At the Royal Bethlehem...again.

[honoriamharlowe]

 I am clay.

I drown in it, now. It fills my lungs, it chokes my breath, it seeps into my nostrils and pores, it is slowly becoming a vital part of me.

Except for my eyes. Those are still green. Or brown. Or red. Or gold. I'm not sure anymore.

I had to learn to walk again, you know? Like a baby. I am reborn into a hybrid of life and earth, a golem, a

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[asher_wilsford]

Asher sits on a bench in the lobby of the Hotel, watching the "weekenders" as the cats call them. One laps at the water in the fountain, another preaches loudly to an invisible congregation, and another argues with a lizard of distinction about politics and alcohol. It is a strange sight, but Asher is not here for entertainment. He is here to gather their secrets. Madness in the Neath is triggered by terrible knowledge, and that knowledge can be sold for a high price. Most of the words these people say is only nonsense, but Asher has lived in the Hotel long enough to be able to pick out the truth.

Asher sweeps his eyes over the room but stops on the hallway nearest his bench. Is that Honoria? He leaves the bench and quietly moves closer until he is close enough to see her face. He sees the tear stains on her face and feels his heart constrict. To avoid startling her, he makes sure his remaining footstep is audible as he moves closer and calls out to her

[honoriamharlowe]

She looks at him, confused. "Are you the one the one that always visits me?" Cautiously she touches his hand, drawing back as if she is burned at the feeling of his skin against hers. "No you're not you can't be you're not clay like me you're flesh I hear it talking pleading begging for me and I can't because I'm clay I'm clay I'm clay!"

Her last few words come out in a frustrated shout, and she grabs at him, shrieking, "Do you know where he is that one that man of clay that lying clay monster he said we would be together but he never comes never ever he's left me to die?"

[asher_wilsford]

She thinks she's clay, what happened to make her think that she's clay?

He jerks when she grabs him and tries to interrupt her tirade by repeating her name. As soon as she quiets, he takes her hand firmly and brings it up in front of her face. "Honoria, look at your hand! What do you see - flesh or clay?"

He hopes that she is able to see her hand as it really is, but he has seen enough people in this Hotel talking to invisible beings or agonizing over nonexistent wounds to know that Honoria may see something different than what he sees.

[honoriamharlowe]

Recognition crosses her face for an instant as she studies her hand. Then she looks at him, really looks for a few moments. Slowly she reaches to touch his face, if he'll let her.

"Familiar you are to me just like someone I knew once or I still know I can't tell," Honoria says, softly and deliberately. "There is flesh beneath the clay I think I feel it moving like water beneath a bridge pulsing slowly slowly but it's going away melting into me fading gently away. I was once flesh but I am changing from summer to winter from flesh to clay."

Her face is sad as she looks at him, but her voice grows insistent, pleading. "Can you help me save me carry me from this prison of clay this trap this place I find myself? Can you turn me back make me remember how to be flesh and not clay or shale or rock?"