Necromantic update.
It's been two months since I saw the man in Greenwich - seems a small eternity. I've tried to talk to Holliday three times since then. The first time he answered, the second and third time he wasn't there at all - a fact as reassuring as it is terrifying.
Tarot cards have said that the seasons must turn before I find him again. I've done a spell of finding and carry the paper with me always. I've finished one story and written another. I've prayed and given my blood to the storm...
That, in some strange way, gives me hope. Last year and possibly the year before, I remember no summer storms. Before, when at Kew, I remember these glorious summer floods that were perfect to dance in. This year, since Holliday left and I failed the Greenwich man, there have been near constant storm clouds. (I exaggerate, of course I do, but truly there have been a lot of storms - on average one a week - many of them brimful of lightning - and I can't help but believe (I must believe) that they're significant. I hope that the storms are here because Holliday is looking for me and because he is linked with the Storm. There is no proof, just my hope and kinship with the Storm and the thought that if I stood in it and danced and bled as the lightning flickered he would be at my door...
Harlequin has offered to give his essence to bring H forth, but I'm thinking our magic is as compatible as us (ie, not). I can't help it, I'm wary of him in a way I can neither accept nor guard against. Also good manners refuse to take the help of a boy who wants me, to get the man I desire - that's like either playing out a comedy of farce and I have the stomach for neither.
Please, dear Nephthys, Lord Anubis, keep Holliday safe on his travels through life and death and all paths between and bring him once again with haste to my door. Please - what price would you ask for such a service? Please. Please. Please. Bring Holliday to my door once more - let me speak with him, know him, be with him, let us have a chance to create a happiness together. Please.
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I've been watching True Blood. Other than the vast amount of sex and the fact the Suki is like a dumber version of Rogue, my main thought is about Bill the Vampire from 1860. It's that Southern growl and hooded look as he says things like, "May - may I call upon you?" echos of that Antebellum Old South etiquette. Makes me think of the slang I found and phrases like 'playing according to Hoyle' and 'the girl's are sparking on you'. I adore the accent and the manners (once crystal sharp, now worn down at the edges). I wish someone (well, Holliday to specific) would speak to me like that.
Tarot cards have said that the seasons must turn before I find him again. I've done a spell of finding and carry the paper with me always. I've finished one story and written another. I've prayed and given my blood to the storm...
That, in some strange way, gives me hope. Last year and possibly the year before, I remember no summer storms. Before, when at Kew, I remember these glorious summer floods that were perfect to dance in. This year, since Holliday left and I failed the Greenwich man, there have been near constant storm clouds. (I exaggerate, of course I do, but truly there have been a lot of storms - on average one a week - many of them brimful of lightning - and I can't help but believe (I must believe) that they're significant. I hope that the storms are here because Holliday is looking for me and because he is linked with the Storm. There is no proof, just my hope and kinship with the Storm and the thought that if I stood in it and danced and bled as the lightning flickered he would be at my door...
Harlequin has offered to give his essence to bring H forth, but I'm thinking our magic is as compatible as us (ie, not). I can't help it, I'm wary of him in a way I can neither accept nor guard against. Also good manners refuse to take the help of a boy who wants me, to get the man I desire - that's like either playing out a comedy of farce and I have the stomach for neither.
Please, dear Nephthys, Lord Anubis, keep Holliday safe on his travels through life and death and all paths between and bring him once again with haste to my door. Please - what price would you ask for such a service? Please. Please. Please. Bring Holliday to my door once more - let me speak with him, know him, be with him, let us have a chance to create a happiness together. Please.
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I've been watching True Blood. Other than the vast amount of sex and the fact the Suki is like a dumber version of Rogue, my main thought is about Bill the Vampire from 1860. It's that Southern growl and hooded look as he says things like, "May - may I call upon you?" echos of that Antebellum Old South etiquette. Makes me think of the slang I found and phrases like 'playing according to Hoyle' and 'the girl's are sparking on you'. I adore the accent and the manners (once crystal sharp, now worn down at the edges). I wish someone (well, Holliday to specific) would speak to me like that.