[OOC: Much like Insights volume I, this primarily serves as a character journal. The knowledge within is not public knowledge, and the journal itself has since been destroyed (because Mesteno cannot have nice things) so please keep this in mind when reading.]
June 30th, 2015.
Last autumn, a death not of my making drew the City Watch to the doors of the Temple of Summanus. Back then it was little more than an irritant, the potential for an investigation threatening to upset my plans, but there was no repeat incident. From what the acolytes told me, it seemed the death was considered unrelated to the worshipper’s questionable choice of religion, just another RhyDin death, and let’s face it, more often than not the killers here don’t discriminate. Just like that it was forgotten, the Acolytes unconcerned because, after all, the victim had only been one of the sheep who offered their throats. One of the pitiful creatures they leave to sweat in the pens for days on end but who inevitably come back, sure as any addict, to bleed on the altars in some fucked up form of ecstatic zealotry.
I didn’t share the general acceptance. I was angry that no one cared, not because I intend to be a defender to the weak willed, but because it’s an idiot in this city that doesn’t prepare for the worst. I found my way to the pens, asked my questions, picked out the potential truths from amongst the bullshit and what do you know? The dead man was a talker, the sort to brag about his devotion to anyone who’d give him the time of day despite oaths of secrecy. It’s a pity I had no claim to his remains or I’d have put him to question, but a little investigation assured me a funeral of a very droll and Christian nature had seen him cremated. His family had no idea of his obsessions.
Either someone hadn’t wanted him to speak about their meeting, or the Temple Elders caught wind of him being loose lipped and did the job themselves. Either way, it was enough for me to decide the rats’ nest needed clearing. A few anonymous threats made to acolytes, games with the sheep that left them fearful of a wolf amongst them. It took time, but the pens are near empty of late. Whoever slaughtered the first fool provided me with an unintentional opening, and now the warren beneath the Temple is so sparsely populated I can pry the secrets from the old stonework without anyone questioning my intent. I’m simply the necromancer, the one who conducts their rituals, who opens the veins of the volunteers, their connection to a God I’d never heard of until they contacted me through the proper channels.
I’d never expected to find things in their grim house of worship connecting dots all the way back to the rift at Torrita. To the scar carved into my leg I only recall receiving in dreams. If not for these things, I’d quit, find another form of employment, but the secrets always did prove adequate bait to reel me in.
Tarquin mentioned in passing it might be worthwhile taking people off the streets. Perhaps it’s time for another death. This time an acolyte.
There’s more to life than work of course. Though Evander avoids Masgad, and the Red Dragon in particular, I still frequent the place. I’ve few other places to go. Sometimes Yvgeny puts me to work, or Faendal and I will toil over some new experiment in the forge, but the balance of things amongst Ivanya and Bjorn’s people has been unsettled ever since we returned to RhyDin and thanks to Fox’s headstrong, ambitious inclinations, it’s sometimes wiser to be far from it all. Bjorn’s decision to uproot and live as far into the wilds as he can get without complete abandonment doesn’t surprise me. In a way, I envy him.
Evander has been allowed to visit with them, close as a brother as he is to Bjorn, but I’m never sure of my welcome, and leave them to it without attempting to invite myself along. Evander has spoken more than once of how he’d like to cull numbers. He preferred the way things were in the Christos Clan, I think, but I avoid mentioning it at all, and Niamh’s name on my tongue earns me a fist in my teeth. The wound is still sore, particularly after all we discovered in the northern reaches of his father’s territory.
I am left restless more often than not, and busy myself with my own obsessions now that there are no wars to fight. My search for a way to prolong life without causing a true immortality, some method of thwarting death which doesn’t require horrific actions on my part which I couldn’t live with goes poorly. I gather books from anywhere and everywhere – Koyan’s Papyrus Ani, the text Mikhail gifted me, more from Bjorn, from Gideon, from a dozen well-meaning people - and fit the pieces together like puzzles. All I’ve succeeded in so far, is assuring myself I don’t fit the stereotype of the men to whom my skills are classically associated.
A Mayan by the name of Eyahue appears now and then, quite open in confessing his associations with the death God of his people. Mayans and Aztecs are a new route of investigation, but I suspect a visit to the temples might be required to make progress. Last I saw him, he admitted they’d spoken to him via a dream. Something about me digging, up to my arms in blood. Dreams are tricky, flimsy things, and I’ve an aversion to them now thanks to Aoife. Little bitch.
Now and then I do try and help others though, often without quite knowing why. Kai has returned from a long absence, mutilated and quite literally with nothing but the clothes on her back. I’ve put a roof over her head for as long as she chooses to accept it, but I’m not oblivious to how difficult she finds it to accept aid. Taneth, an enigma I strictly avoided for years, finally succeeded in eliminating certain boundaries, and some months ago had Crispin and I commit an atrocity on her behalf which resulted in some particularly unhappy RhyDinites. For weeks later I had unwelcome flashbacks to a similar ‘favour’ I did for Koyan years ago, and yet now she returns, seemingly without memory of it. I’m quietly fearful that if she finds out we ran her through with a sword, she won’t remember why the her of old requested it in the first place, and for some reason, the thought of her angry with me leaves me in a foul mood.
Of course there are errors I must confess to. Thoughtless, reckless things on my part which cause their own strife. For months on my journeys through the Shadowlands I have been aware of one of its denizens lingering at the edge of the paths I walk, waiting for me to stray from the safe routes. It needs easy prey, as it has become easy prey itself, injured by its brethren, and so I decided to hunt the hunter. Find a way to draw it out into open and claim it in the ways the texts tell me. I meant to make a gift of it, and several nights ago, was very nearly bettered as I went about a capture. It remains in the Shadowlands still, angrier than ever, and I’d little to show for it but a day of being so achingly numbed I could do nothing but walk like a man crippled and sleep until function returned.
As for my other mistake, that at least was unintentional. An old face, the elf known as Lexius and his damned desert scents left me wondering over Samiel, all these years later. I should have kept my mouth shut, resigned myself to what I’d convinced myself of all this time – he has to be dead, of course – but instead I questioned the elf, and found myself bartering for possession of a map by which I might extend my search for my old lover.
There is no place for Samiel in my life now. If I ever found him, I could not accept him as I once did, and nor would I want to. But the snuffing of that particular flame does not kill the friendship I felt for him, and to know he was safe…
Here is where I earned the fist in my teeth. I dare say I deserved it.
- M
Insights (Volume II)
Moderator: Mesteno
Re: Insights (Volume II)
July 20th, 2015
Pharlen has agreed to help me with Taneth, if Taneth will allow it.
Of course, getting Taneth to agree to anything is easier said than done when I can barely get a word out of her, but I don’t feel so daunted by the task with someone willing to do more than shrug and accept that this is the way the girl is now. It bothers me that so many people suggest it’s just a phase, or are content seeing her so empty. Ben is different. Pharlen is, too. Thank Christ for the Bens and Pharlens of this fucked up world.
I’m writing here due to unexpected time. Lexius is keeping me waiting, but the cause for that I’ll get to in due course. I’ve spent more time with him over the past few weeks than I have in the ten years prior combined, and whilst he’s still no small enigma, I’m starting to understand how he operates. I felt comfortable enough to bring him home, anyway.
The Elf likes to learn. I’ve known no one else with such an appetite for knowledge, with an intent, almost zealous devotion to it. There’s times it makes me feel like a specimen to be studied, but I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a familiar sort of fascination. There’s more than just a walking encyclopaedia under there, even if he would hide it all under that forced serenity.
It is forced, too. Or maybe schooled is a better word. Especially when you piss him off accidentally, but I’ll get to that.
I brought him home from this café he frequents at the marketplace so I could teach him the basics of necromancy. It was a strange experience, being so open about how it works, feels and flows. Those who do know what I am don’t usually ask about it, they just accept it. Lexius likened the ill effects of my work in the practice grounds as something similar to a creature called a defiler, the way I feed to a psychic vampire – not particularly flattering terms, but accurate I suppose. I have this feeling I’m going to learn more about myself through his observations than I’m comfortable with.
The lesson devolved into question and counter question. Lexius explained the planes to me, I confessed the onset of my abilities. I pry out a few more secrets - things I won't write about in case anyone ever stumbles across this - and I tell him of the Shadowlands. There’s more tucked away there, things deeper he won’t speak of. Yet. I had to concede defeat first for a change though, because he’s sat there asking about how I avoid stumbling down the predictable path, ending up like the stereotypical, villainous necromancers, and sometimes, I’m not sure I’ll succeed in that. I wobble along that fine line, stumble off it more often than I like to admit.
He appeared at the Alfar settlement a few days later. Vignar brought him in off the road, and I’m still not sure how he found his way there. Ivanya and Valdris allowed him a visit, but only because they demanded he lower his mental shields so that could monitor him for bad intentions. I didn’t think it fair to ask what else they sensed there – it wasn’t to me he let his emotions be felt – but I know the way it ended.
Once he’d spent some time examining Valdris, talking with Svana (he even managed to persuade her to loan him one of the bone carvings from her hair), I walked him out and demanded to know what it was about those damn beads he wears that the wolf was so interested in. I wasn’t shocked when he avoided telling me. I wasn’t shocked either, when he went so damn still and refused to answer me when I asked him about his strange response over my news about Koyan’s last known whereabouts.
Instead, he told me to be ready for a battle. Typical of the bastard to keep me waiting.
- M
Pharlen has agreed to help me with Taneth, if Taneth will allow it.
Of course, getting Taneth to agree to anything is easier said than done when I can barely get a word out of her, but I don’t feel so daunted by the task with someone willing to do more than shrug and accept that this is the way the girl is now. It bothers me that so many people suggest it’s just a phase, or are content seeing her so empty. Ben is different. Pharlen is, too. Thank Christ for the Bens and Pharlens of this fucked up world.
I’m writing here due to unexpected time. Lexius is keeping me waiting, but the cause for that I’ll get to in due course. I’ve spent more time with him over the past few weeks than I have in the ten years prior combined, and whilst he’s still no small enigma, I’m starting to understand how he operates. I felt comfortable enough to bring him home, anyway.
The Elf likes to learn. I’ve known no one else with such an appetite for knowledge, with an intent, almost zealous devotion to it. There’s times it makes me feel like a specimen to be studied, but I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a familiar sort of fascination. There’s more than just a walking encyclopaedia under there, even if he would hide it all under that forced serenity.
It is forced, too. Or maybe schooled is a better word. Especially when you piss him off accidentally, but I’ll get to that.
I brought him home from this café he frequents at the marketplace so I could teach him the basics of necromancy. It was a strange experience, being so open about how it works, feels and flows. Those who do know what I am don’t usually ask about it, they just accept it. Lexius likened the ill effects of my work in the practice grounds as something similar to a creature called a defiler, the way I feed to a psychic vampire – not particularly flattering terms, but accurate I suppose. I have this feeling I’m going to learn more about myself through his observations than I’m comfortable with.
The lesson devolved into question and counter question. Lexius explained the planes to me, I confessed the onset of my abilities. I pry out a few more secrets - things I won't write about in case anyone ever stumbles across this - and I tell him of the Shadowlands. There’s more tucked away there, things deeper he won’t speak of. Yet. I had to concede defeat first for a change though, because he’s sat there asking about how I avoid stumbling down the predictable path, ending up like the stereotypical, villainous necromancers, and sometimes, I’m not sure I’ll succeed in that. I wobble along that fine line, stumble off it more often than I like to admit.
He appeared at the Alfar settlement a few days later. Vignar brought him in off the road, and I’m still not sure how he found his way there. Ivanya and Valdris allowed him a visit, but only because they demanded he lower his mental shields so that could monitor him for bad intentions. I didn’t think it fair to ask what else they sensed there – it wasn’t to me he let his emotions be felt – but I know the way it ended.
Once he’d spent some time examining Valdris, talking with Svana (he even managed to persuade her to loan him one of the bone carvings from her hair), I walked him out and demanded to know what it was about those damn beads he wears that the wolf was so interested in. I wasn’t shocked when he avoided telling me. I wasn’t shocked either, when he went so damn still and refused to answer me when I asked him about his strange response over my news about Koyan’s last known whereabouts.
Instead, he told me to be ready for a battle. Typical of the bastard to keep me waiting.
- M
Re: Insights (Volume II)
August 13th, 2015
It took some persuasion, but I’ve managed to get Kai settled in the cabin by the coast. I couldn’t send her to the Warren, not knowing the nature of its denizens, and the bolthole I have at the docks is in a bad part of the neighbourhood. Small as she is, they’d make a victim of her the minute she moved in. The cabin is further than I’d like, but it’s safe, and with Rufus she can make the trip there and back without wasting a half day walking.
It was strange seeing the place again. I’ve no impulse to visit any more than I feel driven to wander by Willows Walk these days. I feel my mistakes too keenly to be able to recall the memories that made those places meaningful. I told Kai she could plant an herb garden, do whatever she wanted with the cabin. I’m considering just letting her have the place if she likes it well enough, but in the meantime there’s her arm to get fixed.
I’m not sure how reputable a place she found, but the process is underway. In Rhy’Din, you can get anything fixed. You just have to convince yourself it’s not wrong to do it in the first place.
The past couple of weeks have been busy. Between Leif and Asger coming back from their roaming for a brief visit (Ivanya was so damned happy, and even Valdris seemed pleased at Ethnir’s return) and the looming harvest, the lands the Alfar are sharing with Bjorn’s people never seem to sleep. I thought the brief revelry might help to ease some tensions, but Faendal tells me there’s constant unease amongst the remains of the Christos Clan and Fox’s followers. Dianthe and Hector aren’t getting the recognition they deserve, and with Ivanya and Bjorn choosing to stay out of the politics, there’s no force powerful enough to settle any real pecking order.
Evander hates it. I can tell he resents the newcomers, that he’s always fighting the urge to settle things with violence, but with the laws they’ve set for themselves promising harsh judgement for killings, he’s stuck with no outlet. Diplomacy was never his strong suit. I feel like there’s going to be some point at which he snaps; the Devourer blood holds strong sway over his nature, and it’s easy to see why the Antony family were so feared by the rest of Vhamere.
If he goes and kills someone and they try to lock him up, I’m breaking him out. I’m not a part of their laws. Screw laws.
My time hasn’t been spent entirely playing volunteer farmer though. In fact since I last wrote here, I’ve frequently spent time with Lexius, both in training to learn dual wielding and simply coming to know him.
After I last wrote here, he took me out into the desert where I met with a nomadic tribe called the Samahar, and another of his students, a young man (at least I assume he was young because he seemed to be the ‘gets excited and talks too much’ type). Samiel would have loved it out there, I have no doubt, and it felt strange recalling the lessons he gave me whilst travelling the Dry. What to look for to identify dangers buried in the sands. The rocks that might be playing den to snakes and scorpions.
These places will never be home to me the way forests and wilderness of the fertile kind will be, but there’s no denying they can be breath-taking.
But I digress. He hadn’t taken me out there sightseeing, he meant for me to interrogate the remains of a Githyanki warrior, these people who live in the Astral plane and shouldn’t have been anywhere near the training grounds where the tribe found him. From a professional point of view it was a unique experience. The Gith have a method of binding their souls to items they carry so that when they die, they can body-hop into whoever discovers them. It’s a method I’ve seen mention of in a few texts, but it has me wondering whether there’s any room for adapting it for my own purposes.
I was able to pick apart the Gith’s last memories and learn he’d gone out there searching for a red dragon, but also that his brain had been turned to pulp when he’d died – not at the hands of the dragon he’d been hunting, and not by the Savass – the Samahar warriors – who found him. No, it was this fucking thing called a Mindflayer, which we had to go hunting in order to give mercy killings to the Savass he’d snatched from outside the training grounds. I don’t mind rescue missions, but it’s tricky when the people you’re trying to help are trying to kill you, and Lexius is there telling me ‘do this, don’t do that, you go in first and be bait’.
Not in those exact words but that’s how it went. I forgive him because the Mindflayer almost fucked my head up as surely as it had the Gith’s, and it’s made me more determined to find some way to protect my mind than ever. If Lexius hadn’t intervened, I wouldn’t be writing this.
It hasn’t always been rescue missions and training though. Now and then we talk. It’s a slow building trust, the imparting of scraps of history that aren’t always easy to speak of, and he’s told me far more than I ever thought to hear. In the Temple District one day, he asked me where I thought our interaction fell within my laws. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time, that he was asking me simply if we were friends. I didn’t catch the nuances of his words and thought he was asking after our bartering system of learning, and it wasn’t until he got all quiet on me and left that I realised something wasn’t right.
It took me days to realise what I’d done wrong, days and some drink of course, because I have my most brilliant moments, my epiphanies when I’m plastered. I fixed it, anyway, for the space of a couple of days at least.
He took me to a cave. Not just any, but a guarded dragon’s lair, and what I took for exploration ended up being something else entirely. I don’t know its whereabouts, and the things hidden there I won’t write of here, for the same reasons as ever. Suffice to say that he’d intended to study something in me he’d noticed, that his method required I lie on this damned, wrong-feeling table, and although I complied to a point, I was caught off guard when he took my clothes.
I don’t mean he physically stripped me down, I mean they were there one moment and fucking gone the next and I’ve rarely felt so cripplingly embarrassed. I’m sure – and I mean I know because I’ve explained it to him since – that at the time he hadn’t been expecting such a severe reaction. Or maybe any at all. For some people, nudity just isn’t a thing. I need my clothes. Need them. At the time I said nothing of the why, but demanded he bring them back and had him send me home.
I wish I could just laugh shit like that off. It would be so much easier than having to admit there’s some things in my head that just don’t work right. I decided when I saw him next I’d just brush it off like it was nothing, but we were at the inn, and I couldn’t just come out and say it there with people around. Every attempt ended up aborted.
It was the day after the inn that he came out to join me at the ritual spot I was prepping for Svana and Sven. I ended up telling him a whole lot more than I meant to, about the whole fucked up mystery with Amhinata, the dreams Aoife slipped into to unblock my amnesia, the stalking... I explained the clothes shit. He explained the necessary nudity. I still don’t like it, but he seems to think there’s something in me that’d benefit from being checked out.
The promontory for the ritual is ruined now. I need to find a new spot. Thankfully Svana isn’t in any rush, because Lexius wants me to go check out some new Grecian temple with him. I don’t know why, but the lack of reason is bugging me. I’m missing something, I know I am. I just haven’t figured out what.
- M
It took some persuasion, but I’ve managed to get Kai settled in the cabin by the coast. I couldn’t send her to the Warren, not knowing the nature of its denizens, and the bolthole I have at the docks is in a bad part of the neighbourhood. Small as she is, they’d make a victim of her the minute she moved in. The cabin is further than I’d like, but it’s safe, and with Rufus she can make the trip there and back without wasting a half day walking.
It was strange seeing the place again. I’ve no impulse to visit any more than I feel driven to wander by Willows Walk these days. I feel my mistakes too keenly to be able to recall the memories that made those places meaningful. I told Kai she could plant an herb garden, do whatever she wanted with the cabin. I’m considering just letting her have the place if she likes it well enough, but in the meantime there’s her arm to get fixed.
I’m not sure how reputable a place she found, but the process is underway. In Rhy’Din, you can get anything fixed. You just have to convince yourself it’s not wrong to do it in the first place.
The past couple of weeks have been busy. Between Leif and Asger coming back from their roaming for a brief visit (Ivanya was so damned happy, and even Valdris seemed pleased at Ethnir’s return) and the looming harvest, the lands the Alfar are sharing with Bjorn’s people never seem to sleep. I thought the brief revelry might help to ease some tensions, but Faendal tells me there’s constant unease amongst the remains of the Christos Clan and Fox’s followers. Dianthe and Hector aren’t getting the recognition they deserve, and with Ivanya and Bjorn choosing to stay out of the politics, there’s no force powerful enough to settle any real pecking order.
Evander hates it. I can tell he resents the newcomers, that he’s always fighting the urge to settle things with violence, but with the laws they’ve set for themselves promising harsh judgement for killings, he’s stuck with no outlet. Diplomacy was never his strong suit. I feel like there’s going to be some point at which he snaps; the Devourer blood holds strong sway over his nature, and it’s easy to see why the Antony family were so feared by the rest of Vhamere.
If he goes and kills someone and they try to lock him up, I’m breaking him out. I’m not a part of their laws. Screw laws.
My time hasn’t been spent entirely playing volunteer farmer though. In fact since I last wrote here, I’ve frequently spent time with Lexius, both in training to learn dual wielding and simply coming to know him.
After I last wrote here, he took me out into the desert where I met with a nomadic tribe called the Samahar, and another of his students, a young man (at least I assume he was young because he seemed to be the ‘gets excited and talks too much’ type). Samiel would have loved it out there, I have no doubt, and it felt strange recalling the lessons he gave me whilst travelling the Dry. What to look for to identify dangers buried in the sands. The rocks that might be playing den to snakes and scorpions.
These places will never be home to me the way forests and wilderness of the fertile kind will be, but there’s no denying they can be breath-taking.
But I digress. He hadn’t taken me out there sightseeing, he meant for me to interrogate the remains of a Githyanki warrior, these people who live in the Astral plane and shouldn’t have been anywhere near the training grounds where the tribe found him. From a professional point of view it was a unique experience. The Gith have a method of binding their souls to items they carry so that when they die, they can body-hop into whoever discovers them. It’s a method I’ve seen mention of in a few texts, but it has me wondering whether there’s any room for adapting it for my own purposes.
I was able to pick apart the Gith’s last memories and learn he’d gone out there searching for a red dragon, but also that his brain had been turned to pulp when he’d died – not at the hands of the dragon he’d been hunting, and not by the Savass – the Samahar warriors – who found him. No, it was this fucking thing called a Mindflayer, which we had to go hunting in order to give mercy killings to the Savass he’d snatched from outside the training grounds. I don’t mind rescue missions, but it’s tricky when the people you’re trying to help are trying to kill you, and Lexius is there telling me ‘do this, don’t do that, you go in first and be bait’.
Not in those exact words but that’s how it went. I forgive him because the Mindflayer almost fucked my head up as surely as it had the Gith’s, and it’s made me more determined to find some way to protect my mind than ever. If Lexius hadn’t intervened, I wouldn’t be writing this.
It hasn’t always been rescue missions and training though. Now and then we talk. It’s a slow building trust, the imparting of scraps of history that aren’t always easy to speak of, and he’s told me far more than I ever thought to hear. In the Temple District one day, he asked me where I thought our interaction fell within my laws. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time, that he was asking me simply if we were friends. I didn’t catch the nuances of his words and thought he was asking after our bartering system of learning, and it wasn’t until he got all quiet on me and left that I realised something wasn’t right.
It took me days to realise what I’d done wrong, days and some drink of course, because I have my most brilliant moments, my epiphanies when I’m plastered. I fixed it, anyway, for the space of a couple of days at least.
He took me to a cave. Not just any, but a guarded dragon’s lair, and what I took for exploration ended up being something else entirely. I don’t know its whereabouts, and the things hidden there I won’t write of here, for the same reasons as ever. Suffice to say that he’d intended to study something in me he’d noticed, that his method required I lie on this damned, wrong-feeling table, and although I complied to a point, I was caught off guard when he took my clothes.
I don’t mean he physically stripped me down, I mean they were there one moment and fucking gone the next and I’ve rarely felt so cripplingly embarrassed. I’m sure – and I mean I know because I’ve explained it to him since – that at the time he hadn’t been expecting such a severe reaction. Or maybe any at all. For some people, nudity just isn’t a thing. I need my clothes. Need them. At the time I said nothing of the why, but demanded he bring them back and had him send me home.
I wish I could just laugh shit like that off. It would be so much easier than having to admit there’s some things in my head that just don’t work right. I decided when I saw him next I’d just brush it off like it was nothing, but we were at the inn, and I couldn’t just come out and say it there with people around. Every attempt ended up aborted.
It was the day after the inn that he came out to join me at the ritual spot I was prepping for Svana and Sven. I ended up telling him a whole lot more than I meant to, about the whole fucked up mystery with Amhinata, the dreams Aoife slipped into to unblock my amnesia, the stalking... I explained the clothes shit. He explained the necessary nudity. I still don’t like it, but he seems to think there’s something in me that’d benefit from being checked out.
The promontory for the ritual is ruined now. I need to find a new spot. Thankfully Svana isn’t in any rush, because Lexius wants me to go check out some new Grecian temple with him. I don’t know why, but the lack of reason is bugging me. I’m missing something, I know I am. I just haven’t figured out what.
- M
Re: Insights (Volume II)
August 29th, 2015
This is the first time in weeks my mind has felt clear enough for me to put ink to paper. It is to say that I may have made the largest mistake of my life. That, or I’ve finally accepted a truth I spent too long ignoring.
I’ll write about it now because there’s a great likelihood that in the coming weeks I’ll be a dead man, and if anyone comes looking to see how things finished, there should be an end to this story. Evander and I did not part ways for lack of love. It was because I’ve accepted that mine is not what he should have had. Worse, it must seem some dim echo of what was destined for him. I cannot compete for his heart with a dead woman. I will not be his solace.
I have written here, briefly, about the circumstances of his capture and subsequent rescue. What I did not confess to in any detail was the extent of the revelations in the aftermath. I cannot do them justice here, they are too much. It is verboten for me to risk the people I’ve come to consider family, and the place they come from. My actions in the past have seen such vast harm done, so many lives snuffed out needlessly, that it’s a wonder I wasn’t discovered and lynched. All the foul rumours spread about Evander and Bjorn while we were there, and the role I played in the massacre committed years ago never once mentioned. But that’s another mistake in the great catalogue of my errors. Now I’ll speak of this one.
Years ago, after Niamh’s death, I discovered her journals in the shack where she’d secluded herself and discovered what I believed to be the truth of her bond to Evander. She confessed the spell, how she’d manipulated Evander into participating, and I deliberated long and hard about telling him what I’d found. It was not an easy thing for him to accept, what seemed to be overwhelming evidence that he’d spent decades living a lie, convinced of being a part of some rare and beautiful bonding, and one which brought a nation to civil war no less. At the time I thought it might have been kinder to let him dwell in ignorance, but some small part of me was… relieved. If it had been false after all, then his feelings for me shouldn’t be something I questioned. There was opportunity for what we were doing, this messy involvement to be something real, viable.
That all changed when we visited his father’s lands, and in trying to bind him back to their family, his sister turned everything I’d convinced him of on its head. Niamh’s twisted mind had turned her own words into deceptions, half-truths I’d not interpreted correctly. Worse, even she never had any idea of what a mistake she’d made.
The bond was not a false one. It had always been intended, prophesised in countless futures, and all she’d done was use a spell to bring it about prematurely. Foolish girl. She was so desperate to solidify things, to know that he was to be hers that she warped nature and brought about their ruin. But that doesn’t change the fact that they were intended. His sister said that despite it, in each of those many circumstances where the stars aligned to bring them together, there was never a happy ending. At the time, it was the only thing which kept me from cracking. My relief made me giddy minded. In retrospect, I see what a fool I was.
A meivoln bond is still a meivoln bond, early or otherwise. It is something surpassing, something beyond what he could experience with someone like me. At the time he professed not to care about the bond and what the seer had witnessed in the stars. I remember he snared me against him with both arms as if he’d read my mind and knew the horror I must be feeling, learning it all, and I thought ‘This is real. This is not something I should question. It feels right here.’
I did a good job convincing myself at the time.
His dispassion over Niamh and the whole subject matter while we stood there listening must have been a transient thing though. Perhaps he was simply too overwhelmed to process it properly. Niamh was still with us though. Her memory sits underneath everything, a bad smell you can mask but which never really vanishes, because the source still exists.
She’s still there, in his thoughts, perhaps in his heart. To speak ill of her raises his ire. The very mention of her name is a wrongness. I am sick with jealousy. I would peel the flesh of her from her bones if she still lived and I had her at my mercy. I am convinced, utterly so, that were she whole and hale and sound of mind, that there would be no contest.
I am not enough for him. I never will be. I need to pause here.
-------------------------------------------------- -----------------------
(Resumed several hours later.)
The cabin seems even emptier now that he’s gone. This place that I intended to be for myself alone has become so again, and yet still I’m tempted to splash about the gasoline and light a match. I probably would have, left to my own devices. Instead two weeks have passed and I’ve come to terms with my inadequacy. I had my days of ceaseless drinking, of staying inside and wishing I were dead, and all manner of other lovesick foolishness. I succumbed to every groan-worthy stereotype going, and offended people in the process. Kai wished me to speak with her the first time I braved the public eye, and because I would not, I haven’t seen her since.
Lexius on the other hand has been more persistent. Ironic, really, that a matter of days before things ended with myself and Evander, he’d come to my home in the middle of the night, distraught for his own reasons. Perhaps it’s a case of one good turn deserves another. I spoke with him, convinced him not to leave the city. In turn he watched over me when I was at my worst, pulling me from an unintentional slaughter at a dockside tavern and an unobtrusive presence on my front porch for days despite my foul-mouthed protestations.
I am more grateful to him than he knows. And now I’ve more reason than ever to feel indebted, as more mistakes have surfaced to haunt me.
The taint he sensed when he examined me seems to be a result of having Ares call up a titan for Koyan and I. I was young and, like most young men of twenty, an idiot at the time. The potential for repercussions was never even something I considered, and with a decade gone, I’d no reason to suspect things might be churning away behind the scenes. It appears as a direct result of our actions that day, our benefactor (Ares), was sentenced to imprisonment. No doubt it was more complex than a case of helping a couple of mortals plan a large scale battle on a primordial pre-Power entity, but due to the *** ridiculous games the Powers play, none in Ares’ pantheon were allowed to openly attempt a break-out.
When Lexius and I went to look around the newly erected temples in the Grecian part of the Old Temple District, we not only came under assault by the Furies, but were coerced into agreeing to a rescue. Not just for Ares, however. A man known as Whisper, who I only knew due to his past interactions with Michael and Koyan, has also been imprisoned, and needs collecting along the way in order to retrieve our primary objective.
Lexius has told me that Koyan is back in the city. Gods only know what he’d make of my involvement with first Lexius, now Whisper. I don’t imagine it would be anything favourable.
I managed to insult Lexius after we left the Temple District behind, by telling him he should stay out of the whole mess and leave me to it. I don’t intend for anyone to be harmed on my account, least of all someone who’s done so much to keep me stable of late. That he’s forgiven me I’m sure enough of, since he took me out to his home in the desert to discuss our best course of action. Route to Nidavellir through Sigil seems certain, but given all that’s stacked against us (half the damn pantheon to be precise) our chances of success seem to be slim at best.
If we do get out, there’s no denying the threat of manipulation by the Powers remains. Lexius intends to negotiate protection for us, but I can’t help thinking he’s getting ahead of himself by assuming we’ll live. It would not be a terrible thing to meet an end on this trip, for me at least.
I’ve no itch to end things deliberately, but there is no part of me that is not ready. There is no one to come back to.
I’ve thought of leaving Evander a message in case it does happen. He knows where to find my journal though. This will be enough.
- M
This is the first time in weeks my mind has felt clear enough for me to put ink to paper. It is to say that I may have made the largest mistake of my life. That, or I’ve finally accepted a truth I spent too long ignoring.
I’ll write about it now because there’s a great likelihood that in the coming weeks I’ll be a dead man, and if anyone comes looking to see how things finished, there should be an end to this story. Evander and I did not part ways for lack of love. It was because I’ve accepted that mine is not what he should have had. Worse, it must seem some dim echo of what was destined for him. I cannot compete for his heart with a dead woman. I will not be his solace.
I have written here, briefly, about the circumstances of his capture and subsequent rescue. What I did not confess to in any detail was the extent of the revelations in the aftermath. I cannot do them justice here, they are too much. It is verboten for me to risk the people I’ve come to consider family, and the place they come from. My actions in the past have seen such vast harm done, so many lives snuffed out needlessly, that it’s a wonder I wasn’t discovered and lynched. All the foul rumours spread about Evander and Bjorn while we were there, and the role I played in the massacre committed years ago never once mentioned. But that’s another mistake in the great catalogue of my errors. Now I’ll speak of this one.
Years ago, after Niamh’s death, I discovered her journals in the shack where she’d secluded herself and discovered what I believed to be the truth of her bond to Evander. She confessed the spell, how she’d manipulated Evander into participating, and I deliberated long and hard about telling him what I’d found. It was not an easy thing for him to accept, what seemed to be overwhelming evidence that he’d spent decades living a lie, convinced of being a part of some rare and beautiful bonding, and one which brought a nation to civil war no less. At the time I thought it might have been kinder to let him dwell in ignorance, but some small part of me was… relieved. If it had been false after all, then his feelings for me shouldn’t be something I questioned. There was opportunity for what we were doing, this messy involvement to be something real, viable.
That all changed when we visited his father’s lands, and in trying to bind him back to their family, his sister turned everything I’d convinced him of on its head. Niamh’s twisted mind had turned her own words into deceptions, half-truths I’d not interpreted correctly. Worse, even she never had any idea of what a mistake she’d made.
The bond was not a false one. It had always been intended, prophesised in countless futures, and all she’d done was use a spell to bring it about prematurely. Foolish girl. She was so desperate to solidify things, to know that he was to be hers that she warped nature and brought about their ruin. But that doesn’t change the fact that they were intended. His sister said that despite it, in each of those many circumstances where the stars aligned to bring them together, there was never a happy ending. At the time, it was the only thing which kept me from cracking. My relief made me giddy minded. In retrospect, I see what a fool I was.
A meivoln bond is still a meivoln bond, early or otherwise. It is something surpassing, something beyond what he could experience with someone like me. At the time he professed not to care about the bond and what the seer had witnessed in the stars. I remember he snared me against him with both arms as if he’d read my mind and knew the horror I must be feeling, learning it all, and I thought ‘This is real. This is not something I should question. It feels right here.’
I did a good job convincing myself at the time.
His dispassion over Niamh and the whole subject matter while we stood there listening must have been a transient thing though. Perhaps he was simply too overwhelmed to process it properly. Niamh was still with us though. Her memory sits underneath everything, a bad smell you can mask but which never really vanishes, because the source still exists.
She’s still there, in his thoughts, perhaps in his heart. To speak ill of her raises his ire. The very mention of her name is a wrongness. I am sick with jealousy. I would peel the flesh of her from her bones if she still lived and I had her at my mercy. I am convinced, utterly so, that were she whole and hale and sound of mind, that there would be no contest.
I am not enough for him. I never will be. I need to pause here.
-------------------------------------------------- -----------------------
(Resumed several hours later.)
The cabin seems even emptier now that he’s gone. This place that I intended to be for myself alone has become so again, and yet still I’m tempted to splash about the gasoline and light a match. I probably would have, left to my own devices. Instead two weeks have passed and I’ve come to terms with my inadequacy. I had my days of ceaseless drinking, of staying inside and wishing I were dead, and all manner of other lovesick foolishness. I succumbed to every groan-worthy stereotype going, and offended people in the process. Kai wished me to speak with her the first time I braved the public eye, and because I would not, I haven’t seen her since.
Lexius on the other hand has been more persistent. Ironic, really, that a matter of days before things ended with myself and Evander, he’d come to my home in the middle of the night, distraught for his own reasons. Perhaps it’s a case of one good turn deserves another. I spoke with him, convinced him not to leave the city. In turn he watched over me when I was at my worst, pulling me from an unintentional slaughter at a dockside tavern and an unobtrusive presence on my front porch for days despite my foul-mouthed protestations.
I am more grateful to him than he knows. And now I’ve more reason than ever to feel indebted, as more mistakes have surfaced to haunt me.
The taint he sensed when he examined me seems to be a result of having Ares call up a titan for Koyan and I. I was young and, like most young men of twenty, an idiot at the time. The potential for repercussions was never even something I considered, and with a decade gone, I’d no reason to suspect things might be churning away behind the scenes. It appears as a direct result of our actions that day, our benefactor (Ares), was sentenced to imprisonment. No doubt it was more complex than a case of helping a couple of mortals plan a large scale battle on a primordial pre-Power entity, but due to the *** ridiculous games the Powers play, none in Ares’ pantheon were allowed to openly attempt a break-out.
When Lexius and I went to look around the newly erected temples in the Grecian part of the Old Temple District, we not only came under assault by the Furies, but were coerced into agreeing to a rescue. Not just for Ares, however. A man known as Whisper, who I only knew due to his past interactions with Michael and Koyan, has also been imprisoned, and needs collecting along the way in order to retrieve our primary objective.
Lexius has told me that Koyan is back in the city. Gods only know what he’d make of my involvement with first Lexius, now Whisper. I don’t imagine it would be anything favourable.
I managed to insult Lexius after we left the Temple District behind, by telling him he should stay out of the whole mess and leave me to it. I don’t intend for anyone to be harmed on my account, least of all someone who’s done so much to keep me stable of late. That he’s forgiven me I’m sure enough of, since he took me out to his home in the desert to discuss our best course of action. Route to Nidavellir through Sigil seems certain, but given all that’s stacked against us (half the damn pantheon to be precise) our chances of success seem to be slim at best.
If we do get out, there’s no denying the threat of manipulation by the Powers remains. Lexius intends to negotiate protection for us, but I can’t help thinking he’s getting ahead of himself by assuming we’ll live. It would not be a terrible thing to meet an end on this trip, for me at least.
I’ve no itch to end things deliberately, but there is no part of me that is not ready. There is no one to come back to.
I’ve thought of leaving Evander a message in case it does happen. He knows where to find my journal though. This will be enough.
- M
Re: Insights (Volume II)
September 14th, 2015
There was some sort of gathering down at the docks last night. One of the Governor’s shindigs I don’t doubt, with all the ships strung up with lights and the revellers clad in dubious homages to pirates and seafarers of more respectable sorts. The crowd was immense, and for once I was glad of it. Despite my best efforts not to languish in self-pity over all that happened, and has happened since, I have felt such a loneliness without Evander to share my thoughts, my nights and my fears with, that even the questionable nearness of an anonymous crowd was preferable to staying home by myself.
It’s laughable really. Just a few short weeks ago, Lexius asked me “Why do you choose to be alone?” And I told him of course, that I was not. Now I wonder if I’ve ever really spent any great time alone, whether I’ve become one of those dependent *** I’ve always frowned upon for being needy.
Some good came of being out. I met Eden there at the festival, looking as unprepared for the event as I was. Eden unchanging, her smile just as warming and her humour as reliably, endearingly juvenile. She asks me what I’ve been up to, as old friends do who haven’t seen each other for some time, and Christ, I didn’t know where to begin.
It would take hours to relate it all, the events of the weeks since I last wrote here. The bare bones will have to suffice.
A demon came to the livery yard where I was working one evening, angry and violent, but willing to be reasoned with. His anger was not aimed at me, but Lexius. The cause? Whisper. It seems he’d been looking for the man for some years, and now that we’d been charged with the task of ensuring his release, the demon meant to become involved. Sulphur was his name, and though I hate to admit it, his assistance during our travels was invaluable. Without him, we’d never have known Ares was bound between two planes, or that Whisper and the horn fragment we were given were necessities for unravelling the way to him.
We left that evening for Sigil, through a portal Jason was guarding for us, and met with a dwarven guide, an ill-tempered, grasping bastard who took us for naïve newcomers. I was certainly that, and am not sure my limited acting skills convinced him otherwise. Lexius at least was familiar enough with the local argot to ensure we weren’t swindled. Grizzle, as it turned out, managed to get us down into Nidavellir where we knew to look for Whisper, but the runes we were using for guidance took us to old tunnels long blocked off. We insisted on examining them anyway, and were right to, but we near killed ourselves in the process when I woke a rock golem, the tunnel collapsed, and Lexius vanished under the cave in.
This first trap was of course a mere pre-cursor to what lay ahead of us. We’d made the error of using the rune keys incorrectly, and when we made the same mistake with the next tunnel, Grizzle’s fees suddenly became a non-issue. A gorgon guarded the next passage, and its breath turned his flesh to stone before Lexius could react to protect him. One party member down, we tasked ourselves with remedying our errors, knowing full well that the guardians were going to become more of a threat the further we went, and we had a long way to go.
I don’t mind caves. Hell I’ve always found them fascinating. It’s a little different when you know they’re full of things trying to kill you, that your continued existence relies upon fulfilling some task you never wanted in the first place, that ahead of you lie the Grey Wastes and you have to spend hours sat silent and alone on watch duty while your fellow explorer rests. It was all too much like the Yu’lahn’s caves out in the Weave, another place full of unwanted memories.
We did not reach Whisper, or Aiden as I know him now, unscathed. Our presence in the tunnels had drawn attention, and after an assault by a swarm of shadow beings, we were separated, confined to labyrinths and the traditional inhabitants of them. I’ve never killed a minotaur before, but that day I did, clumsily and with substantial injuries. Unsurprisingly Lexius fared far better with the one he’d slain, but the combined victories saw us free of our separation, and finally at the holding cell of the first of our objectives.
Aiden is, without a doubt, one of the most shameless bastards I’ve ever met. Freeing him was no simple matter, and until we managed to cut him loose it had seemed we might have to physically drag an invalid around with us. Perhaps there’s been some long-term mental damage, but his memory seemed patchy. He knew that Lexius should be familiar somehow, but when I mentioned Koyan to him he seemed to recall nothing but the fact he was desert born. His physical recovery at least was alarmingly quick, and without it, and another timely spot of interference by Sulphur, we’d probably never have made it from that jail cell. I won’t write the specifics here, but Aiden’s bloodlines are destined to cause us no end of trouble.
It was Aiden who played guide to us from there, leading us down the great tree Yggdrasil, past the guardian known as Garm and into Niffelheim and the Grey Wastes. I had been dreading them more than anything, even with the added protection of a trinket Lexius fashioned to aid me. A place that drains, which inflicts apathy, which preys on all those mental weaknesses and in short, it’s just what I didn’t need, still raw and pathetic over Evander.
I know for a fact I wouldn’t have survived them if not for Lexius. Twice he pulled me from hallucinations tailored to the fragile mental state I’d entered with. Once, he kept me from killing Aiden when the wastes made him appear to me as Evander so convincingly I could barely tell the difference. Poor bastard didn’t realise, saw only invitation – I’ll give him his due, it’s not every man who’s willing to entertain anything carnal with a man covered in several days’ worth of filth and blood when he’s only hours free of prolonged incarceration. He also weathered the reality of the situation with good humour after he realised the truth of the matter on the end of my fist.
Dire wolves and nightmares and hags there were, an adventure I’d have relished in other circumstances, but only wanted an end to as it stretched on. The obelisk tormented me with the worst of my fears, brought Evander and Samiel and Niamh to visit my mind as I lay unconscious and ineffectual, a victim to its trap. I’m not sure whether it was Lexius’ pleading or the voices linked to that string of sandalwood he carries which succeeded in stirring the dregs of determination. Whoever, whatever it was, it worked, and from there it was a matter of minutes to Ares’ prison, though Lexius would not agree to his freedom until he’d pledged us his protection from the rest of the pantheon.
Even with oaths in place, I don’t think the mess is finished. While the Grecians clash, the memory of us is still fresh in their heads, and so the pair of us are keeping a low profile as best we can, with Aiden committed to giving us updates whenever he’s able.
Would Eden even have believed it all if I’d sat her down on one of the piers and related the whole sorry mess?
I told her there had been minotaurs and gorgons, and made of it a small thing. She was more generous when she told me of the trouble she’d been having in assisting Koyan at Alvaka. I know now the cause for his return from Madrid, and that their troubles are far from over. I hadn’t known before that night that she was even acquainted with him, but all those old names tangle over the years. I would never have expected to count Lexius as amongst my confidants, and yet here he is, years later, invaluable to me.
I don’t recall what I told Eden that evening, whether I reminded her I would help, or asked her to remind Koyan he could call on me for assistance if need be. I’d like to think they simply both knew already, but time will tell. I haven’t seen the scruffy bastard for five years or more, and for some that’s plenty for old trusts to decay. I suspect Lexius would be more helpful than I, but the complexities there are many, and I wouldn’t dream of suggesting to either party that they convene.
Autumn is looming. I don’t think I’m ready.
- M
There was some sort of gathering down at the docks last night. One of the Governor’s shindigs I don’t doubt, with all the ships strung up with lights and the revellers clad in dubious homages to pirates and seafarers of more respectable sorts. The crowd was immense, and for once I was glad of it. Despite my best efforts not to languish in self-pity over all that happened, and has happened since, I have felt such a loneliness without Evander to share my thoughts, my nights and my fears with, that even the questionable nearness of an anonymous crowd was preferable to staying home by myself.
It’s laughable really. Just a few short weeks ago, Lexius asked me “Why do you choose to be alone?” And I told him of course, that I was not. Now I wonder if I’ve ever really spent any great time alone, whether I’ve become one of those dependent *** I’ve always frowned upon for being needy.
Some good came of being out. I met Eden there at the festival, looking as unprepared for the event as I was. Eden unchanging, her smile just as warming and her humour as reliably, endearingly juvenile. She asks me what I’ve been up to, as old friends do who haven’t seen each other for some time, and Christ, I didn’t know where to begin.
It would take hours to relate it all, the events of the weeks since I last wrote here. The bare bones will have to suffice.
A demon came to the livery yard where I was working one evening, angry and violent, but willing to be reasoned with. His anger was not aimed at me, but Lexius. The cause? Whisper. It seems he’d been looking for the man for some years, and now that we’d been charged with the task of ensuring his release, the demon meant to become involved. Sulphur was his name, and though I hate to admit it, his assistance during our travels was invaluable. Without him, we’d never have known Ares was bound between two planes, or that Whisper and the horn fragment we were given were necessities for unravelling the way to him.
We left that evening for Sigil, through a portal Jason was guarding for us, and met with a dwarven guide, an ill-tempered, grasping bastard who took us for naïve newcomers. I was certainly that, and am not sure my limited acting skills convinced him otherwise. Lexius at least was familiar enough with the local argot to ensure we weren’t swindled. Grizzle, as it turned out, managed to get us down into Nidavellir where we knew to look for Whisper, but the runes we were using for guidance took us to old tunnels long blocked off. We insisted on examining them anyway, and were right to, but we near killed ourselves in the process when I woke a rock golem, the tunnel collapsed, and Lexius vanished under the cave in.
This first trap was of course a mere pre-cursor to what lay ahead of us. We’d made the error of using the rune keys incorrectly, and when we made the same mistake with the next tunnel, Grizzle’s fees suddenly became a non-issue. A gorgon guarded the next passage, and its breath turned his flesh to stone before Lexius could react to protect him. One party member down, we tasked ourselves with remedying our errors, knowing full well that the guardians were going to become more of a threat the further we went, and we had a long way to go.
I don’t mind caves. Hell I’ve always found them fascinating. It’s a little different when you know they’re full of things trying to kill you, that your continued existence relies upon fulfilling some task you never wanted in the first place, that ahead of you lie the Grey Wastes and you have to spend hours sat silent and alone on watch duty while your fellow explorer rests. It was all too much like the Yu’lahn’s caves out in the Weave, another place full of unwanted memories.
We did not reach Whisper, or Aiden as I know him now, unscathed. Our presence in the tunnels had drawn attention, and after an assault by a swarm of shadow beings, we were separated, confined to labyrinths and the traditional inhabitants of them. I’ve never killed a minotaur before, but that day I did, clumsily and with substantial injuries. Unsurprisingly Lexius fared far better with the one he’d slain, but the combined victories saw us free of our separation, and finally at the holding cell of the first of our objectives.
Aiden is, without a doubt, one of the most shameless bastards I’ve ever met. Freeing him was no simple matter, and until we managed to cut him loose it had seemed we might have to physically drag an invalid around with us. Perhaps there’s been some long-term mental damage, but his memory seemed patchy. He knew that Lexius should be familiar somehow, but when I mentioned Koyan to him he seemed to recall nothing but the fact he was desert born. His physical recovery at least was alarmingly quick, and without it, and another timely spot of interference by Sulphur, we’d probably never have made it from that jail cell. I won’t write the specifics here, but Aiden’s bloodlines are destined to cause us no end of trouble.
It was Aiden who played guide to us from there, leading us down the great tree Yggdrasil, past the guardian known as Garm and into Niffelheim and the Grey Wastes. I had been dreading them more than anything, even with the added protection of a trinket Lexius fashioned to aid me. A place that drains, which inflicts apathy, which preys on all those mental weaknesses and in short, it’s just what I didn’t need, still raw and pathetic over Evander.
I know for a fact I wouldn’t have survived them if not for Lexius. Twice he pulled me from hallucinations tailored to the fragile mental state I’d entered with. Once, he kept me from killing Aiden when the wastes made him appear to me as Evander so convincingly I could barely tell the difference. Poor bastard didn’t realise, saw only invitation – I’ll give him his due, it’s not every man who’s willing to entertain anything carnal with a man covered in several days’ worth of filth and blood when he’s only hours free of prolonged incarceration. He also weathered the reality of the situation with good humour after he realised the truth of the matter on the end of my fist.
Dire wolves and nightmares and hags there were, an adventure I’d have relished in other circumstances, but only wanted an end to as it stretched on. The obelisk tormented me with the worst of my fears, brought Evander and Samiel and Niamh to visit my mind as I lay unconscious and ineffectual, a victim to its trap. I’m not sure whether it was Lexius’ pleading or the voices linked to that string of sandalwood he carries which succeeded in stirring the dregs of determination. Whoever, whatever it was, it worked, and from there it was a matter of minutes to Ares’ prison, though Lexius would not agree to his freedom until he’d pledged us his protection from the rest of the pantheon.
Even with oaths in place, I don’t think the mess is finished. While the Grecians clash, the memory of us is still fresh in their heads, and so the pair of us are keeping a low profile as best we can, with Aiden committed to giving us updates whenever he’s able.
Would Eden even have believed it all if I’d sat her down on one of the piers and related the whole sorry mess?
I told her there had been minotaurs and gorgons, and made of it a small thing. She was more generous when she told me of the trouble she’d been having in assisting Koyan at Alvaka. I know now the cause for his return from Madrid, and that their troubles are far from over. I hadn’t known before that night that she was even acquainted with him, but all those old names tangle over the years. I would never have expected to count Lexius as amongst my confidants, and yet here he is, years later, invaluable to me.
I don’t recall what I told Eden that evening, whether I reminded her I would help, or asked her to remind Koyan he could call on me for assistance if need be. I’d like to think they simply both knew already, but time will tell. I haven’t seen the scruffy bastard for five years or more, and for some that’s plenty for old trusts to decay. I suspect Lexius would be more helpful than I, but the complexities there are many, and I wouldn’t dream of suggesting to either party that they convene.
Autumn is looming. I don’t think I’m ready.
- M
Re: Insights (Volume II)
September 30th, 2015
Some weeks have passed since the return from Nidavellir and the Grey Wastes; resuming normalcy after events like this has never been something I coped with easily. Absent the adrenaline, even a world like Rhy’Din can seem dulled, lacking enough bite to make me feel as if I live in any real sense of the word. I’m supposed to be grateful for the reprieve. Instead I’m reminded oppressively of what I lack.
Keeping my distance has been a trial. The Alfar do their best to see me occupied when I visit, but they keep me from Evander with unshakeable purpose. They want to protect him. I love them for that. I’ve not so much as glimpsed him, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d moved off the settlement to live the loner again, perhaps as much to get away from the power play as from me.
There has been no trouble from the pantheon and no messages from Aiden beneath the bottle at the inn. I’ve returned to working in the Temple District without complication. My training with the sticks has resumed at Lexius’ insistence, and there’s a sudden influx of non-native species roaming about Sanctuary which Kalari hunts with her usual fervour. I’m concerned about Koji. I don’t think he’ll reach the New Year.
Autumn began a little over a week ago, and I’ve slept a handful of hours if that. I can’t even bring myself to lie still and attempt to rest. Of course my temper frays as easily as it ever has, and anything undead foolish enough to cross my path threatens to reel me in like a well baited line. Sinjin, back from one of his lengthy absences, thought it the ideal time to test my patience when we ran into one another at the inn. His masochism knows no bounds, and for just a moment it felt like things were as they had been a decade before, when our altercations were frequent and the pain cathartic. For the briefest of moments he had his teeth in my throat, and then the parity ended.
Once I would have allowed it, pressed my palm to his head and encouraged, not just for the small intimacy of the bond which once linked us but because it thrilled. Now every part of me rebels, howls protest at permitting the liberty. The shift in balance is entirely my own fault. I understand now what it must be like for his kind to loiter amongst their meals, because my instincts demand submission. He is undead. Make of him a plaything. The urge is so much worse for the sentient undead than it is for mindless husks, because they fight compulsion, and when the mastery wins out, there’s a *** glorious, triumphant high. Part of me wants to subject Sinjin to this, to see how far the scales have shifted over the years despite his bloodlines. It’s a good thing he left when all I’d had time to do was maim him.
The incident didn’t go unseen. Halcyon, one of Lexius’ old friends caught the tail end of it, and reported back to him. I can understand, in retrospect, how suspicious it must have seemed than my neck was covered when I invited him to visit to meet Rana, Samiel’s fire elemental guardian. Whilst the man might have vanished, she at least has remained. This I attribute to her fondness to Zillah rather than any particular fealty to me, but it was a pleasure to be able to introduce him to such a little seen entity.
But as I was saying, he disapproved of the altercation with Sin, even going so far as to question the nature of our relationship. To what purpose I’m not sure, but I made sure he understood that despite our obvious differences, he was of some importance. It was enough to satisfy his curiosity at least, because he gifted me not only with samples of refined plasma he’d been able to salvage from the inn, but select bits and pieces from our trip, items beyond valuable when it comes to experimentation.
It felt only fair to introduce him to morgue then, and to the lab where I refine my personal experimentation. His approval of the set-up was surprisingly welcome – it’s been some time since I’ve had any friends with a particular interest in science, and despite my lack of education in the subjects, I’ve learned enough over the years to understand why Michael once put so much value into his research papers.
With all the samples he’s provided me with lately, I was feeling particularly generous, and gave him the results of one of my own experiments as a gift to do with as he wished. It won’t rival anything he’s capable of with his psionic talents, but it’s a useful bit of unpleasantness nonetheless, an accomplishment I’m proud of. That he was impressed with it only saw my ego swell.
He offered to set up a teleportation circle for me down in the morgue in case I ever get trapped there again, as I did after the fire that burned the original funeral home down. It seemed a foolish thing to refuse, so I accepted the offer, and suggested he make the other end spit me out at his place in the desert. I didn’t expect him to take me seriously, figured the intrusion might earn me an automatic refusal. Instead, he agreed to it. Apparently I’m to be given physic, chemistry and biology homework on top of my stick training.
Speaking of which, I finally earned a set of carved sticks intended for more than training, handsome things Lexius made in anticipation of me finally succeeding in striking him with one in a sparring match. It was supposed to be friendly, but I broke some bones with the eventual contact, an error I suspect may have had something to do with my current affliction, and perhaps because I was determined not to fail in front of an audience.
Gem had come to visit, and caught us mid-match.
Her visit was for more than a social call though, and in the coming days, Lexius and I intend to visit Quellarin with Pharlen to try and ascertain the source of a mystery illness which seems to have been plaguing Gem ever since the birth of Nyx. She’s confided there seem to be links to necromancy, which gives me hope I may be of some assistance, and also has me feeling particularly territorial knowing there’s another of my kind lurking about, and making a target of one of my oldest friends.
Fate willing, I’ll be of more help in this than I have been to other women this year. Taneth remains a mystery. Kai has vanished. Not a great track record.
- M
Some weeks have passed since the return from Nidavellir and the Grey Wastes; resuming normalcy after events like this has never been something I coped with easily. Absent the adrenaline, even a world like Rhy’Din can seem dulled, lacking enough bite to make me feel as if I live in any real sense of the word. I’m supposed to be grateful for the reprieve. Instead I’m reminded oppressively of what I lack.
Keeping my distance has been a trial. The Alfar do their best to see me occupied when I visit, but they keep me from Evander with unshakeable purpose. They want to protect him. I love them for that. I’ve not so much as glimpsed him, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d moved off the settlement to live the loner again, perhaps as much to get away from the power play as from me.
There has been no trouble from the pantheon and no messages from Aiden beneath the bottle at the inn. I’ve returned to working in the Temple District without complication. My training with the sticks has resumed at Lexius’ insistence, and there’s a sudden influx of non-native species roaming about Sanctuary which Kalari hunts with her usual fervour. I’m concerned about Koji. I don’t think he’ll reach the New Year.
Autumn began a little over a week ago, and I’ve slept a handful of hours if that. I can’t even bring myself to lie still and attempt to rest. Of course my temper frays as easily as it ever has, and anything undead foolish enough to cross my path threatens to reel me in like a well baited line. Sinjin, back from one of his lengthy absences, thought it the ideal time to test my patience when we ran into one another at the inn. His masochism knows no bounds, and for just a moment it felt like things were as they had been a decade before, when our altercations were frequent and the pain cathartic. For the briefest of moments he had his teeth in my throat, and then the parity ended.
Once I would have allowed it, pressed my palm to his head and encouraged, not just for the small intimacy of the bond which once linked us but because it thrilled. Now every part of me rebels, howls protest at permitting the liberty. The shift in balance is entirely my own fault. I understand now what it must be like for his kind to loiter amongst their meals, because my instincts demand submission. He is undead. Make of him a plaything. The urge is so much worse for the sentient undead than it is for mindless husks, because they fight compulsion, and when the mastery wins out, there’s a *** glorious, triumphant high. Part of me wants to subject Sinjin to this, to see how far the scales have shifted over the years despite his bloodlines. It’s a good thing he left when all I’d had time to do was maim him.
The incident didn’t go unseen. Halcyon, one of Lexius’ old friends caught the tail end of it, and reported back to him. I can understand, in retrospect, how suspicious it must have seemed than my neck was covered when I invited him to visit to meet Rana, Samiel’s fire elemental guardian. Whilst the man might have vanished, she at least has remained. This I attribute to her fondness to Zillah rather than any particular fealty to me, but it was a pleasure to be able to introduce him to such a little seen entity.
But as I was saying, he disapproved of the altercation with Sin, even going so far as to question the nature of our relationship. To what purpose I’m not sure, but I made sure he understood that despite our obvious differences, he was of some importance. It was enough to satisfy his curiosity at least, because he gifted me not only with samples of refined plasma he’d been able to salvage from the inn, but select bits and pieces from our trip, items beyond valuable when it comes to experimentation.
It felt only fair to introduce him to morgue then, and to the lab where I refine my personal experimentation. His approval of the set-up was surprisingly welcome – it’s been some time since I’ve had any friends with a particular interest in science, and despite my lack of education in the subjects, I’ve learned enough over the years to understand why Michael once put so much value into his research papers.
With all the samples he’s provided me with lately, I was feeling particularly generous, and gave him the results of one of my own experiments as a gift to do with as he wished. It won’t rival anything he’s capable of with his psionic talents, but it’s a useful bit of unpleasantness nonetheless, an accomplishment I’m proud of. That he was impressed with it only saw my ego swell.
He offered to set up a teleportation circle for me down in the morgue in case I ever get trapped there again, as I did after the fire that burned the original funeral home down. It seemed a foolish thing to refuse, so I accepted the offer, and suggested he make the other end spit me out at his place in the desert. I didn’t expect him to take me seriously, figured the intrusion might earn me an automatic refusal. Instead, he agreed to it. Apparently I’m to be given physic, chemistry and biology homework on top of my stick training.
Speaking of which, I finally earned a set of carved sticks intended for more than training, handsome things Lexius made in anticipation of me finally succeeding in striking him with one in a sparring match. It was supposed to be friendly, but I broke some bones with the eventual contact, an error I suspect may have had something to do with my current affliction, and perhaps because I was determined not to fail in front of an audience.
Gem had come to visit, and caught us mid-match.
Her visit was for more than a social call though, and in the coming days, Lexius and I intend to visit Quellarin with Pharlen to try and ascertain the source of a mystery illness which seems to have been plaguing Gem ever since the birth of Nyx. She’s confided there seem to be links to necromancy, which gives me hope I may be of some assistance, and also has me feeling particularly territorial knowing there’s another of my kind lurking about, and making a target of one of my oldest friends.
Fate willing, I’ll be of more help in this than I have been to other women this year. Taneth remains a mystery. Kai has vanished. Not a great track record.
- M
Re: Insights (Volume II)
October 18th, 2015
Last I wrote here, Gem had come to visit and asked that I join her out at Quellarin following suspicions someone amongst her staff was plotting her death. In the few weeks since, not only were her suspicions proven correct, but the perpetrator turned out to be a fellow necromancer. I’ve a bad track record with others of my kind. This may not end well.
Things need to be ordered if they’re to make any sense though.
I joined Gem and Pharlen at Quellarin, and we went about our searches alone. There was plenty of evidence of ritual, runes and sacrifices and links to demonic as well as necromantic leanings, but all sloppily done. At that point I was almost disappointed that the culprit was likely to be some dabbler who’d just got lucky, but things took a more sinister turn when it became evident that the energy being stolen from Gem was being channelled to somewhere in the city, and to nothing living. I couldn’t interrupt it. Pharlen’s investigations turned up nothing better, proving that the grounds were being tapped too, likely due to their link to Gem.
Lexius knew of our intentions to investigate there since he’d been at Sanctuary when Gem came asking for help. His psionic talents had a culprit quickly identified amongst her household staff, but the woman in question didn’t live long enough for us to pry much in the way of answers from her, before a spell she cast conjured up an Ammit and all hell broke loose. It was enough for us to learn that the sewers needed investigating though, and that the woman was the victim of a seduction spell cast by an individual we only knew as the ‘Scion’ at that stage.
Lexius managed to slay the Ammit, though not without considerable toll. I’d never seen him struggle so much with a single opponent, and it didn’t bode well, to have creatures connected to the Egyptian pantheon being summoned to obstruct us so early. It was the first of many, naturally. Our resulting search in the sewers a week later uncovered a sect dedicated to the deity Sobek, and a survivor from amongst the human sacrifices put into Jason’s care provided a few more answers about our target; Jetrell, son of Terrel, the bitch from Gem’s world that she and I took up arms against over a decade ago.
I remember little of the woman herself save for her predilections. Virgin sacrifice, sexual perversions (at the time threatened upon both Gem and I) in an arena she ran, slaves, that sort of twisted ***. I don’t think Gem knew she’d been in league with Sobek, but it puts an unexpected spin on things now, and Aiden has been tasked with trying to infiltrate the reptile’s group of minions to get us information on his plans. Lexius and I are to meet with him soon in the tech sector, so fate willing, he’ll have news to share of his own pantheon while we’re there.
Of course there’s been more to life than mortal risks. My porch has become a repository for notes; Lexius leaves them on those days we don’t see one another, if not one of the stone-cut figurines he’s begun to decorate the porch railing with. Then of course there was the Stolichnaya.
Evander left it there, with a quote trapped beneath it. “If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all of my life.” - Oscar Wilde. Only he’d put a line through the first part and I know damn well he means it.
I wish he hadn’t done it. I wish he’d let me bow out of things thinking those sentiments would fade, and that knowing he could survive after that bitch Niamh, he’d give himself the time he needs to heal from all she did to him and find someone else. Someone who’d tolerate that old flame no matter how long it burned. There are people who would suffer it for a man like him, if they could stomach his brutality. I never minded the strength of his hands. Only the fetters still unbroken around his heart, whether he denies them or not.
Knowing his interest still rests with me makes it difficult for me to consider possibilities with anyone else. I have turned down Aiden’s recurring advances, light-hearted though I suspect them to be, even though I’m pretty sure it’d be simple, no strings attached sex. I’ve considered taking the edge off the usual urges by visiting one of the cleaner brothels I know, but the truth is, I doubt any of them would tolerate my vices, and over the past three years they’ve been so generously accommodated by Evander I’m bracing myself for a future of disappointment between the sheets.
That makes it all the more bewildering to me that the one person I could currently see myself entertaining anything of that nature with, has none of my inclinations.
Lexius asked me plainly on one of his visits whether my inclination to cause pain extended to sex, and we ended up in a surprisingly frank conversation about preferences, history – he asked me outright whether I’d ever been with Koyan. Perhaps he simply assumed, as others used to when the man and I used to hang out together frequently, that there was something more to it. I can still remember how furious Koyan would get if anyone so much as implied it, and involved as I was with Tanziel at the time it never bothered me that I wasn’t his type, or that such sharp disapproval might indicate he found the notion offensive because I was beneath him in some way. It takes imagination to see past my physical faults. Or a hard stomach.
I don’t, as I informed Lexius during that discussion, look at anyone in a sexual light if I’m already with someone. Nor have I since Evander until Lexius told me frankly that I was his type. Never mind the incompatibility in tastes, the fact that he’d never let me brutalise him. Never mind that he’s still inwardly fixated on what his flaws demand he must be.
I hadn’t looked at him before then. Never as more than a friend and tutor, someone I’d come to rely on, whose company I missed sharply those times he stayed away. But once he’d told me he’d felt possessive after Sinjin bit me, once the idea took root in my head, it was impossible not to wonder over what if’s. Not took look at him and imagine what the clothes hid, or to wonder how an elf’s bones might feel under my fingers. He is not lacking in desirable qualities, both physically and mentally, but his lack of tolerance for my habits make it an effort in futility.
It would be infinitely easier not to think of him at all that way if he’d keep his hands to himself. His contact is always discreet, a hand at my neck or spine, more recently my damn hair. There’s an unfairness to it, that I tolerate contact when once upon a time, it was he who denied even a well-meaning hand at his shoulder.
It concerns me that someone I have become so close to, so rapidly, holds sexual interest to me. There exists a tension between us now, and he distances himself from me more frequently when he’s lax in disguising his wants. Part of me is pleased. I’ve encouraged him to go and experiment with someone, to try and deny the faults he struggles with. Let it be another who becomes a replacement for Koyan. I don’t want to stumble into anything foolishly with someone I genuinely care for, just for sex. It wouldn’t be fair. Not with Evander still such a cruel temptation. Not when I couldn’t answer truly that I’m free of any yearning for him.
At one point, Lexius implied he should distance himself from our friendship because it would bother Koyan. Koyan, who finally appeared one evening at the inn in some ridiculous brewfest outfit, unchanged in appearance but for seeming to be hiding a tiredness behind his smiles and his usual unrepentant nature. It felt good to fall back into old habits with him, to laugh and torment. Why Lexius thinks he would care that the two of us are friends I don’t know, as he’s never made any protest about me socialising with others he’s been with. I tried to reassure him otherwise, found myself angry that he’d drop me so quickly, and though I managed to talk him around, I sense he remains unconvinced on the issue.
In other news, Salvador has contacted me to ask that I speak to Aoife about shadows. Letting him give her my number was probably a bad idea.
- M
Last I wrote here, Gem had come to visit and asked that I join her out at Quellarin following suspicions someone amongst her staff was plotting her death. In the few weeks since, not only were her suspicions proven correct, but the perpetrator turned out to be a fellow necromancer. I’ve a bad track record with others of my kind. This may not end well.
Things need to be ordered if they’re to make any sense though.
I joined Gem and Pharlen at Quellarin, and we went about our searches alone. There was plenty of evidence of ritual, runes and sacrifices and links to demonic as well as necromantic leanings, but all sloppily done. At that point I was almost disappointed that the culprit was likely to be some dabbler who’d just got lucky, but things took a more sinister turn when it became evident that the energy being stolen from Gem was being channelled to somewhere in the city, and to nothing living. I couldn’t interrupt it. Pharlen’s investigations turned up nothing better, proving that the grounds were being tapped too, likely due to their link to Gem.
Lexius knew of our intentions to investigate there since he’d been at Sanctuary when Gem came asking for help. His psionic talents had a culprit quickly identified amongst her household staff, but the woman in question didn’t live long enough for us to pry much in the way of answers from her, before a spell she cast conjured up an Ammit and all hell broke loose. It was enough for us to learn that the sewers needed investigating though, and that the woman was the victim of a seduction spell cast by an individual we only knew as the ‘Scion’ at that stage.
Lexius managed to slay the Ammit, though not without considerable toll. I’d never seen him struggle so much with a single opponent, and it didn’t bode well, to have creatures connected to the Egyptian pantheon being summoned to obstruct us so early. It was the first of many, naturally. Our resulting search in the sewers a week later uncovered a sect dedicated to the deity Sobek, and a survivor from amongst the human sacrifices put into Jason’s care provided a few more answers about our target; Jetrell, son of Terrel, the bitch from Gem’s world that she and I took up arms against over a decade ago.
I remember little of the woman herself save for her predilections. Virgin sacrifice, sexual perversions (at the time threatened upon both Gem and I) in an arena she ran, slaves, that sort of twisted ***. I don’t think Gem knew she’d been in league with Sobek, but it puts an unexpected spin on things now, and Aiden has been tasked with trying to infiltrate the reptile’s group of minions to get us information on his plans. Lexius and I are to meet with him soon in the tech sector, so fate willing, he’ll have news to share of his own pantheon while we’re there.
Of course there’s been more to life than mortal risks. My porch has become a repository for notes; Lexius leaves them on those days we don’t see one another, if not one of the stone-cut figurines he’s begun to decorate the porch railing with. Then of course there was the Stolichnaya.
Evander left it there, with a quote trapped beneath it. “If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all of my life.” - Oscar Wilde. Only he’d put a line through the first part and I know damn well he means it.
I wish he hadn’t done it. I wish he’d let me bow out of things thinking those sentiments would fade, and that knowing he could survive after that bitch Niamh, he’d give himself the time he needs to heal from all she did to him and find someone else. Someone who’d tolerate that old flame no matter how long it burned. There are people who would suffer it for a man like him, if they could stomach his brutality. I never minded the strength of his hands. Only the fetters still unbroken around his heart, whether he denies them or not.
Knowing his interest still rests with me makes it difficult for me to consider possibilities with anyone else. I have turned down Aiden’s recurring advances, light-hearted though I suspect them to be, even though I’m pretty sure it’d be simple, no strings attached sex. I’ve considered taking the edge off the usual urges by visiting one of the cleaner brothels I know, but the truth is, I doubt any of them would tolerate my vices, and over the past three years they’ve been so generously accommodated by Evander I’m bracing myself for a future of disappointment between the sheets.
That makes it all the more bewildering to me that the one person I could currently see myself entertaining anything of that nature with, has none of my inclinations.
Lexius asked me plainly on one of his visits whether my inclination to cause pain extended to sex, and we ended up in a surprisingly frank conversation about preferences, history – he asked me outright whether I’d ever been with Koyan. Perhaps he simply assumed, as others used to when the man and I used to hang out together frequently, that there was something more to it. I can still remember how furious Koyan would get if anyone so much as implied it, and involved as I was with Tanziel at the time it never bothered me that I wasn’t his type, or that such sharp disapproval might indicate he found the notion offensive because I was beneath him in some way. It takes imagination to see past my physical faults. Or a hard stomach.
I don’t, as I informed Lexius during that discussion, look at anyone in a sexual light if I’m already with someone. Nor have I since Evander until Lexius told me frankly that I was his type. Never mind the incompatibility in tastes, the fact that he’d never let me brutalise him. Never mind that he’s still inwardly fixated on what his flaws demand he must be.
I hadn’t looked at him before then. Never as more than a friend and tutor, someone I’d come to rely on, whose company I missed sharply those times he stayed away. But once he’d told me he’d felt possessive after Sinjin bit me, once the idea took root in my head, it was impossible not to wonder over what if’s. Not took look at him and imagine what the clothes hid, or to wonder how an elf’s bones might feel under my fingers. He is not lacking in desirable qualities, both physically and mentally, but his lack of tolerance for my habits make it an effort in futility.
It would be infinitely easier not to think of him at all that way if he’d keep his hands to himself. His contact is always discreet, a hand at my neck or spine, more recently my damn hair. There’s an unfairness to it, that I tolerate contact when once upon a time, it was he who denied even a well-meaning hand at his shoulder.
It concerns me that someone I have become so close to, so rapidly, holds sexual interest to me. There exists a tension between us now, and he distances himself from me more frequently when he’s lax in disguising his wants. Part of me is pleased. I’ve encouraged him to go and experiment with someone, to try and deny the faults he struggles with. Let it be another who becomes a replacement for Koyan. I don’t want to stumble into anything foolishly with someone I genuinely care for, just for sex. It wouldn’t be fair. Not with Evander still such a cruel temptation. Not when I couldn’t answer truly that I’m free of any yearning for him.
At one point, Lexius implied he should distance himself from our friendship because it would bother Koyan. Koyan, who finally appeared one evening at the inn in some ridiculous brewfest outfit, unchanged in appearance but for seeming to be hiding a tiredness behind his smiles and his usual unrepentant nature. It felt good to fall back into old habits with him, to laugh and torment. Why Lexius thinks he would care that the two of us are friends I don’t know, as he’s never made any protest about me socialising with others he’s been with. I tried to reassure him otherwise, found myself angry that he’d drop me so quickly, and though I managed to talk him around, I sense he remains unconvinced on the issue.
In other news, Salvador has contacted me to ask that I speak to Aoife about shadows. Letting him give her my number was probably a bad idea.
- M
Re: Insights (Volume II)
[Due to excessive rambling, this entry will be split into several posts. Warning for length, profanity and all that other good stuff.]
November 6th, 2015
There’s a fucking staff following me around. It’s an inanimate object, once wielded by a psionic necromancer, and I know it’s just a damn enchantment worked into the wood somehow that’s designed to make me want to wield it, but for some reason I feel like I’m being an ass for ignoring it. Like it’s some mangy stray I won’t feed. It’s a fucking staff. Fuck off! My own damn fault for being the first one to pick it up of course, but if I’d known…
Fucking staff.
It’s one of many things we – and by we I mean Lexius and I – took from Jetrell’s stronghold in the swamps after we’d finished clearing it out. But really I can’t take much credit for that, because Pharlen did the dragon’s share of the work demolishing his soldiers and Lexius took care of Jetrell. I could probably have stayed home and left them to it. No, that’s not precisely true. I’ll start from the beginning.
Aiden is where I should start. Lexius doesn’t like Aiden. Maybe it’s because of past involvements they’ve both had with one particular individual. Maybe it’s just that they’re complete opposites, poles apart. I suspect Lexius knew about what Aiden did to me when I ran into him below the ruins of San Lucia before I ever admitted it. I also think Aiden deliberately goads him by being too friendly because he knows something’s going on. Or figured it was, when it wasn’t.
Truth is, Aiden has been a big help though. He’s promised us his protection, so I might consider it simply the fulfilment of his duties, but I think he’s gone above and beyond that helping us out with the Egyptian pantheon. He’d been schmoozing with Sobek’s underlings on our behalf and managed to uncover the fact that Jetrell had an army of dead things as well as some messed up legion of hybrid reptiles, with future intent to march them out Gods know where. It meant we were ready for the fight when we got out there, location courtesy of the girl we rescued last time, and Lan’s searching. My own attempts to isolate the hideout got me a whole lot of nothing but stuck waiting out a sandstorm.
I don’t think Pharlen or Lexius were particularly pleased when the rift I found to get us there landed us up to our knees in swamp (or more like thighs for Pharlen, she’s almost as vertically challenged as Gem). Within minutes we’d been darted by midget frogmen with paralytics, and if not for Pharlen’s particular talents we’d have all been screwed. Oh and the whole fucking place smelled like onions. And it was raining. Great natural deterrents for intrepid adventurers.
Beyond the short of stature welcoming committee, a hundred of the soldier sorts were waiting in ambush, and I’m not ashamed to say I let Pharlen and Lexius tackle them, since the former promptly stripped down to her smallclothes and literally made like a dragon. Lexius’ psionics conjured up a second, and I’m not fool enough to start wielding my necromancy when the enemy would note my location as soon as I used it. What I am fool enough to do is sneak up to the front door and get caught in a trap which snatched me from outside, straight to where Jetrell was waiting. His attempts to talk me over to his side with promises of power were blessedly short lived, because Lexius and Pharlen crashed the party while the bastard was busy bitching up a storm about Gem that really didn’t help his cause.
Long story short, while Pharlen and I handled the endless seeming swarms of mutated dead things piloted by necromancer whores and Sobek’s twisted offspring, Lexius went head to head with Jetrell and almost ended up dead in the process. Jetrell had, surprisingly, prepared for the event and tried to occupy the body he’d had prepared for his mother’s resurrection. Easily thwarted when Pharlen impaled her with I don’t even know what, but the soul was still lurking about, tied to a jar he’d buried in her womb. I’m still not quite sure why he’d decide to hide the repository for his soul in his mother’s bits knowing it might need to be extracted later, but nor do I intend to ask him. The jar is now locked up down in the morgue, an item to study when time allows, and the soul stone we discovered harbouring Gem’s stolen energy went back with Pharlen after some last minute attempts at intervention by Erevan, Gem’s patron deity.
I don’t like him either. There seems to be a general rule with Powers that they have to be assholes.
Gem’s recovery might be assured, but I don’t think we can consider her safety to be likewise yet. I really need to pin the woman down and get down to the bottom of a few little mysteries this whole thing has surfaced, but with everything else going on presently I’m loath to risk drawing the attention of particular entities in her direction before she’s had a reprieve.
There have been developments. To clarify I’m switching subjects and leaving the battle at Deathame behind for a while. Developments of a more personal nature. Probably bad ideas.
When we left the Tech sector behind after our last meeting with Aiden, Lexius started asking me why I hadn’t just accepted his advances and *** him (albeit not so crudely). It’s a subject I might have felt easier discussing with him once upon a time if he hadn’t made me aware of his own interest in me, but that conversation left its impressions, and there’d been too much tension since not to wonder if he had ulterior reasons for asking.
Then he admits he’s been experimenting with someone, and what the fuck was I supposed to do? I was pleased for him. I was disappointed. Then I felt guilty for that disappointment because he and I were allies in being bitterly screwed up over other people. Guilty because even if we have been split up for months, I’m not sure I’m ready for anything but casual physical intimacy with someone that’s not Evander, and with Lexius it would be more complicated. Christ it was me that told him he should find someone, and he did, what right had I to be anything but pleased for him? So I was. I said the right words, I accepted what was happening, I congratulated him on being capable of enjoying what his flaws would deny… and then I figured I’d go hire a hooker and get laid.
I’m smart enough to know it wasn’t mere coincidence that Lexius decided to teleport me back to Sanctuary at that point. He knew because he’d twisted a thread into my mind while we were walking. He knew the way my thoughts were leaning. Then he has me pinned against a wall, and he’s telling me that despite my predilections, despite…
Somehow past the words we wound up mouth to mouth, and moments later he left telling me he would disappoint me. Just gone.
It was the day before we left for the swamp, and we didn’t speak of it in the aftermath. I sat with him while he recovered in Jetrell’s lab. Hours. It was almost like it hadn’t happened, and I wasn’t going to bring it up when he’d been so damn eager to get away from me. We cleared the place out and went our separate ways with what we’d managed to scavenge, he to the desert and me back home to Sanctuary.
November 6th, 2015
There’s a fucking staff following me around. It’s an inanimate object, once wielded by a psionic necromancer, and I know it’s just a damn enchantment worked into the wood somehow that’s designed to make me want to wield it, but for some reason I feel like I’m being an ass for ignoring it. Like it’s some mangy stray I won’t feed. It’s a fucking staff. Fuck off! My own damn fault for being the first one to pick it up of course, but if I’d known…
Fucking staff.
It’s one of many things we – and by we I mean Lexius and I – took from Jetrell’s stronghold in the swamps after we’d finished clearing it out. But really I can’t take much credit for that, because Pharlen did the dragon’s share of the work demolishing his soldiers and Lexius took care of Jetrell. I could probably have stayed home and left them to it. No, that’s not precisely true. I’ll start from the beginning.
Aiden is where I should start. Lexius doesn’t like Aiden. Maybe it’s because of past involvements they’ve both had with one particular individual. Maybe it’s just that they’re complete opposites, poles apart. I suspect Lexius knew about what Aiden did to me when I ran into him below the ruins of San Lucia before I ever admitted it. I also think Aiden deliberately goads him by being too friendly because he knows something’s going on. Or figured it was, when it wasn’t.
Truth is, Aiden has been a big help though. He’s promised us his protection, so I might consider it simply the fulfilment of his duties, but I think he’s gone above and beyond that helping us out with the Egyptian pantheon. He’d been schmoozing with Sobek’s underlings on our behalf and managed to uncover the fact that Jetrell had an army of dead things as well as some messed up legion of hybrid reptiles, with future intent to march them out Gods know where. It meant we were ready for the fight when we got out there, location courtesy of the girl we rescued last time, and Lan’s searching. My own attempts to isolate the hideout got me a whole lot of nothing but stuck waiting out a sandstorm.
I don’t think Pharlen or Lexius were particularly pleased when the rift I found to get us there landed us up to our knees in swamp (or more like thighs for Pharlen, she’s almost as vertically challenged as Gem). Within minutes we’d been darted by midget frogmen with paralytics, and if not for Pharlen’s particular talents we’d have all been screwed. Oh and the whole fucking place smelled like onions. And it was raining. Great natural deterrents for intrepid adventurers.
Beyond the short of stature welcoming committee, a hundred of the soldier sorts were waiting in ambush, and I’m not ashamed to say I let Pharlen and Lexius tackle them, since the former promptly stripped down to her smallclothes and literally made like a dragon. Lexius’ psionics conjured up a second, and I’m not fool enough to start wielding my necromancy when the enemy would note my location as soon as I used it. What I am fool enough to do is sneak up to the front door and get caught in a trap which snatched me from outside, straight to where Jetrell was waiting. His attempts to talk me over to his side with promises of power were blessedly short lived, because Lexius and Pharlen crashed the party while the bastard was busy bitching up a storm about Gem that really didn’t help his cause.
Long story short, while Pharlen and I handled the endless seeming swarms of mutated dead things piloted by necromancer whores and Sobek’s twisted offspring, Lexius went head to head with Jetrell and almost ended up dead in the process. Jetrell had, surprisingly, prepared for the event and tried to occupy the body he’d had prepared for his mother’s resurrection. Easily thwarted when Pharlen impaled her with I don’t even know what, but the soul was still lurking about, tied to a jar he’d buried in her womb. I’m still not quite sure why he’d decide to hide the repository for his soul in his mother’s bits knowing it might need to be extracted later, but nor do I intend to ask him. The jar is now locked up down in the morgue, an item to study when time allows, and the soul stone we discovered harbouring Gem’s stolen energy went back with Pharlen after some last minute attempts at intervention by Erevan, Gem’s patron deity.
I don’t like him either. There seems to be a general rule with Powers that they have to be assholes.
Gem’s recovery might be assured, but I don’t think we can consider her safety to be likewise yet. I really need to pin the woman down and get down to the bottom of a few little mysteries this whole thing has surfaced, but with everything else going on presently I’m loath to risk drawing the attention of particular entities in her direction before she’s had a reprieve.
There have been developments. To clarify I’m switching subjects and leaving the battle at Deathame behind for a while. Developments of a more personal nature. Probably bad ideas.
When we left the Tech sector behind after our last meeting with Aiden, Lexius started asking me why I hadn’t just accepted his advances and *** him (albeit not so crudely). It’s a subject I might have felt easier discussing with him once upon a time if he hadn’t made me aware of his own interest in me, but that conversation left its impressions, and there’d been too much tension since not to wonder if he had ulterior reasons for asking.
Then he admits he’s been experimenting with someone, and what the fuck was I supposed to do? I was pleased for him. I was disappointed. Then I felt guilty for that disappointment because he and I were allies in being bitterly screwed up over other people. Guilty because even if we have been split up for months, I’m not sure I’m ready for anything but casual physical intimacy with someone that’s not Evander, and with Lexius it would be more complicated. Christ it was me that told him he should find someone, and he did, what right had I to be anything but pleased for him? So I was. I said the right words, I accepted what was happening, I congratulated him on being capable of enjoying what his flaws would deny… and then I figured I’d go hire a hooker and get laid.
I’m smart enough to know it wasn’t mere coincidence that Lexius decided to teleport me back to Sanctuary at that point. He knew because he’d twisted a thread into my mind while we were walking. He knew the way my thoughts were leaning. Then he has me pinned against a wall, and he’s telling me that despite my predilections, despite…
Somehow past the words we wound up mouth to mouth, and moments later he left telling me he would disappoint me. Just gone.
It was the day before we left for the swamp, and we didn’t speak of it in the aftermath. I sat with him while he recovered in Jetrell’s lab. Hours. It was almost like it hadn’t happened, and I wasn’t going to bring it up when he’d been so damn eager to get away from me. We cleared the place out and went our separate ways with what we’d managed to scavenge, he to the desert and me back home to Sanctuary.
Re: Insights (Volume II)
[Part 2]
There was a note on my porch. Not from Evander this time, but signed simply with a G, and whilst I do know someone who ends their missives this way, I hadn’t seen them for years and did not assume my first guess to be the right one. Sometimes I should put more faith in my hunches though. Gideon appeared two nights later as I was sat out on the porch prepping some doweling rods for fletching.
I’ve seen dead men fresh from torpor before, dazed, their minds not quite woken even if their bodies are moving with purpose. Usually that purpose is hunger. Resting for years underground might help immortals weather the centuries when sanity threatens to flee but the need to feed won’t wait forever, particularly not in those young ones who resort to torpor early for whatever reason. I wasn’t sure of Gideon to begin with. He seemed subtly unstable in ways that left me uneasy, and with our last memories of one another stained with violence, his reason for coming to me, a necromancer… well it seemed foolhardy for a dead man.
‘Are you feeling particularly self-destructive?’ I remember asking him that as he gifted me with alcohol on the lawn. He tells me ‘Always’.
It would have been easy to be unkind to him that evening. In fact I was, on several occasions outright cruel as we spoke, but any real threat of violence faded early as we sized one another up. I was not in the mood for a fight. He hadn’t come looking for one. Verbal warnings were enough. He’d woken thinking of me and he wasn’t sure why beyond making things right. I mocked him for falling into old patterns, for being a fucking appalling vampire, for seeking me out because he wanted someone who’d be unkind. Masochistic tendencies. I’m not sure I met his expectations, as we sat there talking of what went on before. Of why I left him fearful and bound years ago, why I’d asked him to kill Aoife, and why he couldn’t now…
He offered. I think he’d love to peel her apart, but I warned him off it for Salvador’s sake.
He wanted to apologise for what happened after I released him, but in truth I never blamed him for that. Instincts, reflexes, I think vampires more than most are subject to acting on them, some animalistic part of their nature it would be idiotic to deny. Control comes with age and Gideon might have the bloodlines, but he’s still far too young on the grand scale. He’s not a bad person. I don’t mean just for a dead one, either. In fact there’s something terribly human in his flaws, and talking to him was no hardship. In fact it was easy, and even without the scotch his company wouldn’t have been unwelcome.
I needed it though. He wanted my blood, and if I was going to offer my wrist I needed the edge taking off. To keep myself from wanting to attack him outright when instincts demanded it. Needed not to be thinking about Evander, or Lexius and the friend he might be off ‘experimenting’ with. Needed it to remember that sending him back out running on empty might see a newly risen blood drinker go revenant and attack someone he wouldn’t otherwise. He confessed that happened before and to a friend.
I suppose it was foolish of me to agree to it and not consider he might not wait for me to roll up a sleeve, but he at least had the decency to fix the mess he made, and was polite enough not to ask anything unchaste of me even if I suspect he might have wished otherwise. We spent the rest of the night talking, and I let him stay the daylight hours, rather than find somewhere to dig a hole, and next evening he was gone, whether to return to where he slept, or to try and start fresh in the city I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him since.
Lexius appeared the following day, with the better part of a week gone by since I saw him at Deathame. I was expecting things to be uncomfortable, for him to inform me awkwardly that it’d been a slip-up, or for the event to go unmentioned as if it had never been, because that might be simpler. Instead the old easiness was there, and we took to bartering over the item’s we’d pilfered until a particular tome of necromancy was mentioned and the tone of the conversation shifted. He had it, I wanted it, and nothing I offered was considered a fair trade.
He asked me to offer something more personal. Reluctant to revert to old habits and play hooker for books instead of cash, I informed him anything we did would be unrelated. If he decided to give me the book afterward it was a gift. I mean let’s be fair, I was getting as much out of it as he was, even if I did break a few personal rules for the bastard.
I’m not sure it was particularly easy for either of us. There were points where the unfamiliar feel of him brought home the hard reminder that he was not Evander. At the same time, those flaws in Lexius were doing their damnedest to persuade him he shouldn’t be touching me at all.
No regrets though. Currently all that’s amiss is that it hasn’t happened again since.
There was a note on my porch. Not from Evander this time, but signed simply with a G, and whilst I do know someone who ends their missives this way, I hadn’t seen them for years and did not assume my first guess to be the right one. Sometimes I should put more faith in my hunches though. Gideon appeared two nights later as I was sat out on the porch prepping some doweling rods for fletching.
I’ve seen dead men fresh from torpor before, dazed, their minds not quite woken even if their bodies are moving with purpose. Usually that purpose is hunger. Resting for years underground might help immortals weather the centuries when sanity threatens to flee but the need to feed won’t wait forever, particularly not in those young ones who resort to torpor early for whatever reason. I wasn’t sure of Gideon to begin with. He seemed subtly unstable in ways that left me uneasy, and with our last memories of one another stained with violence, his reason for coming to me, a necromancer… well it seemed foolhardy for a dead man.
‘Are you feeling particularly self-destructive?’ I remember asking him that as he gifted me with alcohol on the lawn. He tells me ‘Always’.
It would have been easy to be unkind to him that evening. In fact I was, on several occasions outright cruel as we spoke, but any real threat of violence faded early as we sized one another up. I was not in the mood for a fight. He hadn’t come looking for one. Verbal warnings were enough. He’d woken thinking of me and he wasn’t sure why beyond making things right. I mocked him for falling into old patterns, for being a fucking appalling vampire, for seeking me out because he wanted someone who’d be unkind. Masochistic tendencies. I’m not sure I met his expectations, as we sat there talking of what went on before. Of why I left him fearful and bound years ago, why I’d asked him to kill Aoife, and why he couldn’t now…
He offered. I think he’d love to peel her apart, but I warned him off it for Salvador’s sake.
He wanted to apologise for what happened after I released him, but in truth I never blamed him for that. Instincts, reflexes, I think vampires more than most are subject to acting on them, some animalistic part of their nature it would be idiotic to deny. Control comes with age and Gideon might have the bloodlines, but he’s still far too young on the grand scale. He’s not a bad person. I don’t mean just for a dead one, either. In fact there’s something terribly human in his flaws, and talking to him was no hardship. In fact it was easy, and even without the scotch his company wouldn’t have been unwelcome.
I needed it though. He wanted my blood, and if I was going to offer my wrist I needed the edge taking off. To keep myself from wanting to attack him outright when instincts demanded it. Needed not to be thinking about Evander, or Lexius and the friend he might be off ‘experimenting’ with. Needed it to remember that sending him back out running on empty might see a newly risen blood drinker go revenant and attack someone he wouldn’t otherwise. He confessed that happened before and to a friend.
I suppose it was foolish of me to agree to it and not consider he might not wait for me to roll up a sleeve, but he at least had the decency to fix the mess he made, and was polite enough not to ask anything unchaste of me even if I suspect he might have wished otherwise. We spent the rest of the night talking, and I let him stay the daylight hours, rather than find somewhere to dig a hole, and next evening he was gone, whether to return to where he slept, or to try and start fresh in the city I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him since.
Lexius appeared the following day, with the better part of a week gone by since I saw him at Deathame. I was expecting things to be uncomfortable, for him to inform me awkwardly that it’d been a slip-up, or for the event to go unmentioned as if it had never been, because that might be simpler. Instead the old easiness was there, and we took to bartering over the item’s we’d pilfered until a particular tome of necromancy was mentioned and the tone of the conversation shifted. He had it, I wanted it, and nothing I offered was considered a fair trade.
He asked me to offer something more personal. Reluctant to revert to old habits and play hooker for books instead of cash, I informed him anything we did would be unrelated. If he decided to give me the book afterward it was a gift. I mean let’s be fair, I was getting as much out of it as he was, even if I did break a few personal rules for the bastard.
I’m not sure it was particularly easy for either of us. There were points where the unfamiliar feel of him brought home the hard reminder that he was not Evander. At the same time, those flaws in Lexius were doing their damnedest to persuade him he shouldn’t be touching me at all.
No regrets though. Currently all that’s amiss is that it hasn’t happened again since.
Re: Insights (Volume II)
[Part 3]
The following night was Fright Night, Katt’s yearly Halloween gathering, and one I’ve always enjoyed. This year was the first I’d gone alone, and I didn’t stay long. The place was packed out, and my brief pleasure at seeing Eden in the chaos was eclipsed when I found Lexius and discovered him watching someone intently in the crowd. I know now that this was the friend he’d been experimenting with. I even learned his name. Part of me was intrigued, the other resigned. I hadn’t thought to check if they were still involved, and though Lexius hadn’t confirmed at that point who he was, he didn’t need to. The crowd was full of faces I knew, but for once the press was too thick. Maybe I’m getting too old for these big social events.
Again days passed before I saw Lexius again, and this time I was expecting the absence. I never take his presence for granted, but that doesn’t mean I don't miss it, and with my head full of questions the length felt particularly uneasy. My visits to his home in the desert have been few, and I never stray from the rooms he’s willingly taken me to, but I’m comfortable there, and he never minds me parking my ass on the floor.
We spoke of the virus Jetrell had been working on, and of my work in the Temple District. It’s insightful, sharing such things with him because he considers what I might never have normally. I have to figure out whether the trio who scarred me years ago were responsible for herding me to this particular cult now that there’s obvious links between their wall reliefs and what’s permanently marked in my skin. I’m still irritated I never thought of that angle myself.
There was talk of other things of course. We’re both concerned about previous lovers, about becoming convenient replacements. I’ve been through all that with Evander and Niamh, never able to step past her shadow, and if there’s no way to fix this pre-existing mess of feelings he has for Koyan, there’s a very real risk I’ll be stepping foolishly back into the same role. What he’s dealing with is far more recent on my part. He knows full well I left Evander without any cessation of feelings, and while I can offer reassurances there’s no risk of me back-peddling on the choice to end things, it would be foolish of me to make light of his concerns that he’s a rebound thing when only a handful of months has passed. He’s not. I’ve never needed a band-aid relationship to get over an old one, but it’s convincing him of it that will take the work. Thankfully, there’s a mutual patience between us on these matters. He has all the years in the world not to rush, and we’ve adopted no labels, made no demands – we’ll see how things develop.
He gave me the book that night. It still felt a little odd.
I ran into Koyan at the inn yesterday. He confessed a little more to me about how bad things are with his people, about a need for a particular type of blood to sustain one who seems to be failing without the blood drinker who got them fixed on the stuff in the first place. I’m not sure whether the intent was ever to see the change come about permanently, or whether she simply became ghouled from drinking too often. Whatever the case she needs it, and I’ve offered to chase up some contacts, call in favours, and see if I can’t buy them some more time.
I tasted Koyan’s blood. This was not intentional (at least the access to it was not, I chose with full knowledge to consume what clung to my fingers) and I probably shouldn’t have. I know the bite of it now, the power it contains. It’s difficult not to remember the unique flavour that belong to individuals once I’ve known it. I remember it the way a mutt might a scent, particularly when there’s that extra kick to it. And of course I knew it would be that way. I still remember the bastard demanding Ava or I shave him once upon a time, and the temptation of the razor at his throat. Back then I was smart enough to make Ava do the job. I’m pretty positive I’d have bled him on purpose, even if only a little.
I decided to offer to go to Madrid for him and see if I can track down one of his missing people. He’s currently unsure whether she’s dead or captive, though he’d spent the better part of eight months assuming the former. I think he almost hopes he’s been right in his assumption all this time, because the potential for the opposite would load a heap of guilt on his shoulders. I suspect his morals will get the better of him and he’ll agree to let me go. He’d only spend however long he has left wondering and regretting if he didn’t.
On a final note, Aoife came asking me about the shadows. I suspect she’s come across an elemental, or a mage with an affinity for wielding them. I was disinclined to make her better acquainted with the possibilities for their use. I might need them one day.
- M
The following night was Fright Night, Katt’s yearly Halloween gathering, and one I’ve always enjoyed. This year was the first I’d gone alone, and I didn’t stay long. The place was packed out, and my brief pleasure at seeing Eden in the chaos was eclipsed when I found Lexius and discovered him watching someone intently in the crowd. I know now that this was the friend he’d been experimenting with. I even learned his name. Part of me was intrigued, the other resigned. I hadn’t thought to check if they were still involved, and though Lexius hadn’t confirmed at that point who he was, he didn’t need to. The crowd was full of faces I knew, but for once the press was too thick. Maybe I’m getting too old for these big social events.
Again days passed before I saw Lexius again, and this time I was expecting the absence. I never take his presence for granted, but that doesn’t mean I don't miss it, and with my head full of questions the length felt particularly uneasy. My visits to his home in the desert have been few, and I never stray from the rooms he’s willingly taken me to, but I’m comfortable there, and he never minds me parking my ass on the floor.
We spoke of the virus Jetrell had been working on, and of my work in the Temple District. It’s insightful, sharing such things with him because he considers what I might never have normally. I have to figure out whether the trio who scarred me years ago were responsible for herding me to this particular cult now that there’s obvious links between their wall reliefs and what’s permanently marked in my skin. I’m still irritated I never thought of that angle myself.
There was talk of other things of course. We’re both concerned about previous lovers, about becoming convenient replacements. I’ve been through all that with Evander and Niamh, never able to step past her shadow, and if there’s no way to fix this pre-existing mess of feelings he has for Koyan, there’s a very real risk I’ll be stepping foolishly back into the same role. What he’s dealing with is far more recent on my part. He knows full well I left Evander without any cessation of feelings, and while I can offer reassurances there’s no risk of me back-peddling on the choice to end things, it would be foolish of me to make light of his concerns that he’s a rebound thing when only a handful of months has passed. He’s not. I’ve never needed a band-aid relationship to get over an old one, but it’s convincing him of it that will take the work. Thankfully, there’s a mutual patience between us on these matters. He has all the years in the world not to rush, and we’ve adopted no labels, made no demands – we’ll see how things develop.
He gave me the book that night. It still felt a little odd.
I ran into Koyan at the inn yesterday. He confessed a little more to me about how bad things are with his people, about a need for a particular type of blood to sustain one who seems to be failing without the blood drinker who got them fixed on the stuff in the first place. I’m not sure whether the intent was ever to see the change come about permanently, or whether she simply became ghouled from drinking too often. Whatever the case she needs it, and I’ve offered to chase up some contacts, call in favours, and see if I can’t buy them some more time.
I tasted Koyan’s blood. This was not intentional (at least the access to it was not, I chose with full knowledge to consume what clung to my fingers) and I probably shouldn’t have. I know the bite of it now, the power it contains. It’s difficult not to remember the unique flavour that belong to individuals once I’ve known it. I remember it the way a mutt might a scent, particularly when there’s that extra kick to it. And of course I knew it would be that way. I still remember the bastard demanding Ava or I shave him once upon a time, and the temptation of the razor at his throat. Back then I was smart enough to make Ava do the job. I’m pretty positive I’d have bled him on purpose, even if only a little.
I decided to offer to go to Madrid for him and see if I can track down one of his missing people. He’s currently unsure whether she’s dead or captive, though he’d spent the better part of eight months assuming the former. I think he almost hopes he’s been right in his assumption all this time, because the potential for the opposite would load a heap of guilt on his shoulders. I suspect his morals will get the better of him and he’ll agree to let me go. He’d only spend however long he has left wondering and regretting if he didn’t.
On a final note, Aoife came asking me about the shadows. I suspect she’s come across an elemental, or a mage with an affinity for wielding them. I was disinclined to make her better acquainted with the possibilities for their use. I might need them one day.
- M
Re: Insights (Volume II)
November 25th, 2015
Shit got real with the Greek pantheon. Now I’m having to skulk about the city avoiding places I go on a daily basis because I know they have underlings out looking for me. I’ve sent the dogs off to Iberus for a while until things settle down, I’m staying away from the Alfar to avoid drawing attention their way, and visiting the Dragon via alternate routes, because even there I’m not safe from reprisal. I guess I really pissed people off. Assuming I’d be left alone once I’d played my part was a fool’s hope. Funny thing is, I haven’t been able to figure out what value I have to them, beyond being batted about to draw the other half out for a fight.
A couple of weeks back I met up with Aiden again at this bar in the Tech sector for an update. Turns out the opposition have a smith of particular talent who’s churning out superior nasties, and so they’re in need of some advanced technology in order to adequately fend off the offensive. He seemed in surprisingly good spirits about it all, but he’s been that way since we secured his release, so I’m not sure what it would take to knock him. Not sure whether he’s capable of taking shit seriously even if his life is directly threatened, and it often was when we were on the hunt for his boss.
Lexius didn’t come with me to meet him. Maybe he was content enough knowing I wasn’t going to be accepting his advances and figured I didn’t need a chaperone. Aiden took the opportunity to ask why I kept turning him down, and as a result I’m pretty sure he’ll leave me alone from now on. Unless Lexius comes along sometime and he fools around just to provoke a response.
Since then there’s been two attacks.
The first time I was on my way home from work in the Temple District and they tried to jump me in the street. Hephaestus’ creations apparently, things furnace forged that looked like metal gargoyles. It was a capture attempt, rather than an effort to kill me, and my attempts to trick them into thinking I’d gone with a little shadow stepping proved unsuccessful. In the end I made a break for it through some women-only temple and the place got smashed up pretty badly as a result. I saw it mentioned in one of the local tabloids and to hear the priestesses speak you’d think I’d summoned the gargoyles up to attack them, not that I was trying to escape.
In the end I had to take a dive through a window, and wound up in a heap of pillows and floral-stinking oils after a twenty foot fall. That shit did not scrub off easily.
The second time was after I’d been stood talking with Koyan across from the Dragon. I’m not sure whether it was me or him they picked up on, since neither Lexius or I are positive he’s been tainted by the titan like I have. Either way, it was eagles and lightning bolts this time. I saw the storm clouds gathering overhead as I was leaving, heard the bird and thought if I got out of sight they’d move on. Instead Koyan and Rhys, his friend (and Eden’s I gather) became targets, and I couldn’t stay hidden after that.
It didn’t end well. Rhys had a hole in his leg and Koyan took the brunt of one of the lightning bolts. There are some situations I’m not equipped to handle, and healing is one of them. There were regulars on hand who tried, Sira amongst them, but Koyan’s too important a friend to leave to chance.
I called on Lexius because I’ve seen him achieve things I wouldn’t have thought possible. I called on him because I didn’t know what else to do.
The end result was Koyan’s recovery, an almost confrontation between Lexius and Rhys, and Lexius with some severe mental fuses blown. I’m still not sure whether it was the right choice to make, but at the time all that mattered was seeing Koyan breathe again, knowing he wasn’t going to suffer on account of my actions. He was angry with me when I intervened with Lexius and Rhys. Lexius couldn’t even bring himself to stick around when all was said and done, and in the aftermath it was all I could do to bring his mind back to functioning from beneath the dissonance. The flaws of his rebirth, the traits of his old life still anchored into him, they won’t be shaken. Not without force.
We have some idea of how to tackle that.
Following my meeting with Aiden, I came home to find Lexius waiting for me on the front porch. It’d been a couple of weeks since our little interlude down in the lab, and I’d put my mind to getting to know him better physically. I knew it hadn’t been easy for him, but made the mistake of figuring if he’d coped with what we’d done there, he could handle me having the upper hand. Kind of literally. Anyway, I was wrong (again) and the end result was a bedroom full of unwelcome memories like a theatre of my life, ectoplasm dripping from the ceiling, things vanishing, every scrap of glass in the house shattering from windows to liquor collection, and cell phone screen… Oh and being physically flung across the room. I know I didn’t imagine the wings and claws, too.
Afterwards he attacked me. I’m not sure he was conscious of the fact his threads were doing their best to strangle me metaphysically. We’ve spoken about it since and I think the memories are foggy. It ended up messy, defence mechanisms kicking in to try and kill him In turn, and his guardians intervened at the last minute. I have heard them speak before, once in the wastes and once at Jetrell’s stronghold, but it still catches me off guard when they choose to address me, and after two days of Lexius being unconscious on my mattress, they did a whole lot more than speak to me.
In the aftermath of some mental fuckery I can’t adequately put in words, but which made me realise the full extent of precisely who Lexius’ guardians are, they implied that the best way to tackle the flaws left behind by Lexius’ rebirth would be for me to consume him. They plainly have a firm grasp of his soul, can rip him loose of me whenever they choose, and if I can devour only the faults, play filter for what we want stripped away, he might just survive it.
They didn’t want me to mention it to him, but it’s him I’m allied to, not them, and I wouldn’t consider such an undertaking without his permission.
To begin with he was firmly opposed, but I think the way he struggled to rally after the incident with Koyan and the eagle has been the catalyst to a change of heart. For now he’s gone to the desert, to recover, to do whatever it is he needs to do. I get to sit home and practice meditating ready for the day I sit on that Gods damned table again. A task like this isn’t something either of us want to consider without knowing the full extent of what’s in me, what I am. Finding out is something I would gladly put off for however long I have left, if not for fixing him.
While he recovers, I’ve other tasks to attend to. Tonight I mean to pay a visit to Taneth’s home with Pharlen, to see if we can make some progress with her recovery. It’s been months since I’ve seen her, and I’m fearful of finding her in exactly the same state she was before the mess with the pantheon and with Gem began. If Pharlen can’t help her, I’m stumped. I’m pretty resigned to the fact that I should have refused to help her with the task she set for Crispin. Should have just kept her at arm’s length as I always have the bright and innocent things.
She’s not the only one I’ve done wrong by of course. Kai returned a few days ago, with Rufus. She’s made it pretty clear that as a result of my refusal to speak with her when I braved the public eye again after Evander, she was stung. She also assumed that I didn’t care if she vanished for weeks at a time, never mind that for all I know her enemies might have caught up with her. It hurt that she was so ready to think the worst of me when I’ve always done my best by her in the past. One bad mood and everything else of our history forgotten. It makes me regret things. It makes me regret letting people under my skin. Makes me think it’s safer to let people think ill of me from the start.
Of course I know I can’t do that. Some people just don’t deserve the reticence and the attitude. Some are genuinely good folk.
One good (I think?) thing I can claim to have done over the past few weeks is to have found during a trip to Madrid on Koyan’s behalf, that the woman he thought dead was instead only taken captive. I don’t think he’s taking the guilt of his assumptions about her fate too well – he was drunk to the point of idiocy when I saw him before the eagles, hoping he’d get jumped in the street by the Assamites. He asked me not to tell Eden, though I doubt I’ll be seeing her anytime soon anyway.
There are always so many secrets.
- M
Shit got real with the Greek pantheon. Now I’m having to skulk about the city avoiding places I go on a daily basis because I know they have underlings out looking for me. I’ve sent the dogs off to Iberus for a while until things settle down, I’m staying away from the Alfar to avoid drawing attention their way, and visiting the Dragon via alternate routes, because even there I’m not safe from reprisal. I guess I really pissed people off. Assuming I’d be left alone once I’d played my part was a fool’s hope. Funny thing is, I haven’t been able to figure out what value I have to them, beyond being batted about to draw the other half out for a fight.
A couple of weeks back I met up with Aiden again at this bar in the Tech sector for an update. Turns out the opposition have a smith of particular talent who’s churning out superior nasties, and so they’re in need of some advanced technology in order to adequately fend off the offensive. He seemed in surprisingly good spirits about it all, but he’s been that way since we secured his release, so I’m not sure what it would take to knock him. Not sure whether he’s capable of taking shit seriously even if his life is directly threatened, and it often was when we were on the hunt for his boss.
Lexius didn’t come with me to meet him. Maybe he was content enough knowing I wasn’t going to be accepting his advances and figured I didn’t need a chaperone. Aiden took the opportunity to ask why I kept turning him down, and as a result I’m pretty sure he’ll leave me alone from now on. Unless Lexius comes along sometime and he fools around just to provoke a response.
Since then there’s been two attacks.
The first time I was on my way home from work in the Temple District and they tried to jump me in the street. Hephaestus’ creations apparently, things furnace forged that looked like metal gargoyles. It was a capture attempt, rather than an effort to kill me, and my attempts to trick them into thinking I’d gone with a little shadow stepping proved unsuccessful. In the end I made a break for it through some women-only temple and the place got smashed up pretty badly as a result. I saw it mentioned in one of the local tabloids and to hear the priestesses speak you’d think I’d summoned the gargoyles up to attack them, not that I was trying to escape.
In the end I had to take a dive through a window, and wound up in a heap of pillows and floral-stinking oils after a twenty foot fall. That shit did not scrub off easily.
The second time was after I’d been stood talking with Koyan across from the Dragon. I’m not sure whether it was me or him they picked up on, since neither Lexius or I are positive he’s been tainted by the titan like I have. Either way, it was eagles and lightning bolts this time. I saw the storm clouds gathering overhead as I was leaving, heard the bird and thought if I got out of sight they’d move on. Instead Koyan and Rhys, his friend (and Eden’s I gather) became targets, and I couldn’t stay hidden after that.
It didn’t end well. Rhys had a hole in his leg and Koyan took the brunt of one of the lightning bolts. There are some situations I’m not equipped to handle, and healing is one of them. There were regulars on hand who tried, Sira amongst them, but Koyan’s too important a friend to leave to chance.
I called on Lexius because I’ve seen him achieve things I wouldn’t have thought possible. I called on him because I didn’t know what else to do.
The end result was Koyan’s recovery, an almost confrontation between Lexius and Rhys, and Lexius with some severe mental fuses blown. I’m still not sure whether it was the right choice to make, but at the time all that mattered was seeing Koyan breathe again, knowing he wasn’t going to suffer on account of my actions. He was angry with me when I intervened with Lexius and Rhys. Lexius couldn’t even bring himself to stick around when all was said and done, and in the aftermath it was all I could do to bring his mind back to functioning from beneath the dissonance. The flaws of his rebirth, the traits of his old life still anchored into him, they won’t be shaken. Not without force.
We have some idea of how to tackle that.
Following my meeting with Aiden, I came home to find Lexius waiting for me on the front porch. It’d been a couple of weeks since our little interlude down in the lab, and I’d put my mind to getting to know him better physically. I knew it hadn’t been easy for him, but made the mistake of figuring if he’d coped with what we’d done there, he could handle me having the upper hand. Kind of literally. Anyway, I was wrong (again) and the end result was a bedroom full of unwelcome memories like a theatre of my life, ectoplasm dripping from the ceiling, things vanishing, every scrap of glass in the house shattering from windows to liquor collection, and cell phone screen… Oh and being physically flung across the room. I know I didn’t imagine the wings and claws, too.
Afterwards he attacked me. I’m not sure he was conscious of the fact his threads were doing their best to strangle me metaphysically. We’ve spoken about it since and I think the memories are foggy. It ended up messy, defence mechanisms kicking in to try and kill him In turn, and his guardians intervened at the last minute. I have heard them speak before, once in the wastes and once at Jetrell’s stronghold, but it still catches me off guard when they choose to address me, and after two days of Lexius being unconscious on my mattress, they did a whole lot more than speak to me.
In the aftermath of some mental fuckery I can’t adequately put in words, but which made me realise the full extent of precisely who Lexius’ guardians are, they implied that the best way to tackle the flaws left behind by Lexius’ rebirth would be for me to consume him. They plainly have a firm grasp of his soul, can rip him loose of me whenever they choose, and if I can devour only the faults, play filter for what we want stripped away, he might just survive it.
They didn’t want me to mention it to him, but it’s him I’m allied to, not them, and I wouldn’t consider such an undertaking without his permission.
To begin with he was firmly opposed, but I think the way he struggled to rally after the incident with Koyan and the eagle has been the catalyst to a change of heart. For now he’s gone to the desert, to recover, to do whatever it is he needs to do. I get to sit home and practice meditating ready for the day I sit on that Gods damned table again. A task like this isn’t something either of us want to consider without knowing the full extent of what’s in me, what I am. Finding out is something I would gladly put off for however long I have left, if not for fixing him.
While he recovers, I’ve other tasks to attend to. Tonight I mean to pay a visit to Taneth’s home with Pharlen, to see if we can make some progress with her recovery. It’s been months since I’ve seen her, and I’m fearful of finding her in exactly the same state she was before the mess with the pantheon and with Gem began. If Pharlen can’t help her, I’m stumped. I’m pretty resigned to the fact that I should have refused to help her with the task she set for Crispin. Should have just kept her at arm’s length as I always have the bright and innocent things.
She’s not the only one I’ve done wrong by of course. Kai returned a few days ago, with Rufus. She’s made it pretty clear that as a result of my refusal to speak with her when I braved the public eye again after Evander, she was stung. She also assumed that I didn’t care if she vanished for weeks at a time, never mind that for all I know her enemies might have caught up with her. It hurt that she was so ready to think the worst of me when I’ve always done my best by her in the past. One bad mood and everything else of our history forgotten. It makes me regret things. It makes me regret letting people under my skin. Makes me think it’s safer to let people think ill of me from the start.
Of course I know I can’t do that. Some people just don’t deserve the reticence and the attitude. Some are genuinely good folk.
One good (I think?) thing I can claim to have done over the past few weeks is to have found during a trip to Madrid on Koyan’s behalf, that the woman he thought dead was instead only taken captive. I don’t think he’s taking the guilt of his assumptions about her fate too well – he was drunk to the point of idiocy when I saw him before the eagles, hoping he’d get jumped in the street by the Assamites. He asked me not to tell Eden, though I doubt I’ll be seeing her anytime soon anyway.
There are always so many secrets.
- M
Re: Insights (Volume II)
December 19th, 2015
Koji passed away a few days ago. I’d been expecting it of course, watching the slow decline towards the inevitable. It can’t be mistaken when you’ve worked with animals for as long as I have, but being ready for it doesn’t make it any easier. He was fifteen, and tired. I took him out and buried him beneath the Japanese Acers by the water. It’s quiet there. Bear and Brian have been unsettled since he went, prowling the grounds shoulder to shoulder, coming in to sleep more often. The cat watches them like a hawk, much as I do. They won’t have long left in them, a couple of years at most, and that’s an optimistic outcome. Mistral won’t last much longer either. Like a house of cards they’ll fall. I feel like it’s all being stripped away.
Vive memor, leti fugit hora.
Yesterday was my thirty-first birthday. I made myself stand in front of the mirror again, something I’ve been doing more frequently of late because Lexius insists I learn to hold a sharp, mental image of myself when I meditate, and it’s been so long since I actually observed my own reflection that I forget what it is everyone else sees. I’ve no just cause for vanity, and there’s no disguising my faults, but I wasn’t looking for anything external to boost my ego or reinforce old self-disgust. I need to know what it, this thing inside me, is doing to me. I searched for some sign of the tempering and found nothing.
It’s dangerous, my companion – and I call it this even though it is intrinsically me. It was dire enough, risk enough to others, for my passage into Bjorn’s homeland to be denied by the gatekeeper unless I permitted the sealing of my power. I starved for weeks for allowing it. If it were stripped from me now, I know I would not survive; my physiology is too changed, too evolved for it really to pass for human anymore. Lexius infers I need to find some way to co-exist with it, without allowing it any dominance. He thinks it is an influence which has, even before its release, subtly directed my course. I can’t refute the possibility effectively. It’s primal and self-serving, and has always woken with interest as I turn my hand to life’s violent delights. I have no mental guarding and will never be able to determine whether it has been subconsciously driven me to interrogation and torture, to a taste for blood and the kind of sex a breath away from butchery. Little wonder he denies me the use of my hands. I’m not sure whether my assurances will ever be enough that he permits free reign.
I lay on his table again. I let him dissect me metaphysically like a laboratory specimen. No, that’s not fair. It was nothing so impersonal, and I saw what he saw. Every pathway, every anchor binding soul to flesh. And the seals. There are two. I am unfinished. What the Russians released a decade ago, is sentient, and yet from what I can determine only a pre-cursor to what will be if the others are broken. It does not want them broken. It says I’m not prepared. It’s not difficult to see some intended fate in all of this though, and to make the small jump to realising that this likely has something to do with my stalkers, the ones who marked me in an attempt to keep me hidden.
It’s convoluted, and not something I want to focus on, when fixing Lexius promises a far more satisfying reward. I would see him whole and unflawed, given chance to act as he wishes without struggling against the dissonance that plagues him even if there lies the risk of him forgetting me completely. Of returning to that bland regard he had for me in the beginning before he traded answers for knowledge. I would hate it, but I can’t be selfish. I try to look on the bright side, and consider that if my power is aware of my desire to help Lexius, it might cooperate and seek to avoid him harm. To imagine it might simply follow my instruction in such a task… seems naïve.
He’s found the well that his guardians showed me. I didn’t even know it was real.
Another thing that’s undoubtedly real, is Koyan’s anger. I was so wrong when I tried to convince Lexius that he wouldn’t care about our association. Of course then it was only a friendship. Lexius had seen us talking in the inn and assumed it would benefit me to step back rather than risk complications. I should have re-evaluated when things changed, but it never occurred to me that after so long apart, Koyan would care.
I might have run him through with another sword and caused him less pain, to hear him speak of it. The old wounds Lexius left him with have not healed, and for a moment I thought he meant to make some claim on him. It wasn’t a matter of stepping on toes though. The issue of betrayal was a result of my secrecy, of a respect he had decided was lacking, and our friendship reached breaking point.
Rarely have I come across instances with friends that have made me feel so powerless, knocked off my axis with nothing solid to grasp for. Bjorn managed it twice, in our long history; once when he challenged me to duel to the death, and the next when he decided to cast me aside as a friend because of the complications it threatened to cause with Ivanya. I was certain Koyan intended to do the same, to forget everything that came before that day and cast me aside like refuse. He seemed to calm when I urged him to consider the evidence against his accusations, but something has changed.
His attitude softened towards me, but I feel the absence of his trust keenly. He holds me at arms’ length, if not further, for I sense no welcome in him when we see one another now. I’ll not push him to accept me if he’s already made his choice. I am a victim of nothing but my own ignorance.
The same can be said of Taneth, who I reached out for again with Pharlen in my corner. We got nowhere, trying to encourage her to let us help, and again I was counselled by people to let her recover in her own time, even if the evidence suggests her ‘recovery’ is nothing more than a talented act. A lie. I should never have intervened.
Kai at least seemed to have decided I am not so worthless as I imagined she must think me when last we spoke. I saw her briefly at the inn after she left a message for me there, and we spoke of that last encounter and, I hope, set things to right as a result. She’s given me no other cause over the years to doubt her, and I can’t let my failings with other friends reflect on my handling of the situation with her. She is sincere, and my self-doubt is for me to deal with, not her.
Tomorrow marks the eighth day since Lexius left to recover after… well me. Deserts have a habit of swallowing up the people I have affection for.
- M
Koji passed away a few days ago. I’d been expecting it of course, watching the slow decline towards the inevitable. It can’t be mistaken when you’ve worked with animals for as long as I have, but being ready for it doesn’t make it any easier. He was fifteen, and tired. I took him out and buried him beneath the Japanese Acers by the water. It’s quiet there. Bear and Brian have been unsettled since he went, prowling the grounds shoulder to shoulder, coming in to sleep more often. The cat watches them like a hawk, much as I do. They won’t have long left in them, a couple of years at most, and that’s an optimistic outcome. Mistral won’t last much longer either. Like a house of cards they’ll fall. I feel like it’s all being stripped away.
Vive memor, leti fugit hora.
Yesterday was my thirty-first birthday. I made myself stand in front of the mirror again, something I’ve been doing more frequently of late because Lexius insists I learn to hold a sharp, mental image of myself when I meditate, and it’s been so long since I actually observed my own reflection that I forget what it is everyone else sees. I’ve no just cause for vanity, and there’s no disguising my faults, but I wasn’t looking for anything external to boost my ego or reinforce old self-disgust. I need to know what it, this thing inside me, is doing to me. I searched for some sign of the tempering and found nothing.
It’s dangerous, my companion – and I call it this even though it is intrinsically me. It was dire enough, risk enough to others, for my passage into Bjorn’s homeland to be denied by the gatekeeper unless I permitted the sealing of my power. I starved for weeks for allowing it. If it were stripped from me now, I know I would not survive; my physiology is too changed, too evolved for it really to pass for human anymore. Lexius infers I need to find some way to co-exist with it, without allowing it any dominance. He thinks it is an influence which has, even before its release, subtly directed my course. I can’t refute the possibility effectively. It’s primal and self-serving, and has always woken with interest as I turn my hand to life’s violent delights. I have no mental guarding and will never be able to determine whether it has been subconsciously driven me to interrogation and torture, to a taste for blood and the kind of sex a breath away from butchery. Little wonder he denies me the use of my hands. I’m not sure whether my assurances will ever be enough that he permits free reign.
I lay on his table again. I let him dissect me metaphysically like a laboratory specimen. No, that’s not fair. It was nothing so impersonal, and I saw what he saw. Every pathway, every anchor binding soul to flesh. And the seals. There are two. I am unfinished. What the Russians released a decade ago, is sentient, and yet from what I can determine only a pre-cursor to what will be if the others are broken. It does not want them broken. It says I’m not prepared. It’s not difficult to see some intended fate in all of this though, and to make the small jump to realising that this likely has something to do with my stalkers, the ones who marked me in an attempt to keep me hidden.
It’s convoluted, and not something I want to focus on, when fixing Lexius promises a far more satisfying reward. I would see him whole and unflawed, given chance to act as he wishes without struggling against the dissonance that plagues him even if there lies the risk of him forgetting me completely. Of returning to that bland regard he had for me in the beginning before he traded answers for knowledge. I would hate it, but I can’t be selfish. I try to look on the bright side, and consider that if my power is aware of my desire to help Lexius, it might cooperate and seek to avoid him harm. To imagine it might simply follow my instruction in such a task… seems naïve.
He’s found the well that his guardians showed me. I didn’t even know it was real.
Another thing that’s undoubtedly real, is Koyan’s anger. I was so wrong when I tried to convince Lexius that he wouldn’t care about our association. Of course then it was only a friendship. Lexius had seen us talking in the inn and assumed it would benefit me to step back rather than risk complications. I should have re-evaluated when things changed, but it never occurred to me that after so long apart, Koyan would care.
I might have run him through with another sword and caused him less pain, to hear him speak of it. The old wounds Lexius left him with have not healed, and for a moment I thought he meant to make some claim on him. It wasn’t a matter of stepping on toes though. The issue of betrayal was a result of my secrecy, of a respect he had decided was lacking, and our friendship reached breaking point.
Rarely have I come across instances with friends that have made me feel so powerless, knocked off my axis with nothing solid to grasp for. Bjorn managed it twice, in our long history; once when he challenged me to duel to the death, and the next when he decided to cast me aside as a friend because of the complications it threatened to cause with Ivanya. I was certain Koyan intended to do the same, to forget everything that came before that day and cast me aside like refuse. He seemed to calm when I urged him to consider the evidence against his accusations, but something has changed.
His attitude softened towards me, but I feel the absence of his trust keenly. He holds me at arms’ length, if not further, for I sense no welcome in him when we see one another now. I’ll not push him to accept me if he’s already made his choice. I am a victim of nothing but my own ignorance.
The same can be said of Taneth, who I reached out for again with Pharlen in my corner. We got nowhere, trying to encourage her to let us help, and again I was counselled by people to let her recover in her own time, even if the evidence suggests her ‘recovery’ is nothing more than a talented act. A lie. I should never have intervened.
Kai at least seemed to have decided I am not so worthless as I imagined she must think me when last we spoke. I saw her briefly at the inn after she left a message for me there, and we spoke of that last encounter and, I hope, set things to right as a result. She’s given me no other cause over the years to doubt her, and I can’t let my failings with other friends reflect on my handling of the situation with her. She is sincere, and my self-doubt is for me to deal with, not her.
Tomorrow marks the eighth day since Lexius left to recover after… well me. Deserts have a habit of swallowing up the people I have affection for.
- M
Re: Insights (Volume II)
January 28th, 2016
You don’t survive long in this city without accomplishing a degree of adaptability.
Ten years ago, I thought I’d evolved well enough to survive. I thought that the series of traumas I suffered which broke the seal would be ‘it’, and anything beyond that unnecessary. I explored my talents in turns recklessly and cautiously, and quietly congratulated myself on maintaining a degree of humanity despite my predilections and transgressions. It was naïve of me. Short-sighted.
Now I know trepidation. I feel as if there’s some intangible chrysalis wrapped about me I’ve never been aware of. The changes are beyond my control, and yet entirely my fault. The metamorphosis is conducted not by a single driving force, but two. One churns inside, observing the tempering, smug in the knowledge I am subject to its design. The other I accepted willingly into my life in exchange for its aid in saving Lexius.
It stripped me of all things false. Plates and pins and every scrap the doctors have used to keep me from falling apart over the years. Old aches and pains, the remnants of fractures, breaks and nerve damage cease to trouble me. I can’t know the full extent of its working without peeling myself open to see, but I wouldn’t be surprised to learn the changes are as rampant in other parts of me. The edges of my teeth cut more cleanly, the mirror shows me edges more like carnassials where the first molars should be. It pulled me apart, thrust me back together, and left everything feeling full of potential. I’ve yet to test out the physical effects to their full extent, but they’re promising.
It left me with the scars. I think it knew somehow, their necessity. Ugly though they are, they serve their purpose.
My passenger seems content enough not to have combated the changes, though I’m well aware it’s cautious of attention from Lexius’ guardians and seems to imply it’s yet in its infancy. It wishes to remain that way, the other seals unbroken until some unspecified time.
This all came about a couple of weeks ago, in the aftermath of an entirely unexpected severing with Lexius.
I’m not oblivious to his history. He’s told me the ugly details of previous relationships ending and I accepted the risks, thought I knew myself well enough that it wouldn’t prove an obstacle. Yet the first shred of doubt surfaces, and over Sinjin of all people, and I called a halt. His reassurances over Sin, and his loathing of kindred in general were not enough to convince me there was nothing there. Worse, with that reassurance came more warning. ‘You should cease now. Look elsewhere. There are far better choices.’
I took him at his word, realising in that moment that this is one facet of my life where I’m a coward. The risks were too much.
It didn’t help when, days later, I sat talking with Sin at the Red Dragon and learned that Lexius had gone to his home. I took it as evidence, as proof of my misgivings. Sin picked at my patience, working, I suspect, on suspicions until I confessed the truth of the matter. My resentment faded fast. Sin is Sin, and his nature is immutable. Why should I blame him for desiring Lexius? It’s not as if we’d ever told anyone there was an ‘us’.
‘Jealousy is a bitch’, he told me.
The accuracy of it, the use of that word, like something dirty, it made me ashamed. I don’t wish to be some green eyed monster, though the potential for it never lies far from the surface.
First Lan haunted me, telling me to persist, and then Jack Quinn appears mysteriously at my home with his pack. Between the two of them I was convinced to see past my fear, and Lexius’ self-doubt, to consider the potential for change, to remember that the tarnished record belonged to an Elf who has since been remade.
He was again in the coming days, after we’d met in the pit at his home, now closed up save for a handful of rooms. His attempt to start fresh, abandoning all but the library and the lab. We spoke our pieces, he warned me again I was being foolish, but this time it didn’t deflect me. Instead I travelled out with him to the well, and fell head first into this fools plan we’d cooked up to correct the wrongs of his rebirth.
The well spat us out three days later, both physically changed, and Lexius’ mind seamless again, the dissonance entirely absent. Touch is now possible without repercussions. Certain names on our tongues no longer require him to do battle with inner demons I’ve been witness to via mental links he establishes.
I’m hopeful. And even if I accomplish nothing more than fixing him, it’ll have been worth it.
There are of course things of a troubling nature afoot that I suspect we won’t be able to avoid despite best intentions. Jason informed me his watchers have reported the doors to the Temple of Janus have been opened. In typical Roman fashion, it insinuates a coming war. The split Grecian pantheon seems to be at the heart of the cause, but we’ll know nothing for sure until we talk to Aiden again. I’m not sure whether to suggest Lexius comes this time. Maybe he’ll be able to tolerate the man now he’s had his wrinkles ironed out.
Bjorn is aware there’s trouble mounting, and offered his aid, but I will not have him, nor the Alfar, dragged into something of this scale. There are Vhamerians I would see kept safe from the whole fiasco too, though it wouldn’t trouble me to see Fox and her followers conveniently swallowed up by it. In the end the risks are too high, and the Alfar too few. I won’t be responsible for further depleting their numbers, nor for putting a bonded pair under the eyes of pantheon scrutiny.
Bjorn told me Evander has vanished. I hope he merely chose to remove himself from a situation he couldn’t combat without causing further strife. I felt relieved to think he’d opt for that, over violence. In the past he’s not been so successful in restraint, so it’s safer for him this way. Safer for Bjorn too, who would have to deal with the aftermath. I was grateful for his ear that day, and surprised by how impartial he remained. I’d expected his loyalty to Evander might have set distance between us, but his concern was candid, and his words lacking in judgement. He even suggested I come out to the settlement to see everyone, but at that point the taint of Crius still stained me, and I didn’t want to risk leading anyone to their doorstep. Now it’s gone, I may reconsider it.
Again on the subject of troubling developments, and of a more personal nature, is an unexpected tie that seems to have been manipulated between Lexius and I by his guardian. It’s one I’d refused some time ago, and though he respected my decision, it seems we’re at the whims of things far larger than us. There is nothing either of us can do to change it. Stepping into the well seems to have stripped me of certain freedoms, amongst them choice.
Sometime after the desert, I ran into Sinjin at the inn again. I can’t recall ever seeing him so miserable as he is presently, and entirely aware of his own failings and flaws. It’s been some years since we were close, linked by his blood, and there were times since he returned that I thought the most we would ever be again was keepers of a shared history, with too much time set between us to ever look at one another as more than forgotten curiosities.
There is an ease in talking to him that I can’t deny though. I can be as ruthless as I wish with my truths and he’ll accept them without backlash. Instead he offers them in return. It’s a precious thing, particularly with thirteen long years of memories, conflict and comfort.
I can’t help wondering whether he will succeed in rebuilding things here, or whether he will slide back into absence. He seems too comfortable there, out of sight.
- M
You don’t survive long in this city without accomplishing a degree of adaptability.
Ten years ago, I thought I’d evolved well enough to survive. I thought that the series of traumas I suffered which broke the seal would be ‘it’, and anything beyond that unnecessary. I explored my talents in turns recklessly and cautiously, and quietly congratulated myself on maintaining a degree of humanity despite my predilections and transgressions. It was naïve of me. Short-sighted.
Now I know trepidation. I feel as if there’s some intangible chrysalis wrapped about me I’ve never been aware of. The changes are beyond my control, and yet entirely my fault. The metamorphosis is conducted not by a single driving force, but two. One churns inside, observing the tempering, smug in the knowledge I am subject to its design. The other I accepted willingly into my life in exchange for its aid in saving Lexius.
It stripped me of all things false. Plates and pins and every scrap the doctors have used to keep me from falling apart over the years. Old aches and pains, the remnants of fractures, breaks and nerve damage cease to trouble me. I can’t know the full extent of its working without peeling myself open to see, but I wouldn’t be surprised to learn the changes are as rampant in other parts of me. The edges of my teeth cut more cleanly, the mirror shows me edges more like carnassials where the first molars should be. It pulled me apart, thrust me back together, and left everything feeling full of potential. I’ve yet to test out the physical effects to their full extent, but they’re promising.
It left me with the scars. I think it knew somehow, their necessity. Ugly though they are, they serve their purpose.
My passenger seems content enough not to have combated the changes, though I’m well aware it’s cautious of attention from Lexius’ guardians and seems to imply it’s yet in its infancy. It wishes to remain that way, the other seals unbroken until some unspecified time.
This all came about a couple of weeks ago, in the aftermath of an entirely unexpected severing with Lexius.
I’m not oblivious to his history. He’s told me the ugly details of previous relationships ending and I accepted the risks, thought I knew myself well enough that it wouldn’t prove an obstacle. Yet the first shred of doubt surfaces, and over Sinjin of all people, and I called a halt. His reassurances over Sin, and his loathing of kindred in general were not enough to convince me there was nothing there. Worse, with that reassurance came more warning. ‘You should cease now. Look elsewhere. There are far better choices.’
I took him at his word, realising in that moment that this is one facet of my life where I’m a coward. The risks were too much.
It didn’t help when, days later, I sat talking with Sin at the Red Dragon and learned that Lexius had gone to his home. I took it as evidence, as proof of my misgivings. Sin picked at my patience, working, I suspect, on suspicions until I confessed the truth of the matter. My resentment faded fast. Sin is Sin, and his nature is immutable. Why should I blame him for desiring Lexius? It’s not as if we’d ever told anyone there was an ‘us’.
‘Jealousy is a bitch’, he told me.
The accuracy of it, the use of that word, like something dirty, it made me ashamed. I don’t wish to be some green eyed monster, though the potential for it never lies far from the surface.
First Lan haunted me, telling me to persist, and then Jack Quinn appears mysteriously at my home with his pack. Between the two of them I was convinced to see past my fear, and Lexius’ self-doubt, to consider the potential for change, to remember that the tarnished record belonged to an Elf who has since been remade.
He was again in the coming days, after we’d met in the pit at his home, now closed up save for a handful of rooms. His attempt to start fresh, abandoning all but the library and the lab. We spoke our pieces, he warned me again I was being foolish, but this time it didn’t deflect me. Instead I travelled out with him to the well, and fell head first into this fools plan we’d cooked up to correct the wrongs of his rebirth.
The well spat us out three days later, both physically changed, and Lexius’ mind seamless again, the dissonance entirely absent. Touch is now possible without repercussions. Certain names on our tongues no longer require him to do battle with inner demons I’ve been witness to via mental links he establishes.
I’m hopeful. And even if I accomplish nothing more than fixing him, it’ll have been worth it.
There are of course things of a troubling nature afoot that I suspect we won’t be able to avoid despite best intentions. Jason informed me his watchers have reported the doors to the Temple of Janus have been opened. In typical Roman fashion, it insinuates a coming war. The split Grecian pantheon seems to be at the heart of the cause, but we’ll know nothing for sure until we talk to Aiden again. I’m not sure whether to suggest Lexius comes this time. Maybe he’ll be able to tolerate the man now he’s had his wrinkles ironed out.
Bjorn is aware there’s trouble mounting, and offered his aid, but I will not have him, nor the Alfar, dragged into something of this scale. There are Vhamerians I would see kept safe from the whole fiasco too, though it wouldn’t trouble me to see Fox and her followers conveniently swallowed up by it. In the end the risks are too high, and the Alfar too few. I won’t be responsible for further depleting their numbers, nor for putting a bonded pair under the eyes of pantheon scrutiny.
Bjorn told me Evander has vanished. I hope he merely chose to remove himself from a situation he couldn’t combat without causing further strife. I felt relieved to think he’d opt for that, over violence. In the past he’s not been so successful in restraint, so it’s safer for him this way. Safer for Bjorn too, who would have to deal with the aftermath. I was grateful for his ear that day, and surprised by how impartial he remained. I’d expected his loyalty to Evander might have set distance between us, but his concern was candid, and his words lacking in judgement. He even suggested I come out to the settlement to see everyone, but at that point the taint of Crius still stained me, and I didn’t want to risk leading anyone to their doorstep. Now it’s gone, I may reconsider it.
Again on the subject of troubling developments, and of a more personal nature, is an unexpected tie that seems to have been manipulated between Lexius and I by his guardian. It’s one I’d refused some time ago, and though he respected my decision, it seems we’re at the whims of things far larger than us. There is nothing either of us can do to change it. Stepping into the well seems to have stripped me of certain freedoms, amongst them choice.
Sometime after the desert, I ran into Sinjin at the inn again. I can’t recall ever seeing him so miserable as he is presently, and entirely aware of his own failings and flaws. It’s been some years since we were close, linked by his blood, and there were times since he returned that I thought the most we would ever be again was keepers of a shared history, with too much time set between us to ever look at one another as more than forgotten curiosities.
There is an ease in talking to him that I can’t deny though. I can be as ruthless as I wish with my truths and he’ll accept them without backlash. Instead he offers them in return. It’s a precious thing, particularly with thirteen long years of memories, conflict and comfort.
I can’t help wondering whether he will succeed in rebuilding things here, or whether he will slide back into absence. He seems too comfortable there, out of sight.
- M
Re: Insights (Volume II)
March 1st, 2016
It took ten hours to get rid of that shit in my hair. Ten hours. Eden and Ransom are going to suffer some exquisite payback for the neon silly string and sticky fuck knows what was in those balloons incident. I just have to figure out how.
That said, their antics, and those of everyone else that braved the lube slimed horror of the ‘Batcave’ they installed in the yard at the Red Dragon were some much needed stress relief. A bittersweet reminder of the way things were ten years ago at Bess’ place, before my reckless behaviour set me on a crash course for how things are now. Eden has always had a knack for bringing out that side of me, and Ransom, though I barely know him by more than name and mutual associations, seems a good fit for her. I hope they stick around.
Sinjin remains a concern. I can’t help him, and I don’t think anyone can at this point. His misery is infectious, and having seen the extent of the strain that exists between him and my brother, even in the public eye, I’m not surprised he can’t contain it. His unhappiness seems to have alienated Salvador – and who can blame him for not wanting to expose himself to that? – Yet neither one, I think, would survive the severing of ties that most conventional relationships end with.
Salvador has Cane to lose himself in. Sinjin has no one of equal importance that I know of. Only the boy he pays. Paid. I don’t know anymore. I want to help him, but I suspect time, the great healer, is the best he can hope for in this situation. Nevertheless he knows where I am, should he need me.
This past month I’ve spent time in the company of a woman called Sira. She’s an enigmatic creature, withdrawn defensively for reasons beyond my knowledge, but I find myself enjoying her nonetheless. She’s prickly, holds everyone at arm’s length, but there’s a no nonsense aspect to her, a stoicism that I find calming. And of course the fact she confides in me, even if only a little, gives me a mystery to puzzle over.
Often we seem to find ourselves occupying the Red Dragon’s porch to avoid the excesses that seem to more commonly occur indoors, and though we perhaps spoke first only because of her constant companion, Bryn, our conversations feel worthwhile. Something to enjoy beyond the petty niceties I tend to avoid.
At the other end of the spectrum is Lucy.
In some ways she reminds me of Reva, utterly feminine, reeking of class and faultlessly polite. Our interactions have been few and far between over the past year or so, but the nature of her problem is one I find myself in a position to advise on, if not to interfere with. She’s guarded in her own ways, but less adept at hiding things than Sira, and while I once imagined her vulnerable, a pampered creature who never had to risk chipping a nail I found myself pleasantly surprised when I stumbled into her art gallery.
A businesswoman, one who welcomed me as a friend despite the disparity in social echelons. And underneath all that girlish softness, she has edges. There’s more fire to her than the brightness of her hair, and more spirit than the one who haunts her. I can appreciate these qualities as much as I can a woman willing to stuff her bra with grenades, or a doyenne like Lola, every inch the matriarch and somehow more like a myth than a flesh and blood being, each time I see her.
Time refines some people. Lola is one of those strange exceptions.
Of course, much of my time these days is spent with more singular company. The strange link established between Lexius and I has gone from strength to strength over the past few weeks, and again without intent from either of us. Communicating with him telepathically now feels effortless, and I refuse to believe that’s simply a result of practice on my part. At the same time, the barrier he asserts to offer me privacy seems ever more flimsy, hardly worthy of erecting in the first place. I’m unsure how he feels about it. His concern seems to stem from the fact that it’s beyond his control (and he is above many things a control freak) but I suspect he’s worried about how it affects me, and whether I’m harbouring any resentment because of it, first and foremost.
Our relationship is unlike any I’ve entered into before. He is without a doubt the most intelligent lover I’ve ever had, even surpassing Michael’s savant intellect. Whilst he can’t compare in physical strength to Evander or Tanziel, he’s far more dangerous; there is no question in my mind over who would win should we ever truly fight, and coupled with that need for control and his particular history I can understand, if not always appreciate, his inclinations where physical intimacy is concerned.
We knew it would be a clash to begin with, yet I think he’s been surprised by how much he can enjoy certain things he hasn’t indulged in before. The blood will never be a craving for him, but he does not protest it, even experiments, and where pain is concerned, he ventures further, by inches if not in leaps and bounds, testing the waters. He will not be bullied, coerced or pushed and his limits might not extend to my own extremes, but he has not remained rigidly averse to things.
Of course it has been a learning experience for me as well. Physiological differences aside, he’s capable of metaphysical things he applies shamelessly to unravel me in the thick of things.
Towards the end of January we walked through the city visiting the places he’d once lived. From the street where he met Jason slipping in through a window to Tristan’s estate, he indulged my curiosity, and my questions. I was of course reminded of the age discrepancy once exposed to such a storied history, but I find myself comfortable with it regardless. If anyone suffers because of it, it’s him, not me.
Sometime after this excursion, I came home to find him down in the morgue, having rearranged my laboratory to allow for the addition of a new piece of equipment. Electron microscopes don’t come cheap, and I suffered the same immediate discomfort with it that I did when Gideon tried to gift me some ridiculously priced car. It’s difficult, having once had nothing, to accept anything with such value and not feel that I am then indebted. Knowing that Lexius, like Gideon, could well afford it without even batting an eye did not comfort me. But it was foolish to think that he (or either of them, really) meant to buy me with the gesture.
Still he was patient enough to understand my concern, and to offer reassurance when I explained myself, even if I did declare the acceptance hinged on its practical use in the studies he set me.
Our relationship aside, we find ourselves resigned to the fact that we’re stuck with the Grecian problem until it reaches some inevitably grand finale. I arranged for us to meet with Whisper at Parliament, a basement bar in the West End run by a sibling pair of owl shifters who play fence for occult specialities and offer a safe haven where the gangs agree to play nice.
Whisper confessed that his father’s portion of the pantheon are attempting to solidify an alliance with members of other Earth based pantheons, a feat which would result in no small measure of chaos were they to accomplish it. Not only are the Company unwilling to intervene until they’ve solid proof (which Whisper’s boss hasn’t been able to procure) but it appears they’ve made no headway in securing the allegiance of lady wisdom herself, or finding a way to avoid the impending war that the Temple of Janus’ open doors seem to declare. I want to choke him a little, and not in any sexual manner. It isn’t his fault, but for all the power these beings can boast of, they’ve achieved nothing more than holding their ground after so many years of grandiose planning.
I don’t want to be on the losing side. I don’t want to be on a side in this matter at all, yet the options have been stripped from me. I can play the observer and see a plan that’ll inflict chaos take root, or I can take up with the bastards who manipulated me into aiding them and actively participate in something that could very well get me killed because I don’t trust them to handle it.
That even reads arrogantly, but unfortunately it’s the truth.
With the marker the titan left on me eradicated, neither side can track me and I’m ideally placed to put some sabotage into effect. I learned the Romans had requested auguries be taken to reassure their followers that a renewal at the Plutonium to raise Dis up in Hades’ place was willed by their Gods. Eorlund allowed me to recruit him to disrupt the birds and send them scattering ill omened. I’ve managed to visit the numerous altars around the city after nightfall and defile them, scattering the offerings and rotting it all to further the doubt.
Next on the list is the Mundus, though locating its hiding place is proving difficult given that the records are private and all I have to go on are the old street plans of the Temple District to guide my search. It should have been there at the founding of their first temple, so finding the original borders to the territory they take up is narrowing it down, but a search on foot is going to be necessary to finalise it. Vadriel has offered to send in his entourage to spark fear once the stone is removed from the Mundus. Let them think the dead are rising in protest of the renewal. That should at least cause some dissent, if not slow down their progress.
In the meantime we need to track down a herd of stolen aurochs. Jason and Lexius called me out to a burnt farmhouse where the Roman soldiers had attempted to force the farmers to part with all their stock and things turned ugly. A little necromancy brought a teenage boy back to his corpse briefly to supply us with answers, which proved enlightening for more than the expected reasons. Aside from learning that the aurochs are intended for sacrifice at the renewal ceremony at the Plutonium, I also felt the tug of the family’s Gods when they came for his soul. Not a sensation I’m accustomed to given the general nature of those I speak to. Usually they’re faithless, or destined for some Hell, but for him it was different. I could, with practice, learn to recognise the signature energy of certain deities, but the frequency with which I use the dark arts on good men and women are so infrequent it could be a long learning process.
More interesting yet was the strange and unexpected way in which Lexius’ energy tangled with my own as I was rebuilding the boy’s face with some Fleshkrafting. Lexius hadn’t intended it, and I certainly hadn’t pulled at it on purpose, but between us we fleshed him out almost as if he’d never been burnt. The capacity to reverse all the rot and resituate an original soul, to achieve an unsullied resurrection…
I shouldn’t consider it after Danica. That was unforgiveable. Better to concentrate on the Greeks.
- M
It took ten hours to get rid of that shit in my hair. Ten hours. Eden and Ransom are going to suffer some exquisite payback for the neon silly string and sticky fuck knows what was in those balloons incident. I just have to figure out how.
That said, their antics, and those of everyone else that braved the lube slimed horror of the ‘Batcave’ they installed in the yard at the Red Dragon were some much needed stress relief. A bittersweet reminder of the way things were ten years ago at Bess’ place, before my reckless behaviour set me on a crash course for how things are now. Eden has always had a knack for bringing out that side of me, and Ransom, though I barely know him by more than name and mutual associations, seems a good fit for her. I hope they stick around.
Sinjin remains a concern. I can’t help him, and I don’t think anyone can at this point. His misery is infectious, and having seen the extent of the strain that exists between him and my brother, even in the public eye, I’m not surprised he can’t contain it. His unhappiness seems to have alienated Salvador – and who can blame him for not wanting to expose himself to that? – Yet neither one, I think, would survive the severing of ties that most conventional relationships end with.
Salvador has Cane to lose himself in. Sinjin has no one of equal importance that I know of. Only the boy he pays. Paid. I don’t know anymore. I want to help him, but I suspect time, the great healer, is the best he can hope for in this situation. Nevertheless he knows where I am, should he need me.
This past month I’ve spent time in the company of a woman called Sira. She’s an enigmatic creature, withdrawn defensively for reasons beyond my knowledge, but I find myself enjoying her nonetheless. She’s prickly, holds everyone at arm’s length, but there’s a no nonsense aspect to her, a stoicism that I find calming. And of course the fact she confides in me, even if only a little, gives me a mystery to puzzle over.
Often we seem to find ourselves occupying the Red Dragon’s porch to avoid the excesses that seem to more commonly occur indoors, and though we perhaps spoke first only because of her constant companion, Bryn, our conversations feel worthwhile. Something to enjoy beyond the petty niceties I tend to avoid.
At the other end of the spectrum is Lucy.
In some ways she reminds me of Reva, utterly feminine, reeking of class and faultlessly polite. Our interactions have been few and far between over the past year or so, but the nature of her problem is one I find myself in a position to advise on, if not to interfere with. She’s guarded in her own ways, but less adept at hiding things than Sira, and while I once imagined her vulnerable, a pampered creature who never had to risk chipping a nail I found myself pleasantly surprised when I stumbled into her art gallery.
A businesswoman, one who welcomed me as a friend despite the disparity in social echelons. And underneath all that girlish softness, she has edges. There’s more fire to her than the brightness of her hair, and more spirit than the one who haunts her. I can appreciate these qualities as much as I can a woman willing to stuff her bra with grenades, or a doyenne like Lola, every inch the matriarch and somehow more like a myth than a flesh and blood being, each time I see her.
Time refines some people. Lola is one of those strange exceptions.
Of course, much of my time these days is spent with more singular company. The strange link established between Lexius and I has gone from strength to strength over the past few weeks, and again without intent from either of us. Communicating with him telepathically now feels effortless, and I refuse to believe that’s simply a result of practice on my part. At the same time, the barrier he asserts to offer me privacy seems ever more flimsy, hardly worthy of erecting in the first place. I’m unsure how he feels about it. His concern seems to stem from the fact that it’s beyond his control (and he is above many things a control freak) but I suspect he’s worried about how it affects me, and whether I’m harbouring any resentment because of it, first and foremost.
Our relationship is unlike any I’ve entered into before. He is without a doubt the most intelligent lover I’ve ever had, even surpassing Michael’s savant intellect. Whilst he can’t compare in physical strength to Evander or Tanziel, he’s far more dangerous; there is no question in my mind over who would win should we ever truly fight, and coupled with that need for control and his particular history I can understand, if not always appreciate, his inclinations where physical intimacy is concerned.
We knew it would be a clash to begin with, yet I think he’s been surprised by how much he can enjoy certain things he hasn’t indulged in before. The blood will never be a craving for him, but he does not protest it, even experiments, and where pain is concerned, he ventures further, by inches if not in leaps and bounds, testing the waters. He will not be bullied, coerced or pushed and his limits might not extend to my own extremes, but he has not remained rigidly averse to things.
Of course it has been a learning experience for me as well. Physiological differences aside, he’s capable of metaphysical things he applies shamelessly to unravel me in the thick of things.
Towards the end of January we walked through the city visiting the places he’d once lived. From the street where he met Jason slipping in through a window to Tristan’s estate, he indulged my curiosity, and my questions. I was of course reminded of the age discrepancy once exposed to such a storied history, but I find myself comfortable with it regardless. If anyone suffers because of it, it’s him, not me.
Sometime after this excursion, I came home to find him down in the morgue, having rearranged my laboratory to allow for the addition of a new piece of equipment. Electron microscopes don’t come cheap, and I suffered the same immediate discomfort with it that I did when Gideon tried to gift me some ridiculously priced car. It’s difficult, having once had nothing, to accept anything with such value and not feel that I am then indebted. Knowing that Lexius, like Gideon, could well afford it without even batting an eye did not comfort me. But it was foolish to think that he (or either of them, really) meant to buy me with the gesture.
Still he was patient enough to understand my concern, and to offer reassurance when I explained myself, even if I did declare the acceptance hinged on its practical use in the studies he set me.
Our relationship aside, we find ourselves resigned to the fact that we’re stuck with the Grecian problem until it reaches some inevitably grand finale. I arranged for us to meet with Whisper at Parliament, a basement bar in the West End run by a sibling pair of owl shifters who play fence for occult specialities and offer a safe haven where the gangs agree to play nice.
Whisper confessed that his father’s portion of the pantheon are attempting to solidify an alliance with members of other Earth based pantheons, a feat which would result in no small measure of chaos were they to accomplish it. Not only are the Company unwilling to intervene until they’ve solid proof (which Whisper’s boss hasn’t been able to procure) but it appears they’ve made no headway in securing the allegiance of lady wisdom herself, or finding a way to avoid the impending war that the Temple of Janus’ open doors seem to declare. I want to choke him a little, and not in any sexual manner. It isn’t his fault, but for all the power these beings can boast of, they’ve achieved nothing more than holding their ground after so many years of grandiose planning.
I don’t want to be on the losing side. I don’t want to be on a side in this matter at all, yet the options have been stripped from me. I can play the observer and see a plan that’ll inflict chaos take root, or I can take up with the bastards who manipulated me into aiding them and actively participate in something that could very well get me killed because I don’t trust them to handle it.
That even reads arrogantly, but unfortunately it’s the truth.
With the marker the titan left on me eradicated, neither side can track me and I’m ideally placed to put some sabotage into effect. I learned the Romans had requested auguries be taken to reassure their followers that a renewal at the Plutonium to raise Dis up in Hades’ place was willed by their Gods. Eorlund allowed me to recruit him to disrupt the birds and send them scattering ill omened. I’ve managed to visit the numerous altars around the city after nightfall and defile them, scattering the offerings and rotting it all to further the doubt.
Next on the list is the Mundus, though locating its hiding place is proving difficult given that the records are private and all I have to go on are the old street plans of the Temple District to guide my search. It should have been there at the founding of their first temple, so finding the original borders to the territory they take up is narrowing it down, but a search on foot is going to be necessary to finalise it. Vadriel has offered to send in his entourage to spark fear once the stone is removed from the Mundus. Let them think the dead are rising in protest of the renewal. That should at least cause some dissent, if not slow down their progress.
In the meantime we need to track down a herd of stolen aurochs. Jason and Lexius called me out to a burnt farmhouse where the Roman soldiers had attempted to force the farmers to part with all their stock and things turned ugly. A little necromancy brought a teenage boy back to his corpse briefly to supply us with answers, which proved enlightening for more than the expected reasons. Aside from learning that the aurochs are intended for sacrifice at the renewal ceremony at the Plutonium, I also felt the tug of the family’s Gods when they came for his soul. Not a sensation I’m accustomed to given the general nature of those I speak to. Usually they’re faithless, or destined for some Hell, but for him it was different. I could, with practice, learn to recognise the signature energy of certain deities, but the frequency with which I use the dark arts on good men and women are so infrequent it could be a long learning process.
More interesting yet was the strange and unexpected way in which Lexius’ energy tangled with my own as I was rebuilding the boy’s face with some Fleshkrafting. Lexius hadn’t intended it, and I certainly hadn’t pulled at it on purpose, but between us we fleshed him out almost as if he’d never been burnt. The capacity to reverse all the rot and resituate an original soul, to achieve an unsullied resurrection…
I shouldn’t consider it after Danica. That was unforgiveable. Better to concentrate on the Greeks.
- M
Re: Insights (Volume II)
March 26th, 2016
I didn’t trust them to handle it. Everyone knew (probably) I couldn’t just play observer, and everyone knew (probably) that minor meddling was bound to become sabotage on a grand scale.
I imagine Aiden spent some time laughing about it after my vehement refusal to be nudged around like a pawn by his faction. My pro-active behaviour has accomplished precisely what he would have done if I’d simply agreed. And likely with his backing, it would have been a great deal less risky, if not as bold as I like to move.
Really, they’re so fucking slow to do anything. I won’t excuse them their lack of haste just because they’re not time limited.
Anyway, I went to the Roman territory in the Temple District to track down the Mundus. I’d expected it to be difficult to reach, but not guarded to the extent it was, and having insisted on going alone there was no cautioning voice to persuade me not to try my luck anyway. The guards didn’t turn out to be the problem though. What did was Kore’s presence, and my bullshitting capacity being as lacklustre as it is, I barely managed to run my mouth enough to make her uncertain about killing me before I fled.
Turns out I earned myself the nickname ‘False Prophet’ after that little escapade, which is poor consolation considering the Mundus remained beyond my reach, and all the more doggedly guarded after I came so close to it. The only good which came of my recklessness was discovering Kore’s dim-witted reasoning behind her alliance with Dis. You’d think a *** Power would’ve lived long enough to realise a permanent Spring is going to be pretty disastrous, and not the gift she’s convinced herself it would be to the mortals.
I’d gone to kill two birds with one stone though, and after giving my pursuers the slip, I managed to track down the stolen bulls we’d been trying to locate in order to stall the sacrificial aspect of the ceremony for Dis’ ascension. Turns out the pillaged farm wasn’t the only place the Romans went to source their beef though. One barn was particularly well guarded, and with good reason. The sons of some Egyptian, bull-headed Power called Apis were being held there for the sacrifice, and you can be damned well sure a Power’s offspring would’ve pulled off the investiture.
Of course when Lexius and I scheduled another meeting with Aiden out at Fantasia, he was pretty damn eager to point out I’d caused problems. Not least for myself. My discovery of Apis’ sons and their captivity by the Romans got my name dragged up in front of the Company, and it wasn’t a big leap to connect me to the ‘False Prophet’ Kore had been bitching about.
I’m more uneasy about that than I let on, though I’m sure Lexius knows. My concerns were only affirmed by another source a couple of weeks later, though I’ll get to that in good time.
Aiden persuaded us it was better to work in concert with his faction rather than independently, and I found myself recruited for a kidnapping. Not the first time I’ve turned my hand to that particular crime, but the prey was certainly a little more than I’d bargained for. Kore herself, bitch-queen extraordinaire (though there was a certain element of entertainment watching her rail at Aiden before we sprung the trap).
Unsurprisingly, letting Aiden do the planning resulted in a cluster fuck.
Infiltrating Kore’s domain was easy enough, thanks to his connections (though being exposed to Apate and Hecate was not something I signed up for). Disguised, we didn’t have to fear being recognised, but we were sorely lacking decent exit routes when we arrived, playing at being harbingers from Dis, to escort her from her protected domain. Aiden assured me he’d do all the talking. Instead the bitch Kore commands him to silence because he hasn’t got the good sense to take a knee, and I’m stuck bullshitting my way through things. Again. Like I fucking know how these beings address one another, the honorifics. I was stuck choking on flattery and attempts to appease until the biggest flaw in Aiden’s plan unravelled us. The real couriers arrived.
Now at this point, Kore had opened a portal to Dis’ throne room with intent to march us through and make examples of us. The horn sounded to announce the couriers happened at that very moment, and I did the only thing I could do. Tackled her straight through it.
Her dress tore.
We land the other side in a sprawl, in front of her husband to be and his whole damn court. Oh and Aiden put a spear through her pet hellhound, so that was just fantastic. That last little insult heaped upon injury.
So. Angry Dis. Kore throwing a bitch fit while Aiden wrangles her and soaks up every spell she’s slinging at us. Pain maddened hellhound running around (on fire – and sort of rotting because I might have done that too) and a whole court full of hell creatures all ready to tear us apart. I managed to draw the shadows over us to offer a little concealment, but as it turns out, Dis is pretty good at that too, and I’m not cut out for trying to wrestle command of them from a damn deity.
I let them go, because it seemed the sensible thing to do, but I kept a few threads to form a javelin and threw it at him to keep him distracted. Only it didn’t so much distract him as spear him through the hand, and then that’s great because now I’ve injured him and if he was angry before, that made him furious. Aiden tells me to get us out of there.
Yeah, that was the biggest flaw in his whole plan. How we were supposed to flee once we got her. I’ve never taken more than one person through the Umbral paths before, and dragging a Power and a demi-god along with me through a plane not even connected to the one I’m used to stepping from was not something I’d ever have thought myself capable of. Truth be told, if it hadn’t been for the necessary contact with them, and the nasty little sting of energy I always get touching Aiden (all right so maybe it isn’t all that nasty) we’d probably have wound up straying off course and getting mobbed by the denizens of the shadow plane.
Instead we made it through, and handed Kore over to her true husband, who was no more pleased to see me than he was when he attacked me in the temple last year. I think if it weren’t for the fact that Hecate likes me, and Aiden was there reminding him of the protection I’ve earned from Ares and Hermes, he’d probably have found some excuse to put me down. Instead, he was bullied into extending his protection to me just as Dis arrives behind us.
Hades and Dis do not like each other. Kore’s there calling me Defier and False Prophet, Dis is demanding that Aiden and I be handed over to him for punishment. Hecate, all smiles and pleasantness, is still the granddaughter of the titan Koyan and I killed over a decade ago so I was ready for something to explode in my damn face.
Dis told them I shouldn’t be permitted to live. Said I was infected.
I wish I could say I didn’t know what he was talking about, but the problem is that I do. It’s the same reason why every time I sense Aiden’s energy, something wakes in me, hungry, intrigued. It’s the same reason the guardian sealed my energy before permitting me through the portal to Bjorn’s homeland. It’s the same thing which indiscriminately drains of life anything around me if I’ve taken a wound that should kill me, and cheats death with sickening reliability.
As a result of Hades’ intervention, I was allowed to leave, though not before Dis warned him he’d claim his pets one day. It’s a term I resent. I wouldn’t have required the protection of any of them if they’d left me alone in the first place, yet now here I am, thrust to the forefront to the point that not one, but two pantheons are uncomfortably familiar with my actions, familiar with my affliction, and are harbouring grudges.
Hoping for a little good will from the Egyptian pantheon as a result of the rescued bulls is probably too much to hope for. Lexius timed his side of the ascension sabotage with our efforts below, and by the time I’d returned, there were bulls roaming loose through the Temple District, though most he’d managed to safely secure.
We intend to try and ensure that good will results in some generous aid to Aiden’s side of the Greek divide by finding them some virgin territory to preach their *** religion in. Few as their followers are these days, the only way they’re going to bolster their strength is by securing a new base of worship, and the ideal place to do that would be to replicate the environment in which they originally thrived. Desert. With a Nile-sized river cutting through it. Lexius’ cartography is going to prove useful in this endeavour, since he’s mapped them so extensively, but the whole thing makes me feel like a piece of shit.
Deities might have proven themselves irrefutably real to me in my three decades, but that doesn’t mean I like them, their purpose, or think encouraging any kind of organised religion to strengthen them is a wise move.
Aiden and I argued it out viciously enough at Fantasia that I was itching to harm him, and only caught the origins of that itch as my passenger because Aiden was controlled enough to take his leave before we could really get into it. He understands why I’m critical, but he’s quick to remind me that its mortals who breathe life into the Powers, who organised the religions to begin with. The whole ‘we are what you made us’ is difficult to deny, but so’s the fact that we’re candle-flickers to them, barely worth remembering for the brevity of the inconvenience we can be to them, and as such they treat us like shit.
I don’t want to deliver fresh meat into their hands. At the same time, I’m too invested in the chaos being caused by the pantheon war not to recognise it as the lesser of two evils. Being willing to make that choice and live with it is probably something I’d have failed in, if not for Lexius’ support.
I’m eager to get out of the city. Not a bad reason to encourage Lexius to take me out scouting the territory he’s narrowed down our choices to, and monopolising his company for days straight isn’t a hardship. Things are still relatively new between us, given how long we kept things platonic. His patience and my natural caution over rushing things have kept us free of the whirlwind crazy that seems to characterise most relationships in this damn realm, and keeping it quiet (I think only Sinjin has arrived at the natural conclusion, and Bjorn I mentioned it to simply for need of a sympathetic, trustworthy ear) has avoided any awkward questions.
Suffice it to say that we’re past testing the waters with one another and are comfortably afloat. I don’t attempt to measure the intensity of his feelings towards me, and I certainly don’t ask or broach the subject. He asks nothing more of me than I offer already – I doubt many would be content with so little.
- M
I didn’t trust them to handle it. Everyone knew (probably) I couldn’t just play observer, and everyone knew (probably) that minor meddling was bound to become sabotage on a grand scale.
I imagine Aiden spent some time laughing about it after my vehement refusal to be nudged around like a pawn by his faction. My pro-active behaviour has accomplished precisely what he would have done if I’d simply agreed. And likely with his backing, it would have been a great deal less risky, if not as bold as I like to move.
Really, they’re so fucking slow to do anything. I won’t excuse them their lack of haste just because they’re not time limited.
Anyway, I went to the Roman territory in the Temple District to track down the Mundus. I’d expected it to be difficult to reach, but not guarded to the extent it was, and having insisted on going alone there was no cautioning voice to persuade me not to try my luck anyway. The guards didn’t turn out to be the problem though. What did was Kore’s presence, and my bullshitting capacity being as lacklustre as it is, I barely managed to run my mouth enough to make her uncertain about killing me before I fled.
Turns out I earned myself the nickname ‘False Prophet’ after that little escapade, which is poor consolation considering the Mundus remained beyond my reach, and all the more doggedly guarded after I came so close to it. The only good which came of my recklessness was discovering Kore’s dim-witted reasoning behind her alliance with Dis. You’d think a *** Power would’ve lived long enough to realise a permanent Spring is going to be pretty disastrous, and not the gift she’s convinced herself it would be to the mortals.
I’d gone to kill two birds with one stone though, and after giving my pursuers the slip, I managed to track down the stolen bulls we’d been trying to locate in order to stall the sacrificial aspect of the ceremony for Dis’ ascension. Turns out the pillaged farm wasn’t the only place the Romans went to source their beef though. One barn was particularly well guarded, and with good reason. The sons of some Egyptian, bull-headed Power called Apis were being held there for the sacrifice, and you can be damned well sure a Power’s offspring would’ve pulled off the investiture.
Of course when Lexius and I scheduled another meeting with Aiden out at Fantasia, he was pretty damn eager to point out I’d caused problems. Not least for myself. My discovery of Apis’ sons and their captivity by the Romans got my name dragged up in front of the Company, and it wasn’t a big leap to connect me to the ‘False Prophet’ Kore had been bitching about.
I’m more uneasy about that than I let on, though I’m sure Lexius knows. My concerns were only affirmed by another source a couple of weeks later, though I’ll get to that in good time.
Aiden persuaded us it was better to work in concert with his faction rather than independently, and I found myself recruited for a kidnapping. Not the first time I’ve turned my hand to that particular crime, but the prey was certainly a little more than I’d bargained for. Kore herself, bitch-queen extraordinaire (though there was a certain element of entertainment watching her rail at Aiden before we sprung the trap).
Unsurprisingly, letting Aiden do the planning resulted in a cluster fuck.
Infiltrating Kore’s domain was easy enough, thanks to his connections (though being exposed to Apate and Hecate was not something I signed up for). Disguised, we didn’t have to fear being recognised, but we were sorely lacking decent exit routes when we arrived, playing at being harbingers from Dis, to escort her from her protected domain. Aiden assured me he’d do all the talking. Instead the bitch Kore commands him to silence because he hasn’t got the good sense to take a knee, and I’m stuck bullshitting my way through things. Again. Like I fucking know how these beings address one another, the honorifics. I was stuck choking on flattery and attempts to appease until the biggest flaw in Aiden’s plan unravelled us. The real couriers arrived.
Now at this point, Kore had opened a portal to Dis’ throne room with intent to march us through and make examples of us. The horn sounded to announce the couriers happened at that very moment, and I did the only thing I could do. Tackled her straight through it.
Her dress tore.
We land the other side in a sprawl, in front of her husband to be and his whole damn court. Oh and Aiden put a spear through her pet hellhound, so that was just fantastic. That last little insult heaped upon injury.
So. Angry Dis. Kore throwing a bitch fit while Aiden wrangles her and soaks up every spell she’s slinging at us. Pain maddened hellhound running around (on fire – and sort of rotting because I might have done that too) and a whole court full of hell creatures all ready to tear us apart. I managed to draw the shadows over us to offer a little concealment, but as it turns out, Dis is pretty good at that too, and I’m not cut out for trying to wrestle command of them from a damn deity.
I let them go, because it seemed the sensible thing to do, but I kept a few threads to form a javelin and threw it at him to keep him distracted. Only it didn’t so much distract him as spear him through the hand, and then that’s great because now I’ve injured him and if he was angry before, that made him furious. Aiden tells me to get us out of there.
Yeah, that was the biggest flaw in his whole plan. How we were supposed to flee once we got her. I’ve never taken more than one person through the Umbral paths before, and dragging a Power and a demi-god along with me through a plane not even connected to the one I’m used to stepping from was not something I’d ever have thought myself capable of. Truth be told, if it hadn’t been for the necessary contact with them, and the nasty little sting of energy I always get touching Aiden (all right so maybe it isn’t all that nasty) we’d probably have wound up straying off course and getting mobbed by the denizens of the shadow plane.
Instead we made it through, and handed Kore over to her true husband, who was no more pleased to see me than he was when he attacked me in the temple last year. I think if it weren’t for the fact that Hecate likes me, and Aiden was there reminding him of the protection I’ve earned from Ares and Hermes, he’d probably have found some excuse to put me down. Instead, he was bullied into extending his protection to me just as Dis arrives behind us.
Hades and Dis do not like each other. Kore’s there calling me Defier and False Prophet, Dis is demanding that Aiden and I be handed over to him for punishment. Hecate, all smiles and pleasantness, is still the granddaughter of the titan Koyan and I killed over a decade ago so I was ready for something to explode in my damn face.
Dis told them I shouldn’t be permitted to live. Said I was infected.
I wish I could say I didn’t know what he was talking about, but the problem is that I do. It’s the same reason why every time I sense Aiden’s energy, something wakes in me, hungry, intrigued. It’s the same reason the guardian sealed my energy before permitting me through the portal to Bjorn’s homeland. It’s the same thing which indiscriminately drains of life anything around me if I’ve taken a wound that should kill me, and cheats death with sickening reliability.
As a result of Hades’ intervention, I was allowed to leave, though not before Dis warned him he’d claim his pets one day. It’s a term I resent. I wouldn’t have required the protection of any of them if they’d left me alone in the first place, yet now here I am, thrust to the forefront to the point that not one, but two pantheons are uncomfortably familiar with my actions, familiar with my affliction, and are harbouring grudges.
Hoping for a little good will from the Egyptian pantheon as a result of the rescued bulls is probably too much to hope for. Lexius timed his side of the ascension sabotage with our efforts below, and by the time I’d returned, there were bulls roaming loose through the Temple District, though most he’d managed to safely secure.
We intend to try and ensure that good will results in some generous aid to Aiden’s side of the Greek divide by finding them some virgin territory to preach their *** religion in. Few as their followers are these days, the only way they’re going to bolster their strength is by securing a new base of worship, and the ideal place to do that would be to replicate the environment in which they originally thrived. Desert. With a Nile-sized river cutting through it. Lexius’ cartography is going to prove useful in this endeavour, since he’s mapped them so extensively, but the whole thing makes me feel like a piece of shit.
Deities might have proven themselves irrefutably real to me in my three decades, but that doesn’t mean I like them, their purpose, or think encouraging any kind of organised religion to strengthen them is a wise move.
Aiden and I argued it out viciously enough at Fantasia that I was itching to harm him, and only caught the origins of that itch as my passenger because Aiden was controlled enough to take his leave before we could really get into it. He understands why I’m critical, but he’s quick to remind me that its mortals who breathe life into the Powers, who organised the religions to begin with. The whole ‘we are what you made us’ is difficult to deny, but so’s the fact that we’re candle-flickers to them, barely worth remembering for the brevity of the inconvenience we can be to them, and as such they treat us like shit.
I don’t want to deliver fresh meat into their hands. At the same time, I’m too invested in the chaos being caused by the pantheon war not to recognise it as the lesser of two evils. Being willing to make that choice and live with it is probably something I’d have failed in, if not for Lexius’ support.
I’m eager to get out of the city. Not a bad reason to encourage Lexius to take me out scouting the territory he’s narrowed down our choices to, and monopolising his company for days straight isn’t a hardship. Things are still relatively new between us, given how long we kept things platonic. His patience and my natural caution over rushing things have kept us free of the whirlwind crazy that seems to characterise most relationships in this damn realm, and keeping it quiet (I think only Sinjin has arrived at the natural conclusion, and Bjorn I mentioned it to simply for need of a sympathetic, trustworthy ear) has avoided any awkward questions.
Suffice it to say that we’re past testing the waters with one another and are comfortably afloat. I don’t attempt to measure the intensity of his feelings towards me, and I certainly don’t ask or broach the subject. He asks nothing more of me than I offer already – I doubt many would be content with so little.
- M
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