a cloudy day in Metropolis

Sadly, many of our best beloved residents seemed not quite up to the challenge of Comic Book Night at the Kokopelli Stage, in Steelhead. Fortunately for us, we had quite the collection of intriguing concepts anyway.

I, of course, defaulted to an outfit I'd last worn last October, that of Morrigan Aensland, and apparently caused some small distraction.



It's the wings.




Mr. Fawkes Allen was perfectly in character as Nny from Johnny the Homicidal Maniac--to the point that people thought he was craaazy.



Heh. Nice touch with Nailbunny. (Sorry, that's an in joke...)



Miss Christine came as Poison Ivy, which just made sense, really--considering her signature color is green, after all. And all that red hair...



Tensai Hilra, evil genius and resident Warrior Goddess of Steelhead, decided to take an hour of her time and create Master Shake for the dance.

Wau. And funny.

Mr. Ranulph Graves decided to come as Spider Jerusalem from Transmetropolitan.



Okay, my favorite Spider Jerusalem quote:

So this Zealot comes to my door, all glazed eyes and clean reproductive organs, asking me if I ever think about God.

So I tell him I killed God. I tracked God down like a rabid dog, hacked off his legs with a hedge trimmer, raped him with a corncob, and boiled off his corpse in an acid bath.

So he pulls an alternating-current taser on me and tells me that only the Official Serbian Church of Tesla can save my polyphase intrinsic electric field, known to non-engineers as "the soul."

So I hit him. What would you do?

My second favorite quote:

There's one hole in every revolution, large or small. And it's one word long--people.

No matter how big the idea is they all stand under, people are small and weak and cheap and frightened.

It's people that kill every revolution.

Okay, I'll stop.



Miss Lumina did an exquisite job as Death from the Vertigo series Sandman. Ankh, lovely eye spiral, and all. She won for best female, by the way. (Mr. Allen won for best male).



Our Sheriff, Fuzzball Ortega, also does an amazing job on Fridays DJing for the dances. Tonight was no exception, and tonight he came as the Green Lantern. His version? Apparently has no problem with gold...heh.

I don't believe there's a comic book surrounding Miss Qlippothic's choice of costume...



...but perhaps Captain Caledon should consider getting one!

Hee. Down to the traditional Caledon tartan as a skirt...



Mr. TotalLunar Eclipse came, unsurprisingly enough, as Sesshomaru from the series InuYasha. Incredible level of detail.

And finally...



Miss Dagger broadened the definition of "comic book" to include favorite personal heroes, and came as Miss Tensai Hilra.

This is a joke you only get if you know the Warrior Goddess. :)

And...that's it, I'm off to the art show! I haven't seen a single shot from the Glamour Cats show (upstairs, at the King Has Fallen Gallery, in Sonata), and only seen a few pieces from Volatiles (the show downstairs). I'm dying to see them!

breathe into me and make me real

He comes to me, all warm flesh and warm skin, and his touch is like the kiss of the brand, intensely hot across my cold porcelain shell. I gasp when he strokes his fingertips over my surface, leaving trails of warmth, not cold, behind.



He carefully undresses me, unbuttoning each small pearl button, letting me help where I can--mostly, unbuttoning my boots and toeing them off, sliding down my stockings, lifting my arms, or legs, or turning my torso when he requests I do so, the waist joint clicking me into each new position.



He walks around me once my doll self is nude, stroking fingertips at intervals along my stomach, along my shoulders, along the sides of my neck. He stops behind me, and my breath catches as his fingers trace the edges of my keyhole, where the key I haven't yet found will go, to keep me wound up, to keep my clockwork heart beating. Slowly, slowly, he slides a finger inside, running the tip down a wire, plucking it, the vibration thrumming through me like sudden thunder.



I stand and tremble, glass eyes wide, and more of his fingers steal inside my structure, impossible intimacy, unexpectedly sensitive. They tickle across brass struts, cut steel gears, lengths of hammered copper ribbon. They find the main turning gear, clicking it forward, and with a gasp, I feel the clockwork heart in me leap into function.



Soft ticking fills the air, the sound of the clockwork rolling along, the arrival of the extraordinary machine...spurred on by his fingers, working across the workings. I whimper softly, blinking, sensation almost too much, surreal and mechanically perverse. He drives me on, percussive thrums through the strutwork, glissandos played directly across my wiring. Keyless, he makes my heart beat, finding his own rhythms, making them mine...chiming me, plucking me, playing me like a harp built for his hands.



Talented digits, deft inventor's fingers, playing across my internal matrix as I stand and shudder...plucking at the wires, harpstring vibrations through my torso...turning gears, repositioning, realigning, and I realize, no key will wind me this well, no length of cold metal could do what his warm fingers are doing...and DOING...and DOING...

...there are bizarre and distinct advantages to being a clockwork doll...

(Doll display stand and Elizabeth Noir boots can be purchased at All Dolled Up in Lummerland; the dress is Grim Babies' Pretty Poison from their Grim Dollies shop; the hair, skin and eyes come from Draconic Kiss' new doll shop.)

time is stolen, I cannot hold you long enough

I have, ever and always, been fascinated by dolls. Small ones, large ones, wind-up ones, still ones...modern to antique, the concept itself fascinates me.

What fascinates the phouka eventually turns into the phouka. So I've been practicing the doll.



There are a lot of dolls, a lot of different styles of dolls, from innocent to disturbing, from cloth to porcelain, from papier-mache to carved wood. Some are jointed, some aren't, some have inset eyes, some have painted. I've spent the last few months studying all of them.

I've especially been concentrating on two styles: antique French fashion dolls, and more modern, ball-jointed dolls.

The thing about most ball-jointed dolls is, while there is a great deal of finesse to their construction, they seem very simple, less ornate, in a very real sense, than their European counterparts. I admire this simplicity, this basic breakdown of what is essential about doll to make it separate from toy.

Draconic Kiss recently opened a doll shop, which is pretty much, let's be honest, one-stop shopping. They have an excellent selection of doll hair, both flexi and not, and Draconic does not seem to be falling into the usual designer's trap--her hair looks good, yes, but also, carries that hint of the unreal, and her eyes follow the same pattern--gleaming, glassy, and in at least three cases, distinctly unhuman, being gleaming solid black, glassy frosted pink, or glassy frosted blue--the latter two both entirely pupilless. She has skins in a variety of makeup options for women, and miracle of miracles, doll skins for men.

My artist is looking towards a doll exhibition--SL's take on the doll phenomenon, what's done here with dolls, and how they interact with non-dolls--so she was willing to fund my transformation. I'm inordinately grateful to her for that.



I picked one with oxidized "tear" traces; it's long been understood that, on occasion, the interaction of cast clay with metal, long-term, can produce exudations from inset eyes, remarkably like tears, only dark red, dark brown, or black. It's not at all uncommon to see a doll with these traces down their face, prior to restoration.

Now, it's not uncommon to see such a doll in world. Yay for me.

I want the real thing, not tokens

There's an odd kink to my love life (and no, I'm not talking anything obvious, shush). This particular one is music adoption. And it's always been a trait of mine, as annoying as it can be at times.



My half-dragon brought me arena rock, and a brief phase again of listening to the big boys, the venue-packing giants--Van Hagar, Van Halen, Rush, Aerosmith--I was already a fan, but now, it was as if listening to Aerosmith brought me closer to understanding the once-fiance, once-pet, once-love...even after we parted, I'd still request Aerosmith tunes while dancing.

He also gave me the guilty pleasure of liking country music again--surprisingly slow sweet pieces that I still, on occasion, sneak off and listen to, remembering dancing with him to slow strains on bluegrass guitars.



The vampire princeling was specific--Deftones, and even more specific, My Own Summer (Shove It). Discovering the Deftones through him also made me realize one of my favorite songs, Change (In the House of Flies), was a Deftones thing. I still occasionally listen to Deftones songs, and watch new videos when they come out.



My neko lad reacquainted me with trance, dance trance, electronica and ambient--and specifically, Goa, a style of trance that is predominantly deep tones, random repetitions, percussive elements, linked together by ambient sounds, droning, electronic skitters--my neko says it's very hard to listen to, if you're not a fan. Well, I wouldn't call myself a fan, but I've developed an appreciation, and now I like the style. Still can't name any Goa-derivative bands barring Infected Mushroom, but I like listening, discovering what passes me by, what I like, what I can't stand.



The incubus brought me VNV Nation, and in particular, their song Standing. Still makes me ache, hearing it--and I hear it nearly every Friday, at the Steelhead dances--but it's no longer the sharp twisting pain of loss. I guess that's something. I still listen to a lot of VNV Nation, in particular Epicentre and Rubicon, and through them discovered Assemblage 23, and their evocative piece Disappoint.

Both bands are dark, rich, laced with thick ribbons of loss and betrayal, pain and resignation. I still find myself very drawn to their music.



My Raven brought back my high-school adoration for punk music, thrashing, vital, angry, raging at the machinery of existence. When he's not running around the woods threatening random strangers, he wears a human skin, plaid zipper pants and a mohawk, and I'm quite amused. But it's made me dig up a lot of old favorites, like Flipper, Dead Kennedys, the Dickies, and my all-time joy, FEAR, in particular my favorite punk song EVER, Let's Have a War.

I'm still trying to find the FEAR: More Beer album on CD...

Which brings us to...



...the statue. And I haven't asked him yet. But if I follow true to pattern, whatever he likes, I'm at least going to listen to, and if I like it too, it's going to become a part of my daily musical routine. It's just something in my brain that adopts from those I love--commonly-used expressions, style of dress, music, literature--whatever I can hang off my brain as points of understanding, I suppose.

Should be interesting, but it does point out something that should have been staggeringly obvious--I haven't asked him a lot of "those questions", to date. You know the ones I mean--favorite food; favorite color; favorite book, or style of book; favorite music or artist. Favorite...anything.

And I know he's asked me at least one of "those questions", as he made me a Key last night. And he made it from gleaming steel and purple-anodized metal, because I told him, when he asked, my favorite color--apart from black--is purple.

He listens. I know this. Now I need to, I think. And I need to start with, what he listens to...

...though I already know he likes ambient trance. Hmm...

[Late edit: Red Hot Chili Peppers. Which is no actual surprise. I think I knew this, based on the Toga Formal, among others...]

poceluj, poceluj moj k tebe

Poceluj dlinoju v vechnost',
Stroju k tebe mosty,
Znaju, ty slyshish',
Hochu k tebe blizhe,
Gde ty?

I woke from a terrifying dream of cold and ice, far from any comforting arms, and it took a while to shake the vision off. It's deprivation, I tell myself, deprivation from the statue wandering so far, and I threw myself into tasks with a vengeance formerly unprecedented.



First, I built a box. The box, I feel, is somewhat necessary, as I don't have a stable building place where eyes are not found. This lovely little sandbox is my new favorite place to build, but still, people do drop by, so...this convention. This is a simple ten-by-ten-by-ten cube, with a posing stand inside, for making clothes, and not being seen.

Poloviny chasti sveta,
Tak pohozhi na dve chasti luny,
Slozhno real'no,
Davaj virtual'no,
Internety!



The inside of the little box. I'm there for size reference, though I do make it look much bigger than it actually is, as I'm fairly little, all things considered, myself.

This was the Fire Ruby dress half-completed, btw, the one inspired by the Fire Ruby Neko eyes that Malkavyn Eldritch made for me. IM him or drop by his store, Treasured Visions, and see what he can do. Trust me, he's phenomenal.

Poceluj, poceluj moj k tebe,
Letit na kraj sveta snegom dekabrja.
Poceluj, poceluj moj k tebe,
Letit, lovi, hrani,
Ne zabyvaj chto ja,
S toboj ljubov' moja!



And the Fire Ruby dress finished (and now posted on SLB, hee!), and on display. I like this design. I may recolor this one a LOT.

Right now, seems to take me about three hours on average to finish a gown, depending on the number of flexi details and the number of panels in the skirt. This one, for instance, had 24 panels in the skirt, and a two-part waistband, plus the two-prim flexi collar.

Poceluj dlinoju v vechnost',
Mezhdu osen'ju i vesnoj,
Tak mezhdu prochim,
V tri chasa nochi,
S toboj!



Before that, of course, I made a green dress, playing around with some textures I'd downloaded paired with some 'free' textures found around the grid. This was a 22-panel skirt, as I recall.

Poloviny, chasti sveta,
Tvoi novosti mne b, tvoi sny,
Slozhno real'no,
Davaj virtual'no,
Internety!



I liked the outfit so much I actually packaged up the "catsuit" portion--the leggings, socks, gloves, and shirt--as a separate item. (Of course, anyone who buys the dress gets everything, but then, some people don't like dresses...)

Afterwards, I went dancing, and spent slightly over four hours encouraging the crowd at Dorian's to vote for the club, greeting people, dancing in the cage, dancing on the (now NON-rotating) center stage, and dancing up at the DJ station. Of the three, I still think I like the center stage best, but given my druthers--and a really hot DJ--I'll gladly leap on a DJ station pole. Gotta inspire great music somehow, right?

Poceluj, poceluj moj k tebe,
Letit na kraj sveta snegom dekabrja.
Poceluj, poceluj moj k tebe,
Letit, lovi, hrani,
Ne zabyvaj chto ja,
S toboj ljubov' moja!



Afterwards, my neko lad called me to Rivula, to the former site of the club called Desolation, which is now gone--a very desolate thing indeed. Instead, I ported into a large wooden box, full of gigantic rubber balls of all shades, and spent a merry hour chasing around in them, bouncing off the walls, the balls, and other people.

I guess it was the Rivulan version of a wake? We loved that place. We used to hang out late at night, wandering through the fog, black roses in our hands, listening to the stream. I'm going to miss Desolation very much.

Poceluj, poceluj moj k tebe,
Letit na kraj sveta snegom dekabrja.
Snegom dekabrja!
Poceluj, poceluj moj k tebe,
Letit, lovi, hrani,
Ne zabyvaj chto ja,
S toboj ljubov' moja!
Ljubov' moja!
S toboj ljubov' moja!
Ljubov' moja!
S toboj ljubov' moja!



Another view of the after-party, balls starting to clear away and vaporize.

And then the statue returned to me, and...it's going to be another long sleepless night.

But somehow, I truly doubt I mind...

(And, for those that are wondering...the song is by Vitas, and the English title is Kiss As Long As Eternity, and the English lyric translation follows:

Kiss as long as eternity
I am building bridges towards you
I know you can hear me
I want to come closer
Where could you be?

The world’s two halves
Resemble the halves of the moon
So complicated in reality
Let’s do it virtually
Internets!

My kiss, my kiss is flying towards you
To the other side of the world, as December’s snow
My kiss, my kiss is flying towards you
Catch it and cherish it
Don’t forget that here I am
And my love is with you!

Kiss as long as eternity
Between autumn and spring
Just like that, in between
At three o’clock in the morning
Is with you!

Two halves of the world
If I had your news, your dreams
So complicated in reality
Let’s do it virtually
Internets!

My kiss, my kiss is flying towards you
To the other side of the world, as December’s snow
My kiss, my kiss is flying towards you
Catch it and cherish it
Don’t forget that here I am
And my love is with you!

My kiss, my kiss is flying towards you
To the other side of the world, as December’s snow
As December’s snow!
My kiss, my kiss is flying towards you
Catch it and cherish it
Don’t forget that here I am
And my love is with you!
My love,
And my love is with you!
My love,
And my love is with you!)

because you've shown me just how much you care

Another day, another night at Dorian's, dancing. Tonight was slightly different, though.

For the first, I knew that I would not be seeing the statue tonight, speaking to him, sharing thoughts and tender touches across whatever span of distance spanned between us. This made me a little crazed on the pole, and I was apparently in fine form, flirting my brains out with anything that happened to catch my notice.

Did I mention Dorian's is usually full of really attractive people? This so did not help.

Like our new DJ, for instance...



DJ Michael Griffith is something of a psychic talent, in terms of music. Half of tonight was spent playing what we hadn't requested yet, to the accompaniment of much ooohs and aaahs. The other half was spent requesting songs which he had, which kept the place rocking until the wee hours.

I love nights like this.



Even if our new DJ does keep God lights in his pants...

Towards the end of the evening, management returned, and started setting out dance sets around and about the floor, so it wouldn't be just the center Hottie-go-round with the three poles, and the dance floor controlled by rotating dance machine above. Fun lady I'm coming to like a lot asked if I'd mind hopping off the pole and dancing with her.



As if I'd mind. Gee, dancing in a lovely little marimba-with-dip dance set, or staying alone sliding up and down a pole? Do I even need to qualify that with an answer? Of course I danced with her!



Besides, there was a lot of picture-snap sounds going on, and I just took the two you've seen here. She--or someone else--was snapping a lot for posterity! So it wasn't just me liking the dip and the way we swayed together...

...but speaking of that...



...I miss the statue brought to life.

It's expected; I'm going to miss him; it's the first day since we discovered how much we cared for each other that we haven't spoken, even for a few minutes during the course of the day.

Can't help it, can't not miss him. Miss him anyway, knowing it's going to happen. But...such is the way of life, sometimes people you love leave, and you must simply be patient and wait until they return.

Maybe I'll pull the fun lady's trick, and spend an afternoon in the Particle Laboratory, learning how to program. With any luck, I might actually learn scripting, too...

the signal's loud and clear, but the transmitter's gone

Come on down to the sock hop, Daddy-O, are you gonna make the scene?

Drag a bunch of disparate sorts together for a 1950s dance, in a sim built for the 1850's. Shake and stir. Let contents fizz.

Well, we had fun at least.



Fawkes Allen and his overamorous Bike. The Bike first nearly nudged me off the sim, and did succeed in mashing me somewhat successfully between the rails at the train station. Then I hopped on the back and we rode in style to the dance, only pausing when we ran another lady down. Oops!

Then the Bike fell in love with Qlippothic, and she broke his little chrome heart. I don't think the Bike's ever going to be the same...



"Wolfman Jack" Fuzzball, DJ and Sheriff, grooving to the classic platters. Music was great--mix of early rock and roll classics, and soundtrack tunes from Grease, Grease II, and others. And after the dance, of course, VNV Nation. It's a Friday standard...



Miss Qlippothic Projects, showing off her Kremlin finest, with standard operational issue AK-47.

Fawkes reported her to the House Un-American Activities Committee...Mr. Teika Bates and Miss Lumina are in the background, with a brief glimpse of the oh-so-purple me.



Another view of the...erm...gun. Yes, that's it...Though it is an awfully nice coat, very formal, very Russian.



Mr. Edward Pearse, finally free of his convalescence, sadly, still with highly damaged muscle tissue in his arm. He's built a steam-powered contrivance, though, that seems to work well, and goes rather swimmingly with black motorcycle leathers.



Group shot. From left to right, Mr. Pearse, don'tlookChristinedon'tlook, Miss Lumina, Miss Qlippothic, Mr. Bates, Miss Kattrynn, my purple self, Miss Angelica Trescothik and her swain, Mr. Aberdeen, Mr. Fitzgerald, and alas, with only a sliver of her poodle-skirted self showing, Miss Addison.

Miss Trescothik, for reference, is the sister of our very own Sheriff Ortega. And thank you Sheriff, for naming the swain in question. Yay for information!

My camera was not behaving, sadly, or I'd have more images. Lastly...



Miss Christine McAllister, properly clothed.

At some point, I'd like to do this again, but we'll have to have more notice, and I'd like to have a slide-y auditorium floor...!

and in the fringes, on the edge and off the avenue

If you want me,
You can find me
Left of center off of the strip
In the outskirts and in the fringes
In the corner, out of the grip

It was one thing after another. First I forgot about the dance, and then I couldn't find my outfit. The statue couldn't find one he liked, so we both threw our hands up and went in cobbles. It worked fairly well, and we had fun; small dance, but great music, and fun conversation. Can't ask for more, really.

Then the neko lad came in broken, and I had to unbreak him; and when I could have linked up again with the statue, my little cheetah mewed and I had to go repair him, just a tad. Figures, doesn't it? Add in one new element, the rest of the periodic table destabilizes on you. Always the way.

And when I finally got to see him, there just wasn't enough time...and after, he's going to be gone. The weekend without doubt; potentially all of next week. My soul is curling already.



Thankfully, on occasion, things happen to completely distract me from the troubles of the train-wreck.

Witness the arrival of the doll.

When they ask me
What are you looking at?
I always answer, nothing much, not much
I think they know I'm looking at them
I think they think I must be out of touch
But I'm walking in the outskirts
And in the fringes, on the edge and off the avenue
Oh and if you want me, you can find me
Left of center, wondering all about you

Last night began the arrival. Draconic Kiss, long my favorite home of truly detailed and elegant Lolita dresses, opened a doll shop this week. Gorgeously glassy eyes, some nifty hair, and fully jointed dolls in four shades for women and men! How can you pass that up?

I couldn't, but I couldn't afford the skin yet. So I got dressed up in my little Sidhe pixie form--stopping by Bare Rose first to acquire their Claudia dress, a lovely confection in four colors with a true embarrassment of flexi bows and lace furbelows--and flipped on over to Draconic Kiss, where I bought three pair of eyes (Vermillion, Midnight and Sugar Pink) along with two wigs in a very curly style (Silver and Vermillion--they went nicely with the red dress). And off I was around the town in pseudo-doll form.



It wasn't a bad first attempt. I made my landlord drool. I made my favorite Victorian wonder why I was using his shop in Victoria City as a backdrop for profile pics. I made the statue dig up another doll shop--this one over at Grim Babies' for those who want to know--just for the privilege, I think, of watching me walk around.

I did buy one outfit at his insistence, a checkerboard Loli with a wonderfully poufy skirt in two lengths.

I think that somehow, somewhere inside of us
We must be similar, if not the same
So I continue to keep wanting you
Left of center, against the grain



It's also got a lovely checkerboard tie detail, just piquant.

Now I really need a turning key for my back...

However, the point is, tonight, my artist was talking to me about a sheet of limitations each of her Muses had to fill out. I'd sent mine back, and in telling her of all my forms, I mentioned that I was working on a doll form, but hadn't quite got the coin together yet.

How much did you need, she asks me. I say, did you want to see the skins? So off we went to Draconic Kiss.

Eventually, I want to own the full four-pack of Lashes Porcelain skins, but currently, I'm quite happy owning Lashes Tears--looking very much like oxidized rust 'tears' aging over the porcelain. Wonderful effect.

If you want me, you can find me
Left of center, off of the strip
In the outskirts, and in the fringes
In the corner, out of the grip
When they ask me
What are you looking at?
I always answer, nothing much, not much
I think they know I'm looking at them
I think they think I must be out of touch



So she bought me that, and two more wigs--the Doll Piggies, instead of the Doll Curls, this time, and this time in Eggplant and Midnight--and I tossed in three more sets of eyes--a sturdy Gold, a Spring Green and a True Blue. Then I changed, and took some pics, and decided I could really go for this. This is decidedly going to be interesting.

If you want me, you can find me
Left of center, off of the strip
In the outskirts, and in the fringes
In the corner, out of the grip.



On the other hand, I'm already missing the statue. Every inch of skin alive and waiting for his touch and now, now, I have to get through the next five days without him.

I think I'm going to be building a LOT.

But in doll skin or not, the heart within still beats. And while there is life, there is hope. And he tells me he'll return, and he tells me he is with me still--even if it means we only meet in dreaming.

I can live with that. I am good at enduring. I've had to do a lot of it. Moreover, there's still the puzzle of the thing which he's asked me to consider, and that question is taking up rather a lot of processing power. So I'm nicely distracted already.

Toss in the wandering around as a dolly, and well...I may be too busy to miss him.

...though I doubt it.

I am walking through the morning
Dandelion stares in my eyes
I wish you were caught by now
I'm afraid of what they'll find
Take the box of magic
Lay it in the back of your mind
Can we wash in the morphine
After we eat we'll be fine...

And the doctor's made a new daughter. The House I left grows again. I haven't decided if this is a good thing, or not, but I am looking forward to meeting her. As is her older sister, as it happens...

So we'll see how that goes, in the week the statue's parted from me. For I've said I love him, and I do, and I refuse to take the words back and wish them unsaid. My heart fills and spills over, blood and joy combined, and I am replete. I am learning who I am now my personal reconfiguration is nearly complete, and while it's not who I was, I think I like who I will be.

It will be an entertaining week, I'm sure. But so it goes, so often, in my life...

(Larger song is Suzanne Vega's "Left of Center"; end snip is taken from Darling Violetta's "I Want to Kill You")