Curiosity- it is the devil
I am alive. Though, I think all who read this have seen/talked to me either physically or over the internet.
Now can cross several things off of my to do list. Job hunting did not go well- managed to get applications to several places in so far- might want to go hunt some more. Not looking good, though. We'll see. Or something- might end up looking after my grandmother or the like.
Me and
rabid_warsong went to FNM and a standard tourney this week- eh. Erm. We suck at Magic. On that note, I have no more 'income'. My Magic money supply ran dry, today. Yesterday.
Also, I am feeling horribly betrayed by the fact that the 'random phone call' that came along a while back was from none other than a dear distraction. Not really.
This was my room before the rearrangement. Messy. Boring.
TADA!
And as seen, a LOT more room. And I can now swap inbetween work areas as I so please, without trying to scrunch everything together.
Sometime between now and the too early morning and several other things, this came up. Loosely based on a dream, but not the dream. Not exactly, not quite. Make of it what you will.
Depressing, to be warned. Had to take breaks with this. I hate doing a something like this, with other things popping up as they are, but tis all I've got to show. Should have something cheerier up sometime.
Time is fluid. Or so it feels: the minutes melt into the hours in a blur, and the long distances of the country side become one.
It is raining. I can hear it patter the roof of the car; see the droplets against the glass. The sky is dark outside- I cannot make out much of the scenery as we pass by. I am alone aboard my compartment, in the train, bound for the city.
How long have I been on the train, riding relentlessly? I could not say, or could not remember. It has been a lengthy trip. I didn’t get the news till yesterday; the abruptness and nature of the summons ensured that an overnight trip was the only manner in which I could get there in due time. I toy with my hat and shift about- the clothes feel rough and uncomfortable, stiff from a lack of use.
I remember leaving in the night, to the sleep worn conductor. I did not sleep much along the way- when I did, I dreamed.
Solemn things; I dreamt of funerals and spectral processions.
I lean my head back, and wonder if I am to spend an eternity in grey monotony.
The train whistles- the steam sounds shrill and piercing. I glance through the window: in the distance, I can make out the vague shapes of buildings and lights in the overcast darkness. At last- we have reached the city. I put my coat on and exit the compartment; I did not bring anything else with me. This visit will not be long, I suspect. I greet the conductor as I pass him in the hallway; he yawns and bids me farewell. I walk down through the carts, till I find the door, and step outside.
Despite my coat, it is colder than I expect. The roof of the train station keeps me dry, thankfully. To my surprise, there is a bustling crowd of people; I must have ridden through most of the night. I look around, and hope to see a familiar face. I see someone wave to me and call my name- her voice, no less. I scan the crowds for her. It is a difficult task as around me, people push and shove towards their destinations. I hear my name again, and I hurriedly make my way through the crowd. There she is; her back is to me and she doesn’t seem to notice me.
I slip up quietly besides her. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“You’re still bad at sneaking up on people.” She turns, her face lit with a slight smile- it contrasts starkly with her dark clothing. She gives me a tight hug. “Your hat doesn’t really help with your attempts, either.”
“Well, it’s the effort that counts, isn’t it?” I give her a sheepish smile.
“You never will change, will you?” She shakes her head, “Anyways, it’s good to see you, still.”
“I’ve not been gone for that long, have I?” Around us, the masses diminish as the trains pull away in a chorus of steam and trill whistles. Soon, we are alone in the station. “Just about a week, I do think.”
“Always one for business, aren’t you?” She glances over me. “Did you not bring anything else with you?”
“I don’t think I’ll be staying too long.” I admit. I have other duties for me upon my return. “Too many things left to do.”
“Oh,” There is a quiet note in her voice. She looks down, sadly. “I understand.”
“I can stay for a while longer, if you’ll have me,” I quickly add. I hate seeing her sad like this- the news must have been enough. “I just really need a place to stay.”
“Sure thing.” She smiles, wanly, at this. It is a smile. She pauses for a moment, as to say something. She reconsiders it. “We should get going, then, if you’re to be living with me.”
“It’s not too much of a hassle, right?” I pick up her umbrella, and offer her my arm. She takes it. “I’ll pay my share of rent and whatnot.”
“Always a gentleman, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am, dear. When am I not?”
“Well, darling…” She lets the accusation trail off.
“Hey, hey,” I raise my arm in mock defense. “I’m mostly well behaved.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Key word there: mostly.”
I wince slightly. “I promise that I’ll behave myself perfectly well while I am staying with you?”
“I’ll be sure to hold you to that promise, then.” She says. The conversation trails off to silence. We step outside of the station, into the rain. I shiver from the cold. She looks at me, surprise on her face. “You’re shivering.”
“It’s just the cold.” I say. “Nothing else.”
She doesn’t say anything. The rain isn’t as heavy as I expected, but I use the umbrella nonetheless. The city is Victorian and grey, all somber brick buildings and hurried forms- from the weather or the atmosphere, I cannot tell. We walk closely together under the umbrella, but despite my efforts, I still get wet.
We make our way to the side of the road. After several attempts, I manage to wave down a carriage for us. I pay the coachman, and she tells him our destination. We board, happy to leave the downpour behind. I take my coat off, and hope it is still serviceable. The carriage takes off.
Neither of us has said a word to the other. The silence is pregnant with tension. What do you say, under these circumstances?
“That’s where I’m staying,” She indicates at one of the buildings. My face betrays my confusion, as she adds “You’re going to be sticking close to me for a while, aren’t you?”
“I’d say,” There are rows and rows of nigh identical structures on the narrow and winding streets. “I don’t think I’d be able to get around this city without getting lost in some dark alley. Maybe get mugged for my troubles as well.”
“Don’t get killed or anything like that, okay?” Her voice is low. Tense.
I nod quietly. The remark was the wrong thing to say, at this time.
Several moments pass.
“I’m sorry,” I say, at last. I bow my head- the news burns itself again into my mind. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine,” she pauses, hesitant. “It’s just that…”
“I know.”
Silence again. It rains harder- the coachman utters a curse.
“Are you alright?” The question is tentative, worry lined.
I give it thought. “I…I think I am. Or I will be.”
“I know you were close…” Her eyes say what words do not. Concern, fear, anxiety and grief.
I force a small smile. My vision blurs a little; there is an onset of emotion- I fight it down. “We were all close.”
“I know. It’s just…”
“I know,” My voice sounds thick. “You don’t…You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want.”
“I…I don’t know,” Her voice cracks. There is something running down her face, now. She continues, “It was just so abrupt.”
I look down and rest my arms on my knees- there are hot tears on my cheeks. Quietly, “I was at work when I heard.”
She takes my hand. I grip it tightly, desperately.
“I…I just,” I shake my head and look at her. “Why? Simply. Why?”
She does not answer. I turn my gaze heavenward.
I never believed in gods or God; the plurality or singularity. If there was a god, in that moment, then why.
God, who I hate so much, why?
I hear a rustle of cloth as she moves next to me. Our eyes meet, and no words are spoken. Pain- so much pain. How long will it be before it heals?
I pull her into an embrace, silent and fierce. The tears continue, and they stain her dress a darker black.
The hush is welcome. Around us, the carriage comes to a halt. I hear the coachman above us- he complains about the rain.
We break contact, and wipe our faces. We give each other nods of reassurance, and I step out as I unfurl the umbrella and offer it to her. I am thankful for the cool rain now- it splashes down my face. It hides my tears. We depart the coach, and climb the crest of the hill, past rows and rows of engraved spectators. Ahead, there is a small gathering at the top of the hill: a procession of black garbed individuals. We know them and them us. They greet us, with tenderness and condolences and careful words- I wish I could see them under happier conditions. Their movements all bespeak of grief and mourning. I make my way to the center.
There is a closed casket there. It has been lowered already.
I look down, and I can feel the tumult rise. I do not know who is there- neither face nor name. Someone says the name- it flits through my mind. I cannot find it, cannot remember it, and cannot hear it.
I walk around, to the tombstone, and sit down on it. The tears come again, as I sit there, deject and catatonic.
I might have cried a long time amidst wind and rain. I do not remember feeling the cold. I watch, insensible as the casket is covered. It feels like it is my own funeral. Even as the shovel turns the last ounce of earth, in my mind, it is still uncovered and fresh. I say something I do not know; the wind steals it away.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. Gentle, and real. I turn to see her.
“We should leave now,” Concern defines her face, behind the veil. “Before you catch something.”
I numbly nod.
We leave the cemetery, and with it, more than I know. Neither of us speaks a word as we move through twisting alleyways and narrow roads. She knows the way. She finds her car; we both slip out of the cold. I become aware of how wet I am, and I shiver.
“Are you cold?” She starts the car, and turns on the heat.
“A little.” I hesitate. “It’ll be fine.”
The engine sputters to life, and we pull out onto the road. Silence is the way of conversation again.
Sometime, between the dreary heavens and winding turns, she tells me to rest. I sleep, glad to escape the waking world.
I awake in intervals. Sunlight, warm and real, upon my face. The salt tinged air- the scent of the sea. The crash of the waves. A hand, upon my shoulder, and a voice.
“We’re here.” She stops the car as I come to.
We have left the city behind. There is no more rain- a clouded sun, but not dark. There is no civilization around us, and the ground is parched and dry and bereft of evident life. I step out of the car- the road is old and cracked, in disrepair.
Ahead of us, is an ocean. The road continues into the water, before breaking off. I can make out the faint outline of the remainder.
I do not speak, and let the salt air rub against my skin. The sun feels good. Finally, “Where are we?”
She leans against the side of the car. “Away. From the city.”
I nod and do not ask. I walk forward down that road- behind me, she follows. I stop at the edge and she steps up beside me. I turn to her. “Why are you here at all?”
She does not respond at first. Seconds tick by.
“Because…” She answers slowly, as though with difficulty. “I’m your friend.”
I smile wanly at this, and pull her closer.
We stand there a while, next to that sea of water and that broken road. I do not know how long.
I feel as though I am in a dream, and not alive.
Time for bed. Promised that I'd finish that thing before sleeping.
Lyrics (yay new music):
Those you’ve known
And lost, still walk behind you
All alone
Their song still seems to find you
They call you
As if you knew their longing -
They whistle through the lonely wind,
The long blue shadows falling
Now can cross several things off of my to do list. Job hunting did not go well- managed to get applications to several places in so far- might want to go hunt some more. Not looking good, though. We'll see. Or something- might end up looking after my grandmother or the like.
Me and
rabid_warsong went to FNM and a standard tourney this week- eh. Erm. We suck at Magic. On that note, I have no more 'income'. My Magic money supply ran dry, today. Yesterday.
Also, I am feeling horribly betrayed by the fact that the 'random phone call' that came along a while back was from none other than a dear distraction. Not really.
This was my room before the rearrangement. Messy. Boring.
TADA!
And as seen, a LOT more room. And I can now swap inbetween work areas as I so please, without trying to scrunch everything together.
Sometime between now and the too early morning and several other things, this came up. Loosely based on a dream, but not the dream. Not exactly, not quite. Make of it what you will.
Depressing, to be warned. Had to take breaks with this. I hate doing a something like this, with other things popping up as they are, but tis all I've got to show. Should have something cheerier up sometime.
Time is fluid. Or so it feels: the minutes melt into the hours in a blur, and the long distances of the country side become one.
It is raining. I can hear it patter the roof of the car; see the droplets against the glass. The sky is dark outside- I cannot make out much of the scenery as we pass by. I am alone aboard my compartment, in the train, bound for the city.
How long have I been on the train, riding relentlessly? I could not say, or could not remember. It has been a lengthy trip. I didn’t get the news till yesterday; the abruptness and nature of the summons ensured that an overnight trip was the only manner in which I could get there in due time. I toy with my hat and shift about- the clothes feel rough and uncomfortable, stiff from a lack of use.
I remember leaving in the night, to the sleep worn conductor. I did not sleep much along the way- when I did, I dreamed.
Solemn things; I dreamt of funerals and spectral processions.
I lean my head back, and wonder if I am to spend an eternity in grey monotony.
The train whistles- the steam sounds shrill and piercing. I glance through the window: in the distance, I can make out the vague shapes of buildings and lights in the overcast darkness. At last- we have reached the city. I put my coat on and exit the compartment; I did not bring anything else with me. This visit will not be long, I suspect. I greet the conductor as I pass him in the hallway; he yawns and bids me farewell. I walk down through the carts, till I find the door, and step outside.
Despite my coat, it is colder than I expect. The roof of the train station keeps me dry, thankfully. To my surprise, there is a bustling crowd of people; I must have ridden through most of the night. I look around, and hope to see a familiar face. I see someone wave to me and call my name- her voice, no less. I scan the crowds for her. It is a difficult task as around me, people push and shove towards their destinations. I hear my name again, and I hurriedly make my way through the crowd. There she is; her back is to me and she doesn’t seem to notice me.
I slip up quietly besides her. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“You’re still bad at sneaking up on people.” She turns, her face lit with a slight smile- it contrasts starkly with her dark clothing. She gives me a tight hug. “Your hat doesn’t really help with your attempts, either.”
“Well, it’s the effort that counts, isn’t it?” I give her a sheepish smile.
“You never will change, will you?” She shakes her head, “Anyways, it’s good to see you, still.”
“I’ve not been gone for that long, have I?” Around us, the masses diminish as the trains pull away in a chorus of steam and trill whistles. Soon, we are alone in the station. “Just about a week, I do think.”
“Always one for business, aren’t you?” She glances over me. “Did you not bring anything else with you?”
“I don’t think I’ll be staying too long.” I admit. I have other duties for me upon my return. “Too many things left to do.”
“Oh,” There is a quiet note in her voice. She looks down, sadly. “I understand.”
“I can stay for a while longer, if you’ll have me,” I quickly add. I hate seeing her sad like this- the news must have been enough. “I just really need a place to stay.”
“Sure thing.” She smiles, wanly, at this. It is a smile. She pauses for a moment, as to say something. She reconsiders it. “We should get going, then, if you’re to be living with me.”
“It’s not too much of a hassle, right?” I pick up her umbrella, and offer her my arm. She takes it. “I’ll pay my share of rent and whatnot.”
“Always a gentleman, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am, dear. When am I not?”
“Well, darling…” She lets the accusation trail off.
“Hey, hey,” I raise my arm in mock defense. “I’m mostly well behaved.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Key word there: mostly.”
I wince slightly. “I promise that I’ll behave myself perfectly well while I am staying with you?”
“I’ll be sure to hold you to that promise, then.” She says. The conversation trails off to silence. We step outside of the station, into the rain. I shiver from the cold. She looks at me, surprise on her face. “You’re shivering.”
“It’s just the cold.” I say. “Nothing else.”
She doesn’t say anything. The rain isn’t as heavy as I expected, but I use the umbrella nonetheless. The city is Victorian and grey, all somber brick buildings and hurried forms- from the weather or the atmosphere, I cannot tell. We walk closely together under the umbrella, but despite my efforts, I still get wet.
We make our way to the side of the road. After several attempts, I manage to wave down a carriage for us. I pay the coachman, and she tells him our destination. We board, happy to leave the downpour behind. I take my coat off, and hope it is still serviceable. The carriage takes off.
Neither of us has said a word to the other. The silence is pregnant with tension. What do you say, under these circumstances?
“That’s where I’m staying,” She indicates at one of the buildings. My face betrays my confusion, as she adds “You’re going to be sticking close to me for a while, aren’t you?”
“I’d say,” There are rows and rows of nigh identical structures on the narrow and winding streets. “I don’t think I’d be able to get around this city without getting lost in some dark alley. Maybe get mugged for my troubles as well.”
“Don’t get killed or anything like that, okay?” Her voice is low. Tense.
I nod quietly. The remark was the wrong thing to say, at this time.
Several moments pass.
“I’m sorry,” I say, at last. I bow my head- the news burns itself again into my mind. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine,” she pauses, hesitant. “It’s just that…”
“I know.”
Silence again. It rains harder- the coachman utters a curse.
“Are you alright?” The question is tentative, worry lined.
I give it thought. “I…I think I am. Or I will be.”
“I know you were close…” Her eyes say what words do not. Concern, fear, anxiety and grief.
I force a small smile. My vision blurs a little; there is an onset of emotion- I fight it down. “We were all close.”
“I know. It’s just…”
“I know,” My voice sounds thick. “You don’t…You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want.”
“I…I don’t know,” Her voice cracks. There is something running down her face, now. She continues, “It was just so abrupt.”
I look down and rest my arms on my knees- there are hot tears on my cheeks. Quietly, “I was at work when I heard.”
She takes my hand. I grip it tightly, desperately.
“I…I just,” I shake my head and look at her. “Why? Simply. Why?”
She does not answer. I turn my gaze heavenward.
I never believed in gods or God; the plurality or singularity. If there was a god, in that moment, then why.
God, who I hate so much, why?
I hear a rustle of cloth as she moves next to me. Our eyes meet, and no words are spoken. Pain- so much pain. How long will it be before it heals?
I pull her into an embrace, silent and fierce. The tears continue, and they stain her dress a darker black.
The hush is welcome. Around us, the carriage comes to a halt. I hear the coachman above us- he complains about the rain.
We break contact, and wipe our faces. We give each other nods of reassurance, and I step out as I unfurl the umbrella and offer it to her. I am thankful for the cool rain now- it splashes down my face. It hides my tears. We depart the coach, and climb the crest of the hill, past rows and rows of engraved spectators. Ahead, there is a small gathering at the top of the hill: a procession of black garbed individuals. We know them and them us. They greet us, with tenderness and condolences and careful words- I wish I could see them under happier conditions. Their movements all bespeak of grief and mourning. I make my way to the center.
There is a closed casket there. It has been lowered already.
I look down, and I can feel the tumult rise. I do not know who is there- neither face nor name. Someone says the name- it flits through my mind. I cannot find it, cannot remember it, and cannot hear it.
I walk around, to the tombstone, and sit down on it. The tears come again, as I sit there, deject and catatonic.
I might have cried a long time amidst wind and rain. I do not remember feeling the cold. I watch, insensible as the casket is covered. It feels like it is my own funeral. Even as the shovel turns the last ounce of earth, in my mind, it is still uncovered and fresh. I say something I do not know; the wind steals it away.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. Gentle, and real. I turn to see her.
“We should leave now,” Concern defines her face, behind the veil. “Before you catch something.”
I numbly nod.
We leave the cemetery, and with it, more than I know. Neither of us speaks a word as we move through twisting alleyways and narrow roads. She knows the way. She finds her car; we both slip out of the cold. I become aware of how wet I am, and I shiver.
“Are you cold?” She starts the car, and turns on the heat.
“A little.” I hesitate. “It’ll be fine.”
The engine sputters to life, and we pull out onto the road. Silence is the way of conversation again.
Sometime, between the dreary heavens and winding turns, she tells me to rest. I sleep, glad to escape the waking world.
I awake in intervals. Sunlight, warm and real, upon my face. The salt tinged air- the scent of the sea. The crash of the waves. A hand, upon my shoulder, and a voice.
“We’re here.” She stops the car as I come to.
We have left the city behind. There is no more rain- a clouded sun, but not dark. There is no civilization around us, and the ground is parched and dry and bereft of evident life. I step out of the car- the road is old and cracked, in disrepair.
Ahead of us, is an ocean. The road continues into the water, before breaking off. I can make out the faint outline of the remainder.
I do not speak, and let the salt air rub against my skin. The sun feels good. Finally, “Where are we?”
She leans against the side of the car. “Away. From the city.”
I nod and do not ask. I walk forward down that road- behind me, she follows. I stop at the edge and she steps up beside me. I turn to her. “Why are you here at all?”
She does not respond at first. Seconds tick by.
“Because…” She answers slowly, as though with difficulty. “I’m your friend.”
I smile wanly at this, and pull her closer.
We stand there a while, next to that sea of water and that broken road. I do not know how long.
I feel as though I am in a dream, and not alive.
Time for bed. Promised that I'd finish that thing before sleeping.
Lyrics (yay new music):
Those you’ve known
And lost, still walk behind you
All alone
Their song still seems to find you
They call you
As if you knew their longing -
They whistle through the lonely wind,
The long blue shadows falling