she's mighty mighty, just lettin' it all hang out

Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down

Play that funky music, white boy! Tonight was Disco Night in Steelhead. Oh, it was terrifying.



Miss Darkling Elytis looking quite groovy, she of the amazing dance moves...



...and Lumina of the white fluff. Yes, for those curious, the back of this outfit was nearly completely missing.

Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion...



Our DJ Fuzzball Ortega actually fuzzy. He kept changing his fur all night. But he looks damned fine as a werewolf...



Yes, that's me. Yes, I know. Totally unrecognizeable.

Blow horns you sure sound pretty
Your violins keep movin' to the nitty gritty
When you hear the scratch of the guitars scratchin'
Then you'll know that rhythm carries all the action, so
Whoa, yeah...



Miss Nabila Nadir, misunderstanding that we didn't mean 70 BC.



Miss Tensai Hilra, blade-thin and very seventies...Note behind her an unrezzed Mr. Dylan Dench, and DJ Fuzzball, with changed fur again.

Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion...



Miss JeZeBeLe Dagger, who won for Funkiest Gal at the dance...



...and Puck Goodliffe, who won for Funkiest Guy. Go, seventies plaid...

There were so many people, I didn't get them all. I tried...



Had to get these, though. Not a perfect image because of transponder difficulties, but this was the best I could do. Mr. Edward Pearse and Miss Christine McAllister as Finnian Fitzgerald's Shiny Disco...Balls.

*ahem*.

Moving on!

Flute player play your flute 'cause
I know that you want to get your thing off
But you see I've made up my mind about it
It's got to be the rhythm, no doubt about it, whoa whoa...



Miss Scully Weir looking very psychedelic...



...and Miss Foxy Innis in retro dots. Note the matching handbag.

'Cause when the guitar player start playing
With the syncopated rhythm, with the scratch, scratch, scratch
Makes me wanna move my body yeah, yeah, yeah
And when the drummer starts beating that beat
He nails that beat with the syncopated rhythm
With the rat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat on the drums, hey



Miss Kattryn Severine, owner of Steelhead. Lovely as usual.



Miss Samson Innis, tall and lithe and leggy and braided.

Wait, are those braids?

Note also behind her, the now visible Mr. Dench in...western wear...and Fuzzball Ortega, wolfin' it up in green.

Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion...



Group shot. :) Note the newly-retextured Jupiter dance ball...someone remind me to retexture it back to Jupiter??

Love to hear it
Love to hear it
Love to hear it



And our disco demonic host, Darien Mason...who actually found an afro big enough to hide his horns. That's a bizarre accomplishment...



...and I snuck one of TotalLunar Eclipse...this was as close as he could come to the deep tack of the seventies without going into convulsions.

Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down



And finally, snuck a side shot of a few folks I hadn't yet snapped. This is Mr. Timelord Cardiff in purple dancing with Lumina, the Duchess of Loch Avie, Eva Bellambi, dancing with Mr. Hotspur O'toole (at the very far far right), and between them, Miss Samson Innis.

Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion
Love to hear it...

Lay down the boogie and play that funky music 'til you DIE!

Over and out.

(Lyrics from Vicki Sue Robinson's "Turn the Beat Around")

I'm over your lies and I'm over your games

It's been a terribly busy two days. Mostly pleasant, all things considered, but even pleasant things can be tiring.

I'm over your lies
And I'm over your games
I'm over you asking me
When you know I'm not okay...

First off, I now have a job again. I'm working at Dorian Gray's, a dance club in Amat, and they seem a very nice group of people. Danced on an off hour, just to go in and test things out, see if I remembered how to work a pole after all this time, and actually got tips. I was impressed.



For dancers, they want human-only, and my goodness, I am no longer used to this face. Or skin-not-fur. Or skin-not-pale, for that matter. Still, maybe it will be good for me.

Plus? Their Sploder is very nearly as good as Enigma's, from the lost days of yore. So I'm pretty happy with that.

You call me at night
And I pick up the phone
And though you be tellin' me
I know you're not alone...



Next up: a late-night visit to the Ruins in the Caledon Highlands, whereupon we met with Mr. EllisDee Welinder and Miss KatatOnik Pidgeon, who were proud to show off their protest against Caledon's war with Neualtenburg. The cow was an especially inspired touch.

In fez, no less.

But it attracted a tidy little crowd, while we watched it being constructed, and debated whether it was art or kitsch. The debate was settled by Miss Pidgeon sitting atop the cow and saying, "I say it's art."

Yes, Ma'am. It is then art.

Oh and that's why your eyes
I'm over it
Your smile
I'm over it...

And Taiyou House is finally moving forward. After a discouraging incident last night in Steelhead--one of the residents decided, for no good reason I can ascertain, to rextexture the hotel carpet into something completely repellent and incomprehensible--the builder of the house walked me over to see the initial furnishing ideas. I placed a Goya painting I'd been carting about for a while, two small amber hurricane lamps, and debated with him the use for various spaces, pro and con. I think we agree on how we want to proceed. So far, it's coming together beautifully.



And the first of the new skyboxen is done. This one's rather Meditteranean in decor, and we've just decided what's going to go in there, once it's moved aloft and has teleporter access. I'm actually starting to get excited about Taiyou again.

Realized
I'm over it, I'm over it...

It's still going to take a while, the rest of it, but...I'm pulling out from under. It feels like I've found the path again, and I know what to do to walk it. Sad or grieving, confused or weary, my feet are walking forward again and I'm letting them do it, pulling me forward as well.

Walking out of winter into thaw. It's a hard task. But I've done it before, will likely do it again, so...here we go. We walk.

(Lyrics taken from Katharine McPhee's "Over It")

I've got to breathe, I can't keep going under

Baby, I'm angry.
Baby, I'm scared.
We're living in a dark time.
And nobody cares.

Some things cost. Some actions carry heavy prices, prices we don't want to pay. We must anyway, and always, and usually sooner rather than later.

This action cost me potential friendship, and understanding, and left me with little way to explain...but I have spent so much of my time explaining, of late, it should suffice now.

And I am far beyond tired, exhausted of the dance, and needing to stand and turn away. The dance ends, it overs, it finishes. We've reached the last spin. House lights up, everyone go home.

Baby, I'm tired.
Life isn't fair.
You are the only one,
who will always be there.

I am reminded, over and again, I have support now I had not before. And for once in all my life, I'm reaching out for it. My neko lad, my favorite Victorian, the darkened moon...each in their own way, healing and reclaiming me, making me whole again, telling me truth unvarnished and watching me relearn my way. And beyond that, my circle of friends, far too long neglected...the vampires and the dragons and the geishas, the furs and the reprobates, the nekos and the queens, the fallen angels and the demons halved...each of them a spark of light along my path.

I need this. I need to know this. I need to accept this, that I am going to struggle now, that I have to learn to walk my way all over again, begin anew. It's a hard lesson but I am listening. I am ready to learn.

Baby, I'm sorry.
I don't mean to cry.
But, I never needed you more,
than I need you tonight.

No one ever said demons were good for me. And no one ever said you couldn't lie to yourself. And maybe friendship was never going to be a possibility, for all my heart longed for it. And these are things I need to learn, too, engrave them on my consciousness in such a way that I am not tempted anew.

And knowledge, always the knowledge, that if I fall, I will be assisted back up; that if I sway, I will be caught and held; that if I decide to turn, there are those who will turn me back. Over and over until it finally sinks in: no going backwards. No accepting him back. No saying yes. No longer.

It's hard, it's paying a great price, but I'm paying. I'm paying.

I'm a small honeybee.
I drown in the water.
You are my hand in the well...

My neko lad asks after me nearly every evening. He cautions me to rest, and I try. I am still failing, but I think I'll get better at it, from now on. He says he loves me and means it; I say he's my safe harbor, and never have meant any words more.

I speak to my favorite Victorian nearly every day. He and his fiery lass are friends, both dear to me, and I rely on both of them for reason and understanding. Both of them willing to put up with all the drama I generate, for the sake of telling me how to return to the path.

And every moment I keep the darkened moon in mind...every time it can happen, we stay in communication, and I listen as much as I speak. And what I hear renews, reclaims, revives....Care and concern, nobility and vigilance, humor and acceptance...I rely on it like water to parched earth, like wine within stone, and slowly, confusion and pain ebb, replaced by strength and resilience.

I will get stronger. I will be better. I can see it, on the horizon.

Hold on, to me.
Say you'll always love me.
Tell me anything you want...
Promise that you will hold on...

But to get to there, to new beginnings and the shoring up of weakened supports, to new restructuring and strengthening of soul...there had to be an ending. And it had to be final. And I was clinging too hard and too long to see I was holding myself back, as much as him.

Does it hurt? Of course it does. I would not have a heart if it did not. Does it make me doubt? Absolutely. Even as I was leaving his House and unmarking his name in my memory, I had profound doubts, doubts that I'd done the exact wrong thing.

And it is one of the hardest things ever to be borne, walking away from chosen family. More than love, more than place, more than relationship, walking away from those who've chosen you, and named you theirs, adopted of their blood...it burns in me, pain that washes forward in waves, ebbing on its own internal tide. Now begins the true grieving, the grieving I thought I'd long since dealt with, the grieving that, when he left me, lasted all of a day....I was wrong.

Now the grieving begins in truth. And if the vampire princeling was anything to go by, it could easily last a month. And it's made harder by the fact that this demon still walks and breathes, and doesn't lie still in cold earth, reduced to memories and bones.

But I will do this. I will grieve for my loss and I will walk on. I will accept the support of my friends and my loves when I need it, and I will not feel ashamed if I need it often.

Because I will.

(Lyrics from Bif Naked's "Hold On")

how can one unpartnered be whole?

Ah, my once-love. We dance and spin and step together, part and sweep away, come back and meet again...and we learn nothing. We know the steps of this dance so well, but we are stuck in pattern.

I speak truths in words you want to deny understanding. You speak to my heart, and wish that it would sway. I tell you of my vow and you want to speak to him that asked me to swear it. And I can do that no more than I could excise my own heart, and walk away from such a wound.



You ask so much, once-love. You ask me to overturn my life, to remake it in ways injurious and damaging. You offer mist and promises, the assurance that you've changed, and not an action I can see or ask for to prove you actually have. You ask me to give you a second chance, to take you back, when it was you who chose to leave.

You ask for everything. And I do not know what you offer in return, that would be worth sundering myself from those I love. Is love from one, pale and fragile, worth losing love from others? Should that ever be part of the equation, for me? Can I do such a thing without losing what you say you love about me in the first place?



It's morbidly amusing at best...I warn those who come near, warn them of the train-wreck of my life, and so many think it's just a vaguely disturbing jest...I do not jest. I mean it in seriousness, that they need to consider what they do, before involving themselves with me...for at times the train is off the tracks, at times it is ablaze, at times it chugs along, gears grinding, metal creaking in distress...and still it rolls on.

And you bring me kerosene for the engine.

::shakes her head::



More than that, I have given in enough times, allowed talk, allowed contemplation, only to have you turn on me and those I love. How is this not just another trap to draw me in, and wound me deeper? And how many of those wounds do you think I will willingly suffer before I turn from you, where none of your pretty words will turn my heart?



And Lilit wanders Dark City, free at last...Oh, there are so many ways that this will not end well...

the tides that had once carried you away, they bring you back today

The darkened moon and I dwell in comprehensible spaces, I rest content knowing I'm loved by my neko lad, I have friends I treasure, and a demon of past acquaintance asking softly for more of my time. The life restores, healing, not damaging, strengthening...

...and today, I hear from the incubus, offering everything he is if I will take him back.

And there is part of me that is having great trouble, for some reason, not agreeing to the potential. Which does not exist, which will mean the breaking of a sworn vow, which will mean loss I cannot even begin to contemplate...

...and yet, the temptation exists. It makes the edges of my soul burn. I literally have no clear idea of what to do.

In the meantime, last night was an impromptu Easter dance in Steelhead. I, of course, showed up as a bunny.



That's me, of course, and just to my right is Finnian Fitzgerald, as a much smaller bunny.



Hotspur O'toole went to Sparta before the dance. This is him in the avatar and clothing packs he found by visiting Sparta at Silverscreen. I'm so proud to have helped bring 300 to Second Life.



Lumina, of course, brought her own lightsource, as usual, and for once it wasn't the lights in her hair. From the left is seen behind and next to her Frequency Picnic, looking very bright herself, Xulltana Lowell, the Gothic Easter Bunny, who brought dire eggs of mayhem to us all, Hotspur in the Spartan cloak, and Miss Christine McAllister, in candy-striped splendor.



Unfortunately, I caught the beginning and the end of the drama about to unfold. Here you can see a general crowd scene of dancers at the Kokopelli Stage in Steelhead. From the left is TotalLunar Eclipse, Tensai Hilra as the Neatherland bunny, Frequency Picnic again with her DiscoSquid, Xulltana the Gothic bunny, Lumina at center floor, Hotspur, Miss Qlippothic Projects, our armored host, myself, and Miss Christine McAllister.

In the foreground, between Tensai and I, can be seen the kind of egg one never wishes for--the olive drab kind, with the removeable pin.

Past this point things became rather chaotic. The grenade near Lunar's feet exploded, lighting him on fire and singeing his hair black. I called for Miss Qlippothic's help to put out the blaze.



She did. *koff, koff*



This is of after the spraying of Lunar with flame-retardant chemicals. From the left myself, dancing, Lunar with the blackened hair, Lumina, and Miss Qlippothic dancing with her fire extinguisher.



Now the brain goes blank...this is the COOLEST bunny seen last night, Frank the Bunny from Donnie Darko...worn by Mr. Gnarlihotep Abel, thank you Kira, for letting me know!



We had great fun. Lunar grew his hair back, Tensai grew an afro, and we saw the dawn in spinning on our heads. Hee! Yay for impromptu dances!

...and I have to make a decision on the incubus, and stick to it...this should be so much easier...

the present is uncertain, the future never lasts

I'm still having problems with my Key, though not as extreme as it has been...I was able to make some (actually most) of Steelhead's Formal dance last night. The theme was fairy tales...so how could I not show up in wings?



It was rather amusing...someone asked me to dance, and because my wee fae is so wee, he was essentially swinging me about in midair. Which was actually fun. Unfortunately, I have no other pictures, as my cam controls became difficult to manipulate...

After that, I battled limbo bravely, and returned some while later, to have my favorite Victorian tell me there was something he wished me to see. I arrived at his location to see a frighteningly tall steampunk automaton...again, I have no pictures, because I immediately scurried behind the gentleman in question!

This was in New Babbage, though, somewhere I'd never been, and he and his friend took me on a short tour. I saw the pub, warm and gear-heavy, the lift, which was phenomenally easy to operate, and of course New Babbage's apparently sole tree...



...and then something of more interest occurred.

Edging carefully past an Air Kraken, we saw...a TARDIS!

Though in New Babbage, it's called, I think, an Etheric Transport Cabinet, the police-box shape was quite familiar to my eyes. Again, I didn't think to capture pictures of the exterior, because said favorite Victorian inquired of the owner if we could come inside. And he said yes!



The control room of the ETC, quite elegantly appointed. That's Professor Oolon Sputnik, scientist and inventor, reading at the side.



A different angle on the control room. Mr. Sputnik on the left, explaining the control panel; Mr. Edward Pearse and I, looking on; and dimly glimpsed behind one of the structural supports, Miss Elda Luna, steampunk and builder of some merit.



*hushed voice* The Eye of Harmony...

Professor Sputnik said it does open, but I backed out of the room, responding politely in the negative. I have enough problems with my broken key flipping me to strange places in and around world...I don't need all the power of the heart of the ETC running through me!



Alas, our stay was short, but full of wonders. We've been invited back any time we wish. I'm humbled and gratified to be so trusted.



And once back out, we saw a dragon. I don't think many of them come to New Babbage...

In other news...of somewhat distressing import...there is an incident that occurred in Lumindor, earlier, that I haven't had the heart, nor the ability, to describe. We'll see how it unfolds. Let it simply be said my shapeshifting abilities have now increased to include gender...and fertility.

I have yet to speak to the warrior maid in question; when last we shared words, she was cursing my name...

we'll plough the briny ocean with the jolly roving tar

((RP mode??))

I don't believe I've spoken of my Key in these pages before. To make a long story short(er), my lost father, a Sidhe-sided tengu illusionist, did his best to teach me his spellcraft before he died. Sadly, I was very young and mostly only remembered such things instinctively.

Upon my arrival from Alaska to the new land called Rivula, I set about crafting a Key to harness temporal energies, energies that were stronger than I could manipulate by myself. This worked excellently well in transporting me from place to place, until...my Key broke. I've been trying for most of this year to find a way to repair it; I'm beginning to think I'm going to have to go back to the original spells, which...didn't exactly work out the way I wanted.

At any rate, the broken Key works much as the whole one did, save it flips me into the grey featureless space of the limbo between lands far too often. So most of tonight's dance I spent floating in greyspace, cursing my fate.

I did get some pictures, though.



My arrival at the new underwater dance space in Steelhead. Of course we have to do this again. From the left, Miss Tombola, recent arrival to our town, DJ Ortega, aka Steelhead's Sheriff, and Darien Mason. In the foreground, of course, me in Delvian blue.



A better look at Mr. Ortega's new console, acquired after seeing Edward's at the Goth Night dance. He has ascertained it is watertight.



Darien discovering new uses for his spacesuit. Guess it worked...save towards the end of the dance, when his oxygen ran out...



The lovely Miss Tombola, pert and pretty in green fins. She brings us swimming costumes when we have water-based events. Lucky us, being a port town and all.



In addition to flipping in and out of limbo, I was suffering some terrifying reality distortions. This was one of the best images I was able to capture, and even so, I'm fairly sure Miss Tensai did not look exactly like this to everyone else. Still, she was another who chose an air hose and a dive helmet over gills...



...or did she? I could swear that's a goldfish swimming inside the helmet...



There are many of us drawn to the Sea Siren forms, who have learned at the feet of Flea Bussy over at Grendel's Children. This is the first time I'd heard Finn heeding the call...and my goodness, didn't his shoulders get broad...



Edward, who also chose the diving suit option. Only this one, he made. He's thinking of increasing the air capacity by means of tanks worn on the back. I'll have to see how that goes.



And Lumina the radiant, who along with Finn, won the dance contest. That's Edward behind her...examining the beadwork?

I'm only sorry I couldn't get more images to transfer through...I kept losing them when I flipped in and out of grey. I have got to get my Key fixed...

someday, something's gotta give

Last night the voice of the darkened moon floated through the ether, while I tried to convince the neko lad I wasn't turning from him, and tried to convince a dark-natured kitsune that I'm out of his reach. Two ways, if I think on it--in the outer world and in Lumindor, my heart is claimed, and at present, I'm still dreading new involvements.

But the neko wished to discuss it further, so off we traipsed to my home in Rivula, grown dusty through long weeks of disuse. We lay side by side and shared our hearts, our doubts, our fears, and what hope we have.

It did not end in tears. That is a good thing. But oh, at times, he makes my heart hurt, as well as my heart sing, and I do not know if that is good at all.

He asked me questions. He asked me questions about how many one person, one me, can love at once. He asked me how those relationships fared, one against the other. He asked me how many of those pairings ended in tears--and he was right in the answer I gave, many were terrors in the making, with endings worthy of Greek tragedies.

He asked me...whether it was worth it to consider monogamy. To consider being only his.

I still don't have a good answer to that.

He told me I erode his happiness, I steal his sanity, and as much as it hurt to ask, I had to--I had to look at him and ask if I'm worth it. Worth such pain. Wouldn't it be better, I said, not breathing, if he found another who could be only his, who valued what he values, who could be everything to him?

He told me he would make the choice of me again, if he had to. He told me if he could go back in time to his younger self, he would tell himself to make the same choice. He told me...he is willing to be mine, and to have me be his as much as I can be, whatever that percentage is.

And he said he loved me. Over and again, he said he loved me. And he asked if I saw any hope at all, in us...in our love...in our choices?

And I said yes. Thin hope, hope so fragile, stretched to a narrow thread....but yes, there is hope. I see hope.

And he rested content in that.

Now I wish I could...

And I spent an hour this morning making another skirt. The waistband is still mystifying me--or maybe, the tucking-in of panels along said waistband--but I'm getting the hang of it. I think I'm getting better...



And one of the full skirt, simply because I posed for it.



Somewhere in there...I think my neko lad asked to move in with me. I have done this exactly twice. And both times it's been a colossal mistake. On the other hand...this was him asking to move in with me, and not the other way round.

Maybe it will make a difference?

I took a sip from my devil's cup

Okay, so what is it?

I don't know. I just...I don't know. I feel...*shrugs*

You gotta be kidding me. All this over your vampire? He ain't comin' back.

No, I...I know that. It's not that.

Then what is it? The incubus? You won't take him back.

*shakes head* It's not that either.

Good gods, then, who? The dog? Your brokenhearted Australian? Hellboy?

No. No. And hell no.

Then what? Make it simple.

*shakes head again* It's complicated.

Everything's complicated for you.

Well, I'm a complicated creature.

So you keep telling yourself.

.....

*rolls her eyes* Okay, pick one thing, then. Just one thing. What's that one thing?

I miss them.

Well, duh. And that's a very stupid reason to put yourself through this.

No, I...that's not...I miss talking to them.

You c'n talk to them anytime. Hells, nobody's off your friendslist. They break your heart, you don't even unfriend them.

Yeah, but...

No 'yeah but'. It's true. So what's really getting under your skin?

...I miss the boy from Lumindor. We're coming up on a week gone.

That's more like it.

Okay, you miss your demon boy. Just remember to keep breathing. And kick his ass when he does show up.

I'll need help for that, I think.

Great. I'm so up for helping...

***

In other news, yesterday was Randomizer Fun Day. This has happened before, but this is where the Lindens, in their wisdom, decide to randomly teleport me various places I didn't request to go. Usually it's some random thing from my landmarks, but yesterday saw me transporting to Sardius Island, where I haven't had a landmark in months, and to various infohubs I would swear I'd never been to before....and here:



Yep. Emilly on box. Large plywood prim box in the middle of a large grassy field surrounded by water. Legend said, Linden Estate Services.

Apparently, the Lindens' idea of Estate Services is to make the beam-in point part of a very large prim box....

(By the way--just a note, though they're terrifyingly simple, overall--everything I'm wearing there? I made. I think I'm getting better at skirt-like things...)

Also? Went dancing last night. True to the nostalgic overdose, I went human, and surprised nearly everyone who saw me. I guess I really haven't been seen as anything approaching normal of late....

....is that a good thing?

it's so out of line to try and turn back time

There's nothing I wouldn't do
To hear your voice again
Sometimes I wanna call you
But I know you won't be there...

Days like this, of soft reflection, somewhat peace after long trial...I think my brain thinks too much. Today it's remembering my lost vampire princeling, and toting up regrets to burn and ache.

They're softer aches, than they were, a gentler burning, if that makes sense...I am over the dream of what was, but I still remember his face.



Some days I feel broke inside but I won't admit
Sometimes I just wanna hide 'cause it's you I miss
And it's so hard to say goodbye
When it comes to this, oooh...

Part of it, of course, is ever and always my fault. I built my world around him, my time and energy devoted. As close as I ever came to being faithful to one man only....was with him. The days we spent as we would, in the wider world, but my nights were his.

I was his.

There's nothing I wouldn't do
To have just one more chance
To look into your eyes
And see you looking back...



It was hard, when he died, unexpected--always, when a vampire is slain, unexpected--but also, shocking. And with it came so many other blows--I had a life with him, I had a home, I had lands I knew and faces I recognized--and all, all blew away like sand over glass, after his death. His clan took back the home we shared and I could not make myself return to the changed landscape.

I went back once, to speak to the leader of his clan, work out something on the house in the hopes he'd be able to return. They're strong mages, that clan of vampires, but...the damage was already done. The house was gone. Strong walls of cold stone they'd thrown up, seemingly overnight, and I stood in the great hall of a dark castle and my heart...shattered.

If I had just one more day
I would tell you how much that I've missed you
Since you've been away
Ooh, it's dangerous
It's so out of line
To try and turn back time...

I went to Sparta, finally, some few days back. I stood among the tapered columns for what felt like hours, just standing, listening to the wind. It held an odd peace, and I can still hear the wind singing through me. Maybe it makes a difference.



I'm sorry for blaming you
For everything I just couldn't do
And I've hurt myself by hurting you...

But maybe it doesn't. Maybe in the end, I'm simply left with the regrets I try not to treasure, and I must learn to adapt around them. I grow so weary of restructuring, every time I must do it...adapting my head to yet another circumstance I allowed to befall me...and it's long past time to stop.

I just need to find the path that lets me, now.

And it's more than past time to learn to let go...

(lyrics from Christina Aguilera's "Hurt")

you can always come back, but you can't come back all the way

((RP MODE))

Long before the monk left last night, I grew tired of hiding. I'd been in the sithen all day, feeling his presence come forward and withdraw, and I had grown profoundly sick of my own weakness. The next time he departed, I made to go, opening the sithen rock and striding forward to my home, to see if he had the courage to face me openly after all that had happened. But I was waylaid in my quest by the odd half-demon in Lumindor who'd taken it upon himself to "save" my Raven lover from himself, when my lover had succumbed to the demonic side of his nature...which was patently inappropriate, no demon is ever "saved"...as I'm learning to my detriment.

Unbeknownst to me, the Court's resident mage of night had come across someone who pervaded the air with magics, and wondered at him....and he had the gall to admit to her what he'd done to me. At that point, the Queen's called hunt came into play, and the chase was on.

She trapped him in ice, rock and snow, all of which he dispelled; she trapped him in a cage of thought, and crushed the walls of it around him; he crawled from that and she dropped meteors on his head. One must be grateful for the small matter of his healing factor, which was news to me, when later I heard. Or perhaps the only wounds that last are wounds dealt by another demon.

Perhaps my wounds to him, will last some time.

She finally brought him to his knees, whimpering, and he surrendered to her...but in the last moments, as she knelt over him to bind him, he spun her away into grey limbo, the temporal space I know so well, and despair of seeing. She managed to shackle him, but not bind his powers, and he, arms behind his back, crept off into the woods.

My demon lover's warrior pet found him, seized him, fought him to a halt--which truly did not take much--and bound his powers with charged straps across his upper arms. She brought him to the sithen, but lost him in a thicket of trees.

At that point, however, I'd returned to the sithen myself, brooding in my demon's quarters, and recklessly, I reached out with my growing powers, pulling the monk through the very sithen rock, binding him in place and letting him hang. I had to leave, and spent some time with the young Hunter, free of complication, for my spirit needed such renewal.

Later, I was contacted by the warrior pet, and summoned back to the room, telling the girl of a charge I'd received from the lady Raven. Her Queen, our Queen, wished the monk to be brought to the Hall of Mortality, for further...exploration. Between us, we half-carried, half-dragged him upstairs, and tied him to one of the impaling spikes.

He taunted us both, tried to seduce the girl, sending that long tongue I well remembered across the floor, o'erconfident of his abilities. I told him I'd cut it off, were it to touch the girl or I. The girl seized on this, and cut the first six inches of his tongue away, presenting it to me as a trophy. I secured it with spell and craft, and hid it away in time, clotted-cream eyes narrowing as I watched him.

Blood poured from his wound, yet still he taunted us. The girl had to rest, and I sent her away, she warning me all the while on touching him....but I had my own plan. After all, the other thing the lady Raven had requested, was that the source of his power...at least, that physical manifestation of it...be removed.

This, I thought, I could now do.

Fear grew in his eyes, and he did all that his changeable body could to protect himself. I pulled my favorite throwing dagger, tapping the hilt against my lips, and set one hand on him, drawing on my growing powers, sending pulse after pulse of sheer, unadulterated pleasure into him. Directly into his heart--or what passes for such--at first, but then...body-wide, making me shudder with the backlash.

He reacted. Of course he reacted. And I neatly bisected the manhood from the man.

I sent that part, as well, to wait in preservation space, and when next he looked at me, his eyes were not tender in the least. Now he bled from twin wounds, shrieking, and I soaked in his screams like sweet wine. I told him, since he'd nigh to cost me all I cared for, mayhap lost me my last chance with my love, I should remove some chances from him.

He scoffed at this and I stepped close once more, sliding one inch of my dagger into his belly, twisting the blade. He gasped, but continued his taunting, and I slid the blade deeper. He nigh passed out from the sudden pain, and I offered him a choice--remain bound to the spike, or be impaled upon it.

He pretended to think, and then shot out his tongue, wrapping it about my throat. And any other day, any other moment, I might have been felled by this, the consciousness squeezed from me....but he forgot I was armed.

I did not.

I slashed at the blunt muscle, writhing in my grasp, until it fell with a wet thunk to the floor and he withdrew the remainder. I picked up the section of tongue, sending it away to wait, and secured him tightly to the post. As I did, he bucked against me, covering the front of me with blood, and bade me drink.

"I trust no gifts from your hands," I said, "now or ever," and turned to leave. He just watched me. I cleaned his blood from my blade, sliding it into its thigh sheath, and opened the door of the Hall. For a moment, I forgot his words, and licked my lips....but, such a small amount of his blood, t'would make no difference, would it? I'd drunk so much before, attempting to fight him off...if there was taint in it, I would have been tainted afore now.

I made my way, breathing hard, to the bathing pool, and thoroughly washed every speck of blood from my skin, my hair, my gown. Then I sought my bed.

This morning, when I rose, I went on a search for items to complete my gift for the Queen of Air and Darkness. My search took me to many odd parts of the world, I'd never gone before. Spell ingredients are so scarce, at times...



I crept carefully by the oddly-noted Death Turkey enclosure...



...entered the wrong tavern, where they threw me on stage to sing...



...and found a lovely place that understood the true decorative value of a jar of eyes.

It took many hours. It took longer still, enchanting what I had to give. But finally, the work was done.



You'll have to forgive me, I'm...not myself, today....

::giggles insanely, dances off into the woods::