Special

Someday, I would very much like a cd full of Irish/Scottish drinking songs.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpOoPQ6JmbM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASX07hDa0pE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HsyjfJn0kb4
I signed a petition to get rid of Walker today. Serves you right for targeting my heroes.

Also, eating jellybeans, missing doing things that're fun, and slightly nervous about the Roses. Isn't that always the case?

In particular, I'm worried about Nephamael. Very questionable guards have sent their introductions to me of late, very excited to begin work. It makes my skin crawl--these men are more Azrael's guards than mine, that is sure.

Also, I've been having nightmares again.



Last night, in addition to one awesome dream (involving flying, as usual), there was on in particular.

Katie took me to dinner at the Pine Cone. I was in full Rose costume. My favorite; a green mermaid-tail dress that flourished, with open armed sleeves that were billowy. It's not in-your-face-Tinkerbell! Green, it's more of a green like brooding, a green like the light you get after rubbing your eyes too long. That type of green. It's pretty.

The hair is my own color wise, but it's styled like River Song's. The elf ears poke out from behind the crazy curls. My skin is pale, though. I'm not wearing contacts (?), but my eyes are blue--my favorite color blue in the world. They flash in-between what they normally are and that color. Like me when I'm awake, dream-me doesn't know who I am or what I am.

Like me, Dream-me is conflicted.

Anyway, we have a date. I'm skipping over the specifics, basically a few impossible things happen--but in the end, she drops me off at Finley's house. I fall asleep.

When I'm awake, dream-me doesn't open my eyes. I feel kisses on my neck and assume it's Finley.

Like all my nightmares, it isn't.

You know who it is, don't you, non-existents?

Of course you do.

It's Ryan.

Azrael's costume is just like the one I saw him wear last time I saw him, on the Riverside, when Alice stood in for Katie. A red velvet coat (as any good Rice fan would be wearing), woven with golden waves (my own pattern) along the rims of the coat, dancing down the broad shoulders. The broad collar is there as well.

Do you recognize this description? You should.

http://cdn.buzznet.com/assets/users15/deathofanightmare/default/the-ancient-marius--large-msg-117311027556.jpg

He's a thief!

Not important. The vest is the same pattern, but it's a subtle silver-blue. The ragged hair is that of Gary Oldman's Sirius Black. It frames his face well. The scarred skin is still scarred, the ripped arms still ripped.

Lord Azrael is every bit what he should be. When I open my eyes, realize, I open my mouth to scream, but he breathes on me. Gold powder wraps around me, and I'm just me again--not Eliac anymore.

My hair's a little longer, and the makeup looks silly now that it isn't framing the carefully-applied Mixed features. I look like a child in a Moon-elf costume.

"This is," he said in the voice that could kill you, the voice I hope you'll never hear, "not how you should be, Lady Eliac." He gestures at my dress. "You're a human now."

"Do not presume to advise me," I snarl in my best and most threatening immortal voice, "I am--"

"The Law? You think I don't know?" He snarled.  "You gave up the immortality for the love. Don't think that I don't know that. Fuck you, whore, you realize you're endangering her? You realize that, don't you, that the one you love is the one fate tempts me to target? You're aware?" 

"You can't," I said softly. "It's done with. I promise you, she will never be in danger--"

"Like he wasn't?" He gestures at Finley. Finley's dead. Blood drips from the wound in his neck.

"Two for two," warns Azrael, licking my fiance from his teeth. "Watch your future."

I wake up in tears.


It's past noon.



Oh, non-real people, how I wish you were here to see this.
How I wish you had something to say.

Special

Been ignoring this for a while.

It's all on the epic blog, so I'll just tell you what's going on in my life sparsely, and if anyone's actually paying attention to this aside from Katie, tapdance.

• I feel trapped in my life right now. 
• I'm in love with two different people right now for intensely different reasons.
• I'm back in the Roses. Azrael's still a dick, still fighting for me (or it against me)?
• Katie's in the Roses too. That's right. If you ever thought I was making them up, now there's one you've known and loved, non-existent bitches! Whew!
• I sound excited there, but really I'm just freaking out
• Really I'm just waiting for someone to hurt her
• and therefore me. 
• I miss Schultz and Kate Murley and April and Morgan and Conner AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I MISS HANNAH NATHAN. April and Morgan are pretty good about answering me, but too busy to do stuff.
• This get its own bullet because I'm a dick: Kate Murley hates me and will probably never talk to me again.
• I probably deserve it. I'm not her heart and didn't deserve to act it, not for ten seconds or ten words alike. 
• Schultz is probably pretty scared to hang out with me. I'm different, she's never met the human me before. I'm a commodity, realized too late she'd read my blog and she won't ask about it. She's self-sufficient when it comes to suffering; much like me.
• Conner's okay with me, but I just like it when he's happy. I know he's stressing that little head of black curls about all sorts of things, and I worry.
• Notice I do not say Molly. Why did I not have molly on my list? 
• She's in the Roses too. 
• Fuck you, that's right. It is so totally right!
• In fact, Molly is one of the most powerful people in the Roses. She's a Mordu, which is the Elemental representation for Human Madness, Human Potential, Human Pain, Human Love, whatever. They're the extreme, they can go both ways. 
• She's also been playing Tonsil Hockey with Ryan.
• She'll never tell you this, even if you ask her will she not tell you. 
• Why? Why won't she tell you?
• Firstly, she doesn't exist.
• Secondly, it's called the Law of Concealment. I, being the Law, may break it. She, being not the Law, may not. 

That's my life.

Eliac/Payton/Lady Balance/Fortuneteller/whatever the fuck I am
out.

Special:

Today I wrote a letter.
I won't show it to you
you won't read it
but I wrote it.

If you want to read it
I think it's time You did.

Special

A hand gesture. I don't think you were fully conscious.
As you commanded, I walked to you as you laid your head on my lap, and my eyes grazed the skyline.
Then you fell asleep, and I hummed the words dancing on my skin:

There's a storm in my heart
and it calls to you;
the wings on my soul
raise you from the ground.


A little bit inhuman
compared
to a little bit too beautiful
a little bit too perfect--
yes, that is the moment;
a little too raw.


Sleep now for me,
sleep now for you
when the burnt-gold eyes arise
your graze will meet my heart again.


Wallowing in misery
wallowing in pain
it isn't for me, it isn't for me
when I can feel your heartbeat
when I can see your sleeping smile
when I know your face.


Sleep now for me,
sleep now for you
let magic dance upon our skin
and love embrace our tired arms for warmth
on a cold autumn day.


Take my wings, take the sky
take the day
and fly from me, love
while you journey far from here
my heartbeat is your home, your home.


There's a storm in my heart
and it calls to you;
the wings on my soul
raise you from the ground.....

Special: Aida

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v_XHTzc6lag

This musical made me cry. I sobbed so hard I had to leave the auditorium and wait in the bathroom until the pain subsided.

Why?

It reminded me of Katie, and of me.
Me:
Aida:
It's knowing what they want of me that scares me
It's knowing having followed that I must lead
It's knowing that each person there compares me
To those in my past whom I now succeed
But how can whatever I do for them now
Be enough
Be enough

Nubians:
Aida! Aida!
All we ask of you
Is a lifetime of service, wisdom, courage
To ask more would be selfish
But nothing less will do
Aida! Aida!

Nehebka:
You robe should be golden, your robe should be perfect
Instead of this ragged concoction of thread
But may you be moved by its desperate beauty
To give us new life for we'd rather be dead
Then live in the squalor and shame of the slave
To the dance!
To the dance!

Nubians:
Aida! Aida!
All we ask of you

All we ask is a lifetime of
Service, wisdom, courage
To ask more would be selfish
But nothing less will do
Aida! Aida!

Nubians:
Aida! Aida!
Aida! Aida! Aida!

Aida:
I know expectations are wild and almost
Beyond my fulfillment but they won't hear
A word of a doubt or see signs of weakness
My nigh on impossible duty is clear
If I can rekindle my ancestors' dreams
It's enough
It's enough

Aida: It's enough

Nubians: Aida!

Nubians:
Aida! Aida!
Aida! Aida! Aida!

Aida: It's enough
Nubians: Ah,ah,ah,ah,ah,ah

And of course, Katie:
Mereb:
There is a time
there is a place
When love should conquer all
The rest of life is pushed aside
as truth and reason fall
But only if that selfishness
can lead to something good
I thought I knew you princess
But I never understood
I don't know you
I don't know you


Mereb dies for Aida. Aida goes after the handsome Egyptian Captain.




I wouldn't. Really, I even have a Captain. R could have escaped into the handsome countryside, Mereb too; and I would have died there.


Die for love, always, Mereb.

Special: More from Ironside

"Look, I just don't want you to keep hiding things from me," Kaye said, handing him back the bottle, "Or hurt my feelings because you think it's going to keep me safe, or sacrifice yourself for me. Just tell me. Tell me what's going on with you." 
He tipped the champagne so that the liquid fizzed on the snow, staining it pink. "I taught myself to feel nothing. And you make me feel." 
"That's why I'm a weakness?" 
"Yes. It hurts, to feel again. But I'm glad of it; I'm glad of the pain." 
"I know I failed you. In the stories when you fall in love with a creature--"
"First I'm a thing, now I'm a creature?" 
"Well, in the stories is it often a creature. Some kind of beast. A snake that becomes a woman at night, or someone cursed to be a bear until they can take off their own skin."
"How about a fox?" 
"If you like. You're crafty enough." 
"Yeah, let's say a fox." 
"In those stories, one is often asked to do something unimaginably terrible to the creature. Cut off its head, say. A test. Not a test of love, a test of Trust. Trust lifts the spell."
"So you think that you should have cut off my head?" 
"I should have accepted your declaration, whether I thought it was wise or no. I loved you to much to trust you. I failed." 
"Good thing I'm not really a fox. Or a snake or a bear. And good thing I'm sneaky enough to figure out a way around your dumb quest." 
"Once more I mean to save you, and yet you come to my rescue...."

I wasn't kidding. It did remind me of you.

But can you guess why?

Special: Perfect night

I live for the moments where I make my own choice. Like now. It's quiet, except for the Abba song I have on repeat, the sound impervious to the still air. My treasures live around me, like a cavorting-less party. Cold is creeping on my bare shoulders, my naked feet. I'm torn between wishing I had her here to hold and wanting the cold to tear apart my skin.
Boy you're only a child.
I love her. I have a perfect night and love her completely; music crawls on my skin. She's not even here, and I love her.
I could dance with you honey
if you think it's funny
I could chat with you baby
learn a little maybe--
does your mother know that you're out?
Katie. I tell you of my Roses and you are now of my world. My mind is blown. Soon, you will learn the cost of my devotion.
I throw cold coke zero down my throat as I think. My sandwich, which emptied the random contents of my refrigerator, cold meat, beer dip, and cheese. It burns against my teeth.
What if I'm not the one?
It isn't going away, the possibility of nights like tonight. Eating words from new fantasy, palling my wisdom with bad music.
I can see in your face
your feelings are driving you wild.
I love her.
That's it--that's my life. I realized it when she hurt me. Normally I cry, I frown, I feel the pain and acknowledge it. This?
Heartbreak is not showing to anyone the cost of living, taking mints to dull the stench of agony on your breath.
Yes, Heartbreak. At last, it's over: For now at least.
I know what you want
but aren't you a little young?    

Special: Remember to smile, remember to smile

Payton_Loves_All: And I could never sleep when at a Revel.

Special

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-DhABLiirg

Sometimes I get Lonely. I sure understand him a lot better than most people do. I get Lonely and I wait for the world to rescue me from, but it won't.
Then I watch movies, then I read books. I run away from Lonely.

I leave Lonely alone.

Unfortunately, he always catches up.

Lonely is, I think
the very worst friend
an American girl
could ever have.

Special: Been and Gone (written on L&L by the Doctor, NOT written by me)

Talk about finding your soul by mistake, much?

Been & Gone
Once everything is said and done, does it really matter?
I mean, what's the point... one person gets hurt, is that so bad?
Ask yourself this: Do you put yourself above them?
Is it right to do so?

Closing yourself to what is human... could it hurt you?
Are you able to understand?
Without a balance, are you really yourself?
Are you really human anymore?

So ask yourself this: Are you flawed?
Yes? Of course... but are they more flawed than you?
Can you justify what you did?
Does it make sense to you?

Isn't the world out there for you to take?
Isn't that what you were told, as a child?
Can you be the leader... in some shape or form?
How would that work?

Why am I asking myself this?
Don't I have no doubts?
I must be right, yes?
Then why are you so unsure?

What is it... controlling me?
Is it my mind or that of another?
Are they the same?
Should they be the same?

The voices in my head... will they ever leave?
Can I survive without them?
Have I gone mad?
Once everything is said and done, does it really matter? 

Special

Atra esterní ono thelduin.
May good fortune rule over you.
Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr.
Peace in your heart.
Un du evarínya ono varda.
And the stars watch over you.

Paolini's elves were very similar to Tolkien's.... Ahha. Just kidding, I actually like these books. His Ancient Language had to come from somewhere at age fifteen, after all. As for creating a new world when one is fifteen..... /could've made millions /won't /maybe will someday

The opening to this blog post is the greeting they use. The one of the lower rank, title, age, whatever starts first, and then the second person does the middle. If it is a special warm-fuzzy meeting, the third line is added by either party if they wish to honor the first party.


Things are so much simpler in his world, but I'll still buy his book. After all, is the Ancient language really so different from....

The moon is honored to shine on you, my lady.
And may the fire burn in your heart, my Lord.

Or perhaps

May many hours pass before I must leave you, Wave-Crusher.
And twice the hours before you must leave me, good Knight. 

Or the ever popular

Lady Eliac, have you at last stopped time? Has the silver in your hair, at last, caused the stubborn sun to cease its' shining?
Ach, Nephamael! Mind yourself, lest the sun and I decide to burn you. 



Nephamael always was a one for too much flattery. If I didn't give him a cut-off time, he could've made up verses to my face on the spot. 

Special: Lady Payton?

When I was thirteen or Fourteen, Taylor bought a book at one of those torrid book fairs called Fairest. It's set in the Ella Enchanted Universe. Anyway, like most books I got--things I got for that matter--at the time, Taylor got bored with it, and it was passed to me.

Like all books then, like when I read books because they were the only conversation I had--this was shortly before the Roses--I devoured it. It was comforting to bounce from my too-easy English class to the Kingdom of Ayorthya.

Let me tell you about Ayorthya: They sing there.

They sing greetings, they sing the occasional sentence, they sing to make things easier or harder or more meaningful. Instead of balls, they have parties called Sings where everybody gets up and sings this or that. Their games are full of making up melodies to accompany old books or new books, ones far away, made not for singing. They call it 'the Composing game'.

I used to play it in the halls, pretending to have conversations with myself.

I'd play the Composing game, just to know I'd be liked in Ayorthya.

Some of my songs were about nothing, some of them meant everything to me. It all depended on my heart. My songs weren't as fancy or clever as the ones in the book, but they were sincere. I think they'd be liked, especially with my voice.

I re-read that book today, put it on a shelf. Sitting alone in my big, too-cold room, I made up songs again.
One of them went like this:
In all of the five Kingdoms,
from Pu to closer Kyrria
there is no greater currency
than the dancing songs of Ayorthya. 


I was raised too far away
beneath a dancing sun and stars
to know the feel of cold Gold Yorthys 
but I'd know the songs of Ayorthya. 


I have no skill with needles, thread
I cannot net a fish
I cannot dance in time to tune
but I'd sing the songs of Ayorthya. 


In the Kingdom of the King
no clink of coin, no diamond mine
holds their deepest worth:
a commoner may climb the ranks
if her songs can strike the heart
and make clear tears run rivers
down the face of good Ayorthya.


My voice is like the summer down
spread across a wooden floor;
the floor may need some polish
but the feathers make it plush
and I know the songs of Ayorthya. 


And 
if I lived in Ayorthya
I'd live in the King's palace.


My voice would wrap like heat in Winter
my voice would call the sun from the skies
my smile would be second-best still
but I'd be the clear and cloudless sky
in the palace of the King of Ayorthya. 


If I lived in Ayorthya
I'd live in the King's palace.



I feel better remembering that I would have worth in worlds other than ours. Thirteen-year-old thought so, too.

That one children's book certainly started a tiny, mutinous thought: what if I were special? What if I were loved and listened to?

In the Roses, shame for having forgotten that. I have power on my own. I'd be next to royalty there.


It is time for me to remember much, I think, like it or no.



The first thing for me to remember?

If I lived in Ayorthya
I'd live in the King's palace.

Special: My Research Paper (The Origin of the Vampire Sex Complex)

Three sources: a periodical source (magazine/newspaper blah blah blah), a reputable (note that word, REPUTABLE) website, and a book.

Remember, the trick to writing a good research paper is comprehensibility. He’ll be much more prone to accepting it if the paper follows his expectation. Back-bone knowledge is okay on a research paper, too, as long as properly used.

Ideas:

§  Zombies and vampires become the most popular character types in both television shows and movies.

From the previous decade, how did it influence us? (Fuck)

Let me think….

People associate death with sex. Especially with vampires, I could explore that. I don’t think people really consider the danger of the Vampire. Ripping open your throat is definitely not as exciting as it sounds… trust me.

Reminder: Bibliography

Currency

Relevance

Authority

Accuracy

Sources:
http://www.jstor.org/stable/1346054?&Search=yes&searchText=Vampires&searchText=Popular&searchText=culture&list=hide&searchUri=%2Faction%2FdoBasicResults%3Fhp%3D25%26la%3D%26wc%3Don%26acc%3Don%26gw%3Djtx%26jcpsi%3D1%26artsi%3D1%26Query%3DVampires%2Bin%2BPopular%2Bculture%26sbq%3DVampires%2Bin%2BPopular%2Bculture%26prq%3D%2528Vampire%2529%26si%3D26%26jtxsi%3D26&prevSearch=&item=33&ttl=819&returnArticleService=showFullText


Website???

Special: Enough

God in Heaven,
please, let not my Heart
be in suffering
from the weight of being myself.


In the end, Eliac had strength and conviction. Half of my own success was being completely willing to challenge those who were foolish enough to even attempt degrading me. I do not have that when I am not surrounded by people accustomed to glimpsing it from me. The stench of truth on human lips does not make it less true outside the revels I call home.

Not called. Call.

Even if I won't be a full-time Rose, the Humans are accepted now. I, myself, was doing to others what has been done to me, thus setting me off-balance and tumbling my worlds around me.

Enough.

Sometimes I forget that I am not made, something as wonderful, unique, loyal, honest, and special as me, merely to repulse the common man. I am a Rose. Men have cowered at my feet to find favor in my heart. What do I care, then, for common men? Why should I care if they don't consider what I saw, what I felt, who I touched real?

The fact is, when I really search myself, is that I do not care. I have been letting angry opinion rule my heart.

Enough.

I am not a Great. Not Great anything. Great Poet? Perhaps, but who reads Poetry? Great Artist? There are better, and anyway, who makes money in the art business? Great Singer? A few centuries ago, I would have been sensational. They would have written my name in rituals to the heathen Gods. It is not then, it is now.  Great at being Lady-Like? Sure, but who gives a rat's ass?

I have gifts. They are useless, but they are still gifts. If my Poetry is not read, I still write it. If my heart goes unknown, it causes me pain, but it is still a good and glorious thing. If my brain occasionally (you decide if that's the right word) overloads me, it is intelligent and quick and clever, if not at what I want it to be quick and intelligent and clever for.

Too often, I miscount my own talents.

Enough.

People have hurt me and leave me. People will continue to do so. There's no power I have, no magic strong enough, to keep them at my side, inspite of the best Love, the strongest Passion, I can offer. Let them walk, blind deaf and dumb through the streets of life without my Love to shield them from their sorrows; heavy as rain.  Odd metaphors aside, it's their life, and if they fuck it up and don't want me to tell them what's wrong and how I'd fix it, then I shouldn't. Even if I have nightmares about them, even if I spend the nights crying over them when it comes to Kate Murley, Schultz, Taylor, Az--Ryan, whatever.

For all the Magic in my heart, I am not enough. Dwelling won't change their pain, just like dwelling on my own pain won't help me.

Sometimes, I think otherwise.

Enough.

Sometimes I love people who will never, ever, ever love me like I love them. It causes me tremendous pain, being different. Be that as it may, I will always, always be different. Changing into them is as unlikely as them changing into me. For now, let the goal on that end be tolerance. I'll give myself slowly to the world, one smile, one glance, one witticism at a time.

I've been blaming myself for living the Gifts God has given me.

Enough, especially, of that.




If you're wondering what brought this on?

+A little anarachy I caused today, via a blog, a courier, and cleverness.


Aside from that plus (do you get the joke? Huh? Huh?), what caused it, you ask?

My room.


I put away my books today. I hung my jewelry, my paintings, movies, everything.

And when I was leaving, I turned around and looked. Hard. For ten seconds.

Then I looked at Taylor's room. It's plain, it's expected, it's what the average nineteen-year-old would want. My room looks older (by about two thousand years), but I'm in every nook and cranny. Not just in the wand hanging from the wall, but the modernistic painting of the Dragon-slayer Finnigan too. Not just from the Nancy Drew books, but from the weird Computer games I play, the advertisement for the lovely Pirate Museum, the mermaid I made from wax, the pictures from Ernest Hemmingway's house. Shag carpeting, Golden walls, cherry-painted shelves, gold mini-tables, old-looking lamps, picture frames, books, books, more books, and oh, books. Everything in my room belongs with me, and I belong with it. If the rest of the world can't give me that acceptance, I can always make myself a home.

I can make
my own acceptance.




I forget that most of all,
so much it makes my heart turn insideout
and the ever-waiting smile fade from my human lips.

Enough, I think, of that.

Special: Lord Azrael--I demand the right of Favor

My Lord,
I write this to neither your place of power nor your dutiful employ,
I write it just to you.

Let it be henceforth decreed by me, the Eliac
that humans are, from the night of the sacred moon,
to be taught and given the honor of the Law
in all standings.

Let this be said that your meetings shall heretofore be moved
from quiet places in the country when the cold stains your fingers
to city places, and that phrases such as 'human taint'
are now banned, lest the man in utterance face my wrath and power.

Let it be known to our allies, the Vampire
that their victims are no longer to be taken unwillingly
and that the Red Rose shall frown against their injustices;
this goes in accordance to the werewolves as well.

Let it be known to our allies, the Faery
be they of Seelie, Unseelie, Living, Non-Living, or seasonal court
that their human trinkets are henceforth to be given clothing, education
and their gifts returned to them
most especially the gift of choice.

Let it be known to the Rose-lined Council
that the servants are to be re-clad and re-taught with these new ways
and that any Lord or Lady who defiles these wishes
and also the implication of these wishes
with his or her prejudice shall suffer immensely for it.

Let it be known
that Humans are allowed to work their way to all stations past (and including)
the three revel circles.

Let it be known and remembered
as will soon be published in the History by my own hand
that human Champions, Wizards, Witches, Warlocks, and Halflings will be recognized
for their sacrifices.

Let it be known, also
that--Right of Information--
Humans are capable of using and wielding <True Magic>,
and should be warned of it's effects.

All Human-banishing talismans are, henceforth, Taboo.

The Taboo baring my name at this time,
published and approved--Right of Information--Directly
(in violation of the Code of Ethics) by Lord Azrael,
who will be subject to Red-Thorn Judgement
will now be punishment to any and all who would violate the wish
of the human woman
with the water in her eyes.

Let now
the Humans be recognized
as a viable and powerful race
who we may teach and enlighten with the Love, Justice, Law, and Power
that is in our honored and ancient organization.

The Long-lady
being of the blue-gaze, the crushing wave
immortal water
bares this tongue onto her reign forever.



Eliac



Aqe Vale;
Aaye i' alu.

Aman tel' Seldarine i' Seere.

Special: Irony

"He took something traditional-music (which is artistic in itself)- and steped out of the box with it.
Kudos to all the true artists out there like Randall Hall, to the people willing to take a risk and put all of themselves out there in a new and often unusal way. They risk harsh critique, ridicule, and embarassment. But to those with the courage, none of that matters. If you perform you art wholeheartedly with passion, no matter how unusal it is, it cannot be wrong or bad. They are the ones who inspire me."

I'm leaving in the spelling errors. 

But you know what?
You ridicule, critique, it's you that makes us the embarrassment.

It cannot be wrong or bad....


Except it was when I Did it.



And isn't that how
and isn't that how
and isn't that how
the dervish dances?

Special: Human

Four Years ago:

You  may look upon
an immortal face
with mortal eyes;
and you may offer mortal wounds
to an immortal heart.

Magic is in my fingertips,
the Law is at my lips
and my crooked smile bares the fangs from centuries past.

Do you think that you are power?
That you could win a fight against my favor?
Let your human ignorance try
against the reign of my good name.

I am Lady Eliac
crusher of the ocean-waves
I am of storm-blue eyes
that traps the hearts of men in my tongue-spread.

When my heart makes battle 'gainst the breakers of the Law
I throw my arms to Siragon's will
and summon Power to make your days as dark
as promises.

Greet you Azrael, heir to James our Lord
the wings of tempered fire are his
and he dwells on my right hand
to fight against your plights with honor.

Let it be known all fare is fair
when tempting fate such as this Champion
by the scared Law we live
I will deal not with disobedience.

Immortals such as I whisper my treasured name at night
the fleeting, the victorious night
and even night raises his glass to my power.

My heart is good, my promises real
let my ladder take humans' appeal
and make to you my favor thus.

I
am Lady Eliac;
with power in my fingertips.


Now: 

I am only Payton.
I have wings, and I have words.
Once I was magic in itself
once men crumpled at my feet
but I threw Power away for Love.

I threw away the Law;
and the Law did throw away me.

The magic still resides
in my human fingertips, my Lords
and I will summon it with haste
if your cause has need of me.

Let my Love be honored
as the swiftness of our human years
I would like my name remembered
but only in your heart.

I am bitter from being struck
I am struck from being bitter
Loneliness is in my heart
as sure as the Love, the Law, and the Magic.








Now, my simple question is:
Am I one, or am I both?

And who here
would even notice the difference?

Special: I hate this

I want to drop out of college.
I hate it.
I hate the pencils on the paper with the facts I won't remember
I hate the feel of the too-focused minds, empty of themselves
I hate sitting down at a table and people making polite excuses to leave, one by one
nobody considering anybody else human.

I hate it here.

I really, really hate it.

I want to run away.
Get away.
Now.

I want to flee away from here
and who would notice? Who would care?

I don't care about these facts
the papers I'm supposed to write,
the math that I'm supposed to be studying
I really don't.

My fingers
want to make the pain in my heart stop
they want to make new people, places, words, ideas
they want to give me the wings I promised you
they want to make it stop
to make it stop
to make it stop.

And I can't.

Some people say when they are angry
they just don't care
well I care too much, too much
it surrounds me, and it's drowning me
and I feel like I'm running out of time
to change into the empty ones
that walk the clean and tiled halls.

I don't know what to do.

Being lonely is killing me,
really killing me.

I hate it. I hate myself,
I hate feeling different
I hate that nobody notices a girl crying her eyes out in the lobby,
flipping through classes she doesn't care enough to sign up for.

I want to wrap my arms around myself
and be comforted
but it doesn't work that way, not for me
not for the mermaid on the land
I'm drowing from the air in my lungs
and no one will drag me back to sea;
they like to watch me struggle, watch me die and watch me wither
wither like the sun in Winter, losing all his heat

I feel so alone.

Everyone says that.
Everyone, everyone says that
but you don't know what it means like I do
you will never feel it like I do.

I'm tired of people telling me to grow up
I'm sick of it, entirely sick of it
because I am grown up
I was grown
before you walked into yourself by accident
and I knew myself
when I took my first steps.

I'm tired of being alone,
but I know that change can't help me
I've tried so many times and it fails, it always fails
and my heart is broken.

How do I convey that to you?
Broken.
Destroyed. 
Dying.  
No longer stitched together.

People roll their eyes at me for saying that
especially when I use the language in my heart
but I am not wrong, I am not overly dramatic in this
weren't you listening?
I know MYSELF.

I'm alone.
I'm alone and the world doesn't care.

And when I say to people,
"What should I do?" Please help me.
"Grow up. That's how life works."

That is not, is never how
you should fix my broken heart
all I want is a little compassion
the kind I would give you

I sit at night with my hands on my knees
trying to sleep away my agony
fighting off the feeling that I'm sick, despite having not eaten
and my heart is killing--

No.

No, I must not forget--
it is not my heart, not my soul that's killing me.

You, all of you, have promised so many times
have sworn on bended knee
with the stench of truth on your lips
that is not me that is wrong here.

No, no sir.

You know what that means?

Me feeling like this?
It's your fault. Yours. Not mine.
I accepted you from the moment that we met, and you have not accepted me.

Stir your coffee with a smile, and I'll sob in this stupid plastic chair
I'll wither in a web of your anger
I'll weep in the locks of your hair

and you'll walk away.





My pain
is not my fault.













The funny thing is?



It's still there. 

Special

I'm going to build a set of wings.

I'm going to make it so that when I flap my arms
I slowly rise into the sunken skies
and make my songs known to the heavens
make my heart known to the clouds above
in honor of my broken soul.

And when that day comes
when I succeed where others have failed
let my arms be embraced my the thrill of warm air
the stench of men's progress
the sweat on my face

and I will fly to you,
you whose eyes are now upon this
and I will land upon your world
the world below my feathered wings
and smile,
and smile
and smile
for you.

Let that day come with a promise
with a reverence that shakes the molten heavens with heavy hope
wings made to carry me into the world where I belong
yes, my love.

That day has come.

God, I beg you, I plead and now I beg you:
I have found my purpose,
and I pray you---
let me fly.

Special: Breaking off Taboos

Here are Rules. Rules I was taught never to break.

• Never leave set strike/clean-up before the end. Ever. It's impolite and will cost you involvement. Linking arms with Jenna Cindy and leaving just for shits and giggles is NOT cool. Do you have any idea how it feels to the rest of us when you just leave like eight people with a pile of shit? Schultz was injured. I can excuse that, I don't know what her life was like. I have no idea. Maybe she ran like twelve miles today, she could presumably have done something other than sit in the green room and think and apply makeup. Which I have done, and is not tiring. I don't know, that's my point. I don't know, maybe she really was tired. You two others who skipped out for fun party time with Schultz? Bullshit. It's a card, and I'm pulling it. You just left me. How do you think that makes me feel?
• If you say you're going to be somewhere, be somewhere. No exceptions, barring serious shit. Really, really serious shit; not the type Aleve can cure. 
• No wiping spirit gum in the Green Room sink. This isn't an official rules, but I stayed up FOR HOURS wiping that shit out with a safety pin. Then chemicals. It still isn't out. 
• Clean up after yourself. Don't just throw it in a pile and call it quits. Don't leave shit all over the counter so I can spend the night re-organizing it and throwing it away because your half-day ass wanted a nap.
• Include people as much as possible. Don't isolate yourself in a corner and act superior, it's rude to your fellow theater lovers.
• Keep your temper even as long as possible. You're tired? Guess what. I'm tired too. It doesn't matter. We're serving the art we love and you signed up to do this. 
• Talk to people. Be willing to listen and compromise. 
• I don't know if this is a theater rule, but you know what? Don't be a fucking pessimist. If I'm standing there and I Smile and you go, "What is it, Payton?" And I go, "This is Finley's and I's First dance," your response shouldn't be to roll your eyes at each other and tap dance on my face.
• I'm allowed to have breaks. People don't consider it; but I was there through all this. I was there months ago when Katie, Hannah, and John started planning this. I sat in on their meetings, I helped them think it through, I spent over fifty dollars on this that nobody's reimbursed me for. 

The person who broke most of them
is the one that taught them to me in the first place.

And I'm tired. I'm tired, and I'm grumpy,
and my heart hurts from feeling so many people at once in one small area.
So, so many people.

I'm just....

Angry. I'm so angry at the people who swore, who swore they'd be there to help, and now aren't.

Why does that keep happening to me?
To John, to Katie? People who WORKED THEIR ASSES OFF got nothing because other people are dicks. That's SHIT! Why does this happen?!

GRRR!

Special

Tell me that he's evil,
Tell me those eyes aren't fair.
I'll tell you how smooth his lies
and the strain of magic, fake voice

people accuse me of melting from charm
but you can never know, can never know
exactly how much I loved him
and how much he hurt me.

And now
to feel his lips, to feel his touch against my skin
makes me sick

but like many of you
many of you, who make me sick?

I
still
love him.

Special: Telling the Truth is hard

Sometimes I get really angry at you Finley.
You might be good for me, but I don't like recognizing it.
I'm young. I want to do crazy things and go adventuring.
I want to make new friends, swing some parties, dance in the moon.
The closest thing we do to that is Ben's.
ALL you do is Ben's. You don't watch for new things at school,
you don't look for a better-paying job, nothing.
You just live your life with your head down, waiting for it to get better
and relying on me.

That is not okay.

What if something happens to me? What will you do?
Let's say I take really bad care of my diabetes and get into a coma.
Who will you talk to about your problems? Who will you spend time with?
You love me, and I love you. That doesn't mean you should live only for me.
I've had that devotion before, and let me tell you, it ends badly.

You know what else isn't okay?

You not saying good-bye to me every morning. You used to all the time,
and now you just throw me out of your car and drive off to your life.
That is, your classes. I'm pretty sure you don't even have a life. Find some new friends.
Find some. Start applying for a better job with more hours.
You don't lack smarts, you don't lack talent, so why the fuck are you settling?

It's like that with me, too. I feel like that a lot.
I was okay, and you were happy with me, and I came at the right time,
so you love me.
You SETTLED for me.

Let's look at last night.
I stayed up helping your parents, because your mother is so obviously sleep-deprived I could have thrown a brick through the window and she wouldn't notice.
I was being social and talking. And you just... left. Yeah, you're allowed to be tired.
But still.
Okay, so then I come into bed and get next to you.
And I'm thinking, and I go, "What would you do if you lost me?"
Maybe I should've been less direct, because you freaked the fuck out.
You gripped my arm like a vice and shook your head and got all whimpering,
pulling me to you, holding me like you wouldn't let go.

I used to think that was sweet. Now it concerns me.
Finley, this is a huge world with a lot of people that would love you if you gave them the chance
and you have to expand yours beyond me.
You have to act on what you see and realize, however much less observant you are than me,
or your life will be miserable and lonely.

Meanwhile,
I don't suppose you notice that *I'm* freaking out?
I'm fucking withering. I hate college. I tell you stories to keep you happy for me
because otherwise you get all mopey or angry,
so I can't tell you shit. Ever.
That's not how a relationship is supposed to work.

And that's not how People are supposed to work, either
I should be able to tell you something and you listen
and yeah, there's emotion involved, but you can't just let your mind take a vacation to Narnia on LSD
because that shit is wrong, and it makes me angry.

I'm sorry. I know tomorrow is our two-year anniversary.
But this has to change.
I'm thinking we should take a break for awhile
and we should both work some shit out
because frankly I have a lot going on right now
I really hate my life
I hate being trapped in this little town
I hate withering
I hate hearing the same idiots who followed me to M.A.T.C. throw shit in my face and go unchallenged for it
I hate not having outlets like I used to
I hate a lot. A lot a lot a lot.

And you have no idea.
I don't expect you to do what I do for other people
you aren't an em-path
but  for the love of God, Finley, you should definitely be able to tell when I am upset
and act on it.

I expect that from someone who wants me to spend the rest of my life with them.

I'm sorry to ambush you like this.
I really am.
But you needed to hear it.

I love you.

Please, fucking answer this.

Special: Thank you

I live to touch heart on your soul
to treat you like you're precious gold
my gentle, young and loving foal:
such is the promise I've foretold.

If there are storms in your eyes,
then they're true as the song in my heart
against the wrath of human lies
I will keep you and your pain apart.

I play the lyre to the feel of the heat in your smile,
I raise my water-filled glass to worship your name.
Tarry with my love awhile
and I'll promise, it won't hurt the same.

I raise my voice against the evils in our pain
watch the outside world reel with helpless rage:
there is no worth to such angry distain--
and I will free you from that cage.

Whether love is flying in clear skies
or through the heart's eclipse
I hope that you can realize
I live to taste the truth on your lips.

I want to make you happy,
I want to make you smile
Don't mean to be too sappy
but for you I'd win the Nile.

When there are others in this world
who find that they mean to offer harm
do not to their anger hurtle
instead, you find my open arms.

You protect me when my heart is livid as a burn, a welt;
I will hold wrap your heart with mine when it is broken
Equality, God's generous gift, is soft as gentle felt
to me: so please, remember the soft words I've spoken.

The pain in you is not awakened
my sun, my light, my gentle love
and I will not her love forsaken
but let me be your peace-granting dove.

I
am always here
for you.