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Scheherazade in Blue Jeans
freelance alchemist
Blogathon: Cicatrix 
31st-Jul-2010 09:29 pm
You leave Aaron on the dance floor to get a glass of water; you drink it maybe a little too fast, and when you set the glass down, she is there beside you.


She catches your wrist in her hand, keeps you from spinning back to the floor, to Aaron and safety. You can see him from here, his hair twisting in his wake, a shining thread in the dark. So close, so far, because he doesn't see you, and he doesn't see her, and her grip is firm. She is insistent. She will be acknowledged. "It's been a while," she says. "Have you thought about it?"

"Let me go."

Her laugh is rich; all the men in her radius eye her appreciatively, and many of the women. She is beautiful. She glows gold like Aaron glows silver. "But you've been looking. I can see it all over you."

"You don't know anything about me, not now."

"He's given you a backbone." Her smile is flirtatious, but the ferocity in her eyes doesn't match it. "Poor thing. That's only more to break, to get back where you want to be."

"I don't need you."

"See, I like that phrasing. That's interesting, Ash. You don't deny that you're still trying to find a way back. You don't deny that you want it."

You are silent.

She realizes. "Oh. Oh my goodness. Ash. You still can't lie, can you? You still haven't learned how? All these years."

"Do you know how not to lie?"

"What are you implying?"

"I have been thinking about it. What I've realized is that I have no proof that you can send anyone back. It can't be done, can it? What's your game?"

This time, the smile does reach her eyes; she seems disconcertingly proud of you. She pulls a folded slip of paper from her purse and slides it across the bar to you. "My references. Not that you'll be able to contact them. They've all gone back, back to their safe havens. Ask around, Ash. I can do the same for you."

You crumple the paper in your fist, and she slides off her barstool. "Call me," she tosses over her shoulder, mock-flirtatious, and she gets appreciative looks all the way out. You are left standing, silent and forgotten.

You uncrumple the paper. There are five names.


All names you remember from the hospital. A place to start.

"Heartbroken Mermaid's Blade" pendant by wytchchyld - copper with black and white oddly shaped glass nugget.

For the way Aaron's hair trails him on the floor.

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Team Venture had a half-naked dance party to celebrate being halfway through Blogathon, w00!
1st-Aug-2010 01:37 am (UTC)
I wrote this about one of my Kais 10 years ago. It really is striking how they're an archetype, isn't it?

You are the honeyed poison
The desert mirage
promising water
leaving dust in the mouth

The dream that wakes
and leaves one aching
questioning sanity, fearing sleep

You are the wishsong made flesh
but the chords are broken
and the music a funhouse mirror

You're a knife's-edge caress
a venom-thorned rose
a summer-warm peach cankered
to the core and wormy

You are kisses and kindnesses
that just pain like a phantom limb
and whisper of what could have been
if only if only if only

How can I stretch out my hand

How can I pretend there are no
snakes in the garden

How can I enjoy the pedestrian day
when the spells of night
still sing to my blood?


*hopes Ash wakes up*
1st-Aug-2010 02:00 am (UTC)
You know there are going to be people who think I exaggerate her malevolence.
1st-Aug-2010 03:10 am (UTC)
Not me. I've had a Kai in my life, and at one point *was* a Kai, briefly, before I woke up. She's terrifying precisely because she's so very real.
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