Another 50k!

Today, I wrote until I had two and a half pages, then got annoyed that Adir was being so blah today, and wrote someone else until I had gotten through 2k. I took a break to play Star Wars cards with Tom (which I lost, miserably, surprise). I kept writing until my word count hit 50k, then came over to check and see what the Official NaNoWriMo Word Counter sapped out of my count, while another scene was still in my head to write.

AND IT ADDED WORDS!!!!?!?! This has neeeeever happened to me ever. I gained almost 200 words.



So, as usual, I came nowhere NEAR the end of the story itself. Just as well really, as I now have like 473902 other side-stories that need battered into shape. For as much as I meant this year to fill in gaps of the first version... I've added so, so much content. Relationships like whoa. I'm really, really happy, I feel like it adds so much depth, having given the characters more room to spread out a bit and gain some extra dimensions. (We'll just ignore today's bit with Adir - he killed Sadie out of desperation, really, he had to do SOMETHING. bleck.)

As usual, more will be added to the story as time rolls on. Haven't decided if it will go here, or if I'll be a more reasonable person and build a page for the story itself, now that I'm moving so many chapters and things around. If you're interested in the few bits I haven't re-posted here, follow the link on the right to the '07 Amaranthus - the Carey chapter near the end is probably going to be changed to Adir, and maybe be tacked onto the crappy Adir section I just wrote. There will be some more ominous bad things that happen, and then the last chunk posted over there, with Luce and Azal. Things get REALLY bad, and then everything goes to hell. Only sort of literally. <3

21 - Azal

       A tray is brought to me, and the servant pauses for a moment, seeking an empty place to set it down for me. I wave a hand vaguely at her.
       “I am not hungry. You need not find room for it, I do not need it.”
       She continues gazing around, and finds a small table in the corner of the room. Balancing the tray with all the precarious grace of a circus performer, she holds it while lifting the table, and bringing it over nearer to me. She places the table a meter or so from me, near enough that I might reach it, yet not so near that I would accidentally knock it over. She sets the tray upon the table, and gazes at me a moment as she straightens up. I can sense the satisfaction from her, and cannot help but look up and chuckle softly.
       “Do not always flaunt my requests in such a manner, my desert flower. But I appreciate the break in predictability. Thank you, you may go now.”
       A mysterious smile curls over her dark lips, and she walks with silent grace from the room, the misty swathes of fabric draped about her leaving echoes of her motions in the air. I am glad I brought so many of my servants along with me, when returning here. I find the combination of subservience and defiance quite enticing in these girls.
       On seeing the tray, I find that I am indeed somewhat hungry. It is well that I give the servants such autonomy – they are able to anticipate my needs quite thoroughly. I take the mug of spiced tea, letting its heat refresh my face, which feels as though it is coated in fine dust of ancient vellums. There is a warm damp towel on the tray, and I clean the dust from my hands before partaking of the tropical fruits arranged prettily on a plate. I am careful to sit back as I do so, not wishing to let the smallest bit of juice stain the old pages any further. They are so fragile... and I suppose the damp air of this gray city does little to allay this. Such books are best preserved in the dry desert, among the cool tombs of the dead kings who collected them, far from the threat of earth and hungry worms, safely wrapped in fine, clean sands.
       There is not so much as Meres had hoped in these books... and yet there is something. It can be so difficult, to find the truth among the thousand tangles of invented complications. I have this difficulty often, when looking through books on the calling of demons and angels, on the arts that men have now derided as “magic”. There are so many layers of mysticism and self-aggrandizing frivolities, words added merely to make the speaker sound more important, that it is difficult to find the root of the thing, the actual fact that leads to the power intended.
       The Book of Enoch. That is the one we need, I think. It seems to exist in a few fragments, but the translations are poor. I have read one translation, but it was missing large portions, and I could tell that much of it was born of sheer imagination. I suspect much of the original meaning was lost, when translated from one language to another to another, and the version I have read was obviously poorly done. I have sent word to Meres, to see if we might find an Ethiopic script – though I am wary of even that one, for though it is the only version to survive intact all these centuries... there are always errors made over time, a scribe neglects a letter here, and “low” becomes “lo”, and an accent lost changes entire meanings. And those are only the unintended changes! Doctrine demands alterations of its own, and for a book to become a part of the church's canon, there are always certain requirements made of it. Oh, mankind, you have so little respect for the written word! We should never have granted you such power, had we known what poor use you would make of it... You make thousands of copies of frivolous romances, of poems that praise a pastoral past that never was, thousands of works of fiction, that none care to read even a decade later. And you let such important fragments fall away... Those few short lines in your Bible, that is all that is left of us, of our children.
       Almost all that is left, anyway. I have made copies of the other references – and though it is in a hand and a language that no man now recalls, it is one that I can read, and hold on to.
       For oh... though I have forgotten names, I have not entirely forgotten the faces, the embraces...

       “Azal? Oh--- I did not mean to startle you, I ought to have knocked.”
       “Meres.” I look up, and paint a warm smile over my sorrowful face. “It is no trouble, I was merely lost in thought a moment. Have you anything to add to my piles?”
       He chuckles quietly, and pulls two slim volumes from under his jacket, setting them on the table. “Of course. But I'm afraid I must take a few in exchange – Mark will notice them missing soon, for he mentioned last night the direction his studies were headed, and I suspect he will need these.” He browses carefully through the piles of old books that cover the table, and selects three of them. He holds them up to view, and I nod in acknowledgement.
       “I have finished with those, and made what notes I needed. Does the man really keep this number of rare books in his study? It is quite a collection, Meres, and I must admit to being more than a little jealous!”
       “Oh, not all of these are Mark's... Many are borrowed from the seminary, and other church resources. He draws on quite a network of libraries in the course of his research. And a few... well, I may have made visits to a few other places as well,” he finishes with a wink.
       “I will ask no other questions – but if you find that there are any that will not be too terribly missed, particularly from theses other places, well... My library certainly has room to accommodate them. And I must say, I would likely take far better care of such treasures!” I gesture sorrowfully at a book whose pages are crumbling at the edges, its binding cracked, the glue lying as dust down the center of the open pages.
       “I will return no more books than I find absolute need to, my dear,” Meres replies with a chuckle, leaning over my shoulder to kiss my cheek lightly. “It is only fair, as you have spent so much time shut up in this room.”
       “I hardly mind! It helps me better ignore the bleakness of the weather here.”
       “Will you return to the deserts soon, then? The dreariness will take a turn for the worse soon, with winter approaching.”
       “Oh, I suppose I shall... I had not really thought of it yet. I do find that I have missed your company. Can I not coerce some of you to visit more often?”
       Meres smiles at this, and seems to be extraordinarily pleased by the suggestion. “I had thought of this just the other day. Do you not think the warmth would help Veri? And I should love to escape the dim gray months of winter here, and flee to a place of more vivid colors.”
       “If you believe he could be troubled to make the journey, I do think it might help him. The warm languor of those more temperate climes seem to ease many pains.” I lean back in my chair, and let my eyes close, my head falling back against Meres for a moment. He sighs thoughtfully, and strokes my hair a long moment. I know he is thinking of my recent trouble – but he worries about others far too much.
       I open my eyes and adjust my seat, pulling another book toward me. “Do continue looking for that Ethiopic version? Translations are always so poorly done, the rhythm of the names is all wrong.”
       Meres pauses a moment, then takes a step toward the door. “I will. You are alright here alone? You will let me know if I might be of any other help.”
       “Of course, my dear.” I look up, and force another smile. He smiles in return, and bows his head slightly before exiting.

20 - Adir

       I wonder if it is morning? There are no windows, but the atmosphere has that weary, chilled feeling of another day dawning. I should have gone long ago, this party has brought me nothing... but, where better could I be? Best to remain among my own... I should never have thought Sadie could be enough for me. I... there is no reason that she ought to have been so upset, to have... I am deserving of so much more than she could ever have offered! I will remain here, among my own, indulging every whim, and I will not think of her. I will not! She is not worth my effort. None of them are. I am above them all.
       ...so why, then, is my heart still in a knot, unable to beat, without her near me? without knowing she will answer when I call? There is nothing she offered me that I cannot find here, and yet... and yet...
       Sighing heavily, I pull my frame from the divan, leaning wearily against the cushioned back. My eyes are dull with wine-induced sleep, and sleep brings me little refreshment even on better nights. This night should have... it was, it was lovely, the women were so engaging and eager, my blood thrilled at such wild displays. Captured in the music, blood subsumed by wine, there was such a feral pleasure in all of our bodies... My eyes still refuse to focus, but I slide the vine-wrapped limbs of a woman away from my side, and slide carefully away from a sleeping young man. I should have returned to my apartments hours ago... I should not have remained while the party tired around me, motions made sluggish in exhaustion, spirits weighed down by the first breaths of regret.
       Regret. An odd thing. Why fret over things that Time has walked on by? There is nothing that can be done about them now. They are only experiences, they were only the motions of a body, the dying waves in air made by speech, all is fleeting and leaves no real trace behind. I lift a half-full glass of wine from the floor at my feet, take a long sip, letting the tart liquid ease the cloying dryness of my long-empty mouth. I stand, and stretch, my muscles feeling so tired and heavy. I gather the remainder of my clothing, pulling it on thoughtlessly, annoyed by the sticky feeling of fabric that is no longer fresh. There is motion still in the room, though whether it is from persons who are waking or those who have not yet slept, I do not know, nor care. I am bored with this place. Mephisto had a lovely arrangement for the music, and it was sufficient for a short evening, but he really failed to think through the entire event. Were the wine not so good as it was, we should have found ourselves bored far sooner...
       It takes several minutes to exit the room, for the floor is covered in flesh and discarded fabric, emptied goblets and their spilled contents, trailing grape vines and a few neglected instruments. The hallway beyond is empty, though I can hear voices in low conversation in several of the rooms that I pass as I walk along toward the exit. I have nearly found my way out – the hallways intersect in strange ways, and I may have made a few incorrect turnings – when I find someone else walking the hall.
       “Adir? Are you leaving? Splendid.” Turning around, Carey takes my arm, and falls into step beside me. “Have you any destination in mind? This party lost its energies hours ago, though being otherwise occupied in another room, I hadn't noticed until now. The club? We might have a drink, and discuss the latest news?”
       “Mmm. If you wish – I have little preference.”
       Carey looks into my face curiously, not used to hearing such flatness in my tone. But I have no energy to concern myself with his assumptions. If he wishes to talk, I will listen, and perhaps the distraction will settle my restless mind.

       It is rainy and dull outdoors, and the hour is far too early to be about. Businessmen stride with determined paces and stony faces. Servant women huddle under drab and faded shawls, oversized baskets empty as they make the morning rounds of shopping. I lean my forehead against the glass of the carriage window, gazing dully out, letting the coolness of the glass slow the whirling thoughts screaming of nothing in my head. Carey chatters on – I do not bother to reply, and I am sure he is aware I am not listening. But he continues on, perhaps knowing that I find the low hum of his voice soothing, perhaps only wishing to hear himself speak.
       “Jocelyn is in town again, did you see her last night? Perhaps not, for she was not in the main room for long, retreating to an atrium where she could more properly hold court. She is more imperious than ever, I think Paris is turning her into something of a snob, even among our sort. She hardly spoke to me at all. She seemed thrilled to have seen Luce, yet I know he has little affection for her shallow manipulations. She was entirely disgusted by Claude, but I don't know anyone who wasn't last night, he was so awfully drunk! It is one thing to release a little control to the alcohol of course, quite liberating and relaxing, but he retained no trace at all of propriety. Such a child. It was embarrassing to even look at him. If only Meres had not left so quickly, perhaps he could have kept the boy a little more in line.”
       None of this is news to me. Why must he repeat things which are so obvious to all? Now I suppose he is going to discuss the conflict between Meres and Veri.
       “I am still surprised that Veri showed up only after Meres left – so strange, the distance between them of late, don't you think?”
       I sigh heavily, shifting in my seat, turning a little more toward the window. There is nothing out there in the gray streets to hold my attention, yet it seems more appealing just now than Carey's useless babbling. But there--- He has put a hand on my knee, and fallen silent. I let him wait a painful moment, before I turn my head to look at him.
       Oh for the love of--- He looks concerned! I do not have the energy for this today. “Carey, I'm afraid I am more tired than I thought. You must excuse my rudeness, but I have little energy for gossip so early in the day. Enjoy yourself at the club, but I will continue on home. I feel I should rest.”
       “Then I will accompany you there! We might sit in the library with the shades drawn and---”
       “Carey. Please.”
       The air in the carriage becomes chilly, and I will not meet his eyes again. There is a heavy silence, and after some small eternity, the carriage comes to a stop. A moment's hesitation, then the door opens, another moment, then it closes.
       The carriage slowly rolls back into motion, and I fall back across the seat, sprawling my length upon it. I am so weary... there are no thoughts in my mind, and yet it will not be silent. I need some stronger distraction... but what?
       Oh, Sadie... why did you have to slight me so? Why refuse to open your door, why keep silent against my pleas? Why keep silent, only to break into meaningless screams, making insane demands of me? Sadie, I had thought of nothing but you while you were gone, and when you returned, I wanted only to be with you... What difference should a few hours make? I was there soon enough. My life is so long... hours are of no consequence, even to your short score of years of life. Why should you have believed the tittering gossip and whispered words of jealous old women, when I lied so prettily to you?
       Sadie, I would have lavished such wonders upon you, Sadie, I was so desperate to lie in your arms, I would have forsaken all others for weeks, would you only have let me stay in yours...
       Sadie, I asked no forgiveness, only forgetfulness, could you not have granted it? Why did you let me in, only to bar all entrance to your companionship? Sadie, I could have given you... but you forbade me any slight thing I asked, and Sadie, oh Sadie, why did you treat me so rashly? Sadie, you know I have no patience for such belligerence, I have been patient so often, but not when so desperately in need of your solace... You know I am stronger, more powerful than you could ever hope, did you not think I would take what I needed, if you would not give it? Oh, Sadie, Sadie, my love and my desire, the siren who could soothe all my heart's heavy troubles, the enchantress whose embrace made all memory disappear... how could you threaten to take yourself from me? You knew I could not stand to see you with another. Sadie... a few short hours late, and so much changed. You should not have threatened me so, you should not have let his name pass over your deep lips. I could not hear another's name from you. I could not. You must have understood that, Sadie, you knew I could not hear that from you...
       And so, if you would give me silence, I would make certain you could not give more to another. If you would deny me your sweet embrace, I would not allow another to have it. If you would keep from me the absolution your presence brings... I could not let another bask in that warm comfort.
       Sadie, my beloved, if you would take yourself from me, I would not let the world secret you away for itself. None could be more worthy of you than me, and so...
       And so, if I could not have you, none other would, and so... and so you are now lost to us all.