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Posted 7/21/2010 7:46 AM by Isla_Evendealt. 666 reads. Share:

When I wake this time I am looking for it, the eye… I can feel that my face has been dressed and that there is a wrap around my head supporting my jaw.  The pressure is unpleasant but miles away better than the loose, hanging agony that it had been.  And I can think much more clearly with the pain defined to particular areas.

This time I see both eyes, clear gray and angled differently than my own.  The lashes seem to indicate they belong to a female but one can never be sure and I am admittedly viewing from an odd angle and totally lacking any depth perception.  The brow line is high and arched and the forehead is smooth and pale.  It brings to mind the red haired man in my dream, there should be a name but all I get is an image.  The gray eyes crinkle slightly at the corners in greeting and I wonder why their owner doesn’t speak.

I can make out both eyes and the areas to either side of them.  I see the right ear tip the other seeming to be missing or malformed.  There is a scar running across the left temple, which may explain the missing ear top. The person moves close too fast for me to see any more of them.  I realize for the fist time it is cooler and that the crushing pain and the knife stabbing spikes in my chest as I breathe are a little less this time.  Not a lot mind you, but a little.

The eye(s) ask me if we can continue finding the spots to bind and I blink in readiness.  The relief in my head enough to make me endure as many passing outs as needed to eventually get it all done.  

I feel the cold fingers, thoughtful of their size but unable to truly tell anything about them as they slide over what I assume is unbroken skin that feels tight and pulsing.  I blink frantically when the edges merge with tissue that is throbbing or when my vision starts to go black despite the very gentle touch.

It takes several times to complete it all, each area of my body bound in turn and the eyes waiting for me to wake so we can move on to the next.  In the end I am wrapped not unlike the dead for burial.  But I am finally breathing with out knives stabbing me and flexing things like the fingers on my right hand with a minimal amount of repercussion.

I am obsessed with getting a good look at my benefactor but frustratingly they are able to fade back into the shadows too quickly for me to get more than the barest sense of their size and nothing more.  When I wake and they are not here, I weep.  And when they are here, I rejoice.  It doesn’t occur to me that I see no other eyes, no other people.  I have become increasingly aware that there is moist cool breeze where we are and that the smell of grass and soil is all around.  Light is faint but seems to cycle just like the sun I remember.

“ I know exactly what you are doing!”

Searing pain as the injection site rejects the last injection and the odd sense of betrayal and relief as the fluid injected dripped back out the shunt in my arm.  But the grim humor is cut short as convulsions start and the world blurs and wracking pain courses throughout my body as the poison finds its way in even though the majority of it was rejected.

The last injection was in fact poison, not the serum.  As my eyes went dark I realized he would have been killed by the others had he been found out to be tampering with the serums even though revenge was an honored pastime, this was not the appropriate venue.  There were too many lives dependent on it, or so they thought and it would have lead the others to question his methods.

He had miscalculated the serum he had used on me… it seems he miscalculated it badly.

Posted 7/21/2010 7:39 AM by Isla_Evendealt. 518 reads. Share:

I start, feeling as if my body will fly apart, every nerve ending seeming to vibrate. The involuntary motion of waking violently causes all my pain to amplify.  I try to focus on the one spot that isn’t feeling like it is about to combust.  There is a cool sensation on my eyelid and cheek, it’s moving across the skin in a rhythm that matches the way my heart should be beating, slow and steady and I feel my body coming down to it.   Slowing back down, muscles unclenching and the intensified anguish ebbing away in tiny bits as it does so.  My chest rising and falling in frantic need is slowing too causing the knives to plunge less deeply.

As my body slows down to its normal labored rhythm, the vision in my good eye slowly clears.  The hazy grays fade and then sharpen so that I am able to see a brighter area of light and as that comes into focus I realize I am looking directly into another persons eye.

I am too exhausted to be surprised. I am pretty sure another shock like the last would have been the death of me.  The eye blinks and the brow above it raises in surprise.  Whoever owns the eye did not expect me to be conscious or aware.  I feel the cool sensation again now and it slides over my skin and I realize it is fingers, cool fingers touching me lightly the eye brow raising questioningly as it feels its way around my face… when the cool reaches the edges of the skin that doesn’t smart and borders on the skin that does I blink frantically, trying not to tear up or else lose contact with the eye.

I see the eye acknowledge the change and feel the cool back track and try a different direction.  We use this process until the owner of the eye has established which parts of my skull are most likely broken or damaged.  To my surprise it wears me out almost to the point of my eye closing on it’s own.  I fight it, this is the first contact I’ve had and I am loathe to let it go.  I feel the cool start in on my left side and immediately I flutter this time, begging the owner of the eye to stop which they do right before all goes black again.

The red haired man sneered at me and his long lashes fluttered in a feminine way as he mockingly commented on what he was doing to the little female he had on the table…  she was in the middle of the change but was weak from being leached for the last week and the moon had yet to come fully so she was whimpering and pitiful.

” You are being weak in your sympathies, you are above these, these… creatures why would you ever feel bad about this…”

Something was twisted in that he was finding pleasure with something that should be passionless…  

The little beast was crying softly and shuddering as the needle slid under her skin yet again.

Posted 7/20/2010 7:13 AM by Isla_Evendealt. 510 reads. Share:

Hell is silence.


Cracking a hesitant lid I fight the wave of nausea that follows the action trying not to jerk at the spike of light that falls on my throbbing eye.  Slowly and carefully I work it open against the light.  Spikes of pain and an encompassing internal throb remind me I have more than just an eyeball attached to the consciousness that is fluttering and telling me I need to move.  I … it’s such a simple thing but the concept is fleeting until the tingle and throb becomes apparent in the edges of my being.  

Who am …I?  or better yet … what am I?

Images slide through my mind but they are nonsensical and strange and I am unable to identify anyone.  I have no sense of what is attached to the part that is thinking.  All that exists is the urge to move.

The surface I can feel under me though I am not quite sure which way is under seems to be hot and it slips as I twitch trying to move parts as I start to feel them.  The pain is searing and moves through me like fluid fire.  Whatever I am, who ever I am I have been injured beyond anything I can comprehend the fact that I can now tell I am breathing by the way the pain crushes my chest with each pull of air triggers the realization that this process is not supposed to feel like knives are trying to vent the air back out where I have just sucked it in.

After what seems like an eternity of testing my extremities as the pain expands outward from my chest I try gently to raise my head with the one eye I have been able to open trying to focus.  As I tense the muscles and try the light that was seeping in fades and scatters and the pain ceases as dark covers me again.

… …

This time I know I have one working eye before I am moved to open the lid, I am conscious that the second one (somehow I am sure there are two) has pressure on it and will not comply.  I am pretty sure I was once a man and in my head I know in general what I should appear like.  These particular thoughts flood through quickly reacquainting me with what I am but the process is lost on the who.  The pain is dripping back through me as the dark is washing back starting with my one opening eye.

There is a crushing pressure on all parts of my body that I can visualize and I am moved to give voice to the pain, I attempt to open the aching area that must be my mouth only to groan inwardly…

Somewhere in the back of my mind I realize that I will die, that water needs to be consumed and I am unable to move to do a damn thing about it…  labored breathing is the best I can do for now.  The pain is like a blanket covering all that I know to be me.

I lay for what seems like eons each breath taking years, and ending with what would be tears of pain if my body could produce them.

I awake the next time to the feel of something cool in the middle of the searing hot pain.  It starts on my lips bringing what fluid I have to produce to my mouth in response.  My one eye is snapping open but I am unable to make out what is causing the coolness I just know it is a pin point of comfort in the hellish burning agony my body is submerged in.

I feel it part my lips and try to stay alert as it slides between my teeth.  Thankful it doesn’t put pressure on my jaw, which I can’t move, I feel it spread out into my palette.  I should wonder what it is, but my body already knows and I am swallowing instinctively as it finds its way to the back of my mouth.  The cool sensation is like heaven.  As I work it down into my throat it occurs to me that I must not be alone.  And the thought is so comforting this time I fall asleep not from pain but simple exhaustion and relief.  Regardless what it means, I want to live.

I am blinking.  The lid is fluttering at it’s own discretion.  It’s doing so in the response to something touching the lashes.  I can feel them now, each individual lash, the one spot on my body that isn’t completely immobilized with agonizing pressure or searing pain.  The black mass flicks through my lashes again, I feel of air moving across my skin.  I am aware of the first time since I started waking of smell… I smell a spice I can’t place and an odor I can.  I smell wet grass.  The spike in my head denies that I should be smelling wet grass…  and a vision of where I last remember being conscious flutters on the edge of my awareness and encapsulates my mind in a solid memory, the first one I am aware of.

Sand… lots of it, hot and stinging.  A horrific crushing pain in my hands, head and back and the urge to rend and tear apart anything that gets in my way… my vision is different here … its strangely muted like a portrait done in all warm tones and there are only spots of recognizable color as if assigned at random in the murky sepia world.

A face I remember deep within me is speaking it is animated with frantic anger and passion.  I can not hear him, the sound is being ripped away by wind and masked by a staggeringly pitiful howl and screams of agony … which after a moment I know are coming from me…

Posted 6/7/2010 9:41 AM by Isla_Evendealt. 541 reads. Share:

I was sitting on the dock … minding my own business  (as usual), my weapons had been cleaned and sheathed… my armor adjusted and tended to.  Money, what little I had squared away … tabs paid, friends paid back.
I just couldn’t get my ass motivated.  I sat swinging my bare feet off the dock … wishing my toes could hit the water … my boots sitting next to me, smelled a bit like …well Spaceboy … but don’t get me started on that.

I have been watching the boats come and go all day.

I sit chewing my lip considering.  Rouge, I had become … from the healer I used to be.  I even dabbled in the arcane a bit.  But truth be told none of it fit perfectly.  The daydream was fading.  The trials and traumas had sucked the life out of my desire to play the part.  

I spun my dagger on my finger.  It was indeed fun being a bard.  I was actually very good at some of it … if a bit goodie-two-shoes.  

I thumbed the Crimson tattoo on the inside of my left wrist.  We all had them.. in various places, I picked the wrist because it never paid to tip ones hand too soon but flashing it accidentally could save me recruitment speeches.   It was a small setting sun, done in henna… the size of a coin.

There is another on the nape of my neck, which my hair now covers.  It is black and shows and eclipsed moon covered in filigree.  There are fewer of us with those… but there are others who have them.
My sense of loyalty was certainly still there.  Regardless of my blackguard reputation, the one on my neck defines me equally as much as the one everyone can see.  I had been part of the design… I had a hand in the creation of brotherhood.  The birth of the idea, I had mid-wifed long ago … before many who wear the mark were even around.
At any rate the marks both scar me and add me to lists, ranks of affiliation.  The thought makes me laugh.  I was never one to sign up for anything.  I typically on principal, avoid any type of label or tag as a rule.

These two though,  I proudly wear.  I’ve killed many in defense of both.

At any rate I am contemplating the one on my wrist, matching it to the scene before me as I watch the sun set.  I make a decision as the colors fade from blue to a hazy pink and red hue.  The circle of bright light turns warm and golden and sinks into a semi circle above the water.  It is reflected back and made whole again.

I put on my boots, that smell like funky cornchips Spaceboy… my sword is humming the constant music of life and death, I rise and walk to the end of the dock.
No one sees me as I step onto the boat… I don’t know where it is going… and truly I do not care.  I have what I need.  Someone with my skills can make it work… its what I do.  And when life feels fit to let me … I will find my way back.

Posted 4/26/2010 9:36 AM by Isla_Evendealt. 459 reads. Share:

for my baby girl.