02.23.2016

I?m becoming preoccupied with numbers.

Recently, I met a three year old who looked eight. The little girl asked more questions than even I do, which I can admit is pretty ****in? impressive. She was curious about me, who I am, what I do, what my gift is. Where I come from.

Well, I?m curious about all of those things, too, Max. Lemme know what you figure out, hm?

And then she told me that about herself right off the bat, straight away. I look eight but I?m three, she said all casually, the same way she might have said that the sky is blue or that it?s cold outside.

It got me thinking. How old am I?

Damien was twenty-nine, and so is Coilin. Quinn says he?s ?mid-twenties? -- that?s not the number in his head, but I?m not about to give him away. Cane is somewhere over fifty -- he says y?quit keeping track after fifty, in any case -- and Max is, well, apparently she?s three.

I have no idea how old anyone else I know is. It never occurred to me to ask, or that it might even matter, but I?m beginning to realize that what it marks more than anything is the passage of time.

And now I?m wondering how much time I?ve had. More specifically, how much time I might be missing.

My memories begin in the month called October. Last night marks four moons since then (everything seems to hang on that **** moon). Does that make me? four months old? Am I only as old as the length of time I can remember?

Not long ago, though, I sat side by side with her mother as a baby was born. I can?t put into words whether the infant knows more or less than I do -- both at the same time, that?s the best I can do -- but I have only to look at her to understand that I did not look like that four months ago. Even Max, who is three-but-looks-eight, does not look like me. So it stands to reason that I?m neither three, nor eight. I must be older than that, but by how far?

How much time has passed without my knowledge or retention, and where did it go? Who was I, and why can?t I remember?

How old am I? What does it even mean to be ?old?? It seems like a lot of people see it as a bad thing, but from what I can tell, being ?young? isn?t so great, either. In the cities I?ve visited so far, like New York and New Orleans and Tokyo, you have to be able to prove that you?re a certain age to be able to do certain things.

I have two of these little card things now, things that supposedly ?identify? me, and yet the names and ages listed on them both are different. Other than the first name and the picture, it?s all just so much made up information to ?let? me do the things I was going to do, anyway.

Am I real if the information on me is not?

There?s a clear distinction between the concept of ?adult? and the concept of ?child?, I know. I get the difference, how one gradually becomes the other. But where is the line, and how do you know when you've crossed it? What if I?m still underneath? How can one seemingly arbitrary number make me more or less acceptable than another? What happens if I?m the ?wrong? one?

When does the number change?

My mind is cannabalizing itself, chasing its tail in dizzy sick circles. Numbers and exclamation points dance in between the rippling waves of energy that are always present, always undulating, always tripping up my consciousness, directing it.

So I?m going to ask, because that?s what I do.

I guess the real question is, what do I do with the answer?

Empty Sky
03.01.2016

These hours are my weakest. Somewhere just past two a.m., when it's too late to be early and too early to be late. When everything changes or nothing does, when people either go home or go away. When the city is asleep or at least sequestered, and there's nothing left but me and my memories and all this empty sky and

I

Can't

Breathe.

03.03.2016 (cont.)
Pretty Reckless


Ringed fingers curling around the glass, she pulls it closer, tracing one finger tip along the rim before she lifts it for a sip. "This might be one of those 'careful what you wish for' situations. Think hard."

He was always a sucker for a challenge-- he couldn't help himself. So when she ushered out those words, to be careful what he wished for, it got a spark of consideration across his handsome expression and his smile lingered, mixing in the shadows of his face with something else entirely. "What, you gonna' break my heart Saila?" His eyes regarded her own as he fished down into his hoodie pocket for a pack of smokes.

Saila, for her part, pretty much sucked at backing down. Could be it would be her undoing, but then maybe the mercurial muse was looking to be undone. Raking violently-hued tresses back out of her eyes with spindly fingers, a humorless laugh spills from pale lips. "...Seems that's what I'm best at. Y'got one that needs breaking?"

03.24.2016
Wrecking Ball


"So, what's got you in a bottle hurling mood?", asked the Rogue.

Pondering an answer to that question as she juggled an arm full of empty bottles, Saila took a final drag off the cigarette, offering it out to her friend one more time. "...Y'ever... made a really stupid decision, because you knew it'd prevent you from making a substantially worse one?"


Seems Charlie was right after all.

04.15.2016
New Vocabulary

What's in a Name?

Downworlder

"Peace an' love, baby." Cane even held up the peace sign for a moment, then jammed his arm back around Sal's waist. "'Cept when it came ta demons. My angel girl, she was a Shadowhunter. Tasked wit' keepin' all de soft, squishy mundanes safe. She was a badass."

Saila knew a little about Shadowhunters, though most of her knowledge came from the people around the Shadowhunters and not the Nephilim themselves. Tacking on an addendum to Sal's pseudo-question, her strange eyes were curious. "Why didn't she want to hunt you?"

When he answered Saila, Cane's eyes found hers. "'Cause I'm a warlock, a Downworlder. Warlocks, vampires, werewolves, and fae folk."

"Anything not human and not them," Salvador amended. He looked over at Saila too, pointedly. By a Shadowhunter's definition, she'd fall under the Downworlder umbrella herself, really.

"Basically," Cane tacked on, agreeing.

Saila seemed to be picking up on that look. "...So I'm a ...Downworlder... too?"

"Mm." That was an affirmative, made clear by the extra nod.

"Huh." Somehow, this pleased her. To be part of a category instead of a dicrete set. "...Are you...?"

"...A Downworlder?" Sal lifted his hand off the back of Cane's neck so he could scratch his jaw. "By their definition, yes."


***


Did it make her feel better that if she was a Downworlder, so were the two people she respected most? Yes. Did the label sit comfortably with her? Not just yet.

07.13.2016
De Retour

Cane and Sal are back.
Have been back long enough for Sal to have known about and signed up for some tournament, even.
I stayed long enough to watch him take third place.
From the stairs.

07.28.2016
The People You Love

"Do not say sorry, Cane! You are the smartest and best!" I overheard Taneth exclaiming. Cane smiled, one of the more charming ones in his repertoire. "A man should always apologize when he makes a mistake."

"What about girls, Cane?"

"Girls, too. Everyone should. But only if they mean it."

"Even me, Cane?"

"At least to the people ya love, Taneth."

~~~

He literally ignored me all night. I may as well not have been there, invisible. It stung. I guess I thought that -- a month later-- I?d mostly reconciled the fact that he doesn?t consider me his friend and decided to move on in a scaled back way.

But I thought that at least we were still acquaintances. Friendlyish if not actually friends. Polite, maybe. Civil.

But he looked past and through me like I was made of glass. Or air. Or nothing.
Hell, he even acknowledged Quinn, but not me.

I kind of can?t believe that it?s been a month already. When I think of it - and I try desperately not to think of it - it still hurts as fresh and keenly as it did just over a month ago, the casual, offhand way he cut me in half, slicing straight through the middle of my chest with a cavalier smile on his face.

I have to keep reminding myself that he didn?t do anything wrong. He can?t be blamed for a wound that wouldn?t have happened if I hadn?t been in the wrong place to begin with. Mostly I feel like I?ve been successful at that, even? We?ve interacted in a limited way a handful of times. Smile. Wave. Say hello. I returned those books of his I?ve been carrying around, now that they?re essentially memorized.

This situation is mine to assimilate and cope with, and I?m trying.

And then I overheard him talking to Taneth.

And I just?

Is it enough to have figured things out on my own, to have adjusted my behavior accordingly? I?m beginning to suspect that it isn?t. When I?m in the vicinity, every now and then I can feel Sal looking at me. It hurts like a dull burn, leaves me wondering what he?s thinking, if he?s confused, if he?s?

I have to stop doing that. I have to stop speculating. Ascribing. Filling in what isn?t there.

A man should always apologize when he makes a mistake. Girls, too. Everyone should, but only if they mean it. At least to the people you love.

****.

Maybe I should apologize.

08.04.2016
Gaslight

I am beginning to wonder if maybe I?ve lost my mind.

It?s stupid, this tension. I keep thinking that maybe I?ve made it all up in my head. He accuses me of overthinking things sometimes, and I guess I keep hoping that?s what it is. That I?ve overthought my original overthinking and that somehow, somewhere, I?ve ? I don?t know. Taken a wrong turn. Come to the wrong conclusion.

But every single time I test the waters, all I seem to get back is confirmation.

"Hey, Cane? Are we...doing..Sundays? You said we were taking the summer off, but.. you're also... back?"

I asked because, hey. So maybe I was mistaken. Maybe we were never friends. Maybe I was only ever just a client, a temporary arrangement, his charity case for the year or something. But we still had an agreement, right? He agreed to help me, to meet on Sundays, and since I?m apparently the only one who feels like something?s changed here, that should still be on, right? He?s been back for over a month now.

And he...he ****in? stares at me. Like I?ve asked him something completely outlandish, or? I don?t know. Mysteriously grown a second head or something.

"Did--" He paused, cycling rapidly through his thoughts. "Was there somethin' unresolved? I toldja the last piece, didn' I? Before I left?"

And I just. Now I?m staring at him, probably slackjawed, like he?s the one suddenly sprouting new appendages. Months we?ve been working together and he just. Did he really just ...forget?

"Well, yeah. But you were also teaching me things...I take it that's a no, then."

The inward pull of his brows put a gentle crease on his forehead as confusion stitched itself into every line of his face. "I can't read yer mind, yanno. If there's a problem with that, then speak up."

"...I thought they were separate things, is all. It hadn't occurred to me that the end of one meant the end of ...everything else, too."

He nodded, humming a short note of acknowledgment. "I'm sorry; guess I should'a been more clear. I gotta make a living, though. I offered ta help--" Not about to go into the details of her private business, he let the sentence hang for a moment. "--with the puzzle pieces. If there's more ya want me ta teach ya, then we can discuss..." Cane trailed off, watching her get up and pay.

And I just? I don?t even know what to say. They were separate arrangements, made at separate times under separate conditions. I realize, now, that I?ve been struggling all along to figure out what happened, where the shift came, why this sudden change in his whole attitude towards me came about. When --and more to the point, why--he started treating me like a stranger. And it hits me like a ton of bricks, just then: in that moment I can suddenly trace exactly when the change came.

It came when he gave me the final piece. When his obligation to me was finished.
A customer. A project. A charity case.

But this? this still leaves me reeling, confused and feeling dizzy, lightheaded. We?d come to terms on the first agreement several weeks before I came to him about the second. I told him in veiled terms - we were in the Annex, seems like a lot of our most important conversations happen there - that I was discovering it wasn?t enough to know the what, that if I was going to get a handle on any of this I also needed to know the how. To learn to control it instead of just being pushed around by it. To have ownership of what I am instead of it just owning me. To learn to push instead of pull.

I remember it so clearly. He snorted, smirked a little. He said, ?years of hard work and practice.?.

I laughed, at the time. I think I said something like ?...and maybe somebody to help guide that practice??

He agreed with that, conceding that a tutor or mentor would definitely be helpful. We joked about it some, talked in circles around the concept.

But eventually I asked, and he agreed. Sundays at ten. It?s been a thing since January.

And even when he told me he was leaving town -- he said it just that way. ?Probably need to take the summer off. We?re leaving town for awhile.? I was a lot more preoccupied with the leaving town part than the summer off, so that?s where the conversation centered. But he said ?take the summer off? and I took it to mean ?resume when I get back?.

I...I swear I thought it was an arranged, ongoing thing.

How the hell does having the answer to one mean I?m? magically (...magically. Ha.) done with the other?

"You also agreed to help with the other thing. Push instead of pull?? I stammered stupidly, thinking maybe he just? I don?t know. Maybe he really did just ...somehow space the whole thing? "The blocking, the channeling, the..." Like an idiot, I found myself trying to jar his memory, and at the same time feeling just...completely foolish. I gave up, because I didn?t want to embarrass myself any further. "Whatever. Nevermind. Thanks for everything."

Even in that last session, when he gave me the final piece (and that?s a thing I can?t even think about right now, oh my god), it?s not like he said ?okay, unless you start paying me we?re done here.? If he had, I?d have given him the money. Any price he named, I?d have paid. No questions asked.

And he? he had the audacity to be confused by my confusion. At that point in the conversation, there was something else going on, too --I wasn?t paying a whole lot of attention, but there?d been a major shift in the energy of the room, like someone or something had suddenly showed up that had put everyone else on edge. I didn?t see who or what it was, but I noticed the shift in Sal most prominently.

Cane raised his eyebrows at me, the way he does when he?s surprised. I could tell he?d noticed the change in Sal too, but he kept right on staring at me. After a long moment, one shoulder lifted in a mild shrug. "It's nothin'. Glad I could help."

Nothing. Good gods I am tired of hearing him say that. It?s nothing. I used to think it was? I don?t know. Self-effacing, somehow. Downplaying the value of what he?d done. Or translated from the French - de rien - of nothing.

And who knows, it probably still is. I used to challenge him on it, because what?s no big deal to him has made all the difference in my life. I used to think it was funny.

"...I know." I said, because I didn?t know what else to say, and I was suddenly so angry, so totally overwhelmed that it was all I could do not to cry. "Y'v'always told me that. I just never realized how serious you were."

I don?t really know what happened after that. Blinded by tears I swore I wouldn?t cry in front of him, I put my glass down and I basically ran. Distantly, I think I remember Sal hissing at me, but that could have been anything.

It?s nothing.

But now...now when he says that, all I hear is confirmation. That it?s no big deal because it?s no impact on his life whatsoever. That it?s irrelevant, trivial. A thing that is maybe a nuisance but not so much so that you don?t still do it. He says ?it?s nothing? and what I hear is you?re nothing.

I?m nothing.

___
Adapted from live play with Cane and Sal, among others.

?And I realized... Yeah. I was wrong from the beginning. I was thinking that you helped me
because you wanted to, when it was really just that ...it didn't hurt you any or put you out of your way. When you let me stay at your house, I thought 'okay, he must trust me a little.' But...
it was really just that there was no way it could hurt you. I realized that... I have no impact or affect on your life whatsoever. You don't seek my company. You don't miss me. I am of no value to you one way or the other. You're ...indifferent. And... well, I mean. That's fair.

?So I tried to let it go, to leave you be." The breath she drew then was a shaky one, her shoulders trembled lightly, her coffee cup tremoring in her fingers as she lifted it to her lips. Swallowing, the girl could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, but so much of it was finally out now that she pretty much had to continue. "The problem is that I couldn't accept it. I tried to. I've spent months trying to. But I ... it's not something I can get past, apparently, so I started re-examining everything - again - to see if I'd screwed up again. And at this point..." The girl shrugged helplessly.

"I have no idea anymore. What I know is that I miss you. That when I have questions, you're still the first person I want to ask. That like half of my favorite memories over the last year include you and Sal. I miss him, too. That... sometimes I'm jealous of your friends, because I want to be one of them." Frowning, she shook her head again.

"And then the other night I had another epiphany. Do you remember that night on the beach, when I asked you what happened to you to make you so untrusting? I realized just recently that... I proved you right. I did to you exactly what I did to Coilin. I-- I just ****in' bailed on you instead of trying to talk to you about it. Things got complicated and I quit. I got overwhelmed and ran and ... holy **** no wonder you don't trust me. I haven't given you a reason to. So...so I'm sorry for that, too."

It was without doubt the longest set of words she'd ever put together that someone else hadn't written first. The girl fell quiet, bracing herself for the response, whatever it would be.

Something of a bemused smile tugged gently at the corners of Cane's mouth. He pulled in a breath and then let it out. "Ya good now? Got it all off yer chest?"

Whatever she'd been expecting, it... wasn't that. Confusion wrote itself into her eyes, which lifted and settled on his face, curious despite herself. "I... think so? I mean. I can surely come up with more reasons I suck if you need me to..." Saila trailed off, focusing on that piece of a smile.

He ignored that. "That was a **** ton 'a pent up feels. Jesus, kid." Cane sat forward, placing both feet on the floor so that his elbows could rest on his knees. He exhaled a noise that sounded a lot like sheeoot and smeared a hand across his mouth and beard. "I'm not even sure where ta ****in' start, but--" Cane blew out another breath through his nose, nostrils flaring in a short burst of frustration that tapered off into an incredulous, breathy, one beat chuckle.
"Let's see if I can deconstruct that monologue an' address some 'a yer issues."

Perhaps Salvador was rubbing off on him more than he realized, because he started at the end, working backwards. "Trust. It's earned, not given out freely ta jes' anyone. I'm sure that's a novel concept to ya, what with growin' up in a town like this, where there's people trippin' over themselves ta vomit their life stories at'cha within ten minutes 'a meetin' ya. It blows my goddamn mind the way folks around here run their mouths.

?So yeah, yer right. I don't trust ya. Fer exactly the reason ya said. Ya gave me no reason to. An' you erased all chance at givin' me one by boltin' off."

The first part of his answer brought a palpable wave of relief, even a bare hint of a genuine smile, a flicker of amusement in her strange eyes. It made her feel a little better about her struggles with it, as humiliating as they were.

But then he went on, and the break in the clouds proved short lived. Her smile faded, the trouble leaked back into her brow, her mouth twisted in contemplation. "So...what does that mean? I gotta wait another year for you to even consider it?" That would double her lifespan so far, and although a year was probably a drop in the bucket to him, it was a long, long way away for her.

Saila swallowed, shaking her head. "I don't ...understand how a number makes so much difference. I mean, this isn't a sex thing? I'm not askin' you to make out with me or ...whatever." She paused. "...Y'know, that's the first time you've given me a clue about your age other than 'after fifty'."

"Closer to a hundred than fifty," he said, flashing a crooked half-smile her way. But then he sighed. "Look. I don't know what ta tell ya. That's jes' how it is fer me. I'm not friends with any teenaged girls. Even Jackie's this... peripheral acquaintance with whom I'm friendly. I'm friendly with a lot 'a people. It doesn't mean I'd trust them."

This answer only partially mollified her, probably because of the additional hint, that smile she felt like she hadn't seen in forever. "...yeah, well. M'not friends with any other warlocks, either. There're exceptions to everything. For all we know I might be older'n you already, relative to how long I'm sposed to live."

She was mostly kidding, but her brows were still furrowed as she tried to think her way through it. "Just... hm. Would you consider... I mean. I know I have work to do to repair things, either way, but is something... like... how things were before...something you're open to? I ...really miss our Sunday mornings." She paused. "And I have money now."

He actually barked a short, rough laugh then. "When was the last time you actually listened to anything I said?" It was half a joke. She followed the ?rules' most of the time, but it wasn't that he was getting at. "Maybe things've changed since we last talked, but I dunno. Ya still pickin' up folks? memories? Their thoughts an' the like? Ya still got that ass**** in yer head? What exactly did you get out of Sundays that you actually apply to yer life?"

Saila made a face at him, and for the first time she sounded legitimately defensive, but there was no anger to it. "Hey! I listen to you about that. Even you said I was getting good at it and it's not like I've stopped practising. I can't do anything about hearing his thoughts - even you said as much -- but I've gotten to where I can keep him out of mine entirely unless my life is at stake or I'm so distressed I can't hold it. I don't pick nearly as much up off other people anymore -- I mean, okay, I get distracted sometimes and it slips -- but ...I would probably lose my mind doing this theater stuff if I couldn't shut it off."

"Don't make faces at me. I gave you a way ta sever that weird connection." He pursed his lips for a moment, glancing toward the door and then the front counter. "But that talisman I gave you should keep ya from pickin' stuff up. Though... it's been a while. I may need ta reapply the spell." Cane scratched at his beard and looked back toward the girl sitting kitty-corner to him. "What else is it that you want ta learn?"

"You did, and I carry it on me at all times. Wanna see?" The ever present bag was at her feet, and the vial was there, near the surface, always at the ready. "But it severs all connections, and the majority of what I know I have learned from the attachments I have to people. I would have to re-learn how to walk and talk. I would have to start over completely. You said you could probably refine it later, remember?"

When he mentioned the talisman, she fished it out from underneath the neckline of her hoodie, exposing the pale green tear drop that never left her throat. "...It still covers," she gestured vaguely at her body, he would know what it covered, "...and there's only been one new expansion since you gave it to me. So I'm pretty sure it's still working? But ... it could also be that I just.. don't get overwhelmed as easily anymore. Y'wanna look at it and see?" She never took it off, but she would for him. There was nothing it concealed that he didn't already know.

At his last question, a soft laugh surfaced. "...C'mon now, really? You've forgotten how insatiable my quest for knowledge is? I want to learn everything. The more I know the more I want to." She paused again, and as her expression shifted, her bizarre eyes went wider, softer, more hopeful. "...Please?"

"I mean, if yer still picking up memories an' **** from people you touch, then it ain't workin'. I don't know how else ta stress how much of a bad idea I think it is ta keep what isn't yours inside yer head. The only memories an' thoughts inside yer head should be yer own. I will, uh... I will attempt ta fix that if you like. As well as refine that potion. I'd already committed ta those. But I'm not takin' on anything new right now. I've got my hands full with two businesses."

"Technically, you'd committed to Sundays with me, too. There was never a time or objective limit on the original agreement," she said gently, but the playfulness, the entitlement had come back out of her tone. "But...speaking of, I also want to learn that. Have since the first time I investigated your slack line." She'd seen the flyers posted on the bulletin board, and some of the other actors at the Shanachie were talking about it during rehearsals.

That hopefulness was still in her eyes, dimmer, but still present. "So... what if I take those classes with you, instead? And if we happen to practice some of the other stuff, too..." Saila
trailed off with a one shouldered shrug. This is what happens when you feed a stray. There's just no getting rid of it afterwards.

It was for that very reason that he smiled at his own expense. This really was his own fault. "Clever. Unfortunately fer you, I don't teach beginners. I barely teach at all, actually. I run the business itself. Hired a million instructors ta do the teaching."

She was crafty, but he was more-so. "I'll fix what I said I would. If you have questions, yer welcome ta try an' find me. But that's all I'm committin' to right now, kid. Think of it as that whole 'trust is earned' thing. Take it or leave it." He wasn't being cruel. He wasn't teasing her. It was very matter-of-fact by the end.

She thought about pouting, but at the same time she was aware that she'd made a good bit more ground tonight already than she'd imagined she could, and ultimately even Saila could recognize it when she'd pushed as far as she could afford to. Dropping the playful banter, her gaze instantly reverted to serious. "I'll take it. Thank you."

Cane nodded and straightened up, smoothing his hands over his knees before standing up. "On that note, I'm gonna go home an' finish my date with my boyfriend. Set up an appointment with Vash ta have me take a look at that." He pointed to the necklace, then stuffed both hands into the front pouch pocket of the hoodie.

Finishing the last of her coffee, Saila got to her feet as well, snagging her bag off the floor as she stood. "I---oh. I didn't realize I'd interrupted date day. Now I'm really grateful you came. Thank you again." Stuffing the pendant back into her hoodie where it nestled close against her skin, she pulled the bag's strap over her shoulder, her gaze sweeping the coffee table. "...At least take your cookies with you. I think she makes 'em just for you."

He withdrew a hand from the pocket to grab the cookies and let it hang to his side for the time being. "We both had business to attend. It's fine." In response to her comment about date day. There was precious little that could split them up, but he and Salvador were both responsible businessmen, taking care of things when duty called. "See ya 'round, Saila." With one last nod, Cane backed away, then turned after a few steps, heading to the door and out.

"See you." Saila waited until he'd cleared the doorway, drawing her phone from her bag to check her messages and then send one, giving him space to leave without nipping at his heels. Only after he was gone did she follow suit, carrying her empty coffee cup to the counter and leaving it there on her way out.

----

(Adapted from live play with Cane....forever ago. >.<)