And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
Thursday, July 8th [Day 403]
Early morning
Carnivale lot
Rain. It rained. Yesterday. Good. My bucket should be full of water.
Can't seem to get the energy to trek to the showers today. The little leak in my roof drips into that bucket. I can use that, try to wash up some. Should be clean enough.
Can't remember the last time I was this sick. Skipped out ( Read more... )
Early morning
Carnivale lot
Rain. It rained. Yesterday. Good. My bucket should be full of water.
Can't seem to get the energy to trek to the showers today. The little leak in my roof drips into that bucket. I can use that, try to wash up some. Should be clean enough.
Can't remember the last time I was this sick. Skipped out ( Read more... )
Meantime, Mok, 'r whoever, 's grinnin't me. "Fella? I am fairly certain these are breasts, albeit small."
Snort. "Tits don't make a woman, 'spec'ally when't ain't yer body't ye're wearin'. Silence might be a she, but got no idea what th'fuck you might be."
"Yes, dear witch, it was I that kissed you, and do not pretend it was not... fun. So earthy and raw. And I do thank you, for it was that kiss that helped break me free from my prison. Like rubbing the lamp, you might say, except I cannot grant wishes... well, not most wishes,"
Doubt't'at's true. Even if'n th'kiss leant'im some power, it wuzzim't started it, an's harder t'drain power like'at. An'm still thinkin't Silence's fever had somethin' t'do wit' whatever'is is stirrin'. Whatever'e is, cert'nly seems t'havva high 'pinion ovvimself.
"Well, it seems I am hungry! Would you have some spare morsels? I am sure we could all do with a meal."
Nod. "Zann, there's some bread by th'worktable, li'l butter too, an' some cold beef." I ain't takin' m'eye offa'is bastard. But't is Silence's body, an'I don't think she's been eatin' right lately. Body still needs t'be taken care of, even if'n't's been invaded. "Make sure y'salt both bread'n meat." Salt's both a binder an'a cleanser. Might bind'im t'us, might help drive'im out, might do nothin', but some spirits use food t'bind'emselves t'folk. Addin' salt oughta stop'im from tryin'at on me. An'I ain't gonna make no bones 'bout usin't; not like Zann'd have anyplace t'hide. "So, long's we's gettin' cosy, mind tellin' me 'zactly who'n what y'are, an' how y'ended up'n Silence's body?"
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The tall witch seems to be convinced I am not what I seem, which is mostly true. "Silence might be a she, but got no idea what th'fuck you might be."
And there is an echo to that word. "Silence. Silence?" The name of this form, I suppose. I seem to remember something about silence, of blood and daggers. Of power. And anger. And pain. "What a silly name," I retort, a sudden vitriol threatening to taint my mood. I tamp it down.
The witch deems me worthy of food, sending Zann (and thank you so for her name) for bread, butter and cold beef. "Hmph, I suppose it will have to do. But have you not anything a bit richer? Perhaps something sweet? No? Oh well, beggars and all that." At this point any food is welcome. How did I come to be in such a weak vessel?
The witch tells Zann to salt the bread and meat, and I wrinkle my nose. "Really, too much salt will mar the flavor of-" And I all at once notice the way the witch Syl watches me. I am not so far gone that I do not remember some simple basics of her kind of magics. "So, long's we's gettin' cosy, mind tellin' me 'zactly who'n what y'are, an' how y'ended up'n Silence's body?" I feel my eyebrows raise.
"Oh. Oh my. I think-" and really, it should be obvious. Can she not see? "I think there has been some misunderstanding. I am not who you should be concerned with casting out. It is she, this Silence, as you call her." The name leaves a foul taste in my mouth and I almost spit. "She had possessed me! Or perhaps trapped me is more accurate." I shrug, taking the offered meal, salt and all. "I do not go about 'possessing' silly girls with stupid names. This is my body. Or at least, it was at some point." Cram a mouthful of bread and meat down and chew vigorously. "Oh! So good!" I blurt out, mouth still full. It is as if I have not eaten in years! I want to swallow it whole, and find it difficult to chew slowly, so as to savor each flavor. My plate is soon empty. I hold the plate up, offering my sweetest expression. "Is there more?"
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"If not, perhaps you should practice. To whit, I gladly offer my services." and I'm staring for a second before I crack up.
"Oh, honey," I say, "I have no idea if you know how damn weird that sounds coming from her mouth. And no, thank you, not in the habit of hooking up with people who don't at least have their own skin."
She--he, it--doesn't seem that big on the salt, and pardon if that isn't slowing me down a bit. And I'm glad to stick around for the conversation, honestly. I can't say if Silence really is squatting, has been for all these years, but the charmer here is really coming across like a bit of a townie and I know whose side I'm standing on. Family, after all.
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"Ye're a bloody guest 'n m'home an' if'n y'don't like what I give ya ye're welcome t'go fuck yerself." I says, tearin' offa piece'a bread wit' m'teeth. Really still ain't sure what we got'ere. So damned hard t'sense, 'spec'ally'n th'body'a somebody I know.
But she sure seems t'think't th'thought'a takin' Silence's body's funny. "Oh. Oh my. I think, I think there has been some misunderstanding. I am not who you should be concerned with casting out. It is she, this Silence, as you call her. She had possessed me! Or perhaps trapped me is more accurate. I do not go about 'possessing' silly girls with stupid names. This is my body. Or at least, it was at some point." She stuffs'er face wit' food, an' right 'way'er eyes go bright. "Oh! So good! Is there more?"
"No more meat, but here, some bread," I says, passin't on t'er. "Well, if'n's's yer body, who are ya 'n what happened? How'd Silence take't?" Silence always read t'me's rather odd...but sure di'n't read nothin' like'at in'er. Wouldn't be th'first time I been wrong...but ain't 'bout jes' t'go onnis bitch's word neither.
Glad't Zann's takin'er wit' good humour. Th'bitch hits on'er, an' Zann jes' laughs'er off. Glad t'see't.
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The witch chides me with a crassness I find amusing. "Ye're a bloody guest 'n m'home an' if'n y'don't like what I give ya ye're welcome t'go fuck yerself," to which I cannot help but laugh. "As you wish, hostess," as I all but inhale her offering. She gives me some more bread at least, and I force myself to piece it apart, taking one bite at a time. The witch continues to question my current appearance, and parsing out the bread gives me some time to think.
"How to answer without giving too much of myself away?" I wink at her humorless expression, then sigh, rolling my eyes when she fails to react. "There are what seem to be... gaps in my memory. I remember my name, obviously, and my wit, and apparently my love of sweets." I give Zann an appreciative glance before continuing. "But while this name of Silence is familiar, I cannot say how I have come to be... here." I take another bite of the bread, feeling the smile slip from my face. "I am quite certain this is my body. It is not, however, my form. I also feel there has been quite the passage of time, somehow..." and that phrase seems to hang in the air. How long have I been like this, to feel I have missed such things as eating and speaking?
My senses are sharpening, and it is not only the one here that smells of power. It lies all around it seems, entwined, and even Zann is touched by something strange and strong. And then I remember - I had felt it, somehow, like a dream while asleep. Not the kind the witch has here, but close, somehow. But trying to recall more proves to be as fruitful as grasping tendrils of smoke in one's fingers. I chew my bread as I think.
"What is this place I am in, anyway? Some sort of witch's cabal?" And how long am I to be stuck here before I can reclaim my form? I wonder if I even have the strength to do so?
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...and I can't even blame this particular slice of weird on Excolo, go figure.
"What is this place I am in, anyway? Some sort of witch's cabal?" and that's kind of interesting, 'cause you can figure out that Syl's in that line of work, but a cabal means more than one, and I wonder what she's picking up.
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This feels more honest t'me'n mosta th'other drivel comin' outta'er mouth. I c'n see th'confusion on'er face, an' ferra sec, jes' a sec, she looks lost. Still don't trust'er, mind, but't least I ain't so convinced she's lyin'.
"What is this place I am in, anyway? Some sort of witch's cabal?"
"No, 't's a witch's home." I says, flat. Ain't never made a secret'a what I do, an' ain't gonna start now. God, I jes' can't getta read on'er. There's somethin' ovver't reads like somma th'spirits've exorcized, there's somethin' ovver't reads like Tez...one thin' I am bloody sure of izzat she ain't human. "So then, what's yer true form?"
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"I gather you, Zann, do not live here. And that this form does not, unless the three of us usually share this one, tiny pallet? I shall not complain if such is the case."
The witch continues to scrutinize this form; I can feel her power prickling at the edges of it. I pretend not to notice as I take another bit of bread. I do notice, however, the interesting markings on my left wrist as I raise the bread to my mouth. An elegant black feather, so intricate it might have been captured mid-flight. It has deep meaning, though I cannot see through it.
"So then, what's yer true form?" Well, she does have a talent for bluntness. I pull my eyes away from the strange tattoo to meet her gaze.
"How does one describe the sun to one who cannot see?" which is possibly not very humble of me, and yet I cannot help myself. "I am grace, beauty and power, brilliance and joy given form! So magnificent you would tremble with awe and wonder before me." My eyes are wide now, gazing skyward as I continue my spiel. My hands follow the flow of my words. "The very firmament of the earth would fall away from my feet, The sky rushing to meet me, the wind and sun bowing to the wonder that is... the looks on your faces!" I laugh loudly and long at my own joke, and it does feel good.
"You were being far too serious, dear witch," I chuckle, relaxing once again. "And truthfully, I am afraid I do not altogether remember." I pause at that. It's not entirely true, but I am not ready to reveal all that I do remember. Yet.
"Although this," and I show the intricate mark, "may hold some clue. It's shape is familiar to me. What is it called, this mark?" See what the witch can make of it. I remember one of my forms covered in such dark, glossy feathers, but the memory is tenuous at best.
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"Oh, honey, you say that," I say lightly, grinning a bit lopsidedly. "But then it's all you snore like a freight train and watch your elbow and yelping over cold feet."
"So then, what's yer true form?" Syl asks, and oh. Dammit, thinking so much about switching up engines that that didn't exactly occur to me. I wonder how it changed, too--not what it changed from, but the mechanics and the motion, the shift and turn and rebalancing from old until new, blood and breath and sinew born and reshaped.
"How does one describe the sun to one who cannot see?" And I'm thinking of the heterodyne; sad and golden and that feeling of sunlight and the singing air, the wind in the world like a shout of joy and a day that could last forever, and at the heart of him a song, oh such a song; and touching the mirror and the space of Tez's foot, when he fought Gaueko, and the stars...
"I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts," I say. "A sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, and the round ocean and the living air, and the blue sky, and in the mind of man: a motion and a spirit, that impels all thinking things..." I shake my head a little. All objects of all thought, and rolls through all things.
"I think I met your brother, honey. He was a bit less jittery. So you're... some kind of god or something. How'd Silence trap you, then?" I don't think she's asking what a feather is, so I keep quiet on that, glance to Syl.
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"Ye're onna carn'val lot, outside a town called Excolo." I says, foldin' m'arms. "Somehwhere'n th'northeast US. No desert, jes' a river, a forest, anna town."
"I gather you, Zann, do not live here. And that this form does not, unless the three of us usually share this one, tiny pallet? I shall not complain if such is the case."
Zann bursts out laughin'. "Oh, honey, you say that, but then it's all you snore like a freight train and watch your elbow and yelping over cold feet."
I smirk. "Ye're in my bed, my bed alone. Zann found ya...'r rather, Silence...fallin' down sick, an' brought'er here so's I could help."
An'en whoever she is rambles on wit' some cosmic beauty bullshit, an'I jes' sigh 'n shake out a cig. Gonna need a bloody smoke if'n I hafta listen t'is shit. Fin'lly she sighs. "You were being far too serious, dear witch. And truthfully, I am afraid I do not altogether remember. Although this may hold some clue. It's shape is familiar to me. What is it called, this mark?"
I lean over t'see. A tattoo on'er wrist...seen't on Silence's, but ain't never taken much notice. "Raven feather, I think. 'r mebbe a crow. Hard t'tell from jes' a feather." There's power t'it, though. I c'n read't.
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