Reading: The Whole Five Feet: What Great Books Taught Me about Life, Death, and Pretty Much Everything Else. A young man's desparate task to read all the volumes of the Harvard Classics. The good oldies like Don Quixote, Plato, and Milton. Bacon, Franklin, Penn, Woolman, etc. A memoir about the arduous but rewarding task of reading all those stuffy books meant for cigar smoking elitist armchair figures. No vampires, that is unless they appear in the Grimm's Tales. No zombies, that is unless you can try to see Hamlet as a blood fest that it is with a zombie like cast.
Watching: The Nines. It is bizarre. It blows your mind. You think.... "Huh." Best word to describe how you feel after watching it: quizzical. Imagining a world just like our own but not our own. Great movie, but I'd only recommend it for those looking to think. This is not a mindless adventure/thriller/comedy. Could we be creators of a virtual world? Could someone create our world and we are just virtual beings? Could someone who created us be addicted to us, our world, and the drama within it like so many are addicted to role playing games like the Sims?
Listening: Regina Spektor and her cd Far. There is a song of hers that encapsulates the whole feeling of The Nines actually. After seeing the movie the song made sense. She is also a light hearted, fun, philosophical music master.
Looking at: Recycled art. Houses built from scrap, garbage, recyclables, bottles, picture frames, and nature.
Being? A connoisseur of beer and all things brewed. I will have more news on what I drank soon...
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Drove off into the sunset
As she rode in the front seat, the girl, the beef bag, and Gracie sat in the back. Unfortunately, Ryla knew the beef bag's name and asked him a silly even inane question she knew the answer to already. "Are you willing to give up this rogue business, rehabilitate and be put on probation? One time offer. It comes from on high. Lacy herself pronounced it. I am the only person who can offer it. It is not absolution. It is hard work. A century probationary period. I am also not going to give you time to think about it or ask twice. Now or never."
Ryla's obvious skepticism and cynical tone practically showed on her face, but she was beyond emotions at the moment. This was business. This was war. She had a script she recited and tat was that. She wasn't going to go soft for just anyone who may trick her, bait her, or betray her. She would know if they were lying. She had the ability to feel the electricity that charged each muse. Electricity is the only way to think of it. If she were into mysticism, she may consider it an aura. But, to her surprise, there actually were electrons whiring around each muse. A transfer of those electrons is essentially what a muse does. A good muse infuses. A bad muse defuses. In between, she had been struck by a blast of lightning from her love Dan and ever since could feel the field of force and the pulls of energies. Not life forces, they could not kill. They could certainly tip the scales though. She felt him. She felt Yosef tingling with a chrystalline edge. She wouldn't reveal that part because only four people knew. Herself, Dan, Gracie, and Lacy. She was like Death for the muse race. A mythic figure. Yosef would hardly be missed as a rogue. People would whisper. The real trouble is when a rogue is not entirely off the gird. When a rogue goes rogue they become lone wolves like their past forms millennia ago. They stay off the grid, they stay within hunting range, and they mistrust anyone. However, mistrust does not mean they don't want power. They can align with a guild as a free lance contracted spy. They drain to keep the powerful guilds and their respectively powerful charges busy in the business of interguild rivalry. They were small victories and always resulted with the rogue either caught without trace of guild ties or they are give higher ranks closer to the guilds. Not all guilds refolded the rogue back into their society as it was taboo. But a black market, a criminal circuit, and rogue syndicate are just names of the game learned from humans.
The girl was protected for now, because Yosef had been encased by magic not known to him. Dan had given each Gracie and Ryla the means to switch off all pull and push of power. The girl was healing. She was repairing. She absolutely glowed at her core and Yosef and Gracie knew it. Yosef didn't know Ryla could practically taste it. The girl could easily have been shrouded with Ryla's gift from Dan and kidnapped. That would defeat the purpose of the rouse altogether. The girl wouldn't have made her decision offered in Ryla's ultimatum and would have sought out the drain of a rogue. Yes, she had to be rehabilitated. Her energies would recover over night with a powerful healing muse at the facility they were headed to. Then she would learn what she is and what she means to the muse war on rogues. She would be invited to fight with them or... well there were no other options except house arrest.
Yosef chuckled, "Why do I get the feeling you think I'll deny you?" Ryla did not move or even show she had a reaction. "I'll take your offer. And I'll tell you who sent me. I want in again, half a century. Fine, I'll earn it, but I'll bargain."
"I don't bargain. If you want the deal take it. If not we'll neuter you." She smiled evilly because she knew he'd fold. He didn't know, neither did most of the muse community, that is was possible to give them an existence without their abilities. Being shunned, hunted, and raped of power themselves was the extent of punishment for hunting human charges.
"Neuter? Yeah, right. I'm scared of you? A little human? Let me speak to Lacy now. She'll hear my offer and beg me to tell her. I'll win this at the very least."
"Ha Yosef, nice to see you." Lacy startled him from the back seat appearing from the very air without a whisper. While the muse felt a human energy like it were a frosting on a cake, thick and delicious, they couldn't precieve shifts in the electricity in the air like Ryla and Dan could. Well, and Lacy too, but that is because Dan gave it to her like he did to Ryla. The two women where the only people to know his real form. Not even Gracie knew any better.
"Holy shit!" The large man jumped but recovered his composure quickly. " So? What will you give me to know who sent me?"
"Nothing. Maybe a kick to the head, but I'm tired. Long day." She blew out her breathe showing disinterest and checking her nails without making eye contact. Ryla knew she was mimicking a human behavior because a hangnail would never ever happen to Lacy's perfect figure. So the gesture was even more dismissive. "I'm beyond whom. I know my allies, but I don't trust them. Ryla, show him."
Ryla turned to him for the first time. She reached a hand out passively, almost flirtateously. She looked innocent and calm. She exuded love and that tough edge she always held as a recovering addict, a mark of her recovery and training. He reached out to touch her without thinking. She zinged the very power he had stolen from the girl and lapped it up like a dog on a summer day. She felt exhilirated and knew if she could, she would glitter. He took in a sharp breathe and cursed.
"What are you?" he demanded.
"An ammalgomation. An accident. Fate. Your God. I don't know. Pick one. I can make or break you though and I will if need be. Reform your ways Yosef Aiel." It wasn't a suggestion, it was a demand. "Or I can show you the other gifts the world has given me if you like. They are fun, yet sadistic." She feigned excitement and silliness as she tapped the tips of her fingers together in a sterotypical evil pose. "Like a roller coaster ride. Only you are left barely alive at the end." She was being flashy and sadistic with her power and the threat of her capabilities, an enthusiasm that she faked and it showed.
"Do it again." He begged under his breath looking either on the verge of attack or pining. He panted like a dog hanging his head low in a sickly fashion suggesting starvation and thirst that could kill him or make him kill. Ryla screwed her nose up at the suggestion. He enjoyed it. No one enjoyed it.
"Ahhhh no, no, no, no, no. Lace?" She was losing composure as the bald headed Yosef had creeped her out with a response no one ever had to her ability to steal the electric charge. "I don't do fantasies Yosef. I can save you from yourself though." The last part, though she hated it, was more tender than she meant it to sound.
"Your path spells self annhilation, you just don't know it yet. A time is coming when your kind is given an option much harsher than the one before you. Don't ask me how I know. I know what the future holds much like you do. You know the ball is rolling and you know the clock is ticking."
"The last time I saw anything ahead of me with centuries ago. Nothing changes that much. You are bluffing. It will be as it has always been. An end is not near, but if you think so, prove it. How could you though? Oh yeah, you are human with the freaking power Azella has. Another freaking human bitch-"
"The who? Who has what?" Ryla stammered fully losing her outter appearance of death angel. "Lacy?" She looked to her muse with an asking look.
Lacy's posture alerted Ryla that no one in this car knew what he was talking about. That is except him. He didn't know that yet and didn't see Lacy's look. Lacy pretended to know, though her lack of knowledge, any knowledge needed to be a card she carefully guarded.
"Ryla, there are things I just don't tell you. Why would I reveal something so impossible to you? I would have far too many questions and honey, you are too far down on the food chain to get answers. But now that the cat's out of the bag..."
Ryla's face pinched with worry and confusion, which was convincing enough for Yosef who thought better than to turn back and look at Lacy. Gracie wasn't even listening as he texted away on his mobile device to some unknown cutie Ryla would surely hear about later. The girl was entranced by the entire display.
Without looking up Gracie said, "Azella is the pet to the Maldrid coven of the Essex Guild. She was nothing like Ryla to begin with. She was an oracle they brought back. She's out of her time. She is also very very old. She's easily nearly a hundred and bed ridden. Her usefulness was a powerful tool, that is until she fell into a coma. Not so useful as a vegetable anymore." He never looked up.
Lacy and Ryla were stunned and without words, but their faces lacked the shock that Gracie would know such as thing as so many of the guilds were heavily locked down and non communicato. The Essex guild is run on the east coast in all of New England. The covens assembled therein were not official, they were the black market communities of rogues and muses bound to the power. They were vicious and they cared little for the human. But they were not entirely in violation of any muse rules.
"She wasn't always old and she wasn't always in a coma. I knew her at her peak. Oh the things I could tell you." He was catching on to the gem of information he held despite Gracie's knowledge of who Azella was. "Let me in, 50 years probation, and I'm your man. Truly reformed and all," he said with puppy dog eyes. The attitude wasn't fitting for a giant muscle man bound for some truck stop or bike rally instead of the middle seat of a mini van. The driver of the mini-van was a shuttle service Ryla used often. The driver was deaf and asked very little of her. She paid well, he turned his hearing devices off. Though he wouldn't hear the muse end of the conversation, he'd most likely think she was speaking to her tag. The tag being the girl she snagged for rehab and the driver's knowledge ended there.
Ryla knew Lacy couldn't lose face in front of Yosef so she threw herself down on the gauntlet.
"If I take your terms, I have some of my own. You will follow my lead at all times as I will train you personally. You will answer to myself, Lacy, and Dan, who you'll meet later. You are a flunkie for the next 50 years."
"You won't last that long human, so what then? You don't have the strength to overcome me." But his last words were strangled from him as he doubled over and the air is sucked from his lungs and his fists grasped his stomach. The exhalation of power surged from him to Ryla.
"Oh, and not only will I personally train you and keep you under a close watch, you will disclose all and any knowledge of your past guild experiences, forays, or stints. You will have an apartment in my complex, so don't cry yet. You will do body guard service in your time as a time bound creature to make a human wage to pay for your way and to support our cause. You will commit to our guild in full. And listen to me when I say I will destroy you if you cross me, us, or our guild." Ryla was serious beyond her years with the knowledge of the heart ache ahead. "I know what is to come. I foresee you as a useful player."
"Again," he gasped. "How would you know anything about what's to come if you are stuck to time like I am?" His question was valid but one that Ryla couldn't explain to most and wouldn't dare for many. She had to trust him and that just wasn't going to happen soon.
"Short version. I'm not entirely a human woman as you would believe me to be. I have history, experience, and gifts that make me a special weapon or a special tool for fixing the challenges that are racing straight for us like a speeding train. I am, like I said, your god. I can make or break you, so how would it surprise you or make you feel any better to know more than that. I can see the future because I say I can. And rule number one is don't ever question me. I will reveal what is necessary. The other options include stripping you of your energy for good or feeding you to the wolves we both know other guilds are."
"You aren't just black mailing me and threatening me. No. I see what is going on." He was a happy person for such a miserable looking figure. His abuse from Ryla seemed to make him glow with anticipation and her offer was not yet refused. Though confused, Ryla knew he'd accept if only to pursue what seemed to be his weird masochistic fetish. She could also see it in his energy and even a bit in his eyes he was weary from the lonely prowl of a predator. Thing were escalating and aligning with a power guild meant he would be protected. His energy felt desparate and even a little sad. He was lonely. Being a social pariah is tough.
"You are offering me a position. You are actually recruiting." Bursting forth with laughter at the look of consternation on Ryla's face, Yosef was smarting than he looked. Damn. Sure she'd always planned there to be a heist or a capture of the rogue as a tactic to startle and scare them into submission. No one ever guessed she'd been filling her ranks of an army of ex-rogues with rehabilitation, an education, and a chance to start new. Like she said, she foresaw his usefulness and he was a key player for her side. Seeing as the future was never set in stone, which would make sense considering Ryla and Lacy had teamed up to prevent every possible terrifying future scenario from materializing, than she may be wrong about Yosef.
The car slowed to a crawl, and the scowl that drilled into Yosef only made him smile more. In fact he was wriggling with fits of laughter. Lacy was rolling her eyes. Gracie's eyes never left his texting. The girl, whose name was incidentally Ally, was checked out. Ryla's job wasn't over yet. She was a girl going into withdrawl very soon and lots of plans to enact for her as well.
"And you?" Ryla asked the girl. She was stupefied and beyond responding to the situation in front of her. If she were anything like Ryla, she'd have a nervous break down and be admitted be to a mental health institution by night fall. Ryla's first go with the muse thing resulting in her hospitalization, memory loss, and encountering one of the most powerful and devious rogues. The rogue was one of the original nine sisters, a mousia, a pierides. She was Ellafayathin, or Elle. She was siphening from Ryla the most intense surges of energy ever known. Why? Ryla held more charge than any human ever had before. She's beat all thresholds and created an ability to recover quickly from the drain. Though siphening resulted in a terrible head ache, it generally was relieved by drinking. Ryla's addiction was a manifestation of her victimhood. That and her loneliness after her husband left her. These memories were even a bit lost in the haze of her recent past as she had been here, there, and everywhere in the aftermath of some pretty fateful events that shock her world.
The girl flinches as she thought. Underneath the filth of a drug addicted exterior of living home to home and from dealer to the family she leeched on for money Ryla knew there was beautiful sweet girl with a blonde flow of hair that shined around her pink face and long lashes. She'd have a gorgeous smile that bespoke innocence known and innocence lost, but a hope for some innocence still remained. She wasn't broken. She didn't know that yet because her state was low and fragile but Ryla found her before she was targeted by some rogue really bent on doing damage. To siphen her dry would have been a victory for the wrong side. The problem? The rogues had lost the ability to see the cost of their actions. Those power hungry muses that would prey on the rogue lack of foresight are bent on the goal of creating, of finding new sources of power, and destroying the calibrated system of the muse universe that currently was pretty evenly balanced between good and evil.
Ryla's obvious skepticism and cynical tone practically showed on her face, but she was beyond emotions at the moment. This was business. This was war. She had a script she recited and tat was that. She wasn't going to go soft for just anyone who may trick her, bait her, or betray her. She would know if they were lying. She had the ability to feel the electricity that charged each muse. Electricity is the only way to think of it. If she were into mysticism, she may consider it an aura. But, to her surprise, there actually were electrons whiring around each muse. A transfer of those electrons is essentially what a muse does. A good muse infuses. A bad muse defuses. In between, she had been struck by a blast of lightning from her love Dan and ever since could feel the field of force and the pulls of energies. Not life forces, they could not kill. They could certainly tip the scales though. She felt him. She felt Yosef tingling with a chrystalline edge. She wouldn't reveal that part because only four people knew. Herself, Dan, Gracie, and Lacy. She was like Death for the muse race. A mythic figure. Yosef would hardly be missed as a rogue. People would whisper. The real trouble is when a rogue is not entirely off the gird. When a rogue goes rogue they become lone wolves like their past forms millennia ago. They stay off the grid, they stay within hunting range, and they mistrust anyone. However, mistrust does not mean they don't want power. They can align with a guild as a free lance contracted spy. They drain to keep the powerful guilds and their respectively powerful charges busy in the business of interguild rivalry. They were small victories and always resulted with the rogue either caught without trace of guild ties or they are give higher ranks closer to the guilds. Not all guilds refolded the rogue back into their society as it was taboo. But a black market, a criminal circuit, and rogue syndicate are just names of the game learned from humans.
The girl was protected for now, because Yosef had been encased by magic not known to him. Dan had given each Gracie and Ryla the means to switch off all pull and push of power. The girl was healing. She was repairing. She absolutely glowed at her core and Yosef and Gracie knew it. Yosef didn't know Ryla could practically taste it. The girl could easily have been shrouded with Ryla's gift from Dan and kidnapped. That would defeat the purpose of the rouse altogether. The girl wouldn't have made her decision offered in Ryla's ultimatum and would have sought out the drain of a rogue. Yes, she had to be rehabilitated. Her energies would recover over night with a powerful healing muse at the facility they were headed to. Then she would learn what she is and what she means to the muse war on rogues. She would be invited to fight with them or... well there were no other options except house arrest.
Yosef chuckled, "Why do I get the feeling you think I'll deny you?" Ryla did not move or even show she had a reaction. "I'll take your offer. And I'll tell you who sent me. I want in again, half a century. Fine, I'll earn it, but I'll bargain."
"I don't bargain. If you want the deal take it. If not we'll neuter you." She smiled evilly because she knew he'd fold. He didn't know, neither did most of the muse community, that is was possible to give them an existence without their abilities. Being shunned, hunted, and raped of power themselves was the extent of punishment for hunting human charges.
"Neuter? Yeah, right. I'm scared of you? A little human? Let me speak to Lacy now. She'll hear my offer and beg me to tell her. I'll win this at the very least."
"Ha Yosef, nice to see you." Lacy startled him from the back seat appearing from the very air without a whisper. While the muse felt a human energy like it were a frosting on a cake, thick and delicious, they couldn't precieve shifts in the electricity in the air like Ryla and Dan could. Well, and Lacy too, but that is because Dan gave it to her like he did to Ryla. The two women where the only people to know his real form. Not even Gracie knew any better.
"Holy shit!" The large man jumped but recovered his composure quickly. " So? What will you give me to know who sent me?"
"Nothing. Maybe a kick to the head, but I'm tired. Long day." She blew out her breathe showing disinterest and checking her nails without making eye contact. Ryla knew she was mimicking a human behavior because a hangnail would never ever happen to Lacy's perfect figure. So the gesture was even more dismissive. "I'm beyond whom. I know my allies, but I don't trust them. Ryla, show him."
Ryla turned to him for the first time. She reached a hand out passively, almost flirtateously. She looked innocent and calm. She exuded love and that tough edge she always held as a recovering addict, a mark of her recovery and training. He reached out to touch her without thinking. She zinged the very power he had stolen from the girl and lapped it up like a dog on a summer day. She felt exhilirated and knew if she could, she would glitter. He took in a sharp breathe and cursed.
"What are you?" he demanded.
"An ammalgomation. An accident. Fate. Your God. I don't know. Pick one. I can make or break you though and I will if need be. Reform your ways Yosef Aiel." It wasn't a suggestion, it was a demand. "Or I can show you the other gifts the world has given me if you like. They are fun, yet sadistic." She feigned excitement and silliness as she tapped the tips of her fingers together in a sterotypical evil pose. "Like a roller coaster ride. Only you are left barely alive at the end." She was being flashy and sadistic with her power and the threat of her capabilities, an enthusiasm that she faked and it showed.
"Do it again." He begged under his breath looking either on the verge of attack or pining. He panted like a dog hanging his head low in a sickly fashion suggesting starvation and thirst that could kill him or make him kill. Ryla screwed her nose up at the suggestion. He enjoyed it. No one enjoyed it.
"Ahhhh no, no, no, no, no. Lace?" She was losing composure as the bald headed Yosef had creeped her out with a response no one ever had to her ability to steal the electric charge. "I don't do fantasies Yosef. I can save you from yourself though." The last part, though she hated it, was more tender than she meant it to sound.
"Your path spells self annhilation, you just don't know it yet. A time is coming when your kind is given an option much harsher than the one before you. Don't ask me how I know. I know what the future holds much like you do. You know the ball is rolling and you know the clock is ticking."
"The last time I saw anything ahead of me with centuries ago. Nothing changes that much. You are bluffing. It will be as it has always been. An end is not near, but if you think so, prove it. How could you though? Oh yeah, you are human with the freaking power Azella has. Another freaking human bitch-"
"The who? Who has what?" Ryla stammered fully losing her outter appearance of death angel. "Lacy?" She looked to her muse with an asking look.
Lacy's posture alerted Ryla that no one in this car knew what he was talking about. That is except him. He didn't know that yet and didn't see Lacy's look. Lacy pretended to know, though her lack of knowledge, any knowledge needed to be a card she carefully guarded.
"Ryla, there are things I just don't tell you. Why would I reveal something so impossible to you? I would have far too many questions and honey, you are too far down on the food chain to get answers. But now that the cat's out of the bag..."
Ryla's face pinched with worry and confusion, which was convincing enough for Yosef who thought better than to turn back and look at Lacy. Gracie wasn't even listening as he texted away on his mobile device to some unknown cutie Ryla would surely hear about later. The girl was entranced by the entire display.
Without looking up Gracie said, "Azella is the pet to the Maldrid coven of the Essex Guild. She was nothing like Ryla to begin with. She was an oracle they brought back. She's out of her time. She is also very very old. She's easily nearly a hundred and bed ridden. Her usefulness was a powerful tool, that is until she fell into a coma. Not so useful as a vegetable anymore." He never looked up.
Lacy and Ryla were stunned and without words, but their faces lacked the shock that Gracie would know such as thing as so many of the guilds were heavily locked down and non communicato. The Essex guild is run on the east coast in all of New England. The covens assembled therein were not official, they were the black market communities of rogues and muses bound to the power. They were vicious and they cared little for the human. But they were not entirely in violation of any muse rules.
"She wasn't always old and she wasn't always in a coma. I knew her at her peak. Oh the things I could tell you." He was catching on to the gem of information he held despite Gracie's knowledge of who Azella was. "Let me in, 50 years probation, and I'm your man. Truly reformed and all," he said with puppy dog eyes. The attitude wasn't fitting for a giant muscle man bound for some truck stop or bike rally instead of the middle seat of a mini van. The driver of the mini-van was a shuttle service Ryla used often. The driver was deaf and asked very little of her. She paid well, he turned his hearing devices off. Though he wouldn't hear the muse end of the conversation, he'd most likely think she was speaking to her tag. The tag being the girl she snagged for rehab and the driver's knowledge ended there.
Ryla knew Lacy couldn't lose face in front of Yosef so she threw herself down on the gauntlet.
"If I take your terms, I have some of my own. You will follow my lead at all times as I will train you personally. You will answer to myself, Lacy, and Dan, who you'll meet later. You are a flunkie for the next 50 years."
"You won't last that long human, so what then? You don't have the strength to overcome me." But his last words were strangled from him as he doubled over and the air is sucked from his lungs and his fists grasped his stomach. The exhalation of power surged from him to Ryla.
"Oh, and not only will I personally train you and keep you under a close watch, you will disclose all and any knowledge of your past guild experiences, forays, or stints. You will have an apartment in my complex, so don't cry yet. You will do body guard service in your time as a time bound creature to make a human wage to pay for your way and to support our cause. You will commit to our guild in full. And listen to me when I say I will destroy you if you cross me, us, or our guild." Ryla was serious beyond her years with the knowledge of the heart ache ahead. "I know what is to come. I foresee you as a useful player."
"Again," he gasped. "How would you know anything about what's to come if you are stuck to time like I am?" His question was valid but one that Ryla couldn't explain to most and wouldn't dare for many. She had to trust him and that just wasn't going to happen soon.
"Short version. I'm not entirely a human woman as you would believe me to be. I have history, experience, and gifts that make me a special weapon or a special tool for fixing the challenges that are racing straight for us like a speeding train. I am, like I said, your god. I can make or break you, so how would it surprise you or make you feel any better to know more than that. I can see the future because I say I can. And rule number one is don't ever question me. I will reveal what is necessary. The other options include stripping you of your energy for good or feeding you to the wolves we both know other guilds are."
"You aren't just black mailing me and threatening me. No. I see what is going on." He was a happy person for such a miserable looking figure. His abuse from Ryla seemed to make him glow with anticipation and her offer was not yet refused. Though confused, Ryla knew he'd accept if only to pursue what seemed to be his weird masochistic fetish. She could also see it in his energy and even a bit in his eyes he was weary from the lonely prowl of a predator. Thing were escalating and aligning with a power guild meant he would be protected. His energy felt desparate and even a little sad. He was lonely. Being a social pariah is tough.
"You are offering me a position. You are actually recruiting." Bursting forth with laughter at the look of consternation on Ryla's face, Yosef was smarting than he looked. Damn. Sure she'd always planned there to be a heist or a capture of the rogue as a tactic to startle and scare them into submission. No one ever guessed she'd been filling her ranks of an army of ex-rogues with rehabilitation, an education, and a chance to start new. Like she said, she foresaw his usefulness and he was a key player for her side. Seeing as the future was never set in stone, which would make sense considering Ryla and Lacy had teamed up to prevent every possible terrifying future scenario from materializing, than she may be wrong about Yosef.
The car slowed to a crawl, and the scowl that drilled into Yosef only made him smile more. In fact he was wriggling with fits of laughter. Lacy was rolling her eyes. Gracie's eyes never left his texting. The girl, whose name was incidentally Ally, was checked out. Ryla's job wasn't over yet. She was a girl going into withdrawl very soon and lots of plans to enact for her as well.
"And you?" Ryla asked the girl. She was stupefied and beyond responding to the situation in front of her. If she were anything like Ryla, she'd have a nervous break down and be admitted be to a mental health institution by night fall. Ryla's first go with the muse thing resulting in her hospitalization, memory loss, and encountering one of the most powerful and devious rogues. The rogue was one of the original nine sisters, a mousia, a pierides. She was Ellafayathin, or Elle. She was siphening from Ryla the most intense surges of energy ever known. Why? Ryla held more charge than any human ever had before. She's beat all thresholds and created an ability to recover quickly from the drain. Though siphening resulted in a terrible head ache, it generally was relieved by drinking. Ryla's addiction was a manifestation of her victimhood. That and her loneliness after her husband left her. These memories were even a bit lost in the haze of her recent past as she had been here, there, and everywhere in the aftermath of some pretty fateful events that shock her world.
The girl flinches as she thought. Underneath the filth of a drug addicted exterior of living home to home and from dealer to the family she leeched on for money Ryla knew there was beautiful sweet girl with a blonde flow of hair that shined around her pink face and long lashes. She'd have a gorgeous smile that bespoke innocence known and innocence lost, but a hope for some innocence still remained. She wasn't broken. She didn't know that yet because her state was low and fragile but Ryla found her before she was targeted by some rogue really bent on doing damage. To siphen her dry would have been a victory for the wrong side. The problem? The rogues had lost the ability to see the cost of their actions. Those power hungry muses that would prey on the rogue lack of foresight are bent on the goal of creating, of finding new sources of power, and destroying the calibrated system of the muse universe that currently was pretty evenly balanced between good and evil.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Road to Recovery
When you think of the cliche "road to recovery" for the addict you think of rehabilitation centers, therapy sessions, relapses, parole officers, and sometimes court orders. There are so many conceptions of recovery which are medical, physical, and mental in health. The ninety days away from all friends and all family was meant to give the recovery its fullest potential. Loved ones give in willingly, despite their intense feelings of protection and the nagging sense that although they are willing to do anything they are losing the one they love. They may even feel they are contributing to the fallen soul's downward spiral. So when it is demanded for "recovery" that all contact cease, families think the change is final and the decision made. What will be will be. Their guilt, in some ways, will ease with the fallen family member out of sight and out of mind. These family members are actually ones weaker in resisting rogues dredging their life force from them as a sickly sweet icing on the already steady drain that was the addict. Once the rogue is absence so too was the drain on their will to survive. Some may feel even more afflicted, though their feelings are real, they were the strongest to resist the leeching presence of the rogue.
No, the recovery is again different because of extenuating circumstances. Those circumstances concern the muse world. The fight between good and evil. The protection of the human charges caught in between. The power hunger rogue looking to leech all the life and love from any human they were created to protect and nourish. The good guys were still not united under one ideal in the fight against the overwhelming rogue numbers of the recent years. There were precisely nine factions which hadn't been aligned as one for nearly two millennium. In fact, finding a healthy identity for all muses hadn't been high on the to do list. The schism which created the nine separate sisters transfigure into their beautiful forms also left each one vying for their own territory. They agreed to separate, spreading across the globe and calling all loose muses form in their misty ethereal states to come forth and realize a solid form and a state of mind. They coalesced and came forth when called, though not all came easily or at all. Most fell in line in the marching bands of organized chaos that resulted from the schism. That schism was one that shock the muse world. Previously just energies that lacked all law and order, the muse pre-schism was a violent creature like a lone wolf that could conform to pack hierarchy and fight for territorial power, or the muse could leave for the world of humans. They could watch and take pleasure. They could help or affect their lives. They tended to be happy alone and without community. Their were very little in numbers that ventured into the human world, but those who did progressed in mind and spirit taking on the form of their charges. They imitated, for lacking the power to create, they could manipulate their form and they could gain power in a new form of community that set an elite race of muses apart from their nomadic, anarchic, and wild counterparts.
There was little to see at first, but those with heightened senses in the human world could fill the holes in their imagination concerning the forms, purposes, and actions of the muses misty visages. Some were benign and loving. Some came to see monsters and devils.
No, the recovery is again different because of extenuating circumstances. Those circumstances concern the muse world. The fight between good and evil. The protection of the human charges caught in between. The power hunger rogue looking to leech all the life and love from any human they were created to protect and nourish. The good guys were still not united under one ideal in the fight against the overwhelming rogue numbers of the recent years. There were precisely nine factions which hadn't been aligned as one for nearly two millennium. In fact, finding a healthy identity for all muses hadn't been high on the to do list. The schism which created the nine separate sisters transfigure into their beautiful forms also left each one vying for their own territory. They agreed to separate, spreading across the globe and calling all loose muses form in their misty ethereal states to come forth and realize a solid form and a state of mind. They coalesced and came forth when called, though not all came easily or at all. Most fell in line in the marching bands of organized chaos that resulted from the schism. That schism was one that shock the muse world. Previously just energies that lacked all law and order, the muse pre-schism was a violent creature like a lone wolf that could conform to pack hierarchy and fight for territorial power, or the muse could leave for the world of humans. They could watch and take pleasure. They could help or affect their lives. They tended to be happy alone and without community. Their were very little in numbers that ventured into the human world, but those who did progressed in mind and spirit taking on the form of their charges. They imitated, for lacking the power to create, they could manipulate their form and they could gain power in a new form of community that set an elite race of muses apart from their nomadic, anarchic, and wild counterparts.
There was little to see at first, but those with heightened senses in the human world could fill the holes in their imagination concerning the forms, purposes, and actions of the muses misty visages. Some were benign and loving. Some came to see monsters and devils.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Ultimate Ultimatum
Ryla saw the girl's movements, her posture, and her energy spell out illness. There was just sickness that stunk like the stench of skunk in the air. It hung there torpid and pestilent. She'd almost become used to the stink of the weak. The muscle meat was still casually set against the wall arms crossed and grin smirking. By this time the sliding patio door was rigged with a protection to keep the bag of meat from taking a quick exit. Gracie had dropped the short drop to circle round to the hotel door to set an identical trap. With the jug head trapped within one of the two exits, he will be forced to freeze and will lose all movement and all power. The trick was getting him to think he had just been found out and that a quick exit is the best way out of his predicament. Not many used the means she was to detain a muse. The rogues were especially nasty because they felt it unnecessary to follow any protocol that the everyday muse lived by. You don't leech off the humans that you were divinely ordered to protect and guide and charge with divine energy. If the jug head found her plan out and moved quick enough, he could drain everyone in the room. He could suck the will from each of them. He could replace their wills with despair and the illness that Ryla had smelled leaking from the girl, except in lethal doses. This wasn't the ideal situation, especially for the family. But Ryla had little choice most of the time. Bait meant the trusting rogue gave far more attention to the charge and if he or she wasn't paying attention bagging them was actually far easier. The cleaner the better. The more they believed it, the more they trusted they were safe and sound. So to cover the believability factor, Ryla actually performed interventions. The emotions were genuine, the air charged with love, pain, fear, doubt, and hope. They were enough to cover her own emotions of fear, exhilaration, and calculated planning. She had a callous edge to her emotional energy. A tough love image that bode well for her interventionist role as a "all or nothing" "life or death" dealer. She was the one to provide and enforce the ultimate ultimatum. She provided the addict with an ultimatum, though it is somewhat of a rouse considering once the rogue was gone recovery was highly likely. But to keep things genuine, there really had to be a role where the addict chose to overcome her leeching rogue, where she chose to live, and where she chose to recognize her illness. When she guessed her illness as addiction it wasn't completely true. She had a culprit and it wasn't entirely herself, though Ryla had to convince the girl that she actually was responsible. The healing that came afterward was just as healthy because the addict held all accountability and therefore held all to power to recover.
Recovery started with the intervention, then separation, then medical detox, and education. Typical rehab would include much more therapy and rehabilitation during the last phase. Education was essential though to the recruitment. Get them educated before they were worked up and started asking questions. It wasn't a point of deception. It was meant to clear away the cobwebs, shine in some healthy light, and giving the room a good sweep. If that person were confused or felt attacked they would clam up and a whirl wind of a dust storm would pick up. Defuse the electricity in the air before it starts up. It would seem obvious the intervention is the ultimatum but the real decision comes ninety days later after all the education and training is over. Take the tools you learned, leave with them,and protect yourself? Or use them to protect others and reveal the truth to those who can fight?
The fight isn't a physical brawl. Well, not always but it honestly sometimes happens. The blow outs just don't hurt as much and for as long as the real battle fought in the pull and push and the drain of power. There wasn't a metaphysical understanding to what transpired between muses. It was emotional to some. It was electric to others. It was the flow and ebb of water. It was the power of winds or the eye of a hurricaine. For Ryla and most of her muse friends they felt electricity. It was a unique feel to the power they hold. In fact it was entirely unique to Lacy's guild. The other guild sisters were yet to know the taste of their charge. Lacy had not communed with any of the nine for nearly two hundred years. For muses who could slip in and out of time like a needle in a taught tapestry this was an irrelevant number. It meant there was a camp of warriors brewing on each side as the saddled and spied and even killed to know the next move. Not all would be fighting each other and most actually could unite in the last fight, but for the time being the guilds had disintegrated into gangs rather than kingdoms. The Guild Inc. was a guild organized in the fashion of a large corporation with the hierachy of a business. Business was cold but it was also efficient. It was egalitarian and it was also all about money and power. This wasn't much different from the guild of the South, the Hardliners. They were a gun toting rough group more like a biker gang or a rock and roll bar crowd. They were rowdy but they lived by the law of loyalty. They were a passionate people that lived more like a family with the women supporting and nurturing the men to become great fighters and patriach leaders. The act of betrayal was the most unforgivable offense and it was punished harshly. It was a crime punished almost as harshly as it was in the Renoldi guild which most resembled a crime mob syndicate. Though similar to the Hardliners in so many ways, they were bound by a moral code that respected a name, an old family, and a tradition without fault. There was a patriarch but he was less likely to go to the heroic ends to save your ass as the Hardliner leader would. The twist that didn't seem to explain everything upfront but once revealed made sense: the nine sister, eight were the original of the nine, were still the highest up on the ladder. If you hit the high mousia you've made it to the top. So seldomly seen by the worker bees, she became a thing of myths for her own people in those three clan guilds. They were wholly adapted to American ways of life but it was easier to blend in that way. They were territorial, hostile, and held ideas about the other that were entirely false. There were also terrifying facts that melded with the lies, but how would anyone really know when the guilds were entirely segregated and totally isolated from one another. Communication was along lines between the sisters and even then their means of communicating were out of territories and out of time.
When the saved charge heard the options they were given the day to leave and think over their decision. It was a quit day for the trainer when the recruit was gone out of reach of their influence. The recruits who return by night fall are given the gift to see the muses as all times. Those who are driven to have normal happy human lives never return but are looked in on frequently. Though they may think they would be avoiding the same fate the muse world faced, it was likely they would eventually even in the last moments of a terrible battle join to bolster the ranks of the good guys.
Recovery started with the intervention, then separation, then medical detox, and education. Typical rehab would include much more therapy and rehabilitation during the last phase. Education was essential though to the recruitment. Get them educated before they were worked up and started asking questions. It wasn't a point of deception. It was meant to clear away the cobwebs, shine in some healthy light, and giving the room a good sweep. If that person were confused or felt attacked they would clam up and a whirl wind of a dust storm would pick up. Defuse the electricity in the air before it starts up. It would seem obvious the intervention is the ultimatum but the real decision comes ninety days later after all the education and training is over. Take the tools you learned, leave with them,and protect yourself? Or use them to protect others and reveal the truth to those who can fight?
The fight isn't a physical brawl. Well, not always but it honestly sometimes happens. The blow outs just don't hurt as much and for as long as the real battle fought in the pull and push and the drain of power. There wasn't a metaphysical understanding to what transpired between muses. It was emotional to some. It was electric to others. It was the flow and ebb of water. It was the power of winds or the eye of a hurricaine. For Ryla and most of her muse friends they felt electricity. It was a unique feel to the power they hold. In fact it was entirely unique to Lacy's guild. The other guild sisters were yet to know the taste of their charge. Lacy had not communed with any of the nine for nearly two hundred years. For muses who could slip in and out of time like a needle in a taught tapestry this was an irrelevant number. It meant there was a camp of warriors brewing on each side as the saddled and spied and even killed to know the next move. Not all would be fighting each other and most actually could unite in the last fight, but for the time being the guilds had disintegrated into gangs rather than kingdoms. The Guild Inc. was a guild organized in the fashion of a large corporation with the hierachy of a business. Business was cold but it was also efficient. It was egalitarian and it was also all about money and power. This wasn't much different from the guild of the South, the Hardliners. They were a gun toting rough group more like a biker gang or a rock and roll bar crowd. They were rowdy but they lived by the law of loyalty. They were a passionate people that lived more like a family with the women supporting and nurturing the men to become great fighters and patriach leaders. The act of betrayal was the most unforgivable offense and it was punished harshly. It was a crime punished almost as harshly as it was in the Renoldi guild which most resembled a crime mob syndicate. Though similar to the Hardliners in so many ways, they were bound by a moral code that respected a name, an old family, and a tradition without fault. There was a patriarch but he was less likely to go to the heroic ends to save your ass as the Hardliner leader would. The twist that didn't seem to explain everything upfront but once revealed made sense: the nine sister, eight were the original of the nine, were still the highest up on the ladder. If you hit the high mousia you've made it to the top. So seldomly seen by the worker bees, she became a thing of myths for her own people in those three clan guilds. They were wholly adapted to American ways of life but it was easier to blend in that way. They were territorial, hostile, and held ideas about the other that were entirely false. There were also terrifying facts that melded with the lies, but how would anyone really know when the guilds were entirely segregated and totally isolated from one another. Communication was along lines between the sisters and even then their means of communicating were out of territories and out of time.
When the saved charge heard the options they were given the day to leave and think over their decision. It was a quit day for the trainer when the recruit was gone out of reach of their influence. The recruits who return by night fall are given the gift to see the muses as all times. Those who are driven to have normal happy human lives never return but are looked in on frequently. Though they may think they would be avoiding the same fate the muse world faced, it was likely they would eventually even in the last moments of a terrible battle join to bolster the ranks of the good guys.
Monday, August 31, 2009
i think she honestly believes she's not that bad
"This is what she'll do." "Maybe I wasn't paying attention to her. That is where the quilt comes from." "I don't know what to do anymore, but if she knocks on my door I'm going to feed her."
Titles
My Condition
Some of Her Behaviors
From this Day Forward
Hit a Rock Bottom
Accountable
A Different Path
Tough Love
Never Get Better
Healthy Consequences
With all the power in the world, nothing could stop Ryla. No one but herself. Dan was the only one to help her to see that. With all the magic in the world, with all the earth shaking power God himself held, it came down to hearing Ryla say those precious words. Help me. So, he did.
I don't remember the pain as much as each day goes by and as each night's sleep washes through those tough and lonely memories I thought I would drown in. Now that I see those events could have been approached differently. I couldn't find the healthy way to deal with my pain and my loss. My first husband and I were in love at one time. We were in love and we loved life. We loved life so much we thought living it to the fullest meant partying until the sun went down. Sexual encounters in dangerous places. Leaving out cares and responsibilities to chance by running off. What we didn't know, but that I see now, was that we were self destructing. He and I were not looking to each other. We were not deeply lost in each other's gaze or in the heart of a soul mate. We were surrounded by all the things that would make us forget that maybe we made the wrong choice, maybe we weren't happy, and just maybe our searching gaze for the next high or the next drink meant running farther and farther away from our problems. When I would get angry I would accuse him of never loving me. I wish I could just say what I did was always due to a lack of self esteem. And if you ever asked me I would tell you I felt that sincerely. Feeling good about myself was impossible. So often addiction is blamed on the addict and blamed on self esteem. Just pick yourself up. That's what bootstraps are for. If you've never been an addict, then you will never know the source of addiction. Abuse. Family problems. A history of drug or alcohol abuse. Mental illnesses that can be stacked from here to the moon and back. Behavior. Economic situations. We forget to empathize. To look beyond our own tendency to blame. Shame is a strong emotion.
Titles
My Condition
Some of Her Behaviors
From this Day Forward
Hit a Rock Bottom
Accountable
A Different Path
Tough Love
Never Get Better
Healthy Consequences
With all the power in the world, nothing could stop Ryla. No one but herself. Dan was the only one to help her to see that. With all the magic in the world, with all the earth shaking power God himself held, it came down to hearing Ryla say those precious words. Help me. So, he did.
I don't remember the pain as much as each day goes by and as each night's sleep washes through those tough and lonely memories I thought I would drown in. Now that I see those events could have been approached differently. I couldn't find the healthy way to deal with my pain and my loss. My first husband and I were in love at one time. We were in love and we loved life. We loved life so much we thought living it to the fullest meant partying until the sun went down. Sexual encounters in dangerous places. Leaving out cares and responsibilities to chance by running off. What we didn't know, but that I see now, was that we were self destructing. He and I were not looking to each other. We were not deeply lost in each other's gaze or in the heart of a soul mate. We were surrounded by all the things that would make us forget that maybe we made the wrong choice, maybe we weren't happy, and just maybe our searching gaze for the next high or the next drink meant running farther and farther away from our problems. When I would get angry I would accuse him of never loving me. I wish I could just say what I did was always due to a lack of self esteem. And if you ever asked me I would tell you I felt that sincerely. Feeling good about myself was impossible. So often addiction is blamed on the addict and blamed on self esteem. Just pick yourself up. That's what bootstraps are for. If you've never been an addict, then you will never know the source of addiction. Abuse. Family problems. A history of drug or alcohol abuse. Mental illnesses that can be stacked from here to the moon and back. Behavior. Economic situations. We forget to empathize. To look beyond our own tendency to blame. Shame is a strong emotion.
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