The Characters of Another

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 | Category: Samael
entry May 27 2008, 01:25 AM
It struck me recently that I've never actually told anyone just what The Masked Jackal represents, and yet the whole city is spot on in their opinions. Misfortune and lies and terror... everything I'd hoped It would be, everything my God stands for. It makes me laugh when I think about it.

Go ahead and clean up my nests, Telantha. There's an overabundance of bedding available; I can always paint a new one, a different wall. The Masked Jackal will see all, be all, in the end anyway.

I was content only a few years ago to lurk in the shadows and take only little, to stay in the back of society and ultimately do nothing. I actually stopped counting the years it had been since I'd taken mortal life. Mortals really seemed to hate it when I do that. But that's changed. If they're going to cage me simply for what I am, then I must defend myself. It is not their fault, I know, but ignorance is still ignorance even if it is taught. And most are beyond redemption. Better to put them down than to let them suffer. It is mercy.

For now, though, I will contemplate Emeraude's comb.

 | Category: Samael
entry May 2 2008, 12:11 PM
I stared at The Masked Jackal...

...

...for a very long time...

...For a very, very long time...

He sees. He hears. I know He does. I have never doubted Him, and I never will. The Rest be forsaken, for They have forsaken me. I know only Him now, and it's all I ever wanted.

Still, this cage is downright suffocating. I pray, in my weaker moments, for freedom. I don't think there's any shame in that. I yearn to wrap my lips around succulent flesh, to eat and drink. I yearn to run loose again, to be the terror I once was.

But I've lost my touch. To be soundly smitten by a filthy half-breed... I'd slept too long. I had rusted at the joints. I was hungry, not in my right mind. I should have stayed my hand, bided my time. But I didn't, and now I'm here. Just me and The Masked Jackal. Everyone else has forgotten me. Or learned to stay away.

...

A fleeting thought. I remember once, a long time ago, I was told by some crackpot shaman that I was born under a bad star. I had stumbled into a tent in my inebriated state (ahh, how vividly I remember wine) and there he was. A withered old Blue-Skin. I was under the impression that there was no such thing as an old Blue-Skin, that they always managed to kill themselves young. But there he was.

He told me all about how all my misfortune, tradgedy and pain weren't my fault, that the Heavens and the Powers That Be simply had overlooked me. It was nobody's fault, he said. Even the immortal Gods could not see everything all the time. I was born during the moment They just happened to glance away, and thus had eluded Their sight, Their grace. I called him a heathen and spat in his face.

I admitted to him, months and months later, that he was right. Mostly. They had never once even glanced in my direction, and much of my sorrow was born from having prayers never answered, no wish ever granted. But I had found, after all my years of searching, One who heard me. He turned an ear, He heard my plight, and He sympathized. I told the crackpot shaman what I had earned and how I had been blessed. I poured my heart and soul onto him, let him in on every dark secret, opened up my closet and let him see all my skeletons, and when he finally screamed in terror I rammed my sword through his chest.

 | Category: Jake
entry Feb 6 2008, 11:56 AM
I don't even know why it happened. Or even when, exactly. Or how. She's dead, though. And I really don't think she's coming back to me.

Wendiharan... I feel like I should be doing something to honor her memory, but all I really do these days is drink. There are people out there courteous enough to pay me for my services, small as they are. I otherwise manage to eek by on savings from a time that seems long past. I know damn well that if I were to spend even a penny in the wrong place, I could ill afford to pay rent next month. I know, I know, I know but... I keep finding a bottle in my arms at night. What did I do with the day? I don't recall...

I vividly remember watching some astounding performance in a bar somewhere. One of the fancy bars with a stage for performances. Some sort of elaborate play? They were bending, contorting their bodies. I wish I could remember the details. I probably didn't appreciate it very much. There were words spoken about a festival to a man I don't really know. Can't remember his name anymore. His face either. I said I'd bring the family. I think I slept through it.

What the hell time is it? I squint and stare through my window. Dusk, by my best guess. I think. The window is so grimey these days I really can't see through it. I turned my bleary vision to the rest of the room.

With a jolt like lightning I sat bolt upright. Eyes were watching me from the floor, eyes that glinted strangely in the moot light. Demons? No, no it can't be. Demons don't go through doors, demons would have killed me in my sleep, and demons have not even been reported inside the city walls in... a year?

It was a mistake to sit up, in any case. Hangovers hurt. My head hurt something aweful. I clasped it in my hands, moaning loudly. I shifted, swayed in a wide arc, tried to stand up and get out of bed but ended up slamming my head against the corner of the headrest before I toppled off onto the floor, landing on my elbows and getting tangled in my blanket.

Shrill laughter. Cackling, almost. Can little girls cackle? If they can, it sounds like this. Spica found all this to be fucking hilarious. Auva was laughing, too, but not so much at me, I think. I hope. I saved face with myself by telling myself that Auva was actually laughing only because Spica was laughing, and not because of my misfortune. Auva always seems to follow in Spica's wavelengths anyway, so in my nauseated and confused state, this all made sense. Syrma observed with polite disinterest.

With a hefty sigh I got up, disassembling myself from my blanket, getting into touch with reality again. Straightening up, if you will. I checked myself. Still clothed. Must have passed out the moment I laid down in bed, the moment I got through the door. What time was it really? I opened the door. Dusk. Someone must have set my internal clock without telling me.

In any event, these three should have been in bed already. Where were their mothers? I jostled around the room, found a scrap of paper tossed carelessly into a corner. Unusual. I picked it up. "Shop," I read aloud. That was the only word on it. The rest was a crude drawing of what I can only surmise to be three women holding hands. The one on the right had a basket in her free hand. Or a writhing squid. I couldn't really tell.

It conveyed the message it needed to, though. Annie, Candice and Patricia had gone out for the day under the pretense of shopping. Why they left the message in a corner of the room instead of on the counter I could not figure out. I also could not figure out why they left their daughters alone in the house with their drunken, passed-out father, presumably for at least a couple hours. Then I remembered that, between the three of them, they shared only a scrap of motherly instincts. The scenario made a little more sense now. They're good women, mind you. Just... really no clue sometimes.

In any case, the children would be hungry before they went to bed. I threw together something simple to eat, I don't even remember what. Mashed it up good for Syrma. We all ate in relative quiet; I had nothing to say. Spica and Auva exchanged broken conversation, the way very young children do. Wide, frantic gestures and sentences formed half from random words and half from grunts. Syrma just watched a bug crawl along the floor as she ate.

Then it was time for bed. I took each of them to their respective rooms, one at a time, Syrma first, then Auva, then Spica, youngest to oldest. I tucked them in. Kissed them goodnight. They seemed content enough. I still had a headache.

I sat back down on my bed, tried to think of something to do. Maybe I could check in with a long-term patient. Maybe I could go to the gardens and relax, get some fresh air. Maybe I could go fuck somebody. Then I remembered that I had no long-term patients, I didn't much care for the gardens without somebody to fuck in the flowerbeds, and, above all else, I had nobody to fuck. I was an Elbahnite with no game these days, and it was showing.

I reached into my backpack, pulled out a bottle. It was almost empty, just barely enough for one small glass. I considered getting more, decided I'd decide on that later. The southern door creaked open.

Spica stuck her head through the crack, yawning. "What is it, honey? You should be asleep."

"You not kiss."

"Didn't I?" I'm pretty sure I didn't forget to kiss her goodnight. Well... I think I didn't. I got up, absent-mindedly bringing the glass with me as I returned with Spica to her room.

"What dat?" she asked, pointing sleepily at my wine.

"It's wine, sugar. Daddy likes drinking it."

"I d'ink. I d'ink."

I considered. Spica has a penchant for getting riled up about the things she wants, begging and pleading even if she knows she'll never get whatever it happens to be. I didn't need that this late at night, so I just gave in. A sip shouldn't hurt anything.

I lowered the glass for her, knelt down. She leaned forward, put her lips to the rim, then sneezed. Spica drew back, rubbing her nose, wrinkling her face. "Smell yucky."

"Well, sweetheart, you don't have to try it if you don't want to." She'd already lost interest and was climbing into bed. I tucked her in. This time I definately kissed her goodnight.

I went back to my room, the front room, to my bed. I sat down. I swirled the wine, gave it a sniff. It smelled like wine. I took a sip. I spat it out.


There was a Spica booger in my last glass of wine.

 | Category: Samael
entry Aug 23 2007, 08:02 AM
"Samael," I hear her call from the distance. "Samael."

"Who uses that name?" I murmur groggily, "I have hear it not in nigh a hundred years." But I already hold the answer, somewhere in the back of my mind.

Like fine silk for the ears. "Samael." I did not know it could sound so beautiful. "Samael." No, not just for the ears. For all senses, known and not.

"Samael," she murmurs, right before me. I open my eyes. "I'm sorry. I did not realize you were sleeping."

"I was not," I lie.

She wraps an arm about me, and shifts closer. "You are mine," she reminds me. So affectionate. "You are mine, and you are not to drift away." She touches my back.

"Yes, my lady." So affectionate.


My dreams are always all too brief. I wake on the cold stone floor. She's called me back -- I heard her voice -- but she is not here. And the pain surpasses all else. The shock of it strikes me all at once, all over, all-consuming. And I weep, weep and cry and bawl, alone in this dungeon, alone, alone, alone.

But I persist. This is certainly not a time of strength for me, but it is not necessarily a time of weakness. If nothing else, I learn. I am reminded, actually, of what learning is. I had not realized I had grown so stagnant.

I actually laugh. I feel a little better. An idea. Mayhaps it won't free me. Nay, it won't. But they had thought their services to their shadowy Puppet Masters done, and they are wrong. They are always wrong. And blind. So, so blind.

 | Category: Jake
entry May 9 2007, 05:19 AM
Good morning, Annie. Good morning, Candice. Good morning, Patricia.

They kinda look at me funny, but then they smile. Good morning, Jake. They smile? Strange... Well, no, I guess not strange. Unexpected. I didn't expect them to be cold, no, but I didn't expect them to be warm, either.

So, I'd like to get to know you guys better. I'm suprised by my own bluntness. So are they. But not adverse. Annie says she'll teach me to cook, if I get some necessaties. A pot, a pan, a kitchen knife, that kind of thing. And ingrediants, of course. Makes sense, I guess. I wonder if I can orchestrate things so that we all eat together regularly. Meals shared help break the ice with people, don't they? Yeah, this should get the ball rolling.

Wendiharan, though... I worry about her in my off-hours. I expected that, if her husband were to die, she'd be happy. A free woman, not tied to a husband that didn't know how to care for her. That we'd be free to share as much time together as we'd like. But I have a family I need to start really caring for, and she... She's depressed. And worried. And even... scared? I wish I could say with certainty it was grief over her late husband, or perhaps a concern for her financial situation. But... it seems deeper than that. Something else is bothering her, I think. I need to make the time to ask her about it.


Should I cook for her, as well...?

 | Category: Jake
entry May 6 2007, 08:31 PM
Wendiharan lost her husband, and no matter what she said about him in life, she cried for him in death. All I could do was hug her and lend a shoulder. I'm going to give her some space for a little bit, let her have time alone. I don't know if that's the what she wants, but she can send me a letter or seek me out if she starts to miss me.

I haven't seen Toli in some time. Seems we well out of touch somewhere along the line. And Mint... Well, I have no idea, really. I don't know how slave ownership works. Maybe she automatically got transferred to someone else when her master died. I hope I see her again sometime.

I still have that project to work on, but after those brief rumors about a holy war, I figured I should back off and let it settle for a while. I just don't want to get wrapped up in that nonsense right now. I really need to take the time to relax for once.

But... where does that leave me? I'm usually so up-and-about, running around the city all day, chatting people up, working on this or that, having a good time and a few laughs. Now I'm out in South Arden all day with a fishing pole and nothing to really think about. Or I'm just sitting on my cot at home, doting over Spica. It's... I want to say it's boring, but it's not. Not really, anyway. Relaxing...? Maybe somewhere between the two.

...

Oh yeah. I have a family. Not just Spica, who I'm afraid to take anywhere in this cold weather (won't she get sick?), but Annie, Candice and Patricia, too. They have their own lives to run, and they've kept well to themselves this whole time. I moved us all into this house, with it's leaky rooves and it's boarded-up windows, and then almost stopped talking to them entirely. I was going to ask if any of them could teach me to cook, wasn't I? That's the whole reason I started fishing again. I was going to get to know these women. They're freaking well baring and rearing my children, right? I've a responsibility to get to know these women.


I'll start by saying, "Good morning," when they wake up.

 | Category: Jake
entry Mar 19 2007, 05:51 AM
Things move so rapidly these days, I sometimes worry if I forget some things. But then I remember that I'd be reminded of the important things anyway, so worry would be pointless.

I have not seen my newest lover, or the one Skrell, but the general consensus seems to be that the five dead were returned. Thank the Gods, too. I feel a brand new sense of hope. It's inspiring, really.

I decided to take Big Blue up on his offer. He's provided for me in the past; if anything, I owe it to him. Besides, it will help me get more in touch with my faith. That's something I've begun to realize that I'm very, very lacking in. Well, no, that's not true. I've always known I was lacking... But now I'm starting to realize what I've been missing out on. I want the favor of the Gods now, not just for me, but for my family. As for the project, the first order of business is to find somewhere suitable. Hopefully, it'll be somewhere with a lot of space.

The two ex-lovers... *sigh* I'm not sure anymore. Something's wrong with my friend, and this time I don't know if I can help. She had a cut on her arm that she was trying to hide, and she was in a very bad mood. I thought if I could just get her somewhere and make her comfortable, she'd open up a little, but I was wrong. Maybe it was the other's presence... The other, the one who seems to, very slowly, be accepting her own faults.

Spica, on the other hand, screams to high Annwn when her mother isn't with her. I learned that the hard way. However, I did find a way to temporarily assuage her bitter assaults on my ears. If I make goofy faces at her while we're alone, she actually quiets down. I think one time, I even got her to laugh, but I was making too much noise to be sure.

Oh, and I also caught another glimpse of my old power again. In a sense, I've cleared another hurdle. I remember a few more runes. Once I get their intonations down pat, and can readily use them in weaving, I think I'll be close to what I had before the Cataclysm. I am... excited.


Oh, and I've come to like the rain.

 | Category: Jake
entry Mar 16 2007, 02:09 AM
So, the city's greatest hero was slain at the hands of a particularly powerful demon. What scares me is that this kind of demon has been slain before. Our party was capable, but it was faster and more powerful than any I'd ever seen. Two fell instantly. I'd witnessed death on the battlefield before, but this... This was just madness. Things happened so quickly, I was shocked. I could do nothing but stand in fear while the thing killed the two most apt in our party. I don't remember what finally got my legs working, but it was all I could do to turn and flee. I never thought I would flee... Of the seven of us that marched out, only two of us returned. My newest lover... That one hit home, too.

However, one of them has been returned. And in such short order! There is faint hope yet. Will our heroes be returned to us? If the Gods would bless us so, then perhaps there is still a chance for Telantha.


Marching on this thing will only bring slaughter, though.

 | Category: Jake
entry Mar 10 2007, 09:25 PM
Finally, a bit of time to collect my thoughts. And the clarity to do so, I hope.

Spica, my daughter, I wish I knew what you're crying about. You're always in the next room with your mother, Annie, behind the closed door, but you're always crying. Do you not like this house? Do you not like my presence? Is there something I could do? Even your mother seems at a loss, and she's the one who's been with you your whole life.

That remnant of my past has been out and about. That man... I really could not care less about him, and I could not care less if people want to submit themselves to him (we're adults, after all; we can make our own choices), but I will not see him bully people into it. No, she does not truly want to do this, but she might lack the will to stand up to him. I do not want to intervene (what can I hope to accomplish in the end?), but... will I have to try anyway?

I have not seen my lady in too long. Days, maybe a couple weeks now. I got a couple messages from her, telling me to meet here and there, but she was already gone by the time I'd recieved them. Far, far too busy recently. At the very least, it's not fair to her, after all she's done for me. I feel like I'm leaving her stranded in the middle of her troubles, like I've been forgetting her. It weighs on my conscience.

Another problem in my life hangs in the balance. My friend, her lover... Well, I don't know anymore. On one hand, I finally settled the biggest issues between us. On the other, there are likely to be more on the horizon. No, I have not yet heard the end of this. There is no reasoning with this brooding woman, there is no possibility of happiness for all three of us. No, she is selfish and paranoid, bitter and jealous, and for the life of me I cannot make her let those things go. I fear this will no longer be a battle I can win. I don't know how to fight blades.

I did get some relief, however. Keeping my pants on for so long had me wound so tight, I hadn't even noticed. 'This slave' came to my rescue at the most unexpected of times. A welcome break from things. We even tested our luck when we chose our location. The worry made it fun. Would we be discovered? Would there be repercussions? Well, yes and no. There was nothing truly gambled on it, but still... I couldn't help but grin. I'll have to find some way to thank her.

So much to do, so little time.

 | Category: Jake
entry Mar 3 2007, 06:28 PM
Got up this morning on the right side of the bed. Of course, this bed is massive, and the room small, so there's really only one or two sides to get up on... But I'm rambling.

Who knew that two people could sleep next to eachother, not have sex, and still wake up feeling like this? I feel... refreshed, satisfied. Relaxed. I awoke before my lady in the early morning, just after sunrise, and admired her sleeping form. It was inspiring. I gently kissed her temple, then stepped out to greet the day.

I went straight to man about the house. It was easy enough to close the deal. Large enough for each of the women to have their own rooms, with a cot and cradle each, and even an oven to boot (I do hope I can figure out how to work the contraption). I've already given them their keys and showed them the house... now it's just a matter of seeing how many of them start living there.


To do: Learn my daughter's name.

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