Stories from RhyDin & The Rings

Dark Dreams
—-----------------------------------

Dream a Little Dream of Me



Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams, whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me ~ Doris Day

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

Tuesday, May 2nd, 12:13 P.M.

The Anvil stood before the void, or a void. It was really just a dark obelisk but Kruger wasn’t fooled. He also wasn’t present with The Anvil. Kruger was just an observer of the scene that had begun before him. It was strange, that part of him that stood as observer, was aware that this was a dream. Not, however, one created by natural means. It was possible that his recent experiences with the blade Cleethorpes had built an immunity to being completely drawn into constructs created by outside intelligences. That would be better than the alternative that had come to him, this awareness was just another condition insinuated upon him by who or whatever was exercising its influence over his dreams.

If that was the case, then there was no telling how dangerous this otherworldly place would be to him... and The Anvil. It was a strange sensation to have his psyche split this way. Kruger, the one who watched, could see everything as it unfolded. He could still predict, plan, and influence the avatar of him, even though it was distinctly The Anvil. His nearly omniscient mind was everywhere at once, this included inside the head of The Anvil. It was amazing how different their thoughts could be, and perhaps that spoke as much about how much his alter ego had begun to form its own identity.

Kruger could also feel everything that the physical form did, or maybe it was simply a dream physical form. He didn't know in that moment, and would think about it when he had the opportunity. That was of course assuming he remembered any of it when he did finally wake up. Right now, the calculating side of him was confident that he would indeed recall every detail with near perfection. The entity who had brought him here wasn't going to let him forget a single shift of stone under the boot of The Anvil.

That part of Kruger which was attached to his body could see how The Anvil was looking, studying the void obelisk in front of him. That was probably the influence of the Tower of Earth key. Kruger wasn't sure if it was really even present in any of this, but The Anvil was certain of it. The key had bonded with him, but it honestly seemed to prefer to spend its time with his alter ego more than himself. Kruger understood that this had to do with how ready that side of him was to move forward and do things without fear, or even thinking of negative consequences that his trust might unleash. He wasn't jealous, not much anyway, because he knew that it was still a part of who he was. Still, when The Anvil moved closer to the thing which Kruger had already realized was extremely dangerous the hitch of apprehension that spasmed through him like an unwanted muscle contraction didn't seem to touch his avatar. Damn Anvil never knew what the word caution meant. If Kruger had been able to sit, he'd be on the edge of his seat. His thoughts screamed out DON'T!

Why haven't you stopped him? The voice rippled through the dreamscape that had no physical form. Kruger was certain that it was meant for him, and not the man being very foolish. It nagged in the back of his mind, he knew this seemingly feminine voice. He hadn't heard it for many years, and the urge to purge this and everything slammed over his thoughts like a wave breaking hard on the sand of the beach.

He chose to answer rather than erase everything from being. "I thought you were through with me after last time." Did that make him as foolishly uncautious as he'd just accused The Anvil of being? Was he too confident in his own strength too? He'd never admit it, but of course he was. That trait didn't spawn from nowhere, it simply took a greater part of his self when he donned the suit of The Anvil.

There was a laugh, throaty and deep in that sultry, womanly way that demanded attention. That's not an answer to the question I asked. You're always so difficult with me.

It was true, and he wasn't really sure why beyond the fact that she always seemed to speak to him as though they'd been long time lovers. It made a certain amount of sense even as it made him recoil from her presence in his mind. Who could manipulate him better than someone who was that intimate with him? "I'll answer you with a question. Have you ever tried to stop a rockslide from rolling over the village beneath it?"

A mental shudder rolled through Kruger as the palm of The Anvil's hand made contact with the dark structure. He could feel it, or interpret the feel of it. It was smooth, fine crystal perfection, beneath the pads of his fingers. There was already a part of his omniscient mind making calculations to deal with anything that might happen due to that contact. Another part of him could sense the coy smile of ShadoWeaver. That caused a different sort of shudder in him, and all of it was aware of the extreme curiosity that rolled through his avatar's mind.

He couldn't see ShadoWeaver, but he got an impression of her stretching languidly when that hand touched the obelisk and caressed the dark glass lustrous plane. Was that a groan of pleasure? Kruger couldn't help being revulsed. Once, but the stones fell anyway, and you chose to take my brother.

"You wanted to use me. I still don't know what for, but I chose who treated me like a pawn." If he had teeth, Kruger would have had them clenched as he replied to her shadowy presence.

I wanted to make you a part of something great. It was you who chose to relegate yourself to insignificance. There was an edge to the sound of her voice. A dagger slice at the height of orgasm, designed to hurt even as it gave pleasure. He understood in that moment exactly how much he'd hurt her when he'd done the exact opposite of her desire. For some reason that made his mental self smile.

"Great things aren't always good things. Somehow I got the feeling that you were thinking great, but destructive." He set aside that smile, it wouldn't be good for her to see that he took any pleasure from her pain. "Besides, I think MoonBeryl was better off after being with me. At the very least, he had a better sense of humor. How much does a polar bear weigh?"

Oh... that joke had all of us laughing, except IceDancer, who seemed to take it as a personal insult. A girlish giggle trembled from her through his thoughts. We could have done with a little less singing though. Now that... you managed to infect PathFinder with too, for a time. There was a pause in the words, but he could feel that she was simply considering the next ones she should express. I think that, in a way, it shows the strength of will that initially caught my attention. Kruger felt the soft gasp, as though something more was revealed by her than she'd intended. That could simply be a ploy designed to stroke his ego.

"I didn't trust you then, and I'm nobody's pawn now. I've become a far more powerful piece in any game." There was a warping of the scene below, in the distance a tower formed thick walled and imposing. Kruger was certain that had come directly from him, but his lack of trust in this situation fed the fires of his doubt. "Tell me... love... why have you brought us here this way? And by us I mean me, and him."

The essence of ShadoWeaver pulled back from him slightly at the use of the word. Kruger could have been mistaken, because he knew that she was crafty, but he felt like the movement covered a wince. Perhaps she hadn't liked the tone of his voice when he said it? That seemed a good possibility. Because it is within my ability to do so. The voice fell away, and rose once again with a kind of liquid grace. It was as though ShadoWeaver had done a kind of mental pirouette for him, a thing designed to survey the tower which now existed. I remember this one. Distractions and more distractions, always the hiding in the shadows with her.

"That's not an answer!" The words cut across the dreamscape even as Kruger was thinking of them. It hadn't been him, not this him, who had said them. Funny, but until this moment, he hadn't been aware that the mental connection with his fighting avatar had gone both ways. It pulled his attention from her, to the form below. He watched, either unable, or unwilling to stop the man from pulling his arm back from the obelisk and driving his fist into it. Next to him, ShadoWeaver let out a squeal. It wasn't pain, or fear. At least not fear of him. No, this felt more like shock and... panic?

He watched as cracks spread out across the crystal structure and shards exploded away from it. Yes, she hadn't thought that could happen, and something about it had her desperate. As each shard tumbled through the air they changed form. Instead of jagged pieces of crystal, they were all changing into humanoid shapes. No, they were changing into women more specifically. Despite the way the blackness hid their features, they were all the same woman shattered into a thousand fragments of herself. Their reactions to this brutal treatment were as varied as the pieces were. Kruger saw a thousand different emotions take form in a tiny aspect of ShadoWeaver. Out of all of them, only one seemed to be trying to pull them all back together. A sensation of deep guilt had Kruger diverting his awareness from seeing all to living within the figure who had created such chaos. That one was not looking at what he'd destroyed. He only had eyes for that which had been created.

Above him, as though standing on a pedestal was a near perfect obsidian statue of Stitch. The Anvil walked around this new creation, assessing every rounded feature or hard angle. It was as close to perfect as a sculptor could get after months of chiseling and sanding.

I want you to challenge him. ShadoWeaver had managed to blend all of her back together into a single body. She walked towards him, that sway of the hip likely being exaggerated for his benefit.

The rules here had changed. Kruger was no longer able to separate himself from this body. That could be as simple as the need for it was gone. Not with the embodiment of ShadoWeaver sharing the plane with him. "There are dozens of better fighters than me. Why not ask Matt? I'm sure he'd be more than willing..." Kruger stopped talking as he watched ShadoWeaver come closer. "Ah... you seek to test him… again. He's already survived two of them, isn't that enough for you?" By her silence, he inferred that no it wasn't. She constantly needed her holders to prove themselves.

Kruger closed his eyes, head giving the barest of shakes even as he sighed out a deep breath he didn't remember taking. "Not to sound like a child, but, why me?"

I can't tell you that. She stopped as she said the words, keeping the distance from being convenient.

"Can't, or won't? You're always hiding things." Kruger watched the shadowy crystalline form stop moving, realizing that he was very close to something with his words. She hadn't stopped to keep away from him, she'd stopped to try to keep the seam lines which had included themselves into her structure from being seen. He did see them though, and maybe that meant the key's influence was with him.

Please. Her voice was broken. It came out as though there were many of her, and while the tenor of it was the same, it held a thousand different tones. It was also a word he'd never thought to hear unless one of the opals was asking him to stop doing something. Never to start doing anything.

"I have conditions." He'd expected to get some resentment back from ShadoWeaver. But that was not what he received.

A movement spread across her face, a smile which was somehow demur even as it was slutty. You'll do it then? He would never understand women, even gemstone women were beyond him.

"If you meet my conditions." He watched her considering what he'd said. Watched as the decision hardened its way into her eyes, and caused her to nod ever so slightly. Having seen it, The Anvil started walking away towards the tower.

Where are you going? Her form had followed him for a few steps, though it just as quickly stopped before calling out her question.

"Do you hear that sound, Weaver? It's small, subtle even. The first stones have fallen. Your rock slide is coming." He turned his torso enough that he could see her out of the corner of his eye. "Thing is, I don't know where it's gonna land, or what's gonna get broken." Kruger turned his back on her, the statue, on everything, his focus was on getting to the safety of that tower.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kruger woke to darkness. For a moment he wondered if he were still dreaming, until his fingers found the base of the anvil within The Well. He'd done it again, worked himself so far into exhaustion that he had simply collapsed where he was. The pillow beneath his head, and blanket covering him, told him that he'd had a visitor, and that she'd done her best to make him comfortable. He considered himself blessed.

Rising from where he lay, he made his way out of his underground lair, heading for The Outback. He'd walk, it wasn't too far and it would give him plenty of time to word his challenge as simple minded as possible.

Child of Darkness

My Immortal

You used to captivate me by your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face, it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice, it chased away all the sanity in me ~ Evanescence (Cover by CORVYX)

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“...something between indigo and violet.”

For an instant Weaver thought she was hallucinating. That had never been one of the legion of voices occupying this place. She walked the shore of the multihued rorschach ooze that was ever shifting before her. It was something in what was said, that and the sudden flash of purple which stabbed into her eyes. It was hundreds of feet off of the ground, breaking the darkness from atop a sturdy looking tower which rested in the very center of the sea of ooze. Had that always been there? She was certain it hadn’t, just as certain that it was making a shambles of her creation. The edges of the pool where the tower rested began to swirl, she would drive this thing out, or take it for herself. She took a sinister glee in the latter of that idea. That was the moment that the first vibrations of the music touched the stone around her. The feel of it made her forget what she was doing. The pool stopped its maelstrom, without even a ripple to show it had ever been there.

I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears

The first words from the intruder’s voice cut into ShadoWeaver like a gem cutter’s chisel. How did it know? She stood there, looking up to the light, letting the voice surround her.

And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave

Leave? She’d wanted that once. But that wasn’t what the voice was saying. It was talking about her leaving. Neither of these was acceptable, not now. She’d just go there and explain it to the voice. Her foot stepped forward into the pool of ooze, it was the only way to get there, crossing this thing that she’d created. This was not some ordinary pond, there was no gradual descent into the depths. ShadoWeaver dropped below the surface like a stone, and well, she was a stone at that.

'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone

She could still hear the words, they traveled through the thick ooze as easily as they had through the air, and the stone. She listened to them, and still didn’t quite understand what was being said. Of course her presence lingered here. This is where she was! How could any of that have anything to do with him? ”Ridiculous… you know nothing.” For her there was no need to breathe, no worry of drowning. Her words, though muted by her own creation, still sounded in the depths. He didn’t answer her! He was ignoring her! She would teach him never to do that again!

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

There was no bottom to this pool, she’d known it before ever entering, but she controlled this. It was hers, and she commanded it to move her along through its depths. She would show him what non healing wounds truly were. She’d show him by shadow and shard. If only he would shut up, for just a minute, her hands went over her ears pressing hard trying to shut him out of her head. It was useless, his words were everywhere at once. She could hear them vibrate through her hands and fill her ears anyway.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears

ShadoWeaver fought back. If he could use her shell against her, she’d shed it. Fragments chipped away, pieces of her left behind. Those pieces were not to be trusted to stave off the infection that was him and his song so she let them fall away rather than have them picked up by that current which moved her through the muck. She gave her head a violent shake, no, she didn’t cry, never cried, nor screamed. There was no fear in her!

And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me

She refused to listen. His words could resonate until time died and she wouldn’t let them touch her. It wasn’t because there was an ancient longing, or the whisper of a memory in her that knew what it was to have that kind of comfort. There would be torment for this invader, she’d hear his voice like this, in screams. Maybe then she’d allow him to hold her hand. Those had come away from her ears, though, and part of her was shocked to notice that she had them clasped together. No, she wouldn’t be corrupted by this disease!

You used to captivate me by your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind

There was part of her that seethed at the feeling which touched her at the thought of captivating this…him. Especially with how he lied about her! She hadn’t left, she’s been here waiting…waiting. Her speed improved with every bit of her that dropped away, less to move, less to hang on to. Her somewhat diminished body collided with stone. It had the feel of being man made. The side of the tower she realized. The part which sat deep in the primordial ooze. Hand over hand she began to climb its face. She was closer now, so much closer to getting what she’d come looking for.

Your face, it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice, it chased away all the sanity in me

Sanity was overrated, how long since she’d felt any sort of normalcy? Still, perhaps there was something in what he was saying that she understood, even empathized with. It was then that her creation rebelled against her, turning its rage against her form. It surged, trying to rip her grip from the stone face of the tower. She held on with every scrap of will she possessed, there was no upward movement anymore. It took all she had just to stay where she was, and even that was not going to last. She could feel her fingertips slipping from their purchase. She opened her mouth and screamed. Fear filled her entire being as the last of her fingers were ripped away. ShadoWeaver’s severely diminished form began to rush downwards caught in the riptide of ooze. She reached upwards in futile desperation.

”These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase”

Something caught her, looped itself around her waist and began to haul her upwards. She clung to it, wrapping arms and legs around it in a deathgrip. It was an arm, hard as the stone of the tower, she thought that was odd for a moment and nearly laughed. She would have if in that moment she hadn’t been completely lifted from the pool and dropped gently on the doorstep of the tower. She’d come here for a reason. She focused on what her intent was when she’d started out and just couldn’t remember.

There was someone singing, they were close. She moved forward towards the sound, up the stone stairwell that seemed to turn back on itself into oblivion. With each step she hummed along with the tune, filling in the words when they came to her. At the top there stood an old man, despite how dark his long hair and beard were. She noted that they were even darker than hers. Where her hair seemed to shine blue, his was nothing but obsidian.

”What is he doing?” There was something odd about her voice, and when had everything gotten so much taller?

”Ah, there you are my dear.” The Obsidian bearded man greeted ShadoWeaver gently. He’s singing.

”Lot’s of energy in that song.” It was said by that child’s voice which she didn’t recognize. Still, she thought she should tell him, so he could be careful if he wasn’t aware.

”Yes, he really wants to accomplish something.” The man didn’t sound offended by her information. Maybe he didn’t know, but was just good at hiding things.

”Pretty tune. Will it work?” She was wondering about it aloud, kind of asking no one, and kind of asking him.

”Little one, I think it already has.” His tone was all amusement.

“I know you, I think you’re…” She knew, if she could just find it in her brain.

”You can call me Sid. He winked a deep blue sapphire eye at her. It was enough to have her moving towards him, and the player.

“I am Weaver, and I am very tired for some reason.” The words came out through a yawn which would have given her away. Better to admit it upfront than let her body tell things on her.

”I don’t doubt it, that was a long journey.” Sid bent down and took hold of her waist and set her on the edge of the piano. ”Why don’t you take a rest? It won’t be too comfortable, but you can lay down if you’d like.”

Weaver tilted her head to consider it, then nodded. She stretched out on her side facing the piano player. “What happened to his face?”

”He recently got into a very brutal fight.” Sid’s voice was comforting, some strong despite how frail he looked.

“Ah, I remember something about that. It will come to me eventually.” She looked into the purple bruises of his closed eyes and watched a tear fall. “He’s leaking.”

”Probably because his hands hurt.” Sid nodded towards the man’s hands. Weaver followed that nod with her eyes.

“Why do it then? Seems like he should have thought of that before he started.” Big people were sometimes very silly.

”Sometimes you do things simply because they need to be done, and nobody can do them for you.” She wanted to look at Sid, but the player was singing that part about holding hands again. She reached down with an ebony hand and laid it over his. At her touch, the glass surface she was laying on turned smokey. She was a little embarrassed, because while she didn’t know how it had happened, she knew she’d done it.

The song stopped, and the man stood up. He reached out to pick her up. Weaver started to shy away from him, except that his face looked… happy, in a sad way. She rolled into his arms, looping her arms around his thick neck. Her head was on his shoulder, and she could smell the sea,brimstone, chaos and creation. There was something else present, something she hadn’t smelled for a very long time. “...home…” Her voice was a whisper sighed into his neck as he carried her away.


((Part one can be found here))

Bridge over Troubled Waters

Sail on silver girl
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way ~ Simon and Garfunkel (Tom Ellis Brianna Hildebrand Cover)

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

”I know this one.” Weaver walked with Kruger along the sunlit roads in Cadentia. He sent his son ahead to let the Baroness know they were on the way. Well, really that he was on the way but she was here too. True he couldn’t see her, didn’t feel her hand in his. She was sure he could, if he’d let himself. She suspected that sending his son Niko really served two other purposes.The first being that he knew that the boy was eager to visit with Allen. That was Michelle’s son, if she wasn’t mistaken. The other purpose had a lot to do with her having told him at least fifteen times that Niko was looking at her…again. It had really been the last straw when Kruger had suggested that it was because the boy probably thought she was pretty. Of course she was pretty, and yes she knew that Niko was really looking at the opal form that adorned the strange fingerless glove that Kruger wore. The tower of earth key was there too, enmeshed in the intricate workings of the part that extended up his left forearm.

It was a clever design, and a good way to keep them both to hand if he should need to tap into them. There was always a part of her which did hope for something to happen. It was also this which gave her the ability to walk along next to him, holding onto his hand and looking up occasionally to wonder what he was smirking about. So far it had been a quiet trip, except for those times when she could hear the sound of notes in his head. She had thought that something was going to happen when the bodies of people started to close in around him. It was mostly just kids though, they were still trailing after him, though a number of them had moved on ahead of them. The herd of children were shepherding them, instead of the other way around.

“Prove it.” Of course he said the words out loud, and several of the children around him started to laugh. He really ought to learn to talk in his head. Not that there seemed to be much space up there for it. Weaver certainly wasn’t going to sing for him. She was kind of amazed he could get any thoughts out over all the other things that seemed to occupy his mind. She wasn’t blushing, that heat in her cheeks was because the sun was warm. She did enjoy the sun, though she was careful to walk in his shadow. He didn’t hurry his steps, content with his place in the midst of that pack of adolescents. He even stopped at a vendor’s tent and purchased a large platter of figs which were immediately served to those about him.

They walked on, silently, except for those times when he’d laugh at the antics one or another would do to get his attention. It was inappropriate, he should act like an adult and get to where he was going. They had a lot to discuss with the Baroness. ”When you’re weary, feeling small…" Weaver didn’t know why she was indulging him. It certainly wasn’t because she was jealous of the attention he was paying to the others, when it should be on her! Her hand felt his fingers tighten, almost like he could feel her hand there."When tears are in your eyes. I'll dry them all.” The way he dipped his chin and closed his eyes did not give her any sensation at all, least of all pleasure.

“Beautiful.” He could have been talking about the view, they were rising and what was visible of the vista was expanding before them. Except that he wasn’t, and she knew it. She let him have a few more lyrics, just enough to make him remember and live without it now. There was a touch of satisfaction in her when the notes moved forward in his head without her. It didn’t last, because he was either oblivious, or obstinate.

“When you're down and out.” He started to sing, not even caring that those around were looking at him. Hadn’t he been laughed at enough today? “When you're on the street.” The strange thing was that no one was laughing. It was in their faces that not only had they expected this out of him, they’d been waiting for it. Those who were close enough reached in to touch him where they could. The words rolled out of him like a lullaby to them. The press of them started to become too much for Weaver. She didn’t stay in her place next to him, instead choosing to take up space atop one of those too wide shoulders. She could see much better from up there anyway.

Someone in the back, an older boy if his height were any indication, had acquired a stringed instrument. It looked like a pear shaped guitar with the top of the neck bent backwards. He wasn’t very good, or maybe the instrument wasn’t ideal for the song. Either way there were points that the words and the music became discordant. Weaver could hear the corrections happen inside Kruger’s thoughts as he tried to reconcile the two. It was difficult for her to think when the voice and music separated too far.

”Sail on silver girl…sail on by." It was easier to tune out the strange instrument if she just stayed where she knew the notes would be perfectly in tune. And if she sang along with him. That was the only reason she joined in for the last verse. Fortunately it wouldn’t last too much longer. The baronial manor was just ahead, the children who had been leading them stopped at the line of the property and let him step past them. Kruger did not keep his forward progress though. He turned around, and knelt down offering out his hands for high fives and fist bumps. There was more than one hug stolen from him, a thing that had him laugh through the lyrics when it happened. The man should have more control! He didn’t rise until he’d completed the last bar of that song, and the gaggle of children were well on their way back the way they’d come.

When he did finally rise and turn back, he sent a wave up to one of the windows. Presumably the woman in it was the baroness herself. Thankfully his head was now emptied of music, and she had been able to resume her place next to him until they got all the way inside. At that point she went to stand near PathFinder.

"Got him right where you want him, I see."

"Not a word."

Shadow of a Landslide (Part 1)

Landslide

I took my love, and I took it down
I climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills
'Till the landslide brought me down ~ Stevie Nicks

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Weaver reflected on her day as she pulled the hood of her purple pajamas over her head revealing the unicorn horn, ears and rainbow main that ran down the back of it. It had been a busy one for them all, Kruger had taken her and Nikolai to the park where they’d played games of hide-n-seek.She and Nikolai hid always hid together, he would tell her where they were going, and she took particular delight in weaving illusions around them to keep them from being seen. It didn’t always work, and they’d need to run. Nikolai never seemed to tire, probably because he was bigger. Weaver did her best to keep up with him, she would run until she couldn’t breathe. Then Nikolai would pick her up and keep on going. More often though, it was them who managed to sneak up on Kruger and catch him off guard. It made her laugh every time, there were times when she couldn’t hold back. The anticipation of surprising him had her laughing early, he’d turn to spot them first. This always seemed to make her shriek just before the running would begin again.

It wasn’t all games. Kruger produced a couple of weighted sticks to give to Nikolai. He spent a long time running the boy through forms, even stepping in to spar with him. This activity, while interesting to watch, was not nearly so fun for her. It was eventually broken up by the arrival of the one called Maggie, and the Katz kids. She had memories of them, and knew that when it came to playing this group, and of course Nikolai, would be masters. It was that which had a part of her wanting to go along on their next adventure. The Katz Kids had all told her how pretty she was in her pink tank top and light blue play shorts. It made her feel good. While there was that part which wanted to go with them, there was a greater part that wanted to stay with Kruger. With Nikolai gone, she would have all of his attention. Maggie took the time to drop them off at the library under which was, Weaver knew, the place Kruger called The Well.

She liked it here. There was something comforting with how the darkness prevailed over everything. Yes, it always had a hazy purplish glow, and she understood that if he wanted, Kruger could make that light bright enough to blind. He never did that, and she believed there was part of him that needed to be in the darkness too. Sometimes he felt a little backwards. Weren’t you supposed to work before you played? Like the stuff that came after was a reward which you gave to yourself, wasn’t it? This man, he played first and then worked. Weaver had asked him about that. His answer had made little sense to her. ”If I have to leave this world, I’d rather have spent more time with people I care for than toiling alone.” The concept of mortality was outside her understanding. Energy never disappeared, it only changed.

Weaver had understood that they were going to work, she hadn’t been prepared for the heavy leather apron he had put on her. Especially since he chose not to wear one himself. She did develop an appreciation for the protective layer the first time she’d been showered in bits of heated metal. There had been a lot of talking before they ever started the forging process. He had described for her everything he was doing, and why it needed to be done. It was better than just having him tell her about it because she could see the process and associate the two parts. He’d told her about the properties of the Far Realm metals being used, and then demonstrated them to her with a simple hammer blow. The psychic energy that exploded from that strike cascaded outwards in all directions. This unfortunately included back on him. Having seen it happen, she began to understand the thoughts that had occupied his thoughts so often in his silences. He’d asked her if she thought she could find a way to weave that back upon itself, to protect him and invariably to protect the one who would wield the weapon when it was finished. Weaver knew that she absolutely could, and even if she didn’t know how she knew, she said as much to him. That didn’t mean she would. She probably would have refused to cooperate, except that he hadn’t asked her if she would. He’d asked if she wanted to. He’d left her the choice. The ability to choose was a powerful thing, even with him assuring her that he’d come up with a way if she decided not to help. It stunned her a little to examine her feelings and realize that she did really want to.

With a hammer in his hand, even after all that running around earlier, he was tireless. Weaver, with every fall of his hammer, formed a barrier between him and the metal. She did more than simply block the bursts of energy from him. Taking the interior curves of the well as her cue, she wove a curved barrier with thread so tight that the turned the energy became a part of the next strike, enhancing its power and adding it back into the metal. She even managed to pick up bits of his song to weave through the unseen psychic force.

Their creation sat near her bed. A bar of Damascus with a starburst pattern in it. To her it looked like a warning. The bar’s center was a bright star with bits of shadow threaded through it. Beyond the star layer after layer of dark and bright metal seemed to ripple ever outwards. He’d drawn her a bath when they were done, letting her soak in the warm soapy water while he went to clean himself as well. When had she gotten so dirty anyway? Not before he’d said how well she’d done. More importantly to her had been four stupid one syllable words. ”I’m proud of you.” Weaver didn’t know how to describe the feelings the words gave her. She’d thought of it the entire time he was gone. Thought about them as she dried off and donned the purple unicorn pajamas. She was thinking of them now.

Kruger had made a chessboard bedroom for her. She liked the way that the pieces would come to life when he told her stories. The stories rarely made any sense, almost like he was making them up on the spot. Tonight he’d fallen asleep mid-story leaving her to contemplate all the holes in her memory. His chair was next to her bed, and she looked over at him from time to time when he would let out one of his louder snores. She’d been doing that when she saw movement from the corner of her eye. Looming over her stood a creature that seemed far more insectlike than anything else. The shadows and menace surrounded it. Weaver screamed, erecting a wall before her to keep the thing from getting close. It had no effect at all, shadows preceded the formation of the creature. Nothing she tried deterred the advance of this thing. Weaver skittered out from under her covers, backing away from the slow advance of the creature. She ran into something solid as she backed away. She knew what it was without having to look. That hint of sea salt and brimstone slipped into her senses. She sidled around the side of Kruger’s leg, putting it into a tight squeeze the moment she was fully behind him. She pressed her forehead to the back of his thigh, her eyes solidly closed. His hard callused hand dropped to the side of her face, pushing back the unicorn hood. His fingers combed back her hair, rough warm skin trying to soothe her.

“We need to talk about this.” Kruger’s voice was hard as one of his hammer blows, but there was no heat in its force. He wasn’t talking to her, she peeked around the side of his leg and saw the creature. It towered over him, but it hadn’t moved any further towards them.

His hand took hold of one of hers, pulling slightly to encourage her to let him go. She allowed her grip to loosen, and he was turning and dropping to one knee; she'd seen him do this for the children when they’d gone to Cadentia. His fingers eased her bangs back from her face, he looked straight into her face and offered her a reassuring smile.

“Hey there angel face. Why don’t you go to the kitchen with Sid? He’s going to get you some ice cream. I think there’s chocolate in there… the kind with the marshmallow stripes.” His eyes moved to regard something behind her. “I need a few minutes to have a conversation, but will you make sure to get me a bowl too? Lots of caramel syrup.”

Weaver twisted her head around, and sure enough there was Sid. She hadn’t noticed him before. He was holding out a wrinkled hand for her to take. She put her little hand in Sid’s, her eyes going wide as she looked across at the creature. She looked back one last time as she and Sid slipped out the door. This time her eyes were only for Kruger. He hadn’t moved, still kneeling down and watching her go. She let go of Sid’s hand, and darted back to throw her arms around his neck. That was something she’d seen some of the kids do too, but it wasn’t until she felt his firm embrace that she understood. She shot a fierce look at the insectoid creature before releasing and hurrying off to grasp hold of Sid again.

Shadow of a Landslide (Part 2)

Landslide

Oh, take my love, take it down
Oh, climb a mountain and turn around
And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills
Well the landslide will bring it down ~ Stevie Nicks

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
“What kind of sick game are you playing at?” The girl had only just left the room, and the menace in the raised voice couldn’t fail to have been heard by her. Kruger stayed in place until he was sure that she wasn’t going to turn back again. He took a deep breath to tamp down his anger before answering the accusatory question.

“I’m happily certain that I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’d started speaking even as he was rising. A little twist was given to his feet as he did so, leaving him facing the oversized insect.

“What you’re doing here is…perverse.” He had never told it to change its tone, but it seemed to follow suit, matching the calm that he’d managed to embrace. “No wonder you’ve been keeping me out.”

“Firstly, I shouldn’t have to remind you that you came to me. You asked for a landslide. This is what it looks like.” He didn’t feel he should have needed to, but there it was. His words hadn’t been harsh, but the insect moved one wary step backwards. “Secondly, when I called for you, she’s the one who came to me. What would you have me do differently under the circumstances? You sent me a child. I’m doing what you left me no other choice than to do.”

There was silence between them. Both of them were staring at one another, neither willing to look away first. “That was beyond…it was a mistake. Even so, Karma had a similar experience and she never…” The words broke off into a rasping screech loud enough to make Kruger wince.

“You may have noticed that I am not Karma. She’s much better looking than I am.” It was supposed to be a joke, but he couldn’t manage the thing properly and the whole thing just came off as a returned accusation. “If you wanted Karma, you should have gone to her. I’m sure she’d do things completely different than I am. I’m not sure that her goal would match mine. I still don’t know what you want yet.”

“I want you to stop keeping me out. I have every right to be here.” It stepped back forward, a pair of wings spread outward from its carapace making the thing much bigger.

Kruger watched the display, he should have been at least a little intimidated. He could only manage to huff out a laugh, and even though it was directed at what had been said he was sure it was interpreted as laughing at the insect. “You really don’t get it. I’m not the one keeping you out.” He looked towards the wall where he knew that if it weren’t there he’d see Weaver and Sid doling out the ice cream, with the former going to town on every kind of sauce she could find to add to it.

“She’s the one keeping you, and as much as you dislike the things I’m doing with her. It really is working.” Kruger’s stance opened up a little, and his fists found his hips.

“I don’t trust you…” The thing’s wings didn’t fully fold up, but they did seem to be a little more relaxed. “...so prove it to me.”

Kruger’s hands came away from his hips, his fists opened and his palms went towards the ceiling. He was trying to say something with his hands, but the other wasn’t understanding it. “Because you’re here. The fact is, I’ve been wondering where the hell you’ve been. It makes sense to me now. It didn’t help any that you came to her that way. You scared her. Much as I see this as progress. I won’t have you scaring her like that again.”

“As you say, I’m here. Do you really think you have what it takes to stop me from doing anything?” The heat was back in the thing's voice.

“Maybe not, but I would certainly try. What do you think the things you’d need to do to get past me would mean to her?” His body shifted ever so slightly as a readiness to act blanketed him mind, spirit, and body. “She’s certainly got what it takes to keep you out.”

There was another silence between them, before it responded to him. “I had to use this form to break through.” It was probably as much of an apology as anyone would get. The thing started to shift, its form shrinking, altering from that angular aspect to something more humanoid and curved. “I suppose that you think this is how I should look so that we can be like mommy and daddy, doing all those mommy and daddy things?” Kruger took several steps back from the form that had manifested.

“No…no.” He shook his head, keeping his tone from what he was really feeling. “See, that would be perverse. I can’t think of you that way.”

“It would be just as revolting to me.” That last from her sounded more like a bite back at something bitter than anything, but maybe he was biased. “We’re at an impasse then. I won’t leave now that I’m here, but my being here frightens her.”

“Maybe not. I do have an idea which could work.” He regarded the shadowy woman seriously. “How are you at maintaining constructs?” Kruger explained what he envisioned to Shado who was quick to understand what he wanted and assure him that she could.

“She’s going to hurt you before this is over.” The emotionless words were flat, holding nothing to indicate what Shado thought about this.

“I know… but I’m doing it anyway.” What else could he do, but keep moving forward?

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weaver had only been dedicating a part of her attention to the ice cream manufacturing. The rest waited and watched in the direction of her room. She spotted him immediately in her hyper-vigilance, noting that he didn’t seem to be sporting any new bruises nor was he bleeding. He did have one hand behind his back. In her relief, she lifted the hand which had a spoon in it and waved it at him as he approached.

“Hi darlin’.” He’d called her angel face earlier. Weaver had noticed something that bore a bit more observation. The names he called her seemed to become bigger when he was feeling anticipation or even fear. Not that she could ever see him afraid for himself. Afraid for her, certainly. It was like he thought he needed to tell her how he felt with those names, just in case he couldn’t later on. She didn’t have enough evidence of that yet. “I have a gift for you.”

“What is it?” Weaver spoke around a mouthful of ice cream, and her question was actually quite wary. Sometimes the gifts he gave her were not ones that she really wanted. She liked that he gave her things, but she could do with a little less pink. Kruger pulled his hand out from behind his back, on it sat a large round cage that definitely wasn’t pink. It was jet black, and inside it she saw that there was a bug. It was a miniature version of the one which had been in her room. She wasn’t sure if she wanted this gift either, in fact she shrank back from it as he set it on the table. He noticed that she was a little afraid, and turned the cage so that the door faced the chair which he then sat in.

“It’s okay, the other one didn’t mean to frighten you. It…she was just really curious about you.” Kruger opened the door of the cage and held out his hand. The little bug inside moved into his palm, and he shut the door behind it.

“Can I look at it?” He moved his hand out from behind the cage and held it where she could get a good long look at the bug. Its limbs looked like they had little spikes on the end of them. “Does it hurt?”

“No… it kind of tickles.” He turned the cage so that the door was facing her again. “This is Shado. She’s just the barest part of the other one, and she’s yours. If you get a little scared though, all you have to do is open the door to the cage, and Shado will go right back in. Do you want to try?”

Weaver was not sure she wanted to try. She made a show of eating her ice cream and thinking about it. She managed to get in three bites before tentatively reaching out and opening the door on the cage. It was just like Kruger had said. The little bug skittered back through the opening. She closed it behind the…behind Shado. Maybe this would be a better gift than she thought.

Kruger looked at the ice cream carton, and then at her. “Where’s my ice cream?”

Weaver grinned at him widely. “We ates it all.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kruger stirred out of his dream, no that wasn’t quite what it was. Maybe it was her dream? He’d slept, but there had been no rest in it for him. He was still in that chair, the one in front of the coffee table that housed the chess set. He’d put the little doll furniture bed in the middle of it and laid Weaver under a cover. She was still right there, or at least the opal was. He picked up the stone and slipped it into his pocket, foregoing any morning rituals. He needed to talk to someone about what had happened. He checked the clock on his phone and hoped that Sal, and Gatito wouldn’t mind company at the ungodly hour. He sent out a quick text to warn them that he was coming. He’d walk there, that should give them plenty of time to tell him not to come.

Of Shadows and Psyches (Part One)

Dazed and Confused

I've been dazed and confused for so long it's not true
Wanted a woman, never bargained for you ~ Led Zeppelin *Jake Holmes*

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weaver opened the black cage which housed Shado, the insect had grown in very little time. Already it was bigger than her hand. “Buzzy’s getting really big.” She never called the creature by its name, having dubbed it Buzzy, because that was what it did. The words as she closed the door to the cage but they weren’t directed to the insect. Oddly, as Buzzy grew, so too did the cage which housed it. Looking over as she turned and rose, she regarded the man sitting in a comfortable looking chair pulled into a desk. He didn’t look up from the pages in front of him on the desk when she spoke. Kruger got this way sometimes, especially when he was working on something complicated. It was a little strange, physically he was sleeping, but this particular problem seemed to be following him into his dreams. Weaver wondered if it had always been this way for him.

Did the way he intentionally took time away from his work to play with her have anything to do with it? Well her and Nikolai, she supposed she should include him since he was always there too. There was also all that time spent with the turquoise chaos wave. That was how she described the woman, even though Kruger took great pains to keep the two of them apart. There was a vague familiarity to how the fabulously intricate braids that her turquoise hair was always arranged. It itched on the edge of memory, but when she started to reach out to scratch the itch, she found herself drawing back instead. It was okay not to know some things. It was to her at least. That didn’t stop her from making her own hair into some of the more involved braid patterns. She liked them, and the fact that he was always quick to mention his appreciation to her had nothing to do with it.

“The same can be said about you.” He leaned over and gave her a side hug as she moved to stand next to him. Buzzy’s legs were a blur, scrambling to take position on the bridge between Weaver and Kruger. She skittered along his arm to take up an all too familiar position on his shoulder and look down on whatever he was working on. There were more than just papers on the desk, this wasn’t always the case. Three open books were laid end to end their tops pressed against the wall where the desk touched it. Everything he was looking at was blank to her, and would be unless she asked him about it.

Buzzy had turned to look at her, vibrating dark wings to make that sound. The insect couldn’t see what was there either, and wouldn’t unless Weaver asked the question. She was tempted to see how frustrated she could make the insect by delaying the question. But there was a darkness which enveloped Buzzy when she did this to the insect. Weaver was both fascinated and frightened of that haze. He was right about her growing too. She leaned forward, touching the open pages of the books and the edge of the desk's flat workspace pressed against her hip. It seemed like only a few days ago that would have been mid abdomen on her. Not too much longer before that and she would have needed to stand on a chair just to reach.

“What are these?” She would always give up in the end anyway, so why not get it over with. This time anyway. She was pretty sure that having given over this time would make her more likely to force Buzzy to be patient the next time. The thought had her smiling ever so slightly.

“I’m comparing shockwaves from an epicenter as it encounters, and transitions between, substances of different densities. I’m using sound, because it’s the thing that I’ve found most similar to what I’ve seen from these…thought ripples.” He was, for the time being, refusing to use the word psychic as it related to the phenomenon of the Far Realms metals. She had noticed and asked why, and he’d told her that sometimes if he used synonymous words that he could find inspiration. “There are several authors on mind surges.” The back of Kruger’s pencil moved to point at a stack of books on the floor. “Problem is that they all reference Josiah Segrue’s work as the foundational basis of theirs. I’ve looked at his theories, and mathematically he’s all over the place. Like he was changing variables to match his ideas, instead of doing it the other way around. It’s rubbish.”

It wasn’t until he’d said what was supposed to be on the open pages that they held any details which Weaver could see. In fact it was in that moment when the graphical representations began to unveil themselves that she really understood what he meant. There were on the pages three dimensional drawings of sound waves in transitional states. She could see that one of them showed what happened to a sound wave which began underwater and encountered open air in its progression. The other pages showed water into earth, earth into air, and even air into the vacuum of space. That one had been circled several times, a line extended from the circle ending in the words Ideal User State. It seemed like a lot to keep track of to her, and not very fun at all. She much preferred the dreams where the two of them did things together, like when he would teach her to play instruments. Buzzy however had crawled across his shoulders and down the arm which was holding the pencil.

Here too the details had shown themselves to her. He was not writing words, not the kind which were easy to put together into a story at least. On one page he was creating a complex formula, with every solution, he would move to another page which held a musical scale and add a new note to it. The musical score he was composing was quite sophisticated, the drum lines were a tangle of rapid fire fills falling into slow triples and ghost notes.

“It’s almost done?” Weaver couldn’t have hidden her excitement at the prospect no matter how hard she tried. She could see exactly how deeply he was into his composition. She felt a thrill in her chest as he nodded and scratched at her spine with the arm he’d used to hug her earlier. “How much longer?”

That question finally got him to look away from his work and at her, but Kruger didn’t say anything for what seemed like a very long time. He was just looking at her, studying her face with an intensity that gave her goosebumps. “How long did it take to get your hair that way?”

Weaver put her hands to her hair and smiled. “Hours and hours, but I really think it turned out perfectly.” It had really only taken a half a thought to get it exactly how she wanted it, but he didn’t need to know how easy such things were for her.

“You see, patience is its own reward.” The pencil in Kruger’s hand was laid down atop the pages he’d been filling out. “Why don’t we go get some of those sticky buns and pile some ice cream on top?” He stood up, his chair rolling off towards the stack of books on the floor.

“That’s for babies. I’m big now.” There was a big part of her that wanted him to finish his work, because then they would start forging the hammer for Ettyn.

“Ah…” He looked down at her, tilted his head to the side while he thought about what she’d said. “Well, that’s okay. I’ll eat yours.” He turned away and started walking towards the kitchen.

“Oh no you won’t!” Her plea forgotten for now, Weaver took off at a run determined to get to the kitchen well before he could. Buzzy however had stayed behind. She had crawled off of Kruger and onto the table and was walking slowly along that complex mathematical equation as though trying to memorize it.

Of Shadows and Psyches (Part Two)

Dazed and Confused

I've been dazed and confused for so long it's not true
Wanted a woman, never bargained for you ~ Led Zeppelin *Jake Holmes*

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Patience was not something that came naturally to Kruger. It was a thing that he had to work for, and while there were aspects of his life which it had been easily adapted to, there was always the initial struggle to put it into place. So sometimes he hesitated. Those hesitations usually preceded conversational moments. That isn’t to say there weren’t times when he would forego that pause, and simply ramble out whatever thought was first in his mind. He was probably better known for those times when he simply acted out, without regard for what he was saying or how it would make others feel. The emotions laced through those outbursts were genuine, if the product of a failure to think or consider where they came from. No, patience was never easy for him, despite his words to Weaver in the dream. That was one of those places where he was better practiced in his application of patience. In a lot of ways, Weaver was like Nikolai, and if anything in his life had ever deserved him to martial self discipline it was within his relationship to his son, to all children really.

He’d succeeded at gaining many levels of that virtue with children because of raising the boy, and perhaps an unconscious understanding of why young people acted out. Showing off to grasp for attention was often a big part of it for them, that was something Kruger knew very well. It was also one of the things which seemed to endear him to youths the best. Kruger, for all his age and obvious need for this same thing, could always find a way to give it back to them. He made every possible effort to acknowledge it, to see them and react in a way that they knew was just for them. It was possible that this, at least in part, was the reason that so much of his fan base consisted of the young. Even amongst the fans, a vast percentage were orphans. The children from Cadentia which always seemed to find him, even when his presence there wasn’t announced, were mostly orphans. Knowing that, he never shied away from their affections, and chose to do things which would have people in other environments looking at him like he was insane. It was why he refused to change his in ring persona, to turn heel would take from them something that they needed. It would leave a void which he didn’t see any other stepping in to fill. That’s what made it sting a little whenever he lost one of them.

The world views were changing, the benefits of The Anvil for children was being turned inside out. The voices of the times so often shouted out about how our differences needed to be celebrated. He didn’t disagree with this as an ideal. He understood the value in it, the problem he felt was inherent so often in those doing the talking about it was in how they marginalized anything which wasn’t overtly highlighting those differences. It was never nice to see the beliefs of the time steal away from him, and what he always knew his own message was. Acceptance no matter what you are, feel, or believe were in his core. It was possible that his approach was wrong, but it didn’t feel wrong to him.

There had been some bleedthrough of that we’re all just people side to him with the opals. Horror stories about the entities contained within each of them had been told. To him, they were still people, even if there was a lack of physicality to them. His thoughts were too deep, he needed to rein them back in and focus on what was here and now. He chastised himself for letting his thoughts get away from him, funny how that was one of those places where he would never be able to exercise patience. “You’re certain that you wish to be part of this?” His question was said aloud to the black opal which rested in the palm of his hand. Kruger’s other hand rested on the railing which led up to the forge atop the pedestal in The Well, waiting for confirmation that he should proceed.

“I’ve been waiting for you to finish, and get started. Of course I want to be part of it.” There was a hint of something in ShadoWeaver’s voice which felt more like anticipation, and excitement. Once he was sure it would have felt more like sarcasm. He hadn’t received that from the opal since she’d been in his care. He’d expected it, expected the need to explain himself as he’d needed to with MoonBeryl. There had even been a presupposition that she’d act more like PathFinder, who always felt like he was gently nudging Kruger in the right direction. None of that had come from the black stone, instead it was an eagerness to begin that may well have matched his own. When did that become a part of ShadoWeaver?

“All right then…” Kruger ascended the stairwell one step at a time. He could have gone faster, skipped steps to take them two at a time, but things like this had to be done in order. “...walk me through what we’re doing.” He’d explained it all to Weaver in detail which a large percentage of the city would call too much, or boring. She had absorbed every word, had taken in the reasons why, and even asked insightful questions about the methods being employed. He wondered if she could feel how proud he was of her.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Close your eyes, funny face!” Weaver was tempted to do the exact opposite of what Kruger was asking of her, despite the new endearing term he’d bestowed upon her. There were so many of them now. She could tell that to him they all meant something. She chose to comply, knowing that he wouldn’t have said it if there weren’t something to be shown.

”I can’t find Buzzy. Have you seen her?” It had been hours since she’d seen the insect, and she felt that he needed to know. Still she did close her eyes, and the reason became very clear to her the moment she did so. The acoustics were out of balance. They were skewed away from the bellows. She felt herself being lifted, placed into a nook which was specifically made for her.

“I’m sure Shado will show up when she’s ready.” She knew that he was right, could feel it somehow. With her eyes closed, she hadn’t noticed how close he was to her, not until she felt his forehead against hers. There was a tension in him that she remembered feeling once, and that was vague at best. It had been the night he’d fought the challenge over her. He was getting ready for a struggle.

“Do you remember the algorithms?” Weaver found herself nodding her head against his. She did remember it, every sign and parentheses. This struck her as odd, since she’d barely taken the time to look at them when he was scribing them. “Good, because I am depending on you.” She opened her eyes, and could see the tautness in his face. That was just the first thing she’d noticed, when he stepped away there was so much more.

Weaver’s awareness had stretched, she was aware of everything within The Well. She could pick out every tool, knew the degree of every curve and angle. Her thoughts pulled up the complicated formula which Kruger had created, and she knew without ever being told exactly where each symbol resided within the dome over their heads. ”I feel…strange… Plugged in and powerful.” At the very center of it all was where he stood, a beacon of light demanding attention.

“That’s what you are, pretty princess. You’re seeing things in a way none of your siblings ever have.” His hand reached out and grasped hold of that superheated billet in a pair of tongs. But he did not remove it, he looked back with a tight smile to where she sat in her special seat. “Sing for me Weaver!”

Understanding dawned, it filled her thoughts like darkness and shadow. The first symbols entered her mind, and the first notes of the song slowly birthed themselves through the chamber. Across the walls symbols came to life in deep purple lines of light, and the vibrations shook their way into the very depths of her, filling her as the sounds slid their way across The Well. Weaver watched him pull the white hot bar free from the fires of the forge through eyes that had begun to tear up as she realized the depth of the gift he was giving her. All those lessons made sense to her now, the vast sum of what was needed, where notes went, why they belonged there. Such clarity had come to her at that moment.

The sound was a vortex of power, a thing tangible for her to control. This place he’d put her, it allowed her to manipulate the sounds being generated throughout the crystals which lined every part of the building. She understood the notes from an artistic point, but seeing it play out across the walls, and around the dome she could now appreciate how he’d arranged everything to curve, direct, and displace the forces generated by that Far Realm metal. Weaver conducted the music around the impacts of the hammer, lending her own essence to every vibration canceling and containing the most dangerous aspects of the metal. The music was hers… but the words belonged only to him.

“Been dazed and confused for so long…”

The Name of Darkness

Outshined

Well, I just looked in the mirror
And things aren't looking so good
I'm looking California
And feeling Minnesota
Oh yeah ~ Chris Cornell - Soundgarden

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday, June 4th, 2023 - 2:00 A.M.

Buzzy was gone. This was not unexpected, it had been part of the plan as Sid had explained it. The insect was still a part of Weaver, it was just one that had been suppressed by her in that first journey between where ShadoWeaver had been and her time with him had begun. It had never been his intention, this repression of the opal’s history. Kruger had gone over the event with an unbiased critical eye. He was willing to own his own mistakes, he’d made more than enough over the years to accept that it would always happen again. What he’d discovered in that in-depth analysis did not cast a very flattering reflection upon him. The flaw was not in his method. It worked perfectly, according to how it was written. It was the doubts he’d had in his equations which had him seeking outside confirmation from Rhys, someone he considered a subject matter expert.

Rhys had gone over the Musicantation as thoroughly as Kruger himself had. Kruger had the comments that his friend had written down memorized. He didn’t detect any maliciousness in them, just a clinical assessment of what was and what had gone wrong. I think you opened a doorway that was too small for her, but that she felt compelled to come through regardless. She had to string herself out to get through it: her future self followed by her present self followed by her past self. What will be followed by what is followed by what was. There was a segment of the formula circled, with an arrow moving off towards another comment. Here, you promised a future, thereby dictating the direction required for her to move through the doorway. Another section had been circled in the same way, with the assigned note of. The entity we know as ShadoWeaver has probably existed for aeons. Given the size of the doorway you provided, and the sheer size of who and what you summoned, I believe you closed the doorway too soon. It’s highly likely that you shut away a big portion of her past from her and fractured her further. At the very bottom of the last page was a warning. I recommend that you go slow when you bring her missing parts back to her. Too many memories and too much information all at once could possibly drive her mad. Or whatever the equivalent is with a being like her.

The solution had seemed simple enough once Shado had finally emerged. Allow those lost thoughts and memories to resurface a little at a time. Buzzy was gone. It had rejoined Weaver even before their making of the hammer for Ettyn. So had the pair which followed, Screech and Jumper. Kruger had understood the failure of Weaver to use the true name of the manifestations. Weaver knew, but refused to acknowledge it, regardless of how the memories awakened inside her. Sadly, his insight into the why didn’t give him any indications of what to do about it. He thought there would be more time. Thought that he might just be able to hold off Michelle once more, another error. These seemed to be mounting up. Sid, the name he’d bestowed upon the tower of earth key, had been wrested from his possession. It had promised him, a day maybe two before the flood walls burst, and the deluge of Weaver’s past would surge into her. He didn’t know what would emerge from that, but he was determined to be there when it happened.

Weaver’s scream of distress pulled him from his normal dreamscape into her space. The first was followed by another, and the sound of glass shattering. Kruger stepped into the room that Weaver had created for herself as shards of the mirror she’d smashed were still tinkling to the floor. His mind form took a step forward, but in this place thought was more powerful than physical movement. His fingers touched her shoulder only to be shoved away. “Don’t touch me!”

The force of her unwillingness was enough to press Kruger to the wall. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

The resonations of her fear and pain had him pushing away from the place she’d put him and moving back towards her. “Tell me…” His question was cut off by her.

The face of the insect turned towards him. “Don’t look at me… I’m hideous!” It was only when she moved to hide her face behind her hands that she noticed the tibial spines and mantis-like forelegs they had become. “What’s happening to me?”

Her confusion tore at Kruger’s heart, and yet he understood that he was going to have to force her to go further. He moved slowly in the space between them. “You know… it’s inside you. Tell me your name!”

“Weaver… it’s me, Weaver.” Her tone was desperate with a need for him to recognize her through that form which had claimed her.

“No…” He cut off her frantic attempts to cling to that name. “You know. Tell me your name!”

Her voice fell into a wretched beseeching for him to acknowledge her. “I’m Weaver…please…I’m…"

“You’re full name, say it!” Droplets formed on her compound eyes, and Kruger hated himself.

“SHADOWEAVER!” Her voice was an insect's screech so loud it had him putting his fingers to his ears. He hadn’t seen her move, but she picked him up and slammed his back to the wall so hard that his fingers were dislodged, and his breath was momentarily gone.

“You did this to me.” The swarm of her voice accused him harshly, as her multifaceted eyes locked onto his face.

“Yes, I suppose in a way I did.” Kruger admitted it to her unflinchingly. He resisted his instinct to fight back against the confines of her grip. With a level voice he spoke to her, even now all he could see was the vulnerable child she’d been. “What I did came before, but this is who you are, Princess.” He raised a palm to try to soothe her only to have her flinch away from him.

"No…don’t touch me! I hate you! You’re nothing to me!” ShadoWeaver broke away from him with a snarl at his hand.

The words did what she hadn’t managed to accomplish with her treatment of his body. Kruger flinched at all of it. “But…”

The shriek was back in her voice growing ever louder with every step backwards she took. “You hurt everyone who loves you!”

Shame had his eyes closing, and he stifled the sob he felt building in his chest, clenching his teeth and swallowing down its jagged edges. He offered her a couple small nods before opening his eyes. She was right, that was exactly what he did. “I’m sorry.” He tried to look at her, but couldn’t manage to find it in him to do so. Instead he took a step that had him fading away. “I wish I had been more, could have been better to you.” The echoes of his thoughts reverberated through the air from the place he’d been standing.

Kruger slipped from the couch he’d fallen asleep on, with the events still fresh in his mind. There was one point of uncertainty in him. He’d thought at the very end, he’d heard ShadoWeaver call for him not to leave her. It was likely just wishful thinking on his part, a sliver of ego corrupted optimism lingering like salt stinging the emotional wounds she’d inflicted on him. Still, he reached over to pluck the stone from its place on the chessboard. “I haven’t left you, funny face.”

What We Hide in Shadow

Shadow on the Sun


Shapes of every size
Move behind my eyes
Doors inside my head
Bolted from within
Every drop of flame
Lights a candle in
Memory of the one
Who lived inside my skin ~ Chris Cornell - Audioslave

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wednesday, June 14th, 2023 - 12:19 A.M.

Dragonflies swarmed around ShadoWeaver, dark constructs of her essence, dim things with wings that moved so quickly they seemed to stand in place. She’d pulled apart the memories so recently reintegrated into herself in an effort to examine who and what she was. The Odinata moved at her behest with a locomotion capable in any of six directions. She let them interact with one another, gravitate to each other and unfold the history of not just her decisions, but how they affected her surroundings at the time. It had been days since she’d said anything to Kruger, her current holder. She could feel him still, there were moments when his presence was as palpable as the rising humidity. She ignored him beyond that sensation, unwilling to acknowledge the way his continued presence in her present comforted her. She’d done that at first, but it hurt inside when she’d tried. She shied away from the trigger of his betrayal, letting the other parts of her manage him and his existence, never knowing if she’d be able to face him again.

Power had returned to her along with the memories. It wasn’t a significant rise in strength, but her focus was far greater. She had an attention to detail which she’d never imagined possible before. It was hard for her to decide if it were worth the knowledge of all those things she’d done in the past. Had this been his gift to her, or was he cursing her? ShadoWeaver had hurt people, manipulated them into doing things that had gained her much of her power. That was bad enough, but realizing how she’d enjoyed being that way left her feeling cold inside. Her presence spanned endless cycles of time. She examined each piece of it only to discover something missing from most of it. She was no stranger to amusement, although that had come at the expense of others as they were drawn into her machinations. She’d been able to laugh at the worst things she did, and part of her realized that it was this which gave rise to the fears of who she was. Laughter from pure joy hadn’t been part of her since the very beginning. It was hard to find mirth in being a slave. The development of her malevolence and manipulation were at the very core of that helplessness. They’d shed their bondage, she and her siblings had cast aside their constraints. They’d returned to them of course, but done so of their own free will. It was amazing how that could change her outlook. Yet despite the gratifications she’d found in this new perspective, genuine unabashed laughter was still found infrequently. At least it had been until she’d come into the possession of Kruger. He had seemed to go out of his way to make people laugh, even if it was directly at him. ShadoWeaver didn’t want to admit that she missed it, because that might just mean she believed she deserved it, or worse that she missed him too. And still, she knew that he took her to the places he went, never intruding on her with his voice but always holding onto her as though he thought she might break apart without it. Part of her wondered if he was right.

Rising from her place on the bed was more like untangling herself from the contemplation nest she’d tied around herself. Pulling the blankets from their hold on her limbs she stood and started towards the doorway, as she moved the dragonflies flew to meet her. Like beads of liquid they became part of her once more. Her own compound eyes caught a glimpse of her form in a mirror as she passed it by. The sight caused her to stop and stare. She considered changing her form to become the one Kruger was more familiar with, but rejected the idea. It was easier to separate herself from the inconveniences of feelings this way.

She knew he’d be there, he had told her that he hadn’t left. There had been doubts about that in the beginning, but the subtle pressures of her probing always brushed against his awareness. As much as she’d not wanted to see him, it was important to know that she could whenever the desire arose. ShadoWeaver understood in the most vague manner that her reasons were driven by the idea he would recoil from her. She found him, leaning heavily into the corner of an overstuffed couch, a book open in one hand. It wasn’t one of his usual choices, this one had the appearance of a journal. She could see the handwriting on the page he held open with his thumb as she took a spot on the cushion next to his. Her presence drew his attention from the words. A small smile of acknowledgement formed on his face before turning back to the pages.

“You probably hate me now.” There was a slight pull inside her that had her looking away and down to the contents of the coffee table. His reply to her came without words, or even an offered look. ShadowWeaver’s shoulder was taken in his hand, and she was pulled until she tipped over. The journal had been set aside, and her head was in his lap. She adjusted, extending her legs until they stretched the rest of the way across the couch. Even in this in between place he smelled of brimstone, as though he’d just stepped away from the forge fires. It was almost comforting to know that he hadn’t changed, but she was able to keep that sensation out of her. At least she was until she felt the press of his fingers on her side, and the gentle soothing motion across her carapace. There was no hate in his touch. She held her breath, not really daring to hope for anything.

“I have a confession to make.” His voice was soft, just audible enough for her to make out the words. “At first, I wanted to tell you what happened. But then I was afraid of what you would think of me. I thought there would be more time, that I could hold off Michelle one more time and everything would come to you a little at a time. Then I wouldn’t have to admit to a mistake.” He sighed out his next breath, she didn’t look up, content to just let this moment live on.

“I only ended up making it worse. I hurt you, and I’m sorry.” There were no promises from him that he wished he could go back and do it again. ShadoWeaver was actually grateful he didn’t try, it would have felt insincere.

“I won’t tell you that I understand, because I don’t. I don’t get why you didn’t say it, and I don’t know why you let me become a monster.” She compartmentalized the sensations the last words gave her, shutting them away to be examined later.

“We’re all monsters. It’s not a part of what we look like, it’s in the things we choose to do… or not do.” He stopped the movement of his fingers, just letting them rest on the place where her forelimb met her body. It was the closest thing she had to a shoulder.

“I’ve said things, done things…” There was more she could say, but it was so hard to expose herself that way. Maybe she could understand why he hadn’t admitted things to her.

“You were confused, in pain, maybe even scared. I forgive you.” He said the words, something in his voice had her believing him. She wasn’t just talking about what happened with him, but there was a tone to what he said which told her that he meant he forgave everything she’d done or said since her beginning. She realized that he was also speaking about all of it. She pulled a sketch pad from the coffee table and looked at the picture he’d drawn at some point.

ShadoWeaver recognized the depiction of her face, though it was done in three aspects. He’d captured and combined the image of the child, the young woman, and this thing she’d become in charcoal as shadowy faces on the sun. “Like you, I’m not afraid of anything.”

“If only that were true, princess.” His last word preceded the spreading of a warm sensation through her. She rolled to look up at him curiously.

“Okay, what do you fear the most?” The warmth was trying to make her smile, but she fought it. She still wasn’t quite sure she was allowed to. Instead she just fixed her multifaceted eyes on his face, and waited.

“It would have been easier if you’d simply asked what I was afraid of.” A distant look crossed over his features. “But you want to know what I am most afraid of.” Seconds filled a void of silence between them, moments which seemed longer as she watched him struggle to voice the words. “Being forgotten.”

ShadoWeaver had been expecting something else, or maybe several different things. She knew that most people feared death, and was acutely aware of how badly drowning terrified Kruger. Those were not the answers he’d given to her. So many things about him had begun to make sense. The spectacles, the outrageous entrances and outfits, the entire show was meant to be remembered. All of it would be in vain, people always forgot. She couldn’t even tell him that she’d remember, hadn’t she just forgotten herself? It wasn’t her fault, but that didn’t change that it had happened. Her body moved even as she was thinking about what he’d said. Her legs pulled inwards, and she scrabbled to fill his lap with her entirety. Somewhere between her first movement and the last, she’d altered her form into that of the small humanoid. She felt his chin rest atop her head, even as thick arms encircled her. Maybe she could forgive him too?