And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.

[silence_excolo]

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

Comments

[syl_thorn]

"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." An'en she bloody complains 'bout th'salt. More I see'f'is bitch, th'more I wanna get Silence back.

"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.

[silence_excolo]

Oh, this Zann is a charmer, if I do say so myself! She has such an easy sense of motion about her, and while I sense she does not fully trust me, she has relaxed. Good.

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?

[tereixa_zann]

"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," and I crack a grin at that, put one hand over my mouth and step back as Syl digs for details. I can't say it exactly makes much sense, but if I had to work up a rough model of it, Silence moved into the driver's seat, and then rebuilt the body around the engine.

...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.

[syl_thorn]

"How to answer without giving too much of myself away? There are what seem to be... gaps in my memory. I remember my name, obviously, and my wit, and apparently my love of sweets. But while this name of Silence is familiar, I cannot say how I have come to be... here. 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..."

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?"

[silence_excolo]

The witch informs me I am in her home, and really, that was obvious. "No, I meant here on the larger scale, not simply my current confines. Or are we in a desert, devoid of other living beings?" I know we are not, as I can hear the noise of feet walking past, voices carried on the wind, and the creaking of things man-made along with the rustling of leaves. And if I am not mistaken, a river. This must be a fertile land in which I have awoken. I look again towards Zann - she is short but healthy, of strong build, showing an upbringing of at least adequate nutrition and hard labor. So, no great drought or recent starvation, at least.

"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.

[tereixa_zann]

"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." And hearing it from Silence...

"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.

[syl_thorn]

"No, I meant here on the larger scale, not simply my current confines. Or are we in a desert, devoid of other living beings?"

"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.