OOM: A Walk through Texorami
OOM: Ramon in Texorami
It was cold out, which surprised him. He’s glad he has a jacket with him and he turns up the collar as he walks out of the apartment building and hits the streets. A cigarette is lit straight away and the first thing he notices is that even though it’s past midday, the town hasn’t woken up. Hardly surprising, he thinks. Random isn’t an early morning type of person; he wouldn’t fall for a place where everyone started work at the beginning of the day.
The place seems to run on bars and cafés, there’s an overflow of them. A town where people make their money serving drinks and entertaining - and then spend that money on drinking and being entertained. Perfect really. There has to be more to the place than this, but it’s what he sees as he walks…along with the remnants of last night’s party in every narrow alleyway; there are needles and used condoms, a few cracked mirrors. He smirks at them. His kind of place. He thinks he’d do well here, if he was staying.
But this is not a day for thinking of such things. He’d left Random in bed, after a pleasant few hours of playing, and then doing his best to fuck him through the mattress. He smiles to himself round the cigarette as he shoves his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders against the chill of the wind. A good morning. It had given him something to consider, but doesn’t everything these days?
There’s a smell that is at once both familiar and alien. Familiar because doesn’t everyone know what the ocean smells like? Alien because he’s Colombian, and didn’t grow up near the sea. He’s more used to mountains and sun, and rain. He heads for it nonetheless, because a beach is the right sort of backdrop for these kind of considerations. He’d love to buy a coffee on the way but there’s nowhere open yet and besides, he doesn’t have any money in this place.
He wants to think about what he’s decided he has to sort out, but like so much else about him, his mind has a life of its own. Instead of pondering the nature of morality and trying to decide why he doesn’t have any…he thinks about Lillith instead, a woman he’s just found out that Random was once in love with. For over eighty years. He didn’t know the guy had it in him.
It’s not a question of jealousy - he’d said she died over five hundred years ago. Or maybe it is, because seriously, how is he ever supposed to compete with that? And who knew how many other people Random had said those words to? It doesn’t matter, he knows it doesn’t. He’s very sure that he won’t be the last person to ever hear them either, not from that mouth that is generally laughing, hidden under green eyes that are usually lit up in amusement. He finds he’s smiling again, the cigarette almost dead, ready to be ground out under his boot as he walks away.
The sea is the sea, beach is the beach. He finds a rock and sits on it, stares at nothing. Morality Ramon, come on, think… But he doesn’t know what it is, or what it means, so it’s easy to let his mind drift away. He’s easily bored.
Eighty years. And he and I have been together…what, two months? Just over, and already he says he loves me. Seems to mean it too. And I’ve said the same, said it just this morning. OK, so it was after a fucking incredible orgasm, so maybe it doesn’t count…only I’ve said it at other times too, when we’re not in bed.
But not before I got cursed. Never before then. Thought it once, but never said it.
He’s glad, he thinks. Because then it would be true, the way he’s not sure he is now. Oh yes, everything in him says it is true…but doesn’t Arithon love everyone? Even the man who tortured him for three days. And Ramon Salazar is s’Ffalenn now, so by default, loves everyone too.
This has been on his mind for a while now. There hadn’t been a lot of distractions in that cell and he’d thought of whatever he could to keep his mind off pain. Not that this was much better. He sighs and lights another cigarette. It’s not a pleasing prospect, the scenario that plays out in his mind. ’Hey Random, the curse is gone!’ ‘That’s great babe, I love you.’ ‘Yeah, about that…Jeez, sorry, looks like being crazy warped my view. I really like fucking you but that’s all I can give. Not capable of anything else…’
It wouldn’t go down well.
But the possibility is real. How can a man like him think in terms of eighty years? Normally it wouldn’t be a prospect but seeing as he’ll be dead pretty soon and dead people can live the bar indefinitely…shit!
Maybe he should just explain. I kill people for fun. I wouldn’t give a fuck if I dropped a bomb and killed a million people in one fell swoop. I’ve done things that any normal person would be disgusted at…and I enjoy them. How can I love you Random? I do. I know I do…but I don’t know if I will when this is over. Maybe we should just start preparing for the worst, and the thought of telling you is killing me already. Foresight, y’know how it is.
He sighs, and flicks the butt of the smoke away into a puddle between the rocks. Watches if drift for a while before it gets trapped between two small stones, lodged immovably. He glares at it, then shrugs off his pointless mental debate. Nothing to be done. Can only wait and see.
Right then. Morality. He forces himself to think back to a few days ago, he’s not sure exactly how long it was. Funny things, comas. They really do make everything black. But he remembers quite well now, the thing that put him there; he remembers the weight in his head that is normally heavy…it has got so much worse. Even before he looked up, he knew. And then there were green eyes and the pain was so bad…he shuts his eyes against it now, not wanting to even think about going back there. But he doesn’t have to think to know the truth, that he was dying and so was Ramon…no no no, that’s all wrong. He smirks humourlessly. He knows quite well which if them is which now, being a universe away will do that to you. But the point was - they had been dying. The agony had been so bad, if they hadn’t been separated when they did, they’d both be vegetables by now, or their hearts would have just given out under the strain. Gone into shock maybe, brains could have just fucking exploded. Did it matter? They’d be dead either way, having caused each other enough agony to cripple anyone. He briefly wonders how Arithon is doing. The little bastard probably hadn’t spent a few days in a coma. He’s a tough one.
Texorami seems nice. But he can’t get back to Earth from here, unless Random takes him. He doesn’t like being at anyone’s mercy, not even his, and being tied to a bed doesn’t count. The bar gives him a gateway home, so that’s where he ultimately needs to be - he can’t stay here.
The wind blows again and it’s cold; he thinks about the bed he left to come walking. It had been warm. But sleep is the enemy at the moment and it lurks where he’s most comfortable, lying on his back with a hand in the thick blond hair that breathes easily on his chest. He’s smiling again at the thought, and has to force his mind to refocus.
Bar. He has to be able to be there. And at the moment, it’s not an option because Arithon works there,
I hate fucking cops…
and anyway, if left alone this geas might end up finishing him regardless. It’s not as though it’s a picnic even when he’s on his own, or with other people, or anywhere really. If he was forced to live with it forever, maybe he could…but he’s been told itcan be removed and therefore, removal is always on his mind. He doesn’t want it forever, even as a badge of honour. It goes against everything he is - and isn’t that the point? The punishment is certainly apt, and it makes him bitter because Arithon asked him to choose to betray himself. How can you ask a killer not to kill? How can you ask someone who doesn’t care, to care? To feel sympathy for people, to love them even? It’s an impossible task, like asking a fish to learn to breathe without water.
But there’s no escaping it now. He said yes, and now he has to deal with it. That’s what Ramon Salazar does…he plans and normally they work out. Normally everything is perfect because he kills people when it’s not. But the few times it’s not - he learns, and adapts and doesn’t make the same mistake twice. So that’s what’s called for here, adaptation. Do what’s necessary to get rid of this thing. Get your life back, fight for your true character. And in the meantime,
free Arithon from his pain, the pain he doesn’t deserve. Ama’idan my brother…
find out whether the love for Random is real. That’s very important.
He’s bored of sitting. Gets bored easily. Anyway, it’s cold. So he stands, and starts making his way through the streets, passed bars that are closed off against unwelcome attackers, still shut to the world. He thinks it would be nice to have a key to one of them so he could get a drink, and wonders whether Random can do that with his shadows…
A cigarette is lit and he pulls on it hard, thinking furiously. Alright Arithon. I promise you, it’ll be over. I don’t want it anymore. And if understanding is what it takes, then that’s what I’ll go for. Can’t be that hard surely? Can’t be harder than listening to those screams every night, unwillingly being forced to try and match them, seeing the face of my son the last time I laid eyes on him before I got him killed. I have to find a way out, for both our sakes…
…and in case you’re wondering…no, having you begging at screaming like that wasn’t worth it. It was all I wanted back then and I’ve had it now - and there’s no satisfaction in it at all. I guess I’ve learned one thing already. Some things just aren’t worth it.
He watches the few people that are moving around as he makes his way back through the town, most of them are bleary-eyed and moving slowly, obviously not comfortable with what, for them, is still early. He thinks of what Random will look like when he slides back into bed, if he wakes up he’ll grumble and frown before dropping off again, curled into him…if he doesn’t, he’ll look peaceful and his mouth will probably be touched by a small smile.
Ramon stops at the door to the apartment building, lips pulled upwards around the cigarette. He’s about to go in when a noise catches his attention - across the street, the shutters of a small store are going up. For some reason, this makes him grin…or maybe it’s the thought of getting back inside, where it’s warm. Either way, he flicks the cigarette and watches as a gust of wind catches it and sends it flying towards the sky.
He’s glad he’s been brought here. Glad of who has brought him here. He likes Texorami.
It was cold out, which surprised him. He’s glad he has a jacket with him and he turns up the collar as he walks out of the apartment building and hits the streets. A cigarette is lit straight away and the first thing he notices is that even though it’s past midday, the town hasn’t woken up. Hardly surprising, he thinks. Random isn’t an early morning type of person; he wouldn’t fall for a place where everyone started work at the beginning of the day.
The place seems to run on bars and cafés, there’s an overflow of them. A town where people make their money serving drinks and entertaining - and then spend that money on drinking and being entertained. Perfect really. There has to be more to the place than this, but it’s what he sees as he walks…along with the remnants of last night’s party in every narrow alleyway; there are needles and used condoms, a few cracked mirrors. He smirks at them. His kind of place. He thinks he’d do well here, if he was staying.
But this is not a day for thinking of such things. He’d left Random in bed, after a pleasant few hours of playing, and then doing his best to fuck him through the mattress. He smiles to himself round the cigarette as he shoves his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders against the chill of the wind. A good morning. It had given him something to consider, but doesn’t everything these days?
There’s a smell that is at once both familiar and alien. Familiar because doesn’t everyone know what the ocean smells like? Alien because he’s Colombian, and didn’t grow up near the sea. He’s more used to mountains and sun, and rain. He heads for it nonetheless, because a beach is the right sort of backdrop for these kind of considerations. He’d love to buy a coffee on the way but there’s nowhere open yet and besides, he doesn’t have any money in this place.
He wants to think about what he’s decided he has to sort out, but like so much else about him, his mind has a life of its own. Instead of pondering the nature of morality and trying to decide why he doesn’t have any…he thinks about Lillith instead, a woman he’s just found out that Random was once in love with. For over eighty years. He didn’t know the guy had it in him.
It’s not a question of jealousy - he’d said she died over five hundred years ago. Or maybe it is, because seriously, how is he ever supposed to compete with that? And who knew how many other people Random had said those words to? It doesn’t matter, he knows it doesn’t. He’s very sure that he won’t be the last person to ever hear them either, not from that mouth that is generally laughing, hidden under green eyes that are usually lit up in amusement. He finds he’s smiling again, the cigarette almost dead, ready to be ground out under his boot as he walks away.
The sea is the sea, beach is the beach. He finds a rock and sits on it, stares at nothing. Morality Ramon, come on, think… But he doesn’t know what it is, or what it means, so it’s easy to let his mind drift away. He’s easily bored.
Eighty years. And he and I have been together…what, two months? Just over, and already he says he loves me. Seems to mean it too. And I’ve said the same, said it just this morning. OK, so it was after a fucking incredible orgasm, so maybe it doesn’t count…only I’ve said it at other times too, when we’re not in bed.
But not before I got cursed. Never before then. Thought it once, but never said it.
He’s glad, he thinks. Because then it would be true, the way he’s not sure he is now. Oh yes, everything in him says it is true…but doesn’t Arithon love everyone? Even the man who tortured him for three days. And Ramon Salazar is s’Ffalenn now, so by default, loves everyone too.
This has been on his mind for a while now. There hadn’t been a lot of distractions in that cell and he’d thought of whatever he could to keep his mind off pain. Not that this was much better. He sighs and lights another cigarette. It’s not a pleasing prospect, the scenario that plays out in his mind. ’Hey Random, the curse is gone!’ ‘That’s great babe, I love you.’ ‘Yeah, about that…Jeez, sorry, looks like being crazy warped my view. I really like fucking you but that’s all I can give. Not capable of anything else…’
It wouldn’t go down well.
But the possibility is real. How can a man like him think in terms of eighty years? Normally it wouldn’t be a prospect but seeing as he’ll be dead pretty soon and dead people can live the bar indefinitely…shit!
Maybe he should just explain. I kill people for fun. I wouldn’t give a fuck if I dropped a bomb and killed a million people in one fell swoop. I’ve done things that any normal person would be disgusted at…and I enjoy them. How can I love you Random? I do. I know I do…but I don’t know if I will when this is over. Maybe we should just start preparing for the worst, and the thought of telling you is killing me already. Foresight, y’know how it is.
He sighs, and flicks the butt of the smoke away into a puddle between the rocks. Watches if drift for a while before it gets trapped between two small stones, lodged immovably. He glares at it, then shrugs off his pointless mental debate. Nothing to be done. Can only wait and see.
Right then. Morality. He forces himself to think back to a few days ago, he’s not sure exactly how long it was. Funny things, comas. They really do make everything black. But he remembers quite well now, the thing that put him there; he remembers the weight in his head that is normally heavy…it has got so much worse. Even before he looked up, he knew. And then there were green eyes and the pain was so bad…he shuts his eyes against it now, not wanting to even think about going back there. But he doesn’t have to think to know the truth, that he was dying and so was Ramon…no no no, that’s all wrong. He smirks humourlessly. He knows quite well which if them is which now, being a universe away will do that to you. But the point was - they had been dying. The agony had been so bad, if they hadn’t been separated when they did, they’d both be vegetables by now, or their hearts would have just given out under the strain. Gone into shock maybe, brains could have just fucking exploded. Did it matter? They’d be dead either way, having caused each other enough agony to cripple anyone. He briefly wonders how Arithon is doing. The little bastard probably hadn’t spent a few days in a coma. He’s a tough one.
Texorami seems nice. But he can’t get back to Earth from here, unless Random takes him. He doesn’t like being at anyone’s mercy, not even his, and being tied to a bed doesn’t count. The bar gives him a gateway home, so that’s where he ultimately needs to be - he can’t stay here.
The wind blows again and it’s cold; he thinks about the bed he left to come walking. It had been warm. But sleep is the enemy at the moment and it lurks where he’s most comfortable, lying on his back with a hand in the thick blond hair that breathes easily on his chest. He’s smiling again at the thought, and has to force his mind to refocus.
Bar. He has to be able to be there. And at the moment, it’s not an option because Arithon works there,
I hate fucking cops…
and anyway, if left alone this geas might end up finishing him regardless. It’s not as though it’s a picnic even when he’s on his own, or with other people, or anywhere really. If he was forced to live with it forever, maybe he could…but he’s been told itcan be removed and therefore, removal is always on his mind. He doesn’t want it forever, even as a badge of honour. It goes against everything he is - and isn’t that the point? The punishment is certainly apt, and it makes him bitter because Arithon asked him to choose to betray himself. How can you ask a killer not to kill? How can you ask someone who doesn’t care, to care? To feel sympathy for people, to love them even? It’s an impossible task, like asking a fish to learn to breathe without water.
But there’s no escaping it now. He said yes, and now he has to deal with it. That’s what Ramon Salazar does…he plans and normally they work out. Normally everything is perfect because he kills people when it’s not. But the few times it’s not - he learns, and adapts and doesn’t make the same mistake twice. So that’s what’s called for here, adaptation. Do what’s necessary to get rid of this thing. Get your life back, fight for your true character. And in the meantime,
free Arithon from his pain, the pain he doesn’t deserve. Ama’idan my brother…
find out whether the love for Random is real. That’s very important.
He’s bored of sitting. Gets bored easily. Anyway, it’s cold. So he stands, and starts making his way through the streets, passed bars that are closed off against unwelcome attackers, still shut to the world. He thinks it would be nice to have a key to one of them so he could get a drink, and wonders whether Random can do that with his shadows…
A cigarette is lit and he pulls on it hard, thinking furiously. Alright Arithon. I promise you, it’ll be over. I don’t want it anymore. And if understanding is what it takes, then that’s what I’ll go for. Can’t be that hard surely? Can’t be harder than listening to those screams every night, unwillingly being forced to try and match them, seeing the face of my son the last time I laid eyes on him before I got him killed. I have to find a way out, for both our sakes…
…and in case you’re wondering…no, having you begging at screaming like that wasn’t worth it. It was all I wanted back then and I’ve had it now - and there’s no satisfaction in it at all. I guess I’ve learned one thing already. Some things just aren’t worth it.
He watches the few people that are moving around as he makes his way back through the town, most of them are bleary-eyed and moving slowly, obviously not comfortable with what, for them, is still early. He thinks of what Random will look like when he slides back into bed, if he wakes up he’ll grumble and frown before dropping off again, curled into him…if he doesn’t, he’ll look peaceful and his mouth will probably be touched by a small smile.
Ramon stops at the door to the apartment building, lips pulled upwards around the cigarette. He’s about to go in when a noise catches his attention - across the street, the shutters of a small store are going up. For some reason, this makes him grin…or maybe it’s the thought of getting back inside, where it’s warm. Either way, he flicks the cigarette and watches as a gust of wind catches it and sends it flying towards the sky.
He’s glad he’s been brought here. Glad of who has brought him here. He likes Texorami.