Just shewed the books, in piles like twisted trees, And then he is awake. Truly awake, not dreaming he is awake. Rotting from floor to roof - congeries And the reason is so very, very, very easy to see. It looms in the darkness, with red stars for eyes. And is doing something which is a distant relative to a smile. Of crumbling elder lore at little cost.
*Will sits up sharply, eyes wide, with a mostly-stifled gasp.*
*And then his face goes blank and neutral, with an effort, and his hands do not fist in the bedclothes only because he is sitting very, very still and controlled.*
I entered, charmed, and from a cobwebbed heap Took up the nearest tome and thumbed it through, "Not so safe as you thought, Will Stanton. Nor those you hold dear. You think to find a way to cage me, I know." Trembling at curious words that seemed to keep Some secret, monstrous if one only knew. He holds out a clawed, and light-drinking hand. Not even the burning of his eyes reflects on the dead-black skin. Within it are his brothers, his family, Jane Drew and Bran. Then, looking for some seller old in craft, "And tell me, Old One. How long do you think they will last in my loving care?" I could find nothing but a voice that laughed.
*His voice is quiet, and does not shake because he will not let it.*
Or as long as you wanted them to.
*He takes a deep breath.*
Why are you telling me this?
*There is no challenge in his voice, no anger. Will is not stupid. The real question below it is an honest one -- is this only to mess with my mind, or are you using them as a bargaining chip for something?*
I held the book beneath my coat, at pains He closes his hand on the small figures, crushing them with tiny, audible sounds. Like the small, hollow bones of a bird in a cat's mouth. To hide the thing from sight in such a place; Then he opens the hand, and allows the dust that was the figures of his family and friends to slide into a pile on the floor. Hurrying through the ancient harbor lanes "Because you were among those who caged me last time." With often-turning head and nervous pace.
No one had seen me take the thing - but still And then he is gone, back to wherever it is Dream is when not in the waking world. A blank laugh echoed in my whirling head,
no subject
Date: 2005-01-31 04:43 am (UTC)And then he is awake. Truly awake, not dreaming he is awake.
Rotting from floor to roof - congeries
And the reason is so very, very, very easy to see. It looms in the darkness, with red stars for eyes. And is doing something which is a distant relative to a smile.
Of crumbling elder lore at little cost.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-31 04:49 am (UTC)*And then his face goes blank and neutral, with an effort, and his hands do not fist in the bedclothes only because he is sitting very, very still and controlled.*
no subject
Date: 2005-01-31 04:53 am (UTC)Took up the nearest tome and thumbed it through,
"Not so safe as you thought, Will Stanton. Nor those you hold dear. You think to find a way to cage me, I know."
Trembling at curious words that seemed to keep
Some secret, monstrous if one only knew.
He holds out a clawed, and light-drinking hand. Not even the burning of his eyes reflects on the dead-black skin. Within it are his brothers, his family, Jane Drew and Bran.
Then, looking for some seller old in craft,
"And tell me, Old One. How long do you think they will last in my loving care?"
I could find nothing but a voice that laughed.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-31 05:01 am (UTC)Not long. I know.
*His voice is quiet, and does not shake because he will not let it.*
Or as long as you wanted them to.
*He takes a deep breath.*
Why are you telling me this?
*There is no challenge in his voice, no anger. Will is not stupid. The real question below it is an honest one -- is this only to mess with my mind, or are you using them as a bargaining chip for something?*
no subject
Date: 2005-01-31 05:05 am (UTC)He closes his hand on the small figures, crushing them with tiny, audible sounds. Like the small, hollow bones of a bird in a cat's mouth.
To hide the thing from sight in such a place;
Then he opens the hand, and allows the dust that was the figures of his family and friends to slide into a pile on the floor.
Hurrying through the ancient harbor lanes
"Because you were among those who caged me last time."
With often-turning head and nervous pace.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-31 05:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-31 05:27 am (UTC)And then he is gone, back to wherever it is Dream is when not in the waking world.
A blank laugh echoed in my whirling head,
no subject
Date: 2005-01-31 05:33 am (UTC)*It is a very long time before he lies back down, and longer before he can sleep. When he finally does, his dreams are uneasy.*