andar entre

Mon, 21 Dec 2009 03:31:50 GMT

its coming

Wed, 09 Dec 2009 12:47:39 GMT

Winter is yet fifteen days away - she said. That was Sunday. Instead of going to church, I went to a grave, and she was there waiting, like she always is. Waiting and watching. Waiting for me to break. Watching for the signs. She's always watching. She always knows.

You have done well this year - she said.

Yeah I guess I have. She's not the first to say it. Sin said it too. You said it, mi alma, in your own way. You always see. You're always watching, just like her. You always know.

12 more days

It'll be nice to sleep again - won't it? But then - when I sleep the dreams come. I'm not looking forward to dreaming again. But I think he is. I can feel him. Watching. Waiting. Just like her. No - not like her. Not like her at all.

12 days from now I'll be sleeping - and you?

You'll be waking.

God forgive me. If I could just put off sleeping for one more day. Just so I know you'll be all right. Just so I know if it was worth a damn. If it meant anything. If he was listening at all.

Even if he was - will it matter?

Fri, 02 Oct 2009 12:12:50 GMT

there were paper words in my pocket. the paper smells like her, and that's her handwriting. I'd know it anywhere. I remember-

Siempre
I've tried to let go
I've tried to give in.
I've tried to lose myself from you
and I can't.

Forgive me for the visit
No one can truly understand
I need you at times
like breathing isn't important
without knowing that you're still there
still lingering
still lurking
and like you used to
still watching.
So I'll wait.
I can't stop missing you
And I've never stopped loving you

Sin tu...yo soy perdido.

Te amo, Siempre.

my funny little valentine. mi mundo. your timing has never been good.

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 22:18:52 GMT

I feel

fine

An entire week - gone. It's hard to believe. I'm sure I must've dreamed, if I was sleeping that long - but I remember none of it. There's nothing. I remember eating this egg. A golden egg. A soft egg spun of gold. I remember eating it and then -

nothing

I woke up when the season changed. I woke up feeling the fever coursing through me like it has every year before. I woke up starving, thirsty. So thirsty. If I can believe it at all, that'd be the sign that proves it. How can anyone sleep so long without being hungry? Without needing something to drink really fucking bad.

But beyond that-

I feel fine. It's strange.

Tue, 18 Aug 2009 08:28:31 GMT

I'm not sure how to tell you what's wrong with me. It doesn't even really make sense to me most of the time. Sometimes I'm not myself though. Ever since Missie got those stickers, I've been lost. It takes a lot to keep myself together, and I'm glad I could when we freed you from those stupid fucking chains.

Never again, mi alma. Never again. Please. I don't think I could bear to lose you to a white shadow the way I lost my father. That was too close. It hurt too much to look at you. I didn't know who you were anymore. Not until they were gone and it was over and I could touch you again. God but I've missed you, Tohias.

I know you keep asking me. What's wrong? Amante, what's wrong? I wish I could tell you. I wish it made any sense. But you know- I have Fionna's memories. They came after the night Missie put her stickers and tattoos on me, after Suliss stabbed me between the ribs.

I haven't known what to do about them. All this time. They're just there, always there, and they're more than myself. There's more of her than there is me and sometimes they consume me. I can't control them very well. It's hard to remember what's real, what's me, what's here and now. Sometimes I see her when she isn't there at all and sometimes I AM her. Does it make any sense to you? I'm not sure I'm making sense anymore.

I fear-

Oh God, mi alma. I fear. I shouldn't be fearing. I haven't feared in years, but I'm feeling it again. The nightmares are back and they shouldn't be. I woke up shouting the other morning. Six days ago, I woke up screaming in the dark just before morning and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, so wrong. What does it mean? What did he do?

But - I'm working on a plan. I think. If it weren't for Skid I never would've thought of this. He went to talk to my mother. She sent him to Revari. They talked and she gave him an egg. He says - as she says - that it's supposed to help. That if I eat it all that's not mine will go away. I don't know if I should just erase it, though, so I've been working on this book. I picked it up yesterday morning. I picked it up after church. This big blank book and I'm writing everything of hers that I can think of on its pages.

I'm going to give it back to her. They're hers anyway. I shouldn't have them. I'm going to give her this book when I'm done. Her biography, I guess. Everything I know about her but shouldn't know at all. I'm going to give it to her and them I'm going to call Skid to bring me the egg. I can't take them anymore. They're driving me mad. If this is what I need to do to get rid of them, then I'll do it. I don't know if I can trust her, but if Skid trusts her-

I trust Skid. But I trust you more. I'm not sure what's going to happen, but I want you to know. I want you to be there. I want -

Tell me, mi alma. Am I doing the right thing?

Tue, 28 Jul 2009 11:05:56 GMT

ran into your dog last night

don't worry - I didn't kill him

we actually had a nice little chat

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 21:23:59 GMT

He was an old man. Maybe it was just his time. Maybe - I saved his life only to take it from him. Maybe Thorne was meant to be the reaper. Maybe I took his kill from him. Maybe -

All I did was show him the truth. I gave him the answers he wanted. And on his dying breath he couldn't accept the truth for what it was. Right there. In the palm of his hand. Right before his eyes. His eyes - I looked right into them, but was I the last thing he saw?

Lies - he insisted. His dying breath. His last word. Only one. All he said was - Lies.

I showed him the truth. And the truth is never easy. Maybe it was too much for an old man to endure. He was stubborn to the very end. And this one -

This one I didn't mean to kill.

quia peccávi nimis cogitatióne, verbo et ópere: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa

Mon, 08 Jun 2009 22:56:51 GMT

and now you know - all this time this is what I've kept from you

now you know - it's not a name you say aloud

I should have warned you better

Thu, 14 May 2009 18:44:40 GMT

There's one. That's the first. Then there's the shape of the rose.

Between that there's more.

The middle. Number of eyes. Number of legs. Arms and ears and how many it takes to tango.

Two between.

The Eiffel tower. They fit there.

Of five there's three. Of eighteen, two. Then ten and one, fourteen, sixteen and nine.

Four plus six equals two.

Those two are one.

The middle.

She knows.

Sun, 03 May 2009 00:10:34 GMT

How many more must go? How many more must I watch fade away?

Truth and lies. Lies and truths. You say one thing and everything else says something else entirely. I should believe you. I should trust your words first. But the same part of me that has given up on Mishka has to admit this as it is as well.

resto en paz
Gemethyst
abril veintinueve
At least- at least this wasn't the doing of any white shadows. This one wasn't caused by my own hand. But then again- None of them ever were, were they? All these markers. All these lives. Everyone I've seen go and the few I've seen come back.

Nothing ever stays dead in Rhydin, does it?

If that were true-

Thu, 23 Apr 2009 07:22:31 GMT

write it down she says - as if it were that easy

Quin etiam, sententia EGO ingredior per valley of umbra of nex.

I know these words. I hear them over and over and over again. Echoing and rolling through my dreams. Backward and forward and all around. They roll and tumble, twist and turn, go in upside down and never come out right side up again, but there they are.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

nam et si ambulavero in medio umbrae mortis non timebo mala quoniam tu mecum es virga tua et baculus tuus ipsa me consolata sunt

Maybe. Maybe not. Inside out and betwixt between. Bells are ringing in my dreams. Sometimes when I dream I'm not myself. I know I'm not myself. I'm someone else. I feel and see and taste and smell and hear as they do. All the sense that are not my own. Not myself. Not me. Someone else. Then I wake up and remember who I am. I wake up and remember these aren't my memories. Not a nightmare. I'm not afraid. Whoever this is might be afraid but not me. I don't feel it. I can't feel it. He can't touch me anymore. Just another thing that needs doing, another demon to face.

I can't write them as I see them, but I could show you. If I close my eyes and think on it long enough, get lost in the tangle of sights and sounds and shapes of things I never saw on my own but through his eyes-

She asks me whose dreams they are if they're not mine. They're his. He's a boy. Was a boy. Maybe still is a boy? I don't know who he is or what happened to him. All I know is his name. No mirrors in his dreams. Nothing to show me who he is except- Except her.

Don't cry, Mother. I go to serve God.

A name. A name. He has a name.

D E M A S

Wed, 15 Apr 2009 18:04:46 GMT

She asks me if I'm happy. What a strange question. Something I've never really given much thought to before. Haven't you asked me the same in some way of your own?

She isn't happy. She asked me if I was and that's what I told her. You aren't. She was quick to see - that doesn't answer my question. No. How can I when I don't even really know the answer to the question? Am I happy? I don't feel that I am, but I don't feel sad either. If I'm not feeling one way, shouldn't I be feeling the other? Isn't that the way of things?

Not happy. Not sad. Not lonely or angry. Even when you say you've missed me, all of you, every one of you says it in some way. I missed you. But I never miss anyone. They're gone and then they come back and to me it's another day. All the same. Nothing's changed. And yet everything is changing.

How can I be happy when none of you are?

Thu, 09 Apr 2009 09:49:43 GMT

I'm sorry - I did too much again didn't I?

Fri, 03 Apr 2009 11:45:08 GMT

that one's done - it's a start

all this shit's giving me a headache, but I'm not giving up

I thought they were gone. I thought I could just give them up, let them go. But no. They keep coming back. All at once. All of a sudden. Spring came. Madre's awake. Everyone else comes crawling back, out of the woodwork like people say. I thought I could just let them go. But seeing them again -

I want the family we used to have.

Everyone all together again.

Sun, 29 Mar 2009 07:33:01 GMT

are you clever sin

Thu, 26 Mar 2009 05:43:42 GMT

A horse, a horse.

My kingdom for a horse.

But what if i don't have a kingdom to give away? vee used to say that all the time. those two lines. except - she was always asking for water. all those people left behind.

Rambling rose tavern. don't really miss it. never much fit in there. anywhere.

Other places maybe. maybe now. maybe never.

So many things left yet to do. so much. so little time. falling behind.

Ever get that feeling?

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 23:14:04 GMT

cinco

when it came - she broke me

again

god I'm such a fucking idiot

Sun, 15 Mar 2009 03:30:08 GMT

6 more days

I can feel it

6 more days

dreams and eyes and whispers

I can feel it

6 more days

want to dig a hole and hide away. want to drill a hole in the side of my head to make it go away. sal, you're being emo - carolyn would say. those were the days. left them far behind. what I'd give to go back there again. back in time. back when time had no meaning. back when I could close my eyes and forget - forget - forget everything.

so much to do and so little time - as the saying goes. bekah and fio and ali and mishka and dar and taneth and tara and elly and so many many people. so much work left undone. got to get the ball rolling. got to get moving. got to work.

6 days from now

she wakes

Thu, 12 Mar 2009 04:45:21 GMT

Fury kissed me. That was pretty awesome.

Even though it was for you.

Sat, 07 Mar 2009 02:50:01 GMT

                Fingers brush across the page. He touches words he had not written. There they are beneath the ones he had. A flowing script of little words, five very simple words: "o thou my lovely boy" they say. He reads them again and again, tracing circles on the page beside them. Standing out in contrast to the words he had written himself, days ago. These five do not belong here. Or do they? He cannot decide. Five simple words that mean something profound.

               "She reads them," he says, looking to the window ledge. There on the sill is where he has always kept this book. She reads them. He knows now that she reads them. The paper words they share with each other. Paper words bound in books and memories. Memories....

               ...he touches his free hand palm down on the object before him.

               Something wavers through the contact between flesh and flesh, something fey and strange and distant...a radio playing scratchy tunes in another room, the sparkle and twitch of lightning on the horizon. Bend your will to it, faerie creature, and know the truth, it seems to say. Listen closely. Lean in, and I will tell you a secret.

               Salvador's right hand is glued to the portrait, palm stuck to it, but a tremor shakes up from wrist to elbow to shoulder and chokes the breath he'd held right out of him. This ... this isn't what he'd expected at all. He grips Sin's wrist so hard that his nails dig up gouges and make him bleed, but the connection is there, palm to palm. He feels ... pain.

               In contact is affirmation -- his hand remains, thus he gives his assent. His power takes him and thrusts the truth through him like a sword.

               He sucks in a sharp breath and trembles while shaking off the memory. As much of the memory that he can shake off. There are snippets that still cling to his skin. He knows. He knows. This is one memory he won't ever be able to shake. Just as this woman, this creature who wrote on his page, is a woman he will never be able to be rid of. Unless... "Unless I kill her."

               With that thought comes a still silence. He reads those five words over and over again. O thou my lovely boy. He traces them with a fingertip while he reads them. He traces the swirl and the arch of each letter, the flowing script written in a hand that is not his own. He pulls his hand from the page and he writes. He writes the only thing he can think to write that will not betray his thoughts again. For she reads. She knows. He cannot hide from her. Just as he cannot hide ... from Her.

Mon, 02 Mar 2009 10:38:38 GMT

Twice since then my dreams have been the same. I close my eyes and see the darkness. Colors my eyes have never seen on their own. Words etched into stone and the faces of six demons holding down the chains. These demons have the faces of women. Six. No. Seven. One of them stands apart and she is a goddess. Beautiful and deadly with long gold hair. She is made of light and she speaks sweet, soft words that kill. Her words are a death sentence.

I should wake up sweating, screaming. I should wake like she does, if she does, recalling and reliving the vision that we shared. But I don't. I wake as still and calm as I always do, but the memory still haunts me. Part of me now just as it's a part of her. Who is she?

You've spoken to me of her before, but I never think I really listened. I never knew her as I've ever known anyone else. Past loves and lives and hurts. You've told me many things, about many people, but this one, until now, has always been a shadow I thought I could forget. Not now. Never now. Nothing I can do could possibly make me forget her. She's there. I feel her. I taste her when she's near. I know her like I shouldn't know anyone else. But only this one small agonizing part of her. The rest of her still hides in shadow.

You collect people.

Pick them up and put them on a shelf. Keep them clean and dusted, labeled and categorized. Friends, lovers, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers - Never let them go. You never let them go. Try as you might I don't think you've ever really truly let anyone go.

I asked you if that was a promise you could keep. You said yes. Even though I believe you, I know it'll only break you. Having to do what must be done. I cannot tell you-

Be a Jester. Be a King. Be what you must be and where you must be it. On one hand you are this thing. On the other you are that. Keep yourself balanced. Remember that these to parts you play are both still you. You are you. These roles you play are only masks, but you don't really need them. Masks over masks. We all hide who we really are, because none of us wants to hurt anymore.

Fri, 27 Feb 2009 20:42:35 GMT

best. ~~day~~ week. ever.

Wed, 25 Feb 2009 21:00:04 GMT

23 days - I can feel it coming.

All these things I do for you. When was the last time I ever did anything for myself? When was the last time I was selfish? Ah yes. There was that talk we had. About him. You are not mine to keep. I should have let you go years ago. Let you go like I did everyone else.

I am a tool. A weapon. Use me however you see fit.

23 days - I can feel her stirring.

Looking out into the streets I see ice and snow melting away and turning to slush beneath the feet of pedestrians walking by. Slush beneath the wheels of cars and hooves of horses. Birds are already singing. They've come back early, one by one. They're ready to greet her when she wakes. But am I?

I am a slave to my nature, but I am nothing.

Maybe I've asked too much of you. If I had a heart like yours I'd be better for you. But you're the only one I fight for anymore. One by one I've let them go and they just keep coming back. I don't have room for them all. Not anymore. Not for anyone else. It's dangerous enough for me to keep room for you.

Do what you have to do, but don't be disappointed if you fail. Enjoy what you have while you have it. Tomorrow may never come. You're not a failure. You're just afraid.

23 days.

Tue, 17 Feb 2009 11:53:08 GMT

Salvador,

I think Julia realized how much I needed to reconnect with myself; I am with Ana now, with some coloring books I picked up at the air port. I swear, these scribbles are art. Somewhere in the city, Nineveh is exploring still, I think; he never liked children anyway, I expect. I am sorry I left without explaining (again), but I could feel myself snapping, fraying -- and I needed to find my balance again before it became too much. Nineveh never asks questions, never wonders why or how things happen to me -- he simply lets me explain things when I am ready to. Perhaps when I am ready someday, I will. But for now, I am remembering again.

There will come a time when I must face my fears so they cannot control me -- and I considered doing it right there and then. But my love, there is so much yet to be done, so much I must rise against.. and that is something I will need you for, if you will walk beside me -- your broken soul, your sinner. Be well, amante.. I will be home late tomorrow evening, should all go as planned.

Te amo -- always. Do not forget, ever.

- Tohias

P.S.: Ana drew this for you.

Sun, 15 Feb 2009 13:08:52 GMT

the bed still smells like you - I never want to leave