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

[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.