Will it be a boy or a girl? We don't know. Before this, she had visions of two girls, one following the other. Now, that supposed future is not nearly so certain.
Than again, when has anything in my life ever been certain?
Do I want a boy or a girl? I told her that after siring two sons, I would have liked to have had at least one daughter, but it may not be possible. My parents changed me. They made me what I am, whatever that is, for a reason. Continuation of the family line. Having the perfect family on the face of it all, no matter how disturbed the truth might be. So I have produced sons. Or rather, the women I have been with, have produced sons.
Any sons produced by women of her family, were...wrong. Fine on the face of it all, just like my family, but the underneath was different.
Part of her 'programming' is to heal at an abnormal rate. The cut on her thumb has been there for over a hand. Healed, but not by the next day.
She's been ill. I recall her saying that didn't happen with the other two, despite one being male. Different father. Normal father. Not me.
The whispers in the halls, I hear them more often now. They're louder. She's heard them, but likely only because of her gift. She's attuned to that sort of thing, and the sounds have never bothered anyone else, save Bonnie. Those of us meant to hear them.
Stylus would not let her go. While Madeline and I were on Cos, she could barely leave its halls. She thinks it's lonely. Perhaps it is. It would definitely have cause to be. How many times have I thought about burning this house down? It won't let me. The serum solution was in the wall, by the fireplace. The wall is gone. The rest are still standing.
I took the journal from the study, and placed it in my desk, in the main room. The things that belonged to Madaline, the items I didn't burn when Bonnie had her period of confusion, they're in the guest room now. We don't use that room now. I go to her room. Sometimes, by appointment. Sometimes, just because I can't sleep.
Do I love her? No, not in the way everyone else would mean it. But I adore her, and these are things one should not have to face alone. Any of it.
It's almost dawn.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
666 Would Have Been Better
"The Six of Wands. This is the card of triumph and pride. A card of victory. It is an acknowledgement of accomplishments, a pleasure after conflict. Too, it can preordain the arrival of good news. There is an overall satisfaction within you, for you have surmounted certain obstacles of late. Relationships will also be benefit, so you should take full advantage of it before it decreases, as it will, with time. This is a good card, and one that has already come to pass."
"Not only.. what happened yesterday. Zeb is safe, and that is muchly due to you." More accomplishments that he might have forgotten, or just chose to ignore.
"The Six of Cups." Two six's. "Pleasure renews with reflection. This is the card of good will, innocence.. and." There was a pause, one purposely made, so that when she spoke again, she'd have his full attention. Not that she didn't have it now, but this was important. "The card of childhood. Memories, dreams and visions and dreams will become increasingly significant. There could be a renewal of friendships coming, and new opportunities will soon present themselves. There should be an expectation of happiness, a wish granted, or a renewal of hope. Perhaps an awakened enthusiam for something you thought lost, or unattainable."
"You have drawn two six's. Six represents balance and harmony. A symmetry, loyalty and love. It is also.. associated with companionship and motherhood." Didn't really need to spell that one out for him either. Fate was still on track.
The third card touched, Fate's finger drawing to its edge before, with a gentle twist, it was turned. "The Ten of Wands.The Lord of Oppression." Fate swallowed, a glance upwards, briefly, eyes returning to the card. "Revenge strikes with malice. A card of burdens, overextending, of struggle. Fruitless efforts are to come and you will circle yourself for answers.. There will come a time in your future, when you will reevaluate certain situations and a heavy load will be dropped. Difficult demands will be met and inhibitions will be overcome." Fate paused a moment, closing her eyes, the whispers in her head growing more vague, her own voiced mimicking "Your talents and skills are being used in the wrong way. There will be dangerous intrigues, but you will not know who you can trust. There is injustice and possible failure, as well as cruelty and lies. The cards whisper of treachery within the ranks."
Hand pulled away, as if she didn't want to hear, or see anything further. Eyes opened and staring, before cloak was pulled tighter around her body. The worried look was there, one cast in agonizing fulfillment, but nothing more was said, for she knew all it took was one decision not yet made and the cards would change their mind, as they did often.
"Not only.. what happened yesterday. Zeb is safe, and that is muchly due to you." More accomplishments that he might have forgotten, or just chose to ignore.
"The Six of Cups." Two six's. "Pleasure renews with reflection. This is the card of good will, innocence.. and." There was a pause, one purposely made, so that when she spoke again, she'd have his full attention. Not that she didn't have it now, but this was important. "The card of childhood. Memories, dreams and visions and dreams will become increasingly significant. There could be a renewal of friendships coming, and new opportunities will soon present themselves. There should be an expectation of happiness, a wish granted, or a renewal of hope. Perhaps an awakened enthusiam for something you thought lost, or unattainable."
"You have drawn two six's. Six represents balance and harmony. A symmetry, loyalty and love. It is also.. associated with companionship and motherhood." Didn't really need to spell that one out for him either. Fate was still on track.
The third card touched, Fate's finger drawing to its edge before, with a gentle twist, it was turned. "The Ten of Wands.The Lord of Oppression." Fate swallowed, a glance upwards, briefly, eyes returning to the card. "Revenge strikes with malice. A card of burdens, overextending, of struggle. Fruitless efforts are to come and you will circle yourself for answers.. There will come a time in your future, when you will reevaluate certain situations and a heavy load will be dropped. Difficult demands will be met and inhibitions will be overcome." Fate paused a moment, closing her eyes, the whispers in her head growing more vague, her own voiced mimicking "Your talents and skills are being used in the wrong way. There will be dangerous intrigues, but you will not know who you can trust. There is injustice and possible failure, as well as cruelty and lies. The cards whisper of treachery within the ranks."
Hand pulled away, as if she didn't want to hear, or see anything further. Eyes opened and staring, before cloak was pulled tighter around her body. The worried look was there, one cast in agonizing fulfillment, but nothing more was said, for she knew all it took was one decision not yet made and the cards would change their mind, as they did often.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Vacation
I received a letter from Sophie after Zeb had been missing a few days, and notified my Circle that their assistance was required. They came from Port Cos, and we cleaned out the area of thieves, save for the woman that Zeb must have been trying to get to that resulted in his being taken. He was bloodied and had beaten several times over, but we took him back to Stylus, and disposed of the rest in our ways.
His women had been divided by myself, so that each of them went to one of us-Abby to Ramza, Mira to Kade, and Portia to myself. It was safer to not have them all in one place, until we were sure Stylus wasn't being watched. Still, I kept up my usual duties at the school and the shop, so that my activities would not be questioned by those that might be curious. I did not know where Ramza and Abby had gone, but let Kade know when he and Mira could come to Stylus without trouble.
Gemma made an appearance, and was as brisk as usual. More like myself in that, than her mother, and I didn't know her father well enough to say if it was his way as well. Fate came downstairs for a short time, and tried to make friends, but the level of tension was high. She'd already been on edge due to a dream days before, so all the noise in the house probably didn't help. During all of this, I endeavored to explain to the slave once known as Mare, what had happened regarding Nash and then myself. I still don't know if what I said made much sense, that for once I actually had good intentions, but the ones from Earth say that their Hell has a road paved with those sorts of intentions. So maybe nothing I do is ever going to make a real difference.
When I needed quiet, and a few pink-lipped smiles, I got near tears and resistence. I don't know if it's because I let the issue of the Devil go as unimportant in the overall scheme of things, and she wished I had been jealous instead or if she was smarting because of comments-true comments-about how she becomes jealous, and wishes she could do everything. She states she is aware that I am a Master, and as such, allowed to have who and what I wanted regardless of her feelings. That doesn't mean she's accepted it, and her unwillingness to perform a simple dance is just more evidence of it. The other night she asked if there was anything she could do, and I stated she had done it. True, some of it, but this is not over.
I like my son because I don't have to babysit him, and still, he's almost the youngest person I know. I like killing people, because I can shut them up when the time comes. Nothing I seem to do ever make anyone else happy, and I am getting to the point where I don't care how any of them feel. I need a vacation.
His women had been divided by myself, so that each of them went to one of us-Abby to Ramza, Mira to Kade, and Portia to myself. It was safer to not have them all in one place, until we were sure Stylus wasn't being watched. Still, I kept up my usual duties at the school and the shop, so that my activities would not be questioned by those that might be curious. I did not know where Ramza and Abby had gone, but let Kade know when he and Mira could come to Stylus without trouble.
Gemma made an appearance, and was as brisk as usual. More like myself in that, than her mother, and I didn't know her father well enough to say if it was his way as well. Fate came downstairs for a short time, and tried to make friends, but the level of tension was high. She'd already been on edge due to a dream days before, so all the noise in the house probably didn't help. During all of this, I endeavored to explain to the slave once known as Mare, what had happened regarding Nash and then myself. I still don't know if what I said made much sense, that for once I actually had good intentions, but the ones from Earth say that their Hell has a road paved with those sorts of intentions. So maybe nothing I do is ever going to make a real difference.
When I needed quiet, and a few pink-lipped smiles, I got near tears and resistence. I don't know if it's because I let the issue of the Devil go as unimportant in the overall scheme of things, and she wished I had been jealous instead or if she was smarting because of comments-true comments-about how she becomes jealous, and wishes she could do everything. She states she is aware that I am a Master, and as such, allowed to have who and what I wanted regardless of her feelings. That doesn't mean she's accepted it, and her unwillingness to perform a simple dance is just more evidence of it. The other night she asked if there was anything she could do, and I stated she had done it. True, some of it, but this is not over.
I like my son because I don't have to babysit him, and still, he's almost the youngest person I know. I like killing people, because I can shut them up when the time comes. Nothing I seem to do ever make anyone else happy, and I am getting to the point where I don't care how any of them feel. I need a vacation.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Arian Guard Found Dismembered
Stock in trade, not keeping to the safe ways, and now that he had all the women from the den hidden away, he had a job to do. Portia was one of them, and he'd placed her in one of the guest rooms, even if she wasn't permitted to sleep on the couch there. It had a fireplace, which he'd lit himself, then directed her to sleep. Madeline, already in his couch, he gave her the same instructions.
When the house was well settled, he made his way back out into the streets, and to the shop. Getting his work cart from the back alley, and slipping into a guise he'd worn when Natali had been poisoned, he and Strophe seeking a cure from the apothecary's own companion. From there, he made a few more stops that had nothing to do with his eventual mission, just stops to throw someone off if they happened to notice a slightly stooped figure in tattered brown dregs of clothing with crooked hands, and a worn out old brown hat.
Then, he was on to the former Boarding House where he had located Portia. The same guard was there, taken down by a dose of capture scent to the face, something the Scribe had learned how to do with stealth back in his Port Kar days. With the fellow out, he was dragged into the cart the Scribe had rolled there from the shop. Collapsing the man's limbs into the cart, and covering him up, he was rolled to one of the various hatches that were a mainstay of Scribe's nocturnal activities. Pulling the other man out of the cart once the hatch was open, the thing closed off in his wake. Getting him down the metal rungs was difficult, but nothing he hadn't ever done before.
Into the nearest chamber he took the guard, who was beginning to stir. With the need for more haste apparent, he strapped the man down on the table in permanent residence in the chamber. By the time he was groggily awakened, the Scribe had already embedded a stave between his teeth, and injected him with enough agent that he could not move a muscle. Feel, yes, but not move even enough to flinch. Time of the essence, the Scribe had to make shorter work of him that he would have liked, because he still had other stops to make before he could return to Stylus.
By the time the night was over, and Scribe had returned to his couch, pieces of the guard had been deliberately distributed to various locations in the city. His head, and heart, to the main city clinic for identification purposes. His arms and legs, outside the garrison, as if to allow his sword arm to continue in service to the city. His torso, to one of the stadiums, muscles taunt from the agent in a way that replicated the man's anatomy in sparring. The remainder of his vital organs, as well as what would prove he had once been a man, attached to the sign that hung over the paga den in a plain rence bag.
Of course, his eyelids were missing from the head.
When the house was well settled, he made his way back out into the streets, and to the shop. Getting his work cart from the back alley, and slipping into a guise he'd worn when Natali had been poisoned, he and Strophe seeking a cure from the apothecary's own companion. From there, he made a few more stops that had nothing to do with his eventual mission, just stops to throw someone off if they happened to notice a slightly stooped figure in tattered brown dregs of clothing with crooked hands, and a worn out old brown hat.
Then, he was on to the former Boarding House where he had located Portia. The same guard was there, taken down by a dose of capture scent to the face, something the Scribe had learned how to do with stealth back in his Port Kar days. With the fellow out, he was dragged into the cart the Scribe had rolled there from the shop. Collapsing the man's limbs into the cart, and covering him up, he was rolled to one of the various hatches that were a mainstay of Scribe's nocturnal activities. Pulling the other man out of the cart once the hatch was open, the thing closed off in his wake. Getting him down the metal rungs was difficult, but nothing he hadn't ever done before.
Into the nearest chamber he took the guard, who was beginning to stir. With the need for more haste apparent, he strapped the man down on the table in permanent residence in the chamber. By the time he was groggily awakened, the Scribe had already embedded a stave between his teeth, and injected him with enough agent that he could not move a muscle. Feel, yes, but not move even enough to flinch. Time of the essence, the Scribe had to make shorter work of him that he would have liked, because he still had other stops to make before he could return to Stylus.
By the time the night was over, and Scribe had returned to his couch, pieces of the guard had been deliberately distributed to various locations in the city. His head, and heart, to the main city clinic for identification purposes. His arms and legs, outside the garrison, as if to allow his sword arm to continue in service to the city. His torso, to one of the stadiums, muscles taunt from the agent in a way that replicated the man's anatomy in sparring. The remainder of his vital organs, as well as what would prove he had once been a man, attached to the sign that hung over the paga den in a plain rence bag.
Of course, his eyelids were missing from the head.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Making it Better
Things have been going smoothly since the resolution over the journal issue, except for a minor incident over dancing, and how a slave might better amuse her Master in a paga den than by telling him fairytales. I gave Madeline a new journal, and we've returned to what we should be. Over the incident surrounding the dance, my finding her speaking to another man and his slave because they saw her crying her eyes out, I at least had an epiphany. I read the small note, very much abused by tears that I had not been there to see shed, so they could not be counted as ones of manipulation. She loves me. I know, she's said it before, but I don't think I actually had it through my head until then.
She doesn't love me just when it's convenient. She doesn't love me only when it means she won't somehow be hurt. It's real, and I don't even know what to make of it.
We'd come to Cos so we could visit our friends, family, and 'panion. I also wanted to visit the villa here in Jad, and work on further research surrounding my father's people. Several hands ago, a woman appeared in Ar, my half sister. Her mother had passed on, and my portion of the family is all she has left. Not that I can tell her much, but I need to know these details for my own peace of mind as well.
Only, not long after I arrived here, a note was delivered. Skirt had been missing for a long period of time, we'd only seen her once in several hands time, and she was working on a secret project. Now, she is free, and has been missing from even Zeb. Just like that, and my Madeline is thrown into hurt and confusion. Was the project related to becoming a free woman, and if so, does that mean Skirt knew all along. But didn't tell Madeline? Can they still be friends or will it cause trouble? No trouble from me, and I told her we would search for Skirt when we got back to Ar, but whether we find her...another story. Does she hurt? Did she have a choice? All questions going through both our minds. Whatever happened, whatever the cause, it has hurt my Madeline. I wish I could make it better for her, even if some would say it's for the slave to work through. Yes, I know in some sense it is, for it's her mind that has to find resolution on this new point. Her heart that has to get through the mess that this brings up. I did offer her one last opportunity to beg her way out, a chance to be with her friend on equal footing. She would not take it, and I won't offer it again.
The implement of choice: hook bracelets. When she advised me of how they could be used, the snaps meant to attach them other things without their being actual locks, I think she expected me to attach her to the couch, the desk, any solid piece in the room. Instead, I wrapped them around the collar, confining Madness to itself. A few days of stinging flesh and careful movements were the follow-up, but in my opinion, it was more than worth it. I believe she might feel the same. More study is in order.
She doesn't love me just when it's convenient. She doesn't love me only when it means she won't somehow be hurt. It's real, and I don't even know what to make of it.
We'd come to Cos so we could visit our friends, family, and 'panion. I also wanted to visit the villa here in Jad, and work on further research surrounding my father's people. Several hands ago, a woman appeared in Ar, my half sister. Her mother had passed on, and my portion of the family is all she has left. Not that I can tell her much, but I need to know these details for my own peace of mind as well.
Only, not long after I arrived here, a note was delivered. Skirt had been missing for a long period of time, we'd only seen her once in several hands time, and she was working on a secret project. Now, she is free, and has been missing from even Zeb. Just like that, and my Madeline is thrown into hurt and confusion. Was the project related to becoming a free woman, and if so, does that mean Skirt knew all along. But didn't tell Madeline? Can they still be friends or will it cause trouble? No trouble from me, and I told her we would search for Skirt when we got back to Ar, but whether we find her...another story. Does she hurt? Did she have a choice? All questions going through both our minds. Whatever happened, whatever the cause, it has hurt my Madeline. I wish I could make it better for her, even if some would say it's for the slave to work through. Yes, I know in some sense it is, for it's her mind that has to find resolution on this new point. Her heart that has to get through the mess that this brings up. I did offer her one last opportunity to beg her way out, a chance to be with her friend on equal footing. She would not take it, and I won't offer it again.
The implement of choice: hook bracelets. When she advised me of how they could be used, the snaps meant to attach them other things without their being actual locks, I think she expected me to attach her to the couch, the desk, any solid piece in the room. Instead, I wrapped them around the collar, confining Madness to itself. A few days of stinging flesh and careful movements were the follow-up, but in my opinion, it was more than worth it. I believe she might feel the same. More study is in order.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Whys
Madeline was recently on punishment for trying to bury her journal. She wanted to rid herself of possibility, and to forget what was. In her wishing, she did forget. She forgot that those pages contain our history, not just that of the men that came Before. As Gorean men we learn that hiding how we feel is unhealthy, that such supression is dangerous, and lowers us to the status of those unable to live in a world where expression of feeling and control of outlying factors are incompatible. And yet, I see it everyday here now, men who prefer the slaves to keep quiet, not cry or show their inner struggle. Why? Because they feel they must keep up a facade, and not show that the slaves' hurt touches them. In the end, I am not sure who suffered the most during this punishment time. Her or me. I've grown used to having her in my couch every night, long length of her in satin skin perfection, and honey toss. Using her in the middle of the night, when she isn't quite expecting it, and listening to moans that could be from both pleasure and sleep deprivation. With all the punishment, and back and forth explanations, I don't think she really understood until we were in the shop and I told her the truth. 'It hurt, you see.' Men aren't supposed to confess that anyone has that ability, we're supposed to be indestructible, especially where slaves are concerned. But how many wars have been fought on this planet, because of the love of one man, for one woman?
I haven't asked her when she decided she loved me. I'm not sure it would make any difference. She has not asked me either, perhaps because it does not matter. Interestingly, however, she has not asked why. Why? Not just because she is soft, sensual blond, although there is certainly that. She is intelligent, and it's not something I'm sure that many people understand. I love her because when I was at my worst, when I was apathetic to everything in this world except my son, she appeared again. And kept appearing. No matter what I was throwing at her, what traces I was putting her through, even though she did not belong to me. How long would it have gone on, if she had not asked why I continued talking about men besides myself wanting to buy her? If she had not revealed that it was me she wanted over her? I don't know. And how long would it have gone on, if the new owner of the cafe had not sold her? Knowing she was mine, in all but legality? Again, I don't know. I know that working with her, forcing her limits, and seeing her improvements reminded me of things I had forgotten. I had to return to being something besides the Scribe. Something besides Julian's father. I had to return to being a man, for myself, and so that she could be a woman.
We loitered at the hot springs yesterday, for ahns. It was too warm, but I didn't want to leave. By the time we left, everyone had been gone awhile. I wanted to take her there, pressed her hand against me so she would know, but instead presented her a new goal. One implement, and a presented argument of why I ought to use it on her. I am curious to see what she will bring, and why. We encountered Skirt at the fountain last night, and while I was engaged in conversation with Nash and a new student, I think Madeline might have discussed the matter with the Pepper Half.
Afterward, we all came back to Stylus, and Julian knew there was company. He insisted on seeing everyone, and followed Madeline into the kitchen when she went to get drinks. He was drawing her along into the main room a few moments later, and I wonder now what they talked about in their absence. She seemed more at ease with him, and it was the longest the two have ever been in one another's company, though he talks about her often to me. He is his father's son, and once his father had put him back into his couch for the night, his father finished the interlude with the blonde slave. Why wait for the implement to be introduced?
I haven't asked her when she decided she loved me. I'm not sure it would make any difference. She has not asked me either, perhaps because it does not matter. Interestingly, however, she has not asked why. Why? Not just because she is soft, sensual blond, although there is certainly that. She is intelligent, and it's not something I'm sure that many people understand. I love her because when I was at my worst, when I was apathetic to everything in this world except my son, she appeared again. And kept appearing. No matter what I was throwing at her, what traces I was putting her through, even though she did not belong to me. How long would it have gone on, if she had not asked why I continued talking about men besides myself wanting to buy her? If she had not revealed that it was me she wanted over her? I don't know. And how long would it have gone on, if the new owner of the cafe had not sold her? Knowing she was mine, in all but legality? Again, I don't know. I know that working with her, forcing her limits, and seeing her improvements reminded me of things I had forgotten. I had to return to being something besides the Scribe. Something besides Julian's father. I had to return to being a man, for myself, and so that she could be a woman.
We loitered at the hot springs yesterday, for ahns. It was too warm, but I didn't want to leave. By the time we left, everyone had been gone awhile. I wanted to take her there, pressed her hand against me so she would know, but instead presented her a new goal. One implement, and a presented argument of why I ought to use it on her. I am curious to see what she will bring, and why. We encountered Skirt at the fountain last night, and while I was engaged in conversation with Nash and a new student, I think Madeline might have discussed the matter with the Pepper Half.
Afterward, we all came back to Stylus, and Julian knew there was company. He insisted on seeing everyone, and followed Madeline into the kitchen when she went to get drinks. He was drawing her along into the main room a few moments later, and I wonder now what they talked about in their absence. She seemed more at ease with him, and it was the longest the two have ever been in one another's company, though he talks about her often to me. He is his father's son, and once his father had put him back into his couch for the night, his father finished the interlude with the blonde slave. Why wait for the implement to be introduced?
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Between Father and Son
'Nonny say Madeline may miss Casta Anne.'
"Yes, that is possible son, she very well might."
'Yes, yes. Miss her. Miss her. And so Juli Anne ask Nonny if we make doll look like Casta Anne for Madeline. Nonny say yes. Fate help.'
::pause::
"That reminds me son, there was something I've been meaning to tell you."
::Julian arranges Kurby next to him for the night, large blue eyes in wide peer at his father::
"Fate and I have been trying, to have a child together."
::another pause, this one longer, and Julian's face has fitted into that expression of utmost contemplation::
'Will new baby be my brother or sister?'
"Yes, that's right."
'Is Fate my momma?'
"No, your mother went away, just as I told you."
'Fate went away. Nonny say so.'
"She did, but she isn't your mother, and she came back to us."
::another long pause::
'Fate will be baby's momma though, like Aunt Th'rise is Casta Anne's momma? And Syril Truff momma?'
"Yes, that's right. Just like that."
'New baby look like truff first?'
"Right, yes, the new baby will look like a truff first. But, it may take awhile before there is a truff. I will let you know."
::Julian nods, and squirms further down under his covers::
'We need go Cos, Da. See Casta Anne for Madeline. Juli Anne ask Casta Anne about truff. Then ask truff about Fate.'
"I think that can be arranged. What are you going to ask about the truff and Fate?"
'Is secret.'
::Julian rolls over, and falls asleep soon after, his father unsuccessful in finding out what the secret happens to be::
"Yes, that is possible son, she very well might."
'Yes, yes. Miss her. Miss her. And so Juli Anne ask Nonny if we make doll look like Casta Anne for Madeline. Nonny say yes. Fate help.'
::pause::
"That reminds me son, there was something I've been meaning to tell you."
::Julian arranges Kurby next to him for the night, large blue eyes in wide peer at his father::
"Fate and I have been trying, to have a child together."
::another pause, this one longer, and Julian's face has fitted into that expression of utmost contemplation::
'Will new baby be my brother or sister?'
"Yes, that's right."
'Is Fate my momma?'
"No, your mother went away, just as I told you."
'Fate went away. Nonny say so.'
"She did, but she isn't your mother, and she came back to us."
::another long pause::
'Fate will be baby's momma though, like Aunt Th'rise is Casta Anne's momma? And Syril Truff momma?'
"Yes, that's right. Just like that."
'New baby look like truff first?'
"Right, yes, the new baby will look like a truff first. But, it may take awhile before there is a truff. I will let you know."
::Julian nods, and squirms further down under his covers::
'We need go Cos, Da. See Casta Anne for Madeline. Juli Anne ask Casta Anne about truff. Then ask truff about Fate.'
"I think that can be arranged. What are you going to ask about the truff and Fate?"
'Is secret.'
::Julian rolls over, and falls asleep soon after, his father unsuccessful in finding out what the secret happens to be::
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Lacking
Something must be cataloged so that I don't forget, but the motivation is lacking.
I've been working a great deal lately, after the incident surrounding Kasra, Zeb, Portia, and Skirt, Madeline, and myself all left to wander the desert. I had gone walking one evening, and come back the next morning to discover the camp had been moved in my absence. I walked into Kasra, rented a room in an inn, and bathed. After this I went into the market, and found Madeline. Zeb came along shortly thereafter, and we eventually convened to eat dinner. Having been contacted by one of Lucien's men, we left for Salacious Steel. Except that when we arrived, it was to find the group had already embarked for the house were it was believed Corinn was being held. When we arrived there, we found a few that had stayed behind in a camp among nomads, but no sign of the Ubar's general group. I waited until the next day for direction, and receiving no word, returned to Ar.
Last night, I walked about in search of Madeline. I found her at the cliff with Portia and Ups. She was attempting to bury the journal she has been using, the journal she'd had Before, and that I allowed her to continue scripting her thoughts in. I think my pointing out that it is mine, not hers, came as an epiphany. When I mentioned that she was basically disposing of all the lessons learned in the time Before, and since, she said she had not thought of that. Which is rather the point. I'm not sure she understands yet, but I had her sleep on the furs in the main room last night, while I did not sleep at all.
On a better note, Fate and I have been working toward our common goal. No sign of anything yet, or anyone to be more precise, but we've only been able to meet twice. We use the guest room at the far end of the second floor, which has a nice view, and stays warmer than any other room in the house due to its position and size. I gave her a few items I thought she might make use of later, and one for now, one that never was used by the person for whom it was originally intended. It's not love, at least not in the sense of romantic attachment, but it's still important. Our children, girls she believes they might be, will have a set of devoted parents. I think she felt I might be angry about girls, finding them lacking, but the first person I ever raised was a girl.
I've been working a great deal lately, after the incident surrounding Kasra, Zeb, Portia, and Skirt, Madeline, and myself all left to wander the desert. I had gone walking one evening, and come back the next morning to discover the camp had been moved in my absence. I walked into Kasra, rented a room in an inn, and bathed. After this I went into the market, and found Madeline. Zeb came along shortly thereafter, and we eventually convened to eat dinner. Having been contacted by one of Lucien's men, we left for Salacious Steel. Except that when we arrived, it was to find the group had already embarked for the house were it was believed Corinn was being held. When we arrived there, we found a few that had stayed behind in a camp among nomads, but no sign of the Ubar's general group. I waited until the next day for direction, and receiving no word, returned to Ar.
Last night, I walked about in search of Madeline. I found her at the cliff with Portia and Ups. She was attempting to bury the journal she has been using, the journal she'd had Before, and that I allowed her to continue scripting her thoughts in. I think my pointing out that it is mine, not hers, came as an epiphany. When I mentioned that she was basically disposing of all the lessons learned in the time Before, and since, she said she had not thought of that. Which is rather the point. I'm not sure she understands yet, but I had her sleep on the furs in the main room last night, while I did not sleep at all.
On a better note, Fate and I have been working toward our common goal. No sign of anything yet, or anyone to be more precise, but we've only been able to meet twice. We use the guest room at the far end of the second floor, which has a nice view, and stays warmer than any other room in the house due to its position and size. I gave her a few items I thought she might make use of later, and one for now, one that never was used by the person for whom it was originally intended. It's not love, at least not in the sense of romantic attachment, but it's still important. Our children, girls she believes they might be, will have a set of devoted parents. I think she felt I might be angry about girls, finding them lacking, but the first person I ever raised was a girl.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Them or Me
"Tell me how it came to be
that I am this... thing..." Claudia, Interview with the Vampire
I've reason lately to contemplate the people in my life. It was once quite solitary, my existence. From the span of nineteen until forty I was totally alone, wandering from one city to another, in exile from the one from which I came. No, the one where I was sent to live. Ar, an arrival at somewhere near the age of ten, though I cannot recall my actual life before it. I have my date of birth due to a letter found once among my mother's things, a letter to the woman who should have been my mother, Lucretia. I'm closing in on a century, and how much of that time did I spend in self loathing, unable to change so much of what happened in the initial decade after my birth, and in this house until my exile?
Corinn has been taken, presumably by the Merchant, Jamir. The man we all believed to be dead, and it reminds me of how Bonnie used to worry so that our father would come back. It is not an unfounded concern. His body, like Jamir's, never found. Only rumors from Port Cos and Ar, of how he supposedly died, and was never seen after. I know the things my father did, the things I've done, and I recognized it all in the dismembered body of the guard he'd left in his wake. It wasn't necessary, the way the man was left, and I recognize that too. Pain and violence for its own sake. I took the eyelids, to add to my collection. It is the first time I have done so with a body not of my own making. I've been 'good' too long. That Other, is under the surface. I had him tempered. He wants out again. I accept that he is a part of the whole, and quit loathing myself because he is in me, but I'm not sure it matters.
Parents
Madaline-She bitch mother, with her flair for the dramatic, and her disdain of a boy aged ten. Make him something else, she said, make him socially acceptable. And he did. 'She's not yours.'
Zamalan-Great-grandfather/biological father, inventor, experimentor, and a nemesis whose face I can barely recall. His voice, I'll never forget. 'You want her? You will have to escape first.'
Free Women
Bonnie-My sister, my former companion, Julian's mother. I did escape, she was mine. 'I'd do anything for you.' Except what I needed, because it was inconvenient. I've been told she slept with the Assassin two days after our contract was dissolved. How long did I try to save her from what they'd made of her? Mother, Father, First Companion.
Natali-Ticky Scribe, she with whom nothing was forced. Nothing was made to be what it was. It was me. It was her. Balance. Real. If I am capable of regret, it's her loss I regret the most. She knew me for who I am, saw that other side, knew about the nature of my relationship with my sister, and chose to stay.
Strophe-Physician who reminds me so much of my mother, emotionally at least, that I don't recall why I ever thought I loved her. She made me feel young, perhaps that was it. And maybe it was love, of a sort, but it died due to half truths and a belief in a tryst that didn't happen until she was gone.
Alyssa-First Physician, the madness spilled out only a month after our companionship began. It was all political, she knew it from the beginning. She knew it until the end.
Sekret-She stole something, some of my regrets probably more than anything else. Pregnant now after some miracle, and whereas that once would have nearly killed me, I realize now that it has almost no affect.
Slaves
Ann-Shop slave, I knew the pattern, and hope that no wreckage came of the experiences we had together. She needed to be released, and I understood.
Delilah-Indigo barbarian with a penchant for ripping apart the writings, how many times did I watch her ritual without truly comprehending the meaning? Tear me apart, break me down, so I won't be this anymore. Sold to Ostia, and only seen on one or two occasions following.
Izabella-Too short a time together, the tunnels found, and required.
Echo-Silent, and musing, unable to communicate verbally, trapped with an owner that could not communicate either, though for very different reasons.
Bela-The vintner's former companion, mother of his children, one of the smartest women I've ever met. My slave, the first real one in my collar, but then I was a different man. Unwilling to keep a woman from her children. She is free, to this day.
Treasure-Gifted slave, in the sense someone gave her to me. Cristos. Probably because he couldn't stand her either. When she ran, I knew where she was, but she wasn't worth retrieving. She found her pirate, he plundered what he wanted, and I wished them well.
Madeline
It's not just about beauty. There is that, of course. Just because a man can do something though, doesn't always mean he should. If she does finally see that Other, will she beg after all? There are so many things she has confessed to not being able to look at, under the stark microscope of reality. How long did it take her to see that men here, even in love, are the same as men from her planet? No, she says she does not want me to change, but she hasn't seen me for who I really am. And if she does see, and doesn't beg, how many other reasons will I have for being the person the others have seen thus far?
that I am this... thing..." Claudia, Interview with the Vampire
I've reason lately to contemplate the people in my life. It was once quite solitary, my existence. From the span of nineteen until forty I was totally alone, wandering from one city to another, in exile from the one from which I came. No, the one where I was sent to live. Ar, an arrival at somewhere near the age of ten, though I cannot recall my actual life before it. I have my date of birth due to a letter found once among my mother's things, a letter to the woman who should have been my mother, Lucretia. I'm closing in on a century, and how much of that time did I spend in self loathing, unable to change so much of what happened in the initial decade after my birth, and in this house until my exile?
Corinn has been taken, presumably by the Merchant, Jamir. The man we all believed to be dead, and it reminds me of how Bonnie used to worry so that our father would come back. It is not an unfounded concern. His body, like Jamir's, never found. Only rumors from Port Cos and Ar, of how he supposedly died, and was never seen after. I know the things my father did, the things I've done, and I recognized it all in the dismembered body of the guard he'd left in his wake. It wasn't necessary, the way the man was left, and I recognize that too. Pain and violence for its own sake. I took the eyelids, to add to my collection. It is the first time I have done so with a body not of my own making. I've been 'good' too long. That Other, is under the surface. I had him tempered. He wants out again. I accept that he is a part of the whole, and quit loathing myself because he is in me, but I'm not sure it matters.
Parents
Madaline-She bitch mother, with her flair for the dramatic, and her disdain of a boy aged ten. Make him something else, she said, make him socially acceptable. And he did. 'She's not yours.'
Zamalan-Great-grandfather/biological father, inventor, experimentor, and a nemesis whose face I can barely recall. His voice, I'll never forget. 'You want her? You will have to escape first.'
Free Women
Bonnie-My sister, my former companion, Julian's mother. I did escape, she was mine. 'I'd do anything for you.' Except what I needed, because it was inconvenient. I've been told she slept with the Assassin two days after our contract was dissolved. How long did I try to save her from what they'd made of her? Mother, Father, First Companion.
Natali-Ticky Scribe, she with whom nothing was forced. Nothing was made to be what it was. It was me. It was her. Balance. Real. If I am capable of regret, it's her loss I regret the most. She knew me for who I am, saw that other side, knew about the nature of my relationship with my sister, and chose to stay.
Strophe-Physician who reminds me so much of my mother, emotionally at least, that I don't recall why I ever thought I loved her. She made me feel young, perhaps that was it. And maybe it was love, of a sort, but it died due to half truths and a belief in a tryst that didn't happen until she was gone.
Alyssa-First Physician, the madness spilled out only a month after our companionship began. It was all political, she knew it from the beginning. She knew it until the end.
Sekret-She stole something, some of my regrets probably more than anything else. Pregnant now after some miracle, and whereas that once would have nearly killed me, I realize now that it has almost no affect.
Slaves
Ann-Shop slave, I knew the pattern, and hope that no wreckage came of the experiences we had together. She needed to be released, and I understood.
Delilah-Indigo barbarian with a penchant for ripping apart the writings, how many times did I watch her ritual without truly comprehending the meaning? Tear me apart, break me down, so I won't be this anymore. Sold to Ostia, and only seen on one or two occasions following.
Izabella-Too short a time together, the tunnels found, and required.
Echo-Silent, and musing, unable to communicate verbally, trapped with an owner that could not communicate either, though for very different reasons.
Bela-The vintner's former companion, mother of his children, one of the smartest women I've ever met. My slave, the first real one in my collar, but then I was a different man. Unwilling to keep a woman from her children. She is free, to this day.
Treasure-Gifted slave, in the sense someone gave her to me. Cristos. Probably because he couldn't stand her either. When she ran, I knew where she was, but she wasn't worth retrieving. She found her pirate, he plundered what he wanted, and I wished them well.
Madeline
It's not just about beauty. There is that, of course. Just because a man can do something though, doesn't always mean he should. If she does finally see that Other, will she beg after all? There are so many things she has confessed to not being able to look at, under the stark microscope of reality. How long did it take her to see that men here, even in love, are the same as men from her planet? No, she says she does not want me to change, but she hasn't seen me for who I really am. And if she does see, and doesn't beg, how many other reasons will I have for being the person the others have seen thus far?
Julian-Piece of my soul, if there is such a thing.
Therise-She who never judges. The sister I should have had. Connected.
Astraea-It isn't love. It will be something more. Twiceover. Keeper of secrets.
Nash-Earnest genius. I try not to steer him wrong or betray.
Lucien and Nathan-I don't always understand. Neither do they. The Chosen Triad.
Portia-Kindred. If men can have friends in slaves, she is that.
Corinn-Sweet mermaid girl with cat eyes. Stolen. Worth the risk.
Someday, today, it might come down to one of them or me.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Attached
I've been delaying this entry. It's the sort of writing I worry about, because I've learned that things can change so quickly, and without warning. Or perhaps not without warning, but without my willingness to see. After Julian's mother left, I told myself I wasn't going to get blindsided. What follows here isn't about that. It's about what creeps up on you, however, and what you choose to do once it's happened.
Madeline. I marked her. It's a personal mark. It's not something I have done before, except with the Physician, and in that situation the mark was placed in a location easily covered unless someone were to take her to their couch. Even then, is she were not smooth, it would be impossible to discern. This mark. This new mark. It's red, and black, and rests where the brand ought to rest. I'm not sure she realizes it, and it's nothing I plan to tell her, but I knew what I was doing when I put it there. Yes, I had considered something similar in a brand instead, but there is the part that doesn't wish to do this. Conventions. I often adhere to them in order to make someone else's life easier, even if they don't know it. It could, feasibly, be removed. If it were, and the holes in her ears were to close, there would be no absolute way of knowing what she is. If she were branded, it would be forever. Even if her actions didn't tell everyone what she was, giving her away were she to wear robes, that mark would. This mark does not, but it has a merging of our cultures in its creation. It had meaning. Has. Meaning.
When did it happen? I don't know. Somewhere amid the fights, and the training, and mixed into all of it. Even our expressing it took two nights, the word as I told her, not coming easily. I had determined I was not going to let myself connect to only one person, to the exclusion of all others, as I have in the past. I was not going to become attached.
I think it finally dawned on me when I was at the camp, and I joked to my friends that my desire to get up and go do things as I usually do them, was almost nonexistent. That all I wanted to do was lie around all day stroking her, and reading to my son. I told Nash when I returned from the hunt, and I think he wanted to laugh at me, state that was plainly in. Bedrudging. Attached.
It was a joke, I do have my tasks and visits that I must make or I would go completely insane, but there isn't the inside battle there used to be over such things. She wishes she could be everything for me, but I told her to instead focus on those things that she can do. I wrapped a chain around her arm two night's ago, and she held onto it with the other hand, but there was no cuff. She could have unwrapped it, or skillfully worked it loose in a convincing way. She didn't. And because she didn't, because she did extend herself past that former barrier, I was content.
The General's slave was stolen recently, and I filed away information on the thief to tell the Warrior. I went to his private apartments and discussed the matter with him. He offered the redhead's service, were she to be found. I've never seriously considered her an option. I don't know why really, but apparently it is mutual, as she's obviously never seen me in that light. She told me she thought because I am a Scribe, I would only like soft slaves. I told her I like women. That I own a soft slave, but I like all types. It's true.
Still, I do own a soft slave. I had fabric flowers made for her hair, and I tattood her skin instead of putting a hot iron to it. I don't push her toward pain, just because I can, because I realize I don't need to in order to feel all is right in the cosmic order of things.
Have I given up anything? I would say no. I fulfill certain requirements of my personality, with others. This hurts her, it hurt her last night, but it's nothing I plan to discontinue. Some would say this makes me selfish, which is fine. I told her I would not be releasing her unless she begged, and she assured me it wasn't something she'd do. Even if she did, I wouldn't release her. I like what she is, and what she does for me, but I like these others as well. It's integrating it all together...
Madeline. I marked her. It's a personal mark. It's not something I have done before, except with the Physician, and in that situation the mark was placed in a location easily covered unless someone were to take her to their couch. Even then, is she were not smooth, it would be impossible to discern. This mark. This new mark. It's red, and black, and rests where the brand ought to rest. I'm not sure she realizes it, and it's nothing I plan to tell her, but I knew what I was doing when I put it there. Yes, I had considered something similar in a brand instead, but there is the part that doesn't wish to do this. Conventions. I often adhere to them in order to make someone else's life easier, even if they don't know it. It could, feasibly, be removed. If it were, and the holes in her ears were to close, there would be no absolute way of knowing what she is. If she were branded, it would be forever. Even if her actions didn't tell everyone what she was, giving her away were she to wear robes, that mark would. This mark does not, but it has a merging of our cultures in its creation. It had meaning. Has. Meaning.
When did it happen? I don't know. Somewhere amid the fights, and the training, and mixed into all of it. Even our expressing it took two nights, the word as I told her, not coming easily. I had determined I was not going to let myself connect to only one person, to the exclusion of all others, as I have in the past. I was not going to become attached.
I think it finally dawned on me when I was at the camp, and I joked to my friends that my desire to get up and go do things as I usually do them, was almost nonexistent. That all I wanted to do was lie around all day stroking her, and reading to my son. I told Nash when I returned from the hunt, and I think he wanted to laugh at me, state that was plainly in. Bedrudging. Attached.
It was a joke, I do have my tasks and visits that I must make or I would go completely insane, but there isn't the inside battle there used to be over such things. She wishes she could be everything for me, but I told her to instead focus on those things that she can do. I wrapped a chain around her arm two night's ago, and she held onto it with the other hand, but there was no cuff. She could have unwrapped it, or skillfully worked it loose in a convincing way. She didn't. And because she didn't, because she did extend herself past that former barrier, I was content.
The General's slave was stolen recently, and I filed away information on the thief to tell the Warrior. I went to his private apartments and discussed the matter with him. He offered the redhead's service, were she to be found. I've never seriously considered her an option. I don't know why really, but apparently it is mutual, as she's obviously never seen me in that light. She told me she thought because I am a Scribe, I would only like soft slaves. I told her I like women. That I own a soft slave, but I like all types. It's true.
Still, I do own a soft slave. I had fabric flowers made for her hair, and I tattood her skin instead of putting a hot iron to it. I don't push her toward pain, just because I can, because I realize I don't need to in order to feel all is right in the cosmic order of things.
Have I given up anything? I would say no. I fulfill certain requirements of my personality, with others. This hurts her, it hurt her last night, but it's nothing I plan to discontinue. Some would say this makes me selfish, which is fine. I told her I would not be releasing her unless she begged, and she assured me it wasn't something she'd do. Even if she did, I wouldn't release her. I like what she is, and what she does for me, but I like these others as well. It's integrating it all together...
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Simon's Law
Recent events have led to my creating something I refer to as Simon's Law: It is impossible for all members of a group of friends, to be completely happy, at any one given time. If I ever doubted it before, I don't any longer.
Garrick made an offhand threat toward the Therise, of the collaring variety, and ended up nearly taking off his father's arm when the two went at one another with weapons. Later, while Lucien was still in pain, his son sat around with Lilah in what I call "companion mode," as if nothing had happened. To make matters worse, I had to find out Lilah was expecting, through the words of other people. I remember a time, when I would have been the second to know, just after the father.
Lucien's own cousin, a woman named Callista, was also there. I'm not sure why she hates everyone that breathes, or at least everyone male, but I didn't try talking to her either. She very plainly wanted to be anywhere, but where we were, and was intent on making almost everyone as miserable as she was. I think she must have lost someone important recently, and I can understand where that will engender bitterness, but it all still seemed rather too much. I understand something else happened there as well, and it caused the trip to basically end early, but I did not try to learn further details.
Ordinarily, all of this would have happened on Cos. This time, however, it was up in the Voltai. We'd gone to another of the Merchants' lairs, this time Jamir's keep. We found much of the same as last time, traps and treasures. Madeline and I also found a few unexpected things. She calls them astrological symbols, a collection of twelve, that have something to do with personalities. I found a book within Jamir's library, that also indicates they have to do with the times of year, and they relate to star constellations. Of those she found, all were relevant to water. Like at the ruins near Corcyrus. Nash has suggested that because Jamir was Taharian, it might be that he is like most of the people there, seeing water as infinitely precious. This would make sense, except that we also located hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of bodies. Bones now, all of them, but many still with their clothing and jewelry. Various ideas were explored, battle, natural disaster, and one I think fits most accurately. They were the servants or slaves of a certain person, the same person whose organs I found in a set of jars, their heads designed like animals we don't have here. Madeline says such burials take place on the barbarian planet, in a place called Egypt. Ordinarily, however, such a person would be made into a mummy, the jars set with them. I don't know what a mummy is yet, but the jars were in a set of cylinders that were activated into lowering from the ceiling by a switch near the floor. I still don't understand it all.
I would like to have my cards read again, now that I am back in Ar. Perhaps they will have something to tell me about all of this, and other things as well. The reader, she made me an offer before I left for the trip. I lost one. She lost two. Two more have been offered, only following her change of caste. No contract required. Friends. Trust. I told her we would revisit the matter when the caste matter was concluded. I have concerns, and most of them are not for me.
Garrick made an offhand threat toward the Therise, of the collaring variety, and ended up nearly taking off his father's arm when the two went at one another with weapons. Later, while Lucien was still in pain, his son sat around with Lilah in what I call "companion mode," as if nothing had happened. To make matters worse, I had to find out Lilah was expecting, through the words of other people. I remember a time, when I would have been the second to know, just after the father.
Lucien's own cousin, a woman named Callista, was also there. I'm not sure why she hates everyone that breathes, or at least everyone male, but I didn't try talking to her either. She very plainly wanted to be anywhere, but where we were, and was intent on making almost everyone as miserable as she was. I think she must have lost someone important recently, and I can understand where that will engender bitterness, but it all still seemed rather too much. I understand something else happened there as well, and it caused the trip to basically end early, but I did not try to learn further details.
Ordinarily, all of this would have happened on Cos. This time, however, it was up in the Voltai. We'd gone to another of the Merchants' lairs, this time Jamir's keep. We found much of the same as last time, traps and treasures. Madeline and I also found a few unexpected things. She calls them astrological symbols, a collection of twelve, that have something to do with personalities. I found a book within Jamir's library, that also indicates they have to do with the times of year, and they relate to star constellations. Of those she found, all were relevant to water. Like at the ruins near Corcyrus. Nash has suggested that because Jamir was Taharian, it might be that he is like most of the people there, seeing water as infinitely precious. This would make sense, except that we also located hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of bodies. Bones now, all of them, but many still with their clothing and jewelry. Various ideas were explored, battle, natural disaster, and one I think fits most accurately. They were the servants or slaves of a certain person, the same person whose organs I found in a set of jars, their heads designed like animals we don't have here. Madeline says such burials take place on the barbarian planet, in a place called Egypt. Ordinarily, however, such a person would be made into a mummy, the jars set with them. I don't know what a mummy is yet, but the jars were in a set of cylinders that were activated into lowering from the ceiling by a switch near the floor. I still don't understand it all.
I would like to have my cards read again, now that I am back in Ar. Perhaps they will have something to tell me about all of this, and other things as well. The reader, she made me an offer before I left for the trip. I lost one. She lost two. Two more have been offered, only following her change of caste. No contract required. Friends. Trust. I told her we would revisit the matter when the caste matter was concluded. I have concerns, and most of them are not for me.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Before
1 : in advance : ahead
2 : at an earlier time : previously
Before, a seemingly simple concept, but it's became very much more complex than I ever would have imagined.
Before, I would not have concerned myself with what another man's slave was doing, as long as she was biddable enough to me.
Before, I would have said that having a single heir was enough, because I wasn't particularly keen on spending time with anyone under the age of ten.
Before, I would not have been able to go around scouring ruins without care if something dangerous might be lurking in or around them, unless it was in an area close to Ar. If I had, I would have had to take frequent breaks to rest my leg or back, and avoided sheer-drop precipices.
This is not a full entry, just something to come before.
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