Things go boom.

Between land and leylines, it chases me. I fear it, but I also desire it. It's a freedom I've known before, that led down a dark path of inner death and resurrection. I have known this path before many times and it seeks me out again in flesh and vengeance.

Sometimes I do not run when the darkness is nearby, and I can't remember whether I left, or was taken. Does it matter? My actions merely are, despite my intentions, so doesn't one make the other vanity? What is represented is not merely a donor of genetic life, a former host, but freedom! Then I remember the chill silence. The loneliness and depravity, always watching, too cowardly to act. I remember an ancient house of horrors, and the last children of my house destroyed by my own apathy.

I run.

Considering the circumstances, I begin to see why I was a wise choice. I have been sent no aid, only marked to journey awhile until I have aligned myself. This, too, will all be forgotten when I return, but ideas do not die, they only grow and branch further.

In what is barely a thought, I relive this each time I cross the lines. It is fleeting now and holds less power. I remember what I could become, a calloused creature hidden from what is mortal, and physical, and pain-- and I reject it. There is nothing else to do now, now that it's already begun.

Across the leylines, shards and echoes whisper to me. Like a living thing, the lines ensnare those that wish to become a part of its power. They don't understand what it is to be everything and nothing, to become one with something so grandiose that all vision of your shell falls away, and you desire it no more...

As always, I must come back. The tangible is physically nauseating. I have to eat.

Everything smells and tastes exotic and strange, my skin feels tight over my bones, and the duality of it all returns. Less and less each time, now so fast that I barely remember to note it at all. It's easier that way; easier than it pulling at me like grief for something not yet dead.

How much power would you give up some of yourself for? Would you let the vultures swarm you for a day in exchange for a year as king? Would anyone? I understand the crimes of my family now more than ever. What an abomination they have placed before all eyes, what terrors they have inflicted upon themselves, and all for this, an identity lost among the screams of those who chose the vultures.

I can not be bitter. I am the balance, forged with care and unity and the blood and tears of my guardians.

Still, the world is set upon wagers, and I have gambled away all I have for this. I can not help but be resentful of my own bitterness, my own ingratitude.

The fusion is not perfect, but that is the beauty, I suppose. It never can be and it never shall be.

I pray. I pray every night like I've never prayed in my life. I do everything but beg, because this path is set, and I have chosen it many times over, whether I have known it or not.

My footfalls don't make a sound to his side and I listen to the steady breathing. All can not be set in this world, lest I would never have all that has been given to me. The lines and their echoes are not allowed in this darkness. This room is sacred. That world falls away from me like the shadow of a passing nightmare, and in his half-asleep state, I pull his arm around me. He embraces me and murmurs something lost to slumber.

I dream of stars and a new dawn.

Probably NSFW

The wind was strong. That's why Therese had decided to do it, to carry all the laundry out to the yard despite the drizzle. It was Casey's turn, really, but she was sweating out a fever in bed, and it wasn't like Casey had ever really done it when it was her turn. It took Therese four tries to get Genie to start his homework, but he finally was.

The laundry was almost dry and the rain had stopped, and Therese was digging through the wood pile. The flask was still buried right where she left it, and she stepped behind the flapping sheets, sat down and took a swig. Mama was away in Wilmington with that guy, with Bobby or Billy or Benny or something else stupid like that. He refused to come to the house anymore, he said there was something wrong with them, "wrong with the damn kids", and Therese had smiled as she listened to all of it.

( And then, too... )

Yammering to myself so I can actually remember it later. Oy.

( Brainstorming )

Sometimes in the middle of the night is when it's the hardest.

She'll be dead asleep and then something-- something-- she never knows what it is that wakes her and makes her crave.

She does the only thing she knows how to do. After a while it's routine and her brain is somewhere else. She can organize everything in a way that makes sense. The past two years have been hard to swallow. She's managing better than ever, but sometimes in the middle of the night it grabs her. Like cold hands. And then it shakes her and shakes her, and all her thoughts about it flush around like glitter in a snowglobe. Learning to put your head on right doesn't make that any easier.

She had this crazy thought back when she was still Stupid that maybe she'd feel better if she watched Caleb suffer a little bit instead of being an arrogant ass. She had another crazy idea that ignoring her problems would make them magically disappear. She had another even crazier idea that she'd never be happy because she hadn't much earned it, and since it was already a done deed why risk your neck for Joe Schmo over there?

A lot of really, really stupid ideas. Sometimes it just takes her a moment to remember that again.

You will probably not see much of me tonight, tomorrow or sunday.

The bunny I've had nearly a decade dropped dead tonight, and I wasn't even at home to see it. I get to look forward to explaining "bunny-bun"s death to my toddler before the weekend is up.

So I'm going to go get drunk and I will see all of you wonderful people when I'm not tempted to thunk my head against a wall.

Whoa.

My girl Alicja has hopped her way into a US film. And it's got Kevin Kline in it.

I can not adequately describe how happy I am about this. MORE ICONS!

Also? I'm beginning to eye my characters a little funny.

Alicja as a dark brunette.
Keira as a blonde.

...Not much different. Kinda scary.

I now have 102 icons for Corrine, and originally only had 32. So now of course I have to fill that empty space. Here's what I did yesterday and today. ( Icons! )

Warning: Very nasty stuff. Not for the weak of heart. The pup kicked me out of a sound sleep for this, and it's not pretty. You've been warned.

Corrine darts up the stairs to the second-level apartment, clutching the bags to her chest as she makes it in the front door and slams it behind her. "Cops are everywhere, Greg..." she mutters, making her way through the one-bedroom apartment to the kitchenette area.

She drops the bags onto the table, turning towards her boyfriend's back and the television. "Greg? Greg?" She approaches, putting a hand on his shoulder. He moans and slouches a bit, before sitting up to acknowledge her presence.

There's the stench of rum on him, and the box is sitting on the table, open. He's been hitting the angel dust again, but she doesn't know how long ago.

( The whiskey isn't working anymore )

The red, green and yellow glow of the stop lights glare against the blacktop of the road. Paired with the other lights of the city, everything has a flourescent flush to it this night. There are people out on the streets, some sitting out on their steps conversing, others enjoying a feignly veiled bottle of alcohol, yet more people smoking. At the end of a block, two teenage girls are dancing to the sounds of an iPod hooked into stereo speakers sitting on the top step.

Corrine smiles at them and they smile back, and she does a little hop-skip as she passes them, momentarily letting her feet get away from her. Dancing comes so naturally to her, it's almost going against instinct to not dance along when she hears music. Beside her, Caleb smiles, raising a brow quizzically. "You're very... whimsical, I believe the word would be," he comments, pausing at the corner as he waits for the light to change. "It reminds me of my sister."

( In Dreams... )

Fair warning: very, very nasty stuff. It made me twitch to write it, but my brain wasn't going to let me sleep without writing it up. Also? This thing turned into a short fic somewhere along the way. Dunno how.

The house isn't as she left it. Corrine knows this much as she pulls up the driveway, stained with dark, frozen puddles in the early morning light. She's missed the way the sun comes up from the east and shines right into the windows of the house, illuminating the front yard in a breathtaking light.

Something's different today, though. She can see shadows moving inside the windows against the rays of sunlight. The axe isn't hanging in the barn where she always leaves it, it's in the ground next to the wood pile. There seems to be something in the yard, something black and moving around in the back corner closest to the barn. The back screen door is hanging open, there's glass on the roof of the porch, the curtains blowing inwards from the broken window.

She brings the car to a stop, climbing out slowly and examining the house. She leaves her bag on the passenger seat, the keys in the ignition and the driver's side door open. Caleb had once said during one of their training sessions, "In every situation, there are two options. Fight or flight. There are no others."

( Inside Alice's Wonderland... )