attention to Cam.

Sometimes, I get the feeling that I?m the other man paying attention that?s bringing him out of wherever he?s at. As if there is no way on earth that I can see Cam as a sister. I ...don?t understand that at all.

He seems nice enough, when I?ve talked to him. When he?s been around for something other than making sure no one?s hitting on Cam. He plays guitar, a nice Gibson Les Paul, and seems to be some sort of spell singer. It?s just hard to say, because I?ve only seen him... be himself, I guess, just the once.

I can understand someone not really wanting to just hang around when things can get hectic and strange fast, but I don?t understand it when it had been fine before gaining the girl, as it were. I think Cam?s interesting and fun, more interesting and fun now than before I got to know her, but I guess that?s boring to some people.

It makes me uncomfortable. When he is there, I don?t want to get in the way, and when he?s not, and I do something that she needs or wants, I feel like I?m proving I?m competition and not a brother.

I don?t know how to prove otherwise, and... I?m not going to. I proved myself to Cam, and myself, and that?s all that matters. If nothing I?ve been or done are the actions of a brother, then... So be it. I?ve tried. I?m still trying, but I?m not going to stop being what I am just because someone can?t believe that there can be any sort of a relationship between a male and female that isn?t sexual unless they?re blood related.

Cam says it?s his problem and he?ll either get over it or he won?t, and I know she won?t push me away to prove herself, either. Not completely, anyhow.

I can?t be the boyfriend, the lover, the husband, whatever. I know that. I can?t ever be that. I can only be quiet and supportive, and get out of the way when her boyfriend does show up and try not to get irritated that he only shows up now and then and never for long, never just to enjoy her company. There?s always some specific reason.

It just makes me mad.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 54, Eighteen Four

Rome started acting odd. It?s hard to say, though, because she does so often act aberrantly, and I never know what it is. I know she kept getting upset with me, and she didn?t trust me enough to believe I meant it when I said I had forgiven her all those months ago.

I guess that?s too easy for some people. She said she was sorry, meant no harm, and I said I was sorry, I was wound up and upset... And that was that. Well. For me. I guess she hung onto it.

I met Patch, and he?s the monster. Frankenstiens monster, I mean. He?s exactly what I always thought he would be. A gentle giant with violent tendings and abilities, intelligent and still innocent. Wise and not.

Rome met him, too, and when I started asking Patch about what it was like for him to be, she ...apparantly heard everything I said as a reflection on her. I just didn?t know what to do or say.

Patch suggested that I go and talk to her, and I did, I just... I don?t know how to prove myself. I can just be myself. I explained that my questions weren?t loaded or aimed at her, and that I thought I was sufficiently obnoxious to ask her to her face.

I don?t think anyone can argue with that.

Then Jok?tar showed up. He?s marvellous, he?s a centaur made of a lion, he?s enormous and powerful and such a kind soul. He thought he was hiding from everyone, but his aura was as majestic blue as the savannah skies.

He doesn?t speak English, and I dislike using translation spells or translators, because it just takes that much longer to learn, but Rome used a translator, and it?s true enough that certainly helps get the ball rolling.

Rome was fond of him as well, I think everyone that meets him is. I gave him a Jolt Cola, Rome had given me a lot of them for helping her with another matter...

That?s the thing that always confuses me about Rome. She?s pretty, friendly, and smart. She?s been a trader for a long while, successfully, which would, to me, mean a keen knowledge of the natures of many beings, but... She doesn?t.

I guess her mentor-computer, Z... Oh, I don?t remember, I was drunk, channelling, and making random prophecies the last time I saw him and kept calling him Dr. Zoidberg. Thank the spirits he just thought I was drunk.

But I guess Z would all but ...program in how she would react for sales. Rome, herself, just really doesn?t seem to know people except for gross reactions. What?s obvious, I mean. Glaringly obvious.

So, she found as little wrong with sitting and petting another human as she would Bea or Teddy. Technically, there?s nothing wrong with that, but around here, that means ?sex?. I didn?t really know what to say, but I could see the usual skanks sniffing around her, and she didn?t see that at all. Or did, I wasn?t sure. So I didn?t say anything.

She was very intent on touching, hands, faces, arms, and with people she really didn?t know well, including Patch and Jok?tar, and... It made me uncomfortable to watch. It just didn?t seem like it would end well whether or not she was aware of what was going on.

But she always kept this very stiff wall with me. Maybe because I didn?t meet her under good circumstances. Sometimes, it seemed like she was trying to say to me that she was as stand offish as I am, and... Well, she wasn?t.

Well, it did blow up, but it seemed to be this ...series of explosions. This monkey showed up, and it was about as filthy as the rest of the skanks. It suddenly jumped on Rome and kissed her, and she freaked out. Which I don?t blame her for.

And of course the people that she?d probably thought were friends were laughing. They didn?t see it as what she did, even though I could see it had really upset her. I think it suddenly dawned on her that there are people that will take advantage of everything that they can.

I hoped so, anyhow. But I really didn?t think so, honestly. So many of these people exist to manipulate, and she?s just very willing to allow it by her very niavity.

She has this... I?m not sure what it is, it seems to be an old fashioned interface and imager, it reminds me a lot of the Jupiter work. It?s inbedded in her wrist. I didn?t bother trying to cypher and read its code, I just gave it universal coding, which is easier, it doesn?t try to reject the piggy backed program.

There was an older one that seemed only in use for baseline monitering, I used that, found an empty fork and opened it for code. It was kind of fun, though it takes more concentration than casting a spell. I guess I?ll never kill my gods.

Anyhow, it was just a simple repelling program, it?s not much different than my wards, and accepts those on top of the technology anyhow, so I put one in. And it is universal code, so she was able to fine tune it to what she wanted, specifically. She doesn?t want to kill, but sometimes, you have to.

It?s kind of funny when she explains the technology to me. I don?t laugh or say much, but it is funny. I just say I?m not that good with it, and my computer at work is more than I can understand, and it?s a Macintosh, but well, that?s true, anyhow. I?m not nearly what Mom is with it.

I still think Mom programed those nanytes to take over the universe, herself, though. It?s hilarious when Rome tries to give me these doses of nanytes that are for healing the body. I?ll look her right in the eye and say ?Nanytes are evil, they?re simply biding their time?, and even though I?ve told her I?m joking, she still takes it very seriously.

Well, I suppose I should, too, after what the evil ones did, but they?re contained again. It must have been one hell of a battle.

Well. After that, she really started this downhill spiral. I?m not really sure what was going on. I?d given Jok?tar a Jolt, one of the Jolts she gave me for making the program for her, and he got high as a kite from it.

It was funny, but he started pouncing towards Rome, and gentle or not, Jok?tar is huge, and would have accidently squished her. Which would have broken his heart, and would have been my fault. So I pulled her out of time for a moment to let him pass.

I don?t know, I still don?t know, if she realizes that I did that. I can only assume she thinks it was her own wrist interface or a spell I cast. Her company, as it were, runs through time a lot, and probably gets bitch slapped a lot by Mom if they try to work Terra. It?s pretty crude work, when I?ve seen it. I try to stay clear.

We laughed a lot. I thought finally, she realized I am a friend. I showed her I was. She believed it. I thought.

I thought.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 55, Eighteen Four

Paige brought out Elly after she was born. I?ve never seen such a big baby, she was over eleven pounds! She seemed like she was all ready a month old at just a few days.

She has blue eyes, and I think they?ll stay that color, there?s no echo for brown or clouds for green. Paige let me hold her, too, and I was surprised. Touched. She didn?t make me sit down or anything. Just passed her to me like she would anyone else.

Paige said later she knew that I could protect Elly from any of the random crap that happens, and I would, but still... Not a lot of people would be comfortable with me holding their brand new baby.

I don?t remember what was going on, I think something was. I was just so absorbed in that, I really didn?t pay attention. Tiny babies still remember their song, so I was listening to it and humming it a bit back. She seemed to like that.

I don?t know why I try so hard to learn that song. Maybe because mine fell out of key or something. Mom can level a continent in E, so I know there?s far more to sound than most people consider.

It?s not just sound. It?s the melody, the harmony, the rhythmn, maybe even there?s lyrics, but I?ve never been able to decypher those. I?ve theorized that we all sing the same language in coming and going, and had that accepted as plausible, but I really haven?t made a study on it.

I don?t know if my theory was plausible or if my wording of the theory was plausible. The same concept has been brought out for untold millenia, and it is rejected as often as accepted. Even from people who have studied it.

I suppose I can be persuasive. But I don?t want to persuade. I want to know. I want to ...

I want to find my song and sing it again so it?s right, and then I would be right.

When I heard my aunt playing it on her violin, I know she must have been playing me. Mine. She must have. To hold me there long enough for Dad to fix the problem. That must have been mine, she said she couldn?t play that here.

I want to ask, but I don?t want to be wrong again. Sometimes... It?s the only star left in my sky. And if I ever really investigate it, and I?m wrong, it?ll be gone. I won?t have anything left.

I?ve even studied over and over again the song I was named from. Mom said it was written about the book ?Yargo?, most likely, and I?ve read that, too. It was also written near the time when it was discovered that Sirius wasn?t one star, it was two. Fixed and consequent.

I wonder if I had a twin. It doesn?t seem likely, my parents would never withhold something like that from me. If I?d been part of a twin and one was lost.

But it?s only one voice in the song. Anyhow, Mom said she just liked the name, and the song, and Jackie already had Dads? name and she couldn?t figure a masculine for hers that wasn?t feminine or stupid.

Anyhow, I was born outside, in the garden, and she said it was a fine night and the stars were incredible that night. That or Dad gave her something good for the pain. Probably both.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 56, Eighteen Four

I was really surprised to meet another real nightmare. I could feel him before he got all the way there, and Nana was as astonished as I was. I wonder if he was there, as he said, because he was having trouble with his work in the Dream Asylum, or because he was there to orchestrate the nightmare that whole few weeks was.

It was only a few weeks, but it seemed like... forever. But you can dream an entire lifetime between dusk and dawn, and dream that lifetime over and over again.

It seems so much of what I am. A dream. A nightmare. Over and over, and I just watch, direct, sometimes act... I don?t know. Beautiful monsters, my aunt has said. Beautiful monsters.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 57, Eighteen Four

I remember mainly Jack Rat. As he was, as he wasn?t. Huge, grinning thing, oppossum toothed, filthy, in the remains of some hellspawn circus ringmasters costume; scythe in one hand and a revolver in the other. Or just in a trenchcoat and jeans, I think, picking me up off the ground and carrying me back to the light.

He kept giving me tea, saying it would help, and it did. Then it wouldn?t. It was him, it wasn?t him. Everything was bleeding around him. That happened to mom, too.

She came here so she didn?t have to be her, but she still was catalyst for it, and it?d happen all in her wake even as she tried to stop it. Jack Rat came here so he wouldn?t have to be him, and it bled all around him.

Then there was Fae. Horrible, oh spirits, so ghastly. Some ancient fallen diety burnt at the stake and still alive with the iron pokers still through the charred ribcage. Occassionally grinning and leering and asking for your soul if she would give you what you wanted. Chained in the oven they killed her in and never dead at all.

The things that killed her... Oh, even worse, all so pretty and pious and perfect, all the liars and they won that time. All the liars. Karma was dead along with Fae or she was Fae and the liars were all redeemed in their lies and free to tell them.

Over and over and over.

Then there was Alec, great holy priest of all that?s hypocritical. All shining whites and blinding chromes, all the mirrors made out of lies and all the quick backsteps into wounded pure heart.

I can?t tell which one he was fucking, Nemo or Havoc, but oh what lovely dramas they were having over it. I wonder what they told Zane that was. Accept it or you don?t really love him. It was all a lie. Because Alec?s made a liar out of Fae.

There was Zane, crumbling into the sea like the Collosus. Her torch fallen into the sea and lost, uncaring people pulling away stone and bronze for their own uses. Nothing saved except what fell into the ocean, and then that would simply corrode.

Empty eyes. Empty rooms of mind. All locked shut and white, like that would keep everything out. Childish murals scrawled on the wall by the bidding of that great holy hypocrite that say everything she has to believe or be damned.

So she is damned. Fae is dead and giving counsel of hell, Zane is dead and crushing under the skies weight.

The convertable was just sitting there, red and flashy, and I showed Cam how to hot wire it. We got into it and so did Bane. The Bane-Dog Jareth sent to watch me.

We drove, and then the dragon crashed down in front of us. Llyluna, and she was howling and her flesh was falling off of her bones. She was a lych, and Bane had her heart and vanished with it.

Cam is running and running and I can?t find her anymore. Blood trails and nothing else. Screamings echo. I can feel it on the back of my neck and then it runs.

Jack Rat, it was running from him, and it was running from Nana, and then it comes back.

Horam stepped up to challenge the lych-Llyluna, and he had a staff like the wizards of his people use, and his ax, and they both broke. He broke. Everything he was was broken, and when I tried to help him, I wasn?t there anymore.

I was in the forest. I was searching for something, I think. I could feel the earth under my feet, I could feel the redwoods. So ancient. I couldn?t see the sky, they were so tall and thick. The mist was everywhere. Cool, vaporous.

I wasn?t me. I was looking out of someone elses eyes. But I was seeking. Dancing. I could hear music, but I?ve never heard it before. I must have been looking for a dance partner. I could see her, but she kept moving away. Just glimpses, like the dawn was tied down past the horizon and struggling to rise.

Or maybe I was moving away.

But then Fae told me I was sleep walking and took me home. Sleep walking. I could believe that except that when I looked at my calander... A week had gone by.

A week.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 58, Eighteen Four


Rome was spending a lot of time with Patch, helping him work on his castle and such, which was nice. But it seemed to make her nervous, too, in an odd way. She had talked some about time paradoxes, and there?s a reason that people not born to it are kept from it, but... I don?t know.

It?s like talking to Dillon. Where only the ways and means he knows are truly good, are truly excellent, are... true. I try not to fall into that mind set, it tends to annoy people. Even someone who?s worlds? highest technological achievement is fire is at the apex of their ways, and that has to be respected.

But I just smile, and nod, and I don?t try to argue. I just make suggestions here and there how it might be easier. Or more ethical.

Some strange man showed up, and started giving Rome various ...things. Small stimulants, mainly. One of them made her sick, and well, when she explained the chain of events, I was shocked and said she shouldn?t just take things from strangers like that.

...And she got mad. At me. Furious. I was startled. I just... I don?t know. I thought we were friends. I know, she knows, she doesn?t know this reality or really much of anything very well, and... Maybe I was intruding. Maybe I was pushy, or self righteous or... I don?t know.

It just hurt me.

Sometimes, I really want to smack her and remind her that other people have feelings, too, but... It?s pretty hard to tell that I do have feelings.

Then she was gone again. Rome. When she turned up, it was... her, but not her. Apparantly on the run for trying to duck around in time, and... I don?t know. She didn?t act like she knew me, she was chasing the guy who gave her the stuff in the first place around with all sorts of weapons, and she was dressed like a Tuskan Raider.

I just don?t know. It doesn?t make sense, and she doesn?t usually explain. So, there really wasn?t anything to do about it except to ...just wait. I felt bad.

Sometimes, I really want to... protect her, I guess, and other times, she just drives me crazy and I want to tell her to go hang herself. It doesn?t make sense. Well, she doesn?t either.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 59, Eighteen Four

So, a man vanishes without a trace, leaving his beloved wondering if he lives or dies. When he finally returns, he is astonished and hurt that she doesn?t run gladly into his arms.

I?m guessing the average male around here carries an IQ that is somewhere between ?The Dukes of Hazzard? and ?Dragonballz?. So he starts lamenting over the fact that despite all the fighting and woe he had to go through to get back to his beloved, she?s telling to go hang himself.

I looked at him and told him that it might be a good idea to explain why he?d vanished, what had happened, and ask her for pertanant details of what occurred in his absence, such as if she had gotten married or something.

He sneered and asked me what I wanted for that sage advice. Which rather confused me, if he knew it all ready, why didn?t he do it? In any case, I asked for fifty, and he tossed me it.

Well, that started the Mexican soap opera. That happens a lot. Cam was there repeating their words in Spanish, and I was trying not to laugh. Too much, anyhow.

The guy had a really sweet ride, a GTO with the Judge package, black. He kept driving off angrily in it. She would go and break furniture. Finally, she went upstairs to end it all by flinging herself from the balcony.

I?m really not sure one can do that much damage falling a single story, but amazingly, she lept out only to land on her returning boyfriend. It was cool.

It didn?t kill either of them, but she did start beating on the car, and then ran upstairs to kill herself again. This time, he was mad and watched, then she threw things at him, so he started firing a grenade launcher he just happened to have in the truck at her.

I guess I tend to think only my family keeps things like that in their cars.

Well, by then, Cam was dragging me home, but I turned again and cast a spell on the GTO. GTO, Goat. The looks on peoples faces when the GTO unfolded itself into goat-bot were awesome. It was hysterical.

It just never fails to amaze me how little people realize that people exist while they?re gone. That simply sending a note or progress updates would help a lot. Or if they?re just tired of the person, say so.

It can?t be that hard to figure out. Instead, you have the ones whining and crying about how it shouldn?t matter that they vanished, it wasn?t their fault. If it hurt the one they loved, I would think it would matter more than anything in the world.

I guess that?s really it. They really don?t care. People don?t care much around here. They don?t particularly give a damn about what you think, or feel. Or why. They don?t really care what you can or can?t do, either. Pretty much just what you look like.

That bothers me a lot. People ask me ?how are you?? and they don?t really want to know. I can say anything I like, really, and the response is almost always something like ?that?s nice, but let me tell you about the rotten time I had? or whatever.

I guess it?s just ettiquette or something. I listen. I even will try to help, if I can. Or just listen. Mom said, after all, that it meant a lot more than I realized.

I wish someone would listen to me sometime.

But I just sort of seem doomed to eternally listening to the trials and tribulations of others. Triumphs and tragedies. So, I listen. I learn from it.

Mainly, I?ve learned that I don?t really mean much to some people other than the fact that I?ll ask what?s wrong and I?ll listen to it. And that they really don?t give a damn about me. Some have gotten mad because I wasn?t in a position where I could listen to their troubles.

I suppose I shouldn?t be so hurt over it. At least one person paid me for wasting my time and breath.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 60, Eighteen Four

Devin wasn?t doing well for a while. She has a boyfriend, well, she insists he?s just a friend, and that?s fine, too, but she kisses him. He?s an elf named Ver?ik, he?s a mage and he?s nice, but he?s also very sternly in command of what he believes to be true.

I suppose that would annoy other people, someone that lawful good, but I don?t see many people that are capable of holding to themselves like that, so even though a lot of the things I do he doesn?t approve of, I respect that he doesn?t approve of them, and he respects that I?m not of his thought.

He does kind of overstep that with Devin, but he?s very fond of her. They?ve been friends a long time, over a year or so, and even so, he doesn?t know her any better than... she does, really.

I think she?d argue with me over that, but it does seem, sometimes, she just doesn?t know who she is. She?s so determined to hold onto what she was, and doesn?t realize that she?s got to become who she is.

The past is passed, it?s not meant to be ones future. Well, she?ll agree, but then she?ll insist that she can?t lose her culture. I think she?d be just the same even if she was still in her homeland.

But, she was sick and acting funny. She kept going on about odd things, demons and boxes and not being able to escape and a name, and well, she wasn?t going to be able to deal with those things if she was sick.

So, I stole her boots. She couldn?t very well go tramping around without them. She started kicking me, Ver?ik grabbed her, and I finally got the boots, but cut myself pretty well, she keeps a few daggers in them.

It just didn?t make sense. She was so concerned about endangering others, she was endangering them. Mainly, if someone is trying to kill you, and you can?t kill them right away, you endanger your loved ones by not keeping in a top form to retaliate.

A lot of people don?t seem to realize that. They act as if it?s the end of the world to have to ask for help. The irritating part is that those are usually the same people sternly lecturing me about not asking for help when I need it.

I don?t have much of a choice, though. If I have to ask for help, I have to ask for help. I don?t often have the luxury or need to do things myself.

Really, what honor is there to worrying your loved ones when you could as easily bring them in? People put far too much emphasis on things like that. It?s not honor. It?s some schmuck trying to hurt you and yours, the only honor is doing all you?re capable of to protect what you have.

Sure, some might get hurt, but they did so because they wanted to help. They wanted to make the stand and defend what they had, too.

But no, no, everyone wants to be the lone hero. Nice to have the option, I suppose. It doesn?t make a lot of sense.

Well. It wasn?t too bad, the cuts and bruises, I guess. I was sore. But we just marched Devin to the Crystal Inn to rest and recouperate. Another thing I just didn?t get. The Crystal is sacred to neutrality. Whatever was after Devin couldn?t get at her there, she wasn?t endangering anyone there, and she was still complaining about it.

Maybe she was just sick or something. Essentially, it was a free ticket to recover and really be able to deal with whatever was after her, and she didn?t want it. Well, I?m sure she was mad, but she?ll get over it.

I guess it was a demon of some sort, when I offered to loan her the books I have on them, she accepted. I don?t get why people are so strange about using the resources they have.

I was working on the greenhouse about then. It?s beautiful... or, it was. It?s huge, as big as the house, wrought iron and glass, Morrocan style, quite a lot like a miniture interpretation of the Palm House at Kew. It?s tall enough, almost three stories, there may have been palms in there once.

But a lot of the glass was blown out, and the plants couldn?t keep the place warm through the winter. So a lot of it sort of collapsed and fell. Zane came in and helped straighten a lot of the uprights, which was a big part of the problem.

I found a lot of glass panels stored in the barn which must have been cut when it was originally built, but there weren?t enough. I salvaged a lot of glass from some of the old buildings downtown, then there?s a little dirtbag community aways back from the observatory, and I found a lot of glass in a few of the abandoned places there.

It?s kind of a creepy place. It?s called Wolsons Hole, and there is a hole there, it looks like it was either an attempt at a huge well or a kind of stupid mine, though I guess they do bore straight down for diamonds.

No one knows what Wolson was after, or if he got it or what. The workers he brought in to dig sort of built around the hole and eventually, they forgot what it was about. It?s there, about twenty feet across, and covered with a lot of old boards and sheets of plywood.

Otherwise, I?d say the population was vagabond across the country and stopped there thinking it was a good place to marry cousins. It?s a welfare community, actually, it?s odd to think, but there?s plenty of poverty pimps in RhyDin, too.

Ironically, the ?bad side? of the reality, with its magic, maniacs, and spirits know what all, has less trouble with that. But on the good side, they?re just as adept at playing sick games to keep people where they ?belong? as they are back home. They just can?t get through the rampant craziness of the other part of RhyDin, so they occassionally come in, pander to the poor, and run off when the heroes show up.

It?s a little strange, living as I do sort of between that invisible boundary, but it does put me close to both work and the observatory. Close enough to walk, though I admit, I will go out of my way to avoid Wolsons Hole at night. Downtown?s one thing, creepy tenth generation welfare people are another.

Anyhow, I did get the glass into the frames, and though the roofline on the greenhouse is still skewed pretty badly, it?s intact. I?d planted as much as I can, but it?s still impossible to really get through it. I think supports for the central dome collapsed, they may have had a building, I?m not sure, I can?t get through the vines.

Some are alive, still, it?s Maidens Bower, and it?s everywhere. I remember reading something about a woman killing her niece to keep her from going off and marrying a man and not being a girl anymore, and she buried her in an old greenhouse, planting Maidens Bower over the grave to hide it. And to memorialize the girl.

Agatha Christie, I think. I remember wondering why anyone would kill someone they loved like that. To keep them from loving someone else, from even growing up. Now I would say obsession. Obsession... I?m obsessed, with the stars... But I wouldn?t kill for them. Not someone I loved.

I guess I?m not as obsessed as I thought.

[Desdenova]

Journal Entry 61, Eighteen Four

Kogaru?s this funny little elf fellow. He?s as hard to pin down as handful of Jello, and and as colorful and sweet. It?d be exactly like nailing Jello to a wall -- messy, impossible, and why would you want to?

The first time I met him, I guess you?d say, well, I was talking to Zane. It was the first time I?d ever told her about all that was wrong with me. And suddenly, Kogaru just rolled out to where we could see him. I could have died. I was so embarrassed, I couldn?t think. I just left as soon as I possibly could.

It wasn?t his fault, though. I hear things I don?t mean to, or want to. So, I sucked it up. Really, though, what else could I do? But the times I saw him after that, well, he didn?t seem to remember, or care. He seems to be something of a self styled and off the wall techno-mage.

Sometimes I wonder if I?d be like Kogaru. If I wasn?t born like I was. He adores everyone, I can?t imagine him mad or sad. He?s like one of Charlie?s feathers. All sunshine, but never burning, never dimming, always gleaming, and still, a real thing.

Charlie?s a phoenix that stays with me now, I haven?t gotten to her yet.

Anyhow, Kogaru showed up again one night, and we started talking. Or, rather, I guess it was actually playing. Just with words. He?s an elf, he must be at least one hundred, but he seems more childish. Like me.

A lady started to come by, then. She?s really one of my favorite sorts for messing with their minds. She?s got that whole Scully from X-files mentality. Show me. Show me. Show me.

She wants to believe and wants more to prove it all a fraud. Somehow, she ended up where the fantastic would just as soon disbelieve in the realistic.

Her name is Grace, and she?s a paranormal investigator. So I tried to keep a distance, but at the same time, those are so much fun to play with.

Grace stopped by while Kogaru and I were playing, and though there were the usual lot of manly he-men sniffing around her skirts, she decided to try and figure Kogaru, mainly, out.

Well, we kept making this shovel appear and disappear, and occassionally dig by itself. But, of course, whenever she looked, the shovel was either gone or laying down. It was hilarious. Then she?d ask us, and we?d just stare at her and say ?what shovel??, though we?d given it to her.

It?s a miricle she didn?t crack then and there. Well, she finally decided we were supernatural of some sort, and she thought she was being very cool about asking if she could take our picture, because we were just so cute.

Kogaru started off about making a camera that also was some sort of carrot-destroying monster mecha-beast, and I ended up giving Grace a little disposible camera left over from Alices? birthday party because one of the manly he-men broke hers.

I?m not sure what happens when you photograph Kogaru, but I do know that unless you use very slow exposure on me, you can?t get a good image. Which ends up being a blurry, ghostly impression on the film, or sometimes, nothing more than a watery disturbance.

Grace was smart, though. She ran the negative through a spectroanalysis machine a few times, and when she came back, she was actually able to give me a copy of the photos and for the most part, I had come out.

I would have taken the images off of those, but it really wouldn?t be as good a gag if I was able to get to the negatives. So I let them be. Grace was really confused, too, because I am alive. I even let her take my pulse.

She was nice, but I don?t know. Those sorts of people, after a while, they just get on my nerves. To believe simply to believe is such a... It?s so wide. Big. Powerful. It feels so right. ...It?s weird when people don?t. Or want to know why you do. Or want you to tell them why they should, or prove things.

I mean, I will do stupid wizard tricks. But not to prove myself. I do them to be obnoxious, or for fun, or because I need to, or because I want to make someone smile.

Usually, though, with people like Grace, I just smile and say it?s all up to them. What do you want to believe? Then believe it and let it open your heart.

I?m cynical, sure, but... I can?t imagine not believing. It?s hard to think Mom had to learn to believe. It?s always there. ...For me, anyhow.

But... I haven?t seen Grace in a long while now. I sent her to go ?meet? Anna, and I probably should have gone back to Annas? old house and checked in the ruins in case Grace tried to go in and broke her neck or something.

If she did, she knows now. I hope she?s all right, though. I?m thinking she saw Anna and just marched back home.

I don?t know if Kogaru remembers her. I?ll have to ask.