(Gabriel)
The blood isn't everything.
The blood isn't everything.
There's more to it, there has to be. More to Him... more to Us...
Just a curse. Something we need, something to be dealt with like a fly.
It isn't everything.
I have never lied to myself about this. I've always known I've been trying to convince myself. It's always been a battle against myself, to tell myself that there is more. There is love, there are shadows, there is freedom, and truth. Yet never before have I been losing the battle so badly.
Who am I kidding? I've lost the war.
I've never wanted it more. I used to prolong it, prolong it so that when I took it it would be all the more sweet. Now it has been prolonged too long. On the edge of my vision I can see it, a crimson veil, and the tightening in my chest returns to me like lightning. Every vein which is on the man, shackled across from me, is apparent. Every pulsing -glorious- vein.
Stark beauty, and beauty it is, if I could but slice it open. I want it. I need it, so badly. It calls to me and calls, and there's no echo anymore to stop it. I am forsaken, forsaken and at the mercy of the curse.
I'm afraid I won't be able to stop anymore... I was a fool to forsake it so. I was thirsty when they put me in here, and now, now my very essence is slipping away behind it. Blood runs down my wrists from where the shackles cut into me. If I could break loose... I must break loose. I can't handle this. It's not the pain, no it isn't. It's knowing that the blood is all I want. It's never far from my thoughts. I don't want to find Lilian, I don't want to stay with her, I don't want revenge, I don't want to have the mortal love come with me into the night...
I don't want to play a fucking lute.
I don't want my violin...
Oh Father...
I just want the blood.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
(Samir)
A constant crying from the right, and a low laughter to the left.
Blood spurts once more over my face, and onto the grass beneath me.
I lay prostrate upon the fields. So many leagues away from me lays the few lights of the village.
Right beside me lays the hand of my brother.
Just a hand. A very bloody hand, without an arm.
"Samir..." the voice is softly whispered, and with such softness I awaken to the sound of a stirring household. Steps shuffle in the next room. The low voice of my father, speaking with a Melchorite priest, sound in the hall outside my room.
"Samir, Samir... here, lemme help you sweety," that same soft voice again, a voice so stretched and sad compared to the happy tone which used to be carried by my mother. I wonder, how has my own voice changed? I cannot tell. She helps me put my boots on, gathers my cloak about me, and kisses the cloth wrapping my head.
"It's time. They're gunna... burn..." she doesn't finish, and I can hear her move away to the far wall before she comes back and helps me up. I remain silent, and we move out the hall. Speech from my father, questions asked about my health. I shrug them off. The priest speaks out, telling me about my part in the ceremony, and how that if at any time I should feel uneasy that I have but just to speak out and people will help me. He tells me how brave I am for coming to the burning so soon after the trauma.
My mother leads me outside. I feel the chilly breeze on my face, and rain begins to fall on my face. It is Darkfall, and darkness has truly fallen for I can see nothing. I reach up a hand habitually and toy with the headwrap which conceals my face, the bandages which are caked with blood. The soft hiccuping of my mother at my side stirs my arm. She is crying.
It is the morning of my brother's funeral. As is custom, he is to be set on a funeral pyre... except the only part of his body that could be found were his severed hands.
Blood spurts once more over my face, and onto the grass beneath me.
I lay prostrate upon the fields. So many leagues away from me lays the few lights of the village.
Right beside me lays the hand of my brother.
Just a hand. A very bloody hand, without an arm.
"Samir..." the voice is softly whispered, and with such softness I awaken to the sound of a stirring household. Steps shuffle in the next room. The low voice of my father, speaking with a Melchorite priest, sound in the hall outside my room.
"Samir, Samir... here, lemme help you sweety," that same soft voice again, a voice so stretched and sad compared to the happy tone which used to be carried by my mother. I wonder, how has my own voice changed? I cannot tell. She helps me put my boots on, gathers my cloak about me, and kisses the cloth wrapping my head.
"It's time. They're gunna... burn..." she doesn't finish, and I can hear her move away to the far wall before she comes back and helps me up. I remain silent, and we move out the hall. Speech from my father, questions asked about my health. I shrug them off. The priest speaks out, telling me about my part in the ceremony, and how that if at any time I should feel uneasy that I have but just to speak out and people will help me. He tells me how brave I am for coming to the burning so soon after the trauma.
My mother leads me outside. I feel the chilly breeze on my face, and rain begins to fall on my face. It is Darkfall, and darkness has truly fallen for I can see nothing. I reach up a hand habitually and toy with the headwrap which conceals my face, the bandages which are caked with blood. The soft hiccuping of my mother at my side stirs my arm. She is crying.
It is the morning of my brother's funeral. As is custom, he is to be set on a funeral pyre... except the only part of his body that could be found were his severed hands.
Monday, February 22, 2010
The Faithful
Blood.
Ever since, I've needed something to lean on. A lover, a violin, a vain mortal, an understanding immortal, and now a captive convert, who I can watch and grow to love... but even that's gone now. I've nothing to support me. All the bridges have been burnt. I was a sheltered fool, and still am, but perhaps I can set one thing right. Without the shadows, without whispered words and great slights of hand, I will do this - extremely bluntly - to prove what I've been preaching, and hang the consequences.
After all, what's the worst that can happen?
Oh right... I'll be put in a lovely, nice vase of skystone.
To prove what I've been preaching. A more valiant pursuit, I've never had. They are so stupid, but I have to believe. I have to have faith in them, faith that one day they might see the truth as I see it. Not with my sanity in tact can I throw myself at them and kill them for their stupidity, and so I will try to get the message across to them. I will be the abomination who might be nearly (or completely) martyred, for them, and Us.
But for the Father's sake... I think I pity them more then the Dryth.
Ever since, I've needed something to lean on. A lover, a violin, a vain mortal, an understanding immortal, and now a captive convert, who I can watch and grow to love... but even that's gone now. I've nothing to support me. All the bridges have been burnt. I was a sheltered fool, and still am, but perhaps I can set one thing right. Without the shadows, without whispered words and great slights of hand, I will do this - extremely bluntly - to prove what I've been preaching, and hang the consequences.
After all, what's the worst that can happen?
Oh right... I'll be put in a lovely, nice vase of skystone.
To prove what I've been preaching. A more valiant pursuit, I've never had. They are so stupid, but I have to believe. I have to have faith in them, faith that one day they might see the truth as I see it. Not with my sanity in tact can I throw myself at them and kill them for their stupidity, and so I will try to get the message across to them. I will be the abomination who might be nearly (or completely) martyred, for them, and Us.
But for the Father's sake... I think I pity them more then the Dryth.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Hearts in Shadow
"Gabriel... will you not play the lute? It's sitting there, waiting for your touch."
Her raven black hair gently fell around her shoulders, and I reached out to grab it. As my fingers went through it, it was like there was a stuttering in the world. A rip. And my fingers went straight through her as if she was immaterial. A ghost.
"No," I moaned. The slow pulse in my throat was becoming too much, but I didn't want to move. There's something soft beneath me, and yet I can't see it. All I can see is darkness, and her. "I'll play the lute later."
The image shifts.
I'm still floating on softness.
"I want you to live, Gabriel."
Is that a bed I lay on? Yes, and there are the curtains of the house we had in Seahaven, so long ago. When I was still breathing. Yet, I'm not breathing now. I feel no heart in my chest, and again I try to reach for her, only to have that soft hair shimmer from me.
"Lilian... do you really want me to live? Is that what you would call this? I know the Truth, and the Truth torments me. What use is it to know the Truth if they won't have any of it?"
"My love... my love..." Echoes of the past. Echoes of passion, and it hurts. "Play the lute."
"You play the fucking thing, Lilian." The words were like venom dripping from my tongue, and she faded into the darkness only to reappear yet again to say; "Gabriel, I want you to Live."
"WE CAN'T LIVE!!"
"We live forever."
"No, we're dead!"
"Dead until the day we are blessed to life. Dead, and manipulating, and conning. Liars in shadows, monsters in darkness, until that day when we may assume the place once more. Go to your Twisted One. She'll know. Tell her that you don't want to be mortal anymore."
"But I'm not mortal."
"You are young... so young, and so wise yet. You've seen so much, and learned things beyond others of your age, yet your passion is your mortality. Save your passion for when we are truly free, Gabriel. For when there are no enemies left around you. Save your passion for hugs with your Twisted one. Save it for embraces with the Insane Child. Your mortality drives you further and further from the shadows...
In Shadows we are One
In Shadows we are All
Until the fall of the sun
Until we no longer have to run
Until we can live in peace.
Ask your Twisted one, she will know."
And then I realized that the soft thing I lay upon was a cushion, and it was extremely wet.
I also realized... the voice had been my own.
(( I'd like to announce to those of you that do check here (bless your little hearts) that this will probably be the last blog post I will be making for a while. A while, when considering I usually do a few a week. Thank you - Leech ))
Her raven black hair gently fell around her shoulders, and I reached out to grab it. As my fingers went through it, it was like there was a stuttering in the world. A rip. And my fingers went straight through her as if she was immaterial. A ghost.
"No," I moaned. The slow pulse in my throat was becoming too much, but I didn't want to move. There's something soft beneath me, and yet I can't see it. All I can see is darkness, and her. "I'll play the lute later."
The image shifts.
I'm still floating on softness.
"I want you to live, Gabriel."
Is that a bed I lay on? Yes, and there are the curtains of the house we had in Seahaven, so long ago. When I was still breathing. Yet, I'm not breathing now. I feel no heart in my chest, and again I try to reach for her, only to have that soft hair shimmer from me.
"Lilian... do you really want me to live? Is that what you would call this? I know the Truth, and the Truth torments me. What use is it to know the Truth if they won't have any of it?"
"My love... my love..." Echoes of the past. Echoes of passion, and it hurts. "Play the lute."
"You play the fucking thing, Lilian." The words were like venom dripping from my tongue, and she faded into the darkness only to reappear yet again to say; "Gabriel, I want you to Live."
"WE CAN'T LIVE!!"
"We live forever."
"No, we're dead!"
"Dead until the day we are blessed to life. Dead, and manipulating, and conning. Liars in shadows, monsters in darkness, until that day when we may assume the place once more. Go to your Twisted One. She'll know. Tell her that you don't want to be mortal anymore."
"But I'm not mortal."
"You are young... so young, and so wise yet. You've seen so much, and learned things beyond others of your age, yet your passion is your mortality. Save your passion for when we are truly free, Gabriel. For when there are no enemies left around you. Save your passion for hugs with your Twisted one. Save it for embraces with the Insane Child. Your mortality drives you further and further from the shadows...
In Shadows we are One
In Shadows we are All
Until the fall of the sun
Until we no longer have to run
Until we can live in peace.
Ask your Twisted one, she will know."
And then I realized that the soft thing I lay upon was a cushion, and it was extremely wet.
I also realized... the voice had been my own.
(( I'd like to announce to those of you that do check here (bless your little hearts) that this will probably be the last blog post I will be making for a while. A while, when considering I usually do a few a week. Thank you - Leech ))
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Power
Passion and death, wrapped up in one. Love, and then the hatred. The blade into the skin, the blood, and the passion. Without the death.
And is it really an anchor for me, a shelter against insanity, or a sail so that I might drift out amongst the sea of madness?
Is this passion real, are these emotions real, or an echo of mortality. Is it all a manipulation of the world around me?
I might never know.
I don't think I want to know.
And is it really an anchor for me, a shelter against insanity, or a sail so that I might drift out amongst the sea of madness?
Is this passion real, are these emotions real, or an echo of mortality. Is it all a manipulation of the world around me?
I might never know.
I don't think I want to know.
Monday, January 18, 2010
The Truth
It was all around me in the beginning, the truth of the world, the answers to everything. In those books, copies of words from Elders before, and before, that were in Lilian's library. Copies that I devoured in night, and then took their meaning to be some metaphoric process of living.
And yet, there's no metaphor.
It didn't take the opening of the Doorway to impart the truth to me. As is perhaps always the way it should be, it took blood, and the words of an Elder, words which spring my mind back to those days in the library with all those books. And in a way, I already knew the truth, I was simply blind to it. Now, it shocks me into sanity. Musical notes reach deep into my mind and tear me away from that which would take me down into nihilism.
I have questions. I've many questions, and the answers will come. But now, I've the Truth, and I've Purpose again, and I am living.
All things are falling into place around me, and there is a veil of darkness going down upon the world. I pity those who don't know the Truth, those who haven't been exposed beyond those paltry lies and services of their Old Gods. They will be exposed to so much bloodshed... needless bloodshed. The demons will see to it. They will tear their skin from their flesh, and blood will pour from the very gutters of the streets. The slums will be painted, silk will be crimson, and Ylessa's fountain will bubble with the life of so many dead. Useless blood.
Here I am, writing this page, underneath the light of the Red Mother's moon, and I feel sorrow for them... and anger at those who would blare this 'enlightenment' this 'falseness' onto them, keep them shrouded in the dogma of the Failing Ones.
"If you have been saved, and seen the White Queen, the Father must have some plan for you," the words echo in my mind, words that my Twisted one said to me. Words which in some way... I resent. I've known him for sixty-two years, and it's only now do I understand all that I've heard, and my understanding is growing... and yet there are so many more who are more deserving. Many more who are so much more perfect, and refined.
I'm becoming rather embroiled in it all. I must not make the mistake of losing perspective. No, never that. Then I would have truly failed Lilian. And now, to bury this parchment into the earth, where it will forever lay. My mortal thoughts, buried deep.
And yet, there's no metaphor.
It didn't take the opening of the Doorway to impart the truth to me. As is perhaps always the way it should be, it took blood, and the words of an Elder, words which spring my mind back to those days in the library with all those books. And in a way, I already knew the truth, I was simply blind to it. Now, it shocks me into sanity. Musical notes reach deep into my mind and tear me away from that which would take me down into nihilism.
I have questions. I've many questions, and the answers will come. But now, I've the Truth, and I've Purpose again, and I am living.
All things are falling into place around me, and there is a veil of darkness going down upon the world. I pity those who don't know the Truth, those who haven't been exposed beyond those paltry lies and services of their Old Gods. They will be exposed to so much bloodshed... needless bloodshed. The demons will see to it. They will tear their skin from their flesh, and blood will pour from the very gutters of the streets. The slums will be painted, silk will be crimson, and Ylessa's fountain will bubble with the life of so many dead. Useless blood.
Here I am, writing this page, underneath the light of the Red Mother's moon, and I feel sorrow for them... and anger at those who would blare this 'enlightenment' this 'falseness' onto them, keep them shrouded in the dogma of the Failing Ones.
"If you have been saved, and seen the White Queen, the Father must have some plan for you," the words echo in my mind, words that my Twisted one said to me. Words which in some way... I resent. I've known him for sixty-two years, and it's only now do I understand all that I've heard, and my understanding is growing... and yet there are so many more who are more deserving. Many more who are so much more perfect, and refined.
I'm becoming rather embroiled in it all. I must not make the mistake of losing perspective. No, never that. Then I would have truly failed Lilian. And now, to bury this parchment into the earth, where it will forever lay. My mortal thoughts, buried deep.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
A Stutter
I really fell apart at the seams, and rather quickly too. No matter that the Dryth still lives - the point was to make my escape and not have to worry about her calling Doraster, or the whole pack of Wolkin on me, and I believe I did that amiably.
But everything happened so quickly... even I, who is quickly losing his concept of time, felt it. I, who's mind is so sane, actions so rational, felt the insanity of the moment.
I couldn't even ask that woman for answers, the girl who looked like she had seen as many lifetimes as Lilian herself. She was so connected to the Father, I felt it, and yet I asked her nothing. Perhaps it was politeness, or that inane foolishness at the rate at which things were progressing. And then, it hit me. Promises of the truth.
The truth! Answers! All beyond a fifty ton metal doorway which I could hardly push open even if it was unlocked!
My mind is ravaged, my thoughts insane. I am not myself. Demons and blood, demons and blood... I have said I am different from them, Lilian raised me to be different. I don't enjoy it! The killing, the rape. Tits for ears - it isn't funny! Why did I laugh inside, why?
Why must this come when I've found her...? That lovely somebody who would fill the void inside of me?
Perhaps she can console me, and turn my mind back to what it was. Maybe I'm just pissed because in attacking the Mind Fuck, I lost my violin...
This will pass. It must. I will live.
For You, Father. Things will come into perspective once I see the Truth.
But everything happened so quickly... even I, who is quickly losing his concept of time, felt it. I, who's mind is so sane, actions so rational, felt the insanity of the moment.
I couldn't even ask that woman for answers, the girl who looked like she had seen as many lifetimes as Lilian herself. She was so connected to the Father, I felt it, and yet I asked her nothing. Perhaps it was politeness, or that inane foolishness at the rate at which things were progressing. And then, it hit me. Promises of the truth.
The truth! Answers! All beyond a fifty ton metal doorway which I could hardly push open even if it was unlocked!
My mind is ravaged, my thoughts insane. I am not myself. Demons and blood, demons and blood... I have said I am different from them, Lilian raised me to be different. I don't enjoy it! The killing, the rape. Tits for ears - it isn't funny! Why did I laugh inside, why?
Why must this come when I've found her...? That lovely somebody who would fill the void inside of me?
Perhaps she can console me, and turn my mind back to what it was. Maybe I'm just pissed because in attacking the Mind Fuck, I lost my violin...
This will pass. It must. I will live.
For You, Father. Things will come into perspective once I see the Truth.
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