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

[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.