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Letters from the dead to the living
June 2007
Thu, Jun. 7th, 2007 01:02 am
When Thom opened his eyes, the sky was concave over him, as it had been when as children he and Alanna lay on their backs in the grass. So it was now. The once-solid, undeserved wood of his coffin almost threatened to give way when he sat up, digging skeletal fingers hard into the sides.
and I know
He hauled himself out of the long, narrow box; it was an overestimation of his strength, and Thom found himself lying heavy on the earth with his unconscious sister. By instinct, he covered her hand with his own. The moonlight was very bright; the night air very cold. He had a different pulse in his thumb and beside the thick innermost tendon in his wrist. This is how he was:

Tired. And new. And the same.
your hands have
Thom reached for his Gift -- found it whole -- did not use it. In every other aspect, he seemed as he had in his last days: unhealthy, perhaps, but recoverable. He would have laughed if he had only been a little cleaner.

And he remembered how Roger had been, how strong and pleasant and quick on his feet. Roger, who had moved with such grace from his old tomb, had made him such a deep, fulsome bow -- Thom had thought it his due, then. And had planned with him designs for living.
been in the
What he thought of Roger, as Adam helped him to stand, was at last:

I'll show you.



Sat, Mar. 31st, 2007 06:04 pm


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Fri, Dec. 8th, 2006 09:04 pm


Note: if an LJ name begins with 'the' or 'a,' this has been disregarded, and the LJ name has been filed alphabetically under the next letter.

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Sun, Nov. 26th, 2006 11:34 pm
You want to come home with me? Parker had asked: You might get shot.

For Thom, there is now only ever one answer to any question that ends in his leaving the bar; Parker hadn't needed to add, At least then you wouldn't be fucking waiting.

He would have gone.


Like last time, they wind up somewhere beat-up and dirty with mirrors that haven't been washed and the smell of poverty warm in the air. The sun rises early and drags past the horizon only reluctantly, late in the evening, pulling streamers of hot air and clouds in its wake. Parker steals a car that didn't belong to its driver -- it was on loan, or something -- and they drift meaninglessly down the lone highway, towards money.

Thom puts his feet up on the dashboard, pushes his arm against the window (cracked) and, head cradled tenderly in the pale crook of his elbow, sometimes sleeps; sometimes watches the sand blow away.

"Why so angry?" he asks Parker once. Looking to start a fight.

But Parker just turns up the radio.


There's an ambush where the car stops. Thom waits by the sidelines, slender arms crossed in a sendup of patience, as Parker and the fence talk shop -- politely at first, then with bullets. Parker shoves him back against the car when the fence's gun goes; the metal door burns through the thin silk of his shirt, and he sinks to his knees, surprised, testing the rising heat. Parker doesn't talk when he fights; doesn't taunt, doesn't tease. When they leave there's heavy lead in the fence's shoulder and knee but he's breathing, which is more than Thom would have allowed, had he been betrayed. Maybe. He's never killed anyone.

But he thinks big.

Thom waits in the dust as Parker exchanges goods -- whatever they are -- for currency. Waits until Parker stops in front of him, eyes cold, and touches his face with a bloody hand; leaves wet red lines on Thom's unbroken cheekbone.

He crawls to his feet and gets back in the car. The engine gives a shuddering, violent cough; moves them along. They roll into an empty parking lot, chip bags flat and light and dry under the tires.


"Good thinking," Thom says, "back there," voice heavy with sarcasm. He watches Parker trying to bandage his own arm; doesn't look away.

Parker says, dismissive, "Shut up, Thom."

"No," says Thom, widening his eyes and not letting up, "I was really impressed. Do all your jobs go that smoothly?"

He presses on until Parker snaps, still favoring his injured arm, and says something that has Thom across the gearshift in a second, angry, playing for keeps; he hisses, "Stupid," as hard as he can, and when he kisses Parker he bites Parker's lip, hard, until Parker shoves him into the backseat. Follows after.

When it's over he ties the bandage -- weathered cloth -- himself, but they're both already marked with blood, and Thom shrugs his way into the motel with a scowl on his lips and bruises that darken his throat. He flinches from Parker the moment Parker ventures a glance at him.

Tired, he throws himself into a chair; covers his face with his hands. Parker's footsteps move steadily, quietly around the small room. Then grow fainter. And Thom looks up and through the open door --

(seeing Milliways hasn't felt like this since the first time)

-- relief.



Sun, Nov. 12th, 2006 04:21 pm
One of those nights: Thom sleeps calmly, one thin forearm flung across his face, wrist depending gently into his hair. His breath comes slow and even, lips parted, dry.

He is dreaming: somewhere at the limits of an ocean, feet bare in the sand, he looks up at the sun and does not blink. In the distance lingers the faint, high sound of strings. As if Court had brought a party to the edge of the world. As if it were summertime.



Wed, Nov. 1st, 2006 01:21 am
Thom's door isn't locked tonight. He isn't doing anything suspicious: just sleeping fitfully, as if he had a fever.



Tue, Oct. 31st, 2006 11:13 pm
it was silence that begot them
There is a kind of Halloween in Tortall: older, stronger, and more dangerous. Which makes tonight an anniversary. Tonight, a few years ago, somewhere else in the city, an old woman tested the protection, the barriers on this spell; and was -- slightly the worse for it.
the purpose of their ways
Thom is thinking of it. Has been thinking of it. Goes to bed fully dressed, silk sleeves brushing the skin of his wrists. Hopes he'll dream of it. Hopes that he can remember, if he cannot re-enact, the violence and strength of those days.
the lord, the father, the beggar, and his hands
Perhaps because of the severity of the event, or because of his brief life, or perhaps for other reasons, he still dreams and thinks of Roger regularly, although not as he used to. Before, when he said he would have liked to kill Roger, there was truth in it; now, things are entirely different. A distance of thought which he never knew in life has arisen, so that there is a quality of 'your Grace,' 'his Grace' in the way that he thinks about Roger. As if Roger were a person he had only heard of, never met. Or worse than that, because before they met, during those long years before their short conversation (half an hour at best), Roger was as real to him as the spies Roger placed around him: someone he could reach up and strike, were he to stretch out his hand. Because Alanna knew him. Because Alanna was endangered by him. Because Thom's independent existence, then as now, had been false to him.
and from that time the coast will pull
Unlike hers.
and push against the sky
The thought of Roger has become a comfort to him now, and in his dreams they rarely fight, rarely die (except when he is extremely unhappy), and instead play chess while they drink and talk in low voices of everything that might have been, after. Of ambition. Of cruelty. Of power. But Thom thinks, he will never be stupid enough, never be young enough, to do what he did again. Next time, it won't be arrogance that moves him, but desperation, ennui, which is worse: he knows better.
oh, baby, I know the night's too slow
If only he had been stupid. If only he were alive. If only he looked forward to anything. If only Alanna had loved no one else. If only he had loved someone else. If only he had loved her, not in contention with himself, but in conjunction with, healthily. But Thom, who is still young, and who is still stupid, thinks, it is too late for anything now, and begins to find oblivion preferable.
and nobody will die
Tonight he dreams this:
and nobody will die
There is no world on the other side of the stairs, there is no bar, there are no people in costumes, no men in masks, no sisters with children, no brothers-in-law, no fathers, no mothers, no souls and no liquor; the whole world is here, in his room, and it is boundless and green.
and nobody will die
He kneels at the edge of a vast sea, and the water runs over his hands. It feels like sand, feels like fire. Feels like the beginning of something.
while I've got money in my hands
Thom touches a hand to his lips, smiles, and looks away.



Sat, Sep. 2nd, 2006 11:55 pm
*The door isn't locked.

Thom must be bored.*



Fri, Aug. 11th, 2006 12:17 pm
When they leave the bar, they don't touch, and this is not like before. Thom suspects Xas is no fonder of him than he is of Xas; wonders why they are even going anywhere together at all.

In Aruba there is one room.

Xas says -- proposes -- that they cut the bullshit, just for a week. This is not something Thom agrees to immediately, but Xas is the Host in this scene, and Thom is . . . charity, really. It means more to him to leave the bar than he would quite like Xas to know.

(Although, of course, if they are going to stop playing games, then in the end there will be nothing that he doesn't know.)

- - -


Thom is at first unsure how to begin. As a policy, he chooses silence -- the absence of lies -- over half-truths, pure lies, or his usual mix thereof. This seems to be the least offensive choice.

It occurs to him, after some hours of this, that he has been editing his capacity to give offense for a very, very long time.

After that Thom is still quiet, but not gently so; he begins to reveal, bit by bit, pieces of information which he has not shared with anyone before, although he isn't entirely sure why. What does it matter, for example, that for the last months of his life, he rarely -- almost never -- ate?


- - -

Xas is not sympathetic, precisely. Not at all. And so it bothers Thom not at all to point out, snide, cool, just how self-involved he finds this preoccupation with God's cruelty. To Thom, everything Xas says, whether about himself or God's treatment of humans, or even about flowers, more or less amounts to the sound of a child squalling and hugging himself in a corner because his father just beat him.

"Six thousand years," Thom says one night, harshly. "Grow up, Xas."

What he means by this is, no one cares.

Xas looks at him. "No," he says. "Only one hundred."

Thom still considers that a damn long time, but it's enough to shut him up for a while, and for the night's remainder they don't speak.

- - -

Sometimes they go to the beach. Xas likes it better than Thom does; the novelty of the ocean is wearing off, and his natural dislike of anything, well, natural is reasserting itself.

So they spend time apart.

- - -

They do touch, sometimes. When Thom gets impossibly sunburned. When Thom flashes Xas a quick look, all promising dark eyes and watch this and it becomes all too obvious that they do have certain techniques (and perhaps even habits) in common.

When, on the very last night, Thom asks if Xas would be interested in his life. Interested to know. Perhaps to understand.

(This is what mortality feels like.)

"Yes," says Xas, and Thom, who was a sorcerer, lets his palm cup Xas' pure face: careful, smooth (it is this simple).

- - -

These are memories:

Looking for Alanna in dark rooms after a nightmare. Servants' voices whisper down long hallways. He passes the door to his father's room; touches the handle, fleeting.

Doesn't linger.

"What happened?"

"He was always so . . . "


"Yes. But promising."

"Things change."

Once or twice, not often, Roger kissed him as if he cared. Truly.

"I want to slay demons and walk with the gods -- "

- - -

Xas offers friendship, after.

And Thom leaves.



Tue, Aug. 8th, 2006 09:22 am



Sun, Jun. 25th, 2006 11:15 pm
Thom lies sprawled on the floor of his room, one arm flung carelessly over his face. His other hand is wrapped around a bottle of something rather stronger than wine.



Thu, Jun. 15th, 2006 04:08 am
It's not long afterwards.

Thom's long since struggled out of what's left of his black shirt, however; sits against the foot of his bed, twisting the cloth in his hands.



Sun, Jun. 4th, 2006 01:04 am
So that's what all the fuss was about.

Thom presses his face into War's shoulder, against the smooth white skin, so that he doesn't have to look at her. Just for a moment.

He just needs a moment.



Tue, May. 30th, 2006 08:39 pm
Thom's sitting in the middle of his floor, looking at stuff that he got for his birthday. Some of it more than the rest. He's drunk. And disoriented. And still wearing purple swim trunks. And kind of wet.

Weird night.



Mon, May. 29th, 2006 05:46 pm
I WISH THEY OFFERED ME CALIFORNIA GIRLS. That's just a ridiculous lj-cut text.Collapse )



Fri, May. 26th, 2006 08:59 pm
The weather's getting better, you know? Thom sits by the shore of the lake, barefoot, looking thoughtful. No telling how long he's been out here.



Mon, May. 15th, 2006 11:09 pm
The touch of Thom's fingers is almost as light as his soft, even breath; there's something strange, something soothing about the delicate ghost of pure skin over scar tissue.

(If Xas shivers, or if his eyes slip shut, well -- Thom doesn't notice.)

He doesn't speak until afterwards, when he crawls back and tucks his hair loosely behind his ears, not quite smiling, and he bites his lip in a way that's somehow reassuring.

Then, unprompted, as if it were quite natural, he talks about himself and it isn't lying to make light of things, to admit truth only as if by accident, so that it doesn't seem true at all, is it? (It might be.) His hands move as he speaks, the half-excited gestures of youth; that same smile flares in tandem at the corners of his lips, and from time to time even reaches his eyes. As he speaks he explains little things, tiny scars, the metal chain he sometimes wears, the mark of teeth he also sometimes wears.

Behind these details (Xas might notice) is the real story, which has much less to do with flippancy and everything to do with scars and sacrifice which always (Thom knows) come in twos.

When all's said and done, Xas leaves; and Thom has hardly touched him, has he?



Sun, Apr. 2nd, 2006 10:03 pm
He dreams of her, sometimes. Often.

Tonight he dreams of watching her in the fire, as he used to do. The flames are warm and respond softly to his guiding fingers; the words are smooth and familiar on his lips. He kneels by the hearth and stirs the fire.

In the desert she seems harder than he remembers. Not desperate, not cruel, not unhappy.

Just --


Tonight he dreams of being unable to find her, of knowing where she is, why she is there, but not how she is. He assumes that she is all right because to him she is constant, indestructible, stronger than anything but the gods. Perhaps stronger; the gods have never been tested, have they? The gods are no one's tool.

The fire darkens. He doesn't know if she is beyond his range -- he can hardly fathom this, although he knows that she is very far away -- or if the problem lies with him, with the foul dried-blood rust of his magic.

She will be unhappy, he knows; she hates the cold.

They hate the cold.

A hand on his shoulder lures him gently to his feet; Thom turns, and forgets.



Sat, Mar. 11th, 2006 11:32 pm
*Thom turns away from Santino in his sleep as the night wears on, but doesn't move out of his reach.*



Sun, Feb. 26th, 2006 09:02 pm
*Thom is in.

He almost always is.*



Wed, Feb. 15th, 2006 08:19 pm
*Thom stands looking out at the lake, poised and still against the bleak bark of a tree.

He wears only a thin black shirt, and looks as if he should be very cold.*



Tue, Feb. 7th, 2006 07:16 pm
On any of several long dark nights, it would be easy to find Thom shut away in his room.

A defensive silence pervades; all you have to do is knock and break it.



Sun, Jan. 1st, 2006 09:19 pm
*Sunday night . . .

Not a good choice for excitement. Thom's cleaning.*



Fri, Dec. 30th, 2005 04:37 am
Dear Sister,

I promised to send these to you for Midwinter.


I've always been a little absent-minded.

I never meant you to see these, you know; at the same time they were really written with you in mind. I suppose it can't hurt. Much. And you did express an interest.

I only hope you find something to satisfy it.


Happy late Midwinter's.




Thu, Dec. 15th, 2005 10:44 pm
Q: Why Roger?

(1) I'll start with the extent of Roger's influence on Thom's life. You have to remember that not long after Thom and Alanna were separated, Roger came in. Not personally, but his presence was there: the spies, Alanna's letters about how she didn't trust him, the danger. In many ways someone you never see or speak to is much more real than the people you do see from day to day, and seems much more . . . mysterious and powerful. For Thom that was perversely very attractive. Here we get into Thom's 'sabotaging' his education because of Roger (and Alanna, although she'd never have asked him to do it), which is a lot to ask of someone like Thom who likes to show off especially when he's spent most of his life being the failure. Roger would have been on Thom's mind every day, almost constantly. So . . . well . . .

(2) Thom finds danger attractive. It's canon that students of magic that Roger thought might someday surpass him had a tendency to 'get sick and die' or 'have accidents.' Thom knows how to trick people and how to hide, but he also wants to be caught. He wants people to recognize how cleverly he's been running circles around them. It's a thrill.

(3) Thom did meet Roger before Roger died; they spoke for about half an hour, and apparently got along. Knowing them there must have been more to it than that. By then Thom's secret was out, even if Alanna's wasn't quite, and he would have enjoyed . . . flaunting the fact that he made it out. Hmmm. I'm not sure this is as relevant as I thought.

(4) I don't want to get into why Thom raised Roger in the first place because it's almost completely irrelevant. However, again the element of secrecy in the months after the fact plus the power and pride and most importantly the attention that Thom got from Roger when . . . well . . . Roger didn't see anyone else would have been very important. Because really Thom likes attention. Not love necessarily but attention and notice and caring. One thing that's always hurt him (whether or not it's right) about Alanna is her ability to care about and love people who aren't him. For Thom there was only ever her and, by extension, Alanna's friends and enemies. He didn't have his own.

(5) In many ways it's revenge. Not because Thom wants to hurt Alanna particularly or doesn't love her or whatever. But personality-wise they're a horrible fit and they've been dealing with that forever. Alanna, being nice, doesn't seem to resent this much. Thom would. Consciously or not. Alanna isn't actually what he wants in a person he loves at all. He's not a strong person either and this strange relationship is probably the single most difficult aspect of his life/existence. By the by he doesn't actually want to get in Alanna's pants at all. But as long as that joke gets made neither of them will have to figure out what's really wrong.

(6) In the same vein Alanna said once that Thom could hardly have chosen better if he had been out to get her. On some level that's not accidental.

(7) Roger is really everything Thom wants. He's smart. He pays attention to Thom in all the right, bad ways. (Because in case anyone forgot Thom is not a good person and has no desire to be one.) He is the best sorcerer in the Northern Lands. Thom wants that: the knowledge, the games, the notice. He doesn't care at all if Roger is king or not. If Roger kills or not. In fact if Roger killed him or not, really.

Because it's not about that.

ETA: Fahye makes things more coherent.

Fahye Dielle: no, it does make sense.
schiarire: you would probably explain it better than I can
Fahye Dielle: she's important, she's VERY important, and thom kind of resents that she has to be so important to him AND the kind of person that he'd not like at all if he didn't love her
schiarire: *too tangential*
schiarire: well, yes
schiarire: and that she loves other people
schiarire: because if she only loved him .. he would never have LOOKED anywhere else
schiarire: but that's not how she is.
ravelfic: :[ *pats thom*
Fahye Dielle: Yes, because that's part of who she is. She can love widely and generously, whereas Thom has a helplessly narrow focus and has to kick his attention sullenly onto other people, leading to unhealthy attachments for reasons that are completely out of Alanna's experience. Because when it comes down to it they're very different in almost every way.

ETA2: Rami has a question.

schiarire: thom was SO JEALOUS OF ADAM. he feels replaced. completely.
OORamiusOo: was?
schiarire: he isn't now. i don't know why. it scares me
OORamiusOo: I suspect that's part of this weird new dynamic. *eyes them*
OORamiusOo: because adam used to be jealous of thom like that. and he's not anymore. and it's NOT just because alanna's so upset at him.
schiarire: uh huh
schiarire: then why?
OORamiusOo: I'm not actually sure. I suspect... I suspect it could have to do with incorporating thom into a more of a family type person as opposed to a friend acquaintance type person. maybe.
schiarire: i don't think it's anything like that for thom unfortunately
OORamiusOo: no, I didn't think so.
schiarire: and it's not that he's trying to accommodate alanna as he's done in the past.
OORamiusOo: no.
OORamiusOo: and this is now intriguing me. quite a lot.
schiarire: use smaller words. i'm lost.
OORamiusOo: smaller words to say "I'm interested"? XD
schiarire: in WHAT
OORamiusOo: why they're all... weird, now. only quasi-normal which is only weird, because it's them
schiarire: hmmmmmmm.
schiarire: they were always weird
schiarire: but it made more sense before
OORamiusOo: which was normal for them. XD
schiarire: because we could just write it off as UST basically
OORamiusOo: right
OORamiusOo: only now, it's something else entirely
schiarire: whatever the fuck THAT is
OORamiusOo: *flails*
OORamiusOo: poll your room

ETA3: The response.

Fahye Dielle: damn, that's a hard one. pragmatism? *dubious* Thom is not the most pragmatic of people
schiarire: I have an answer but don't like it
Fahye Dielle: then it's probably at least partly right
schiarire: hahahah.
schiarire: yeah. ok.
schiarire: I'm increasingly feeling that Thom thinks Alanna has phased him out and that the damage is at this point irreparable
schiarire: and that he's just coping with that.
schiarire: has been. for a long time.
Fahye Dielle: so not pragmatism as much as a way of coping with resignation
schiarire: giving up! yes.
schiarire: so Adam had BETTER do better.
schiarire: because it's him now.
Fahye Dielle: that is so bloody depressing
schiarire: which is why I don't LIKE that answer!!
Fahye Dielle: but as I said.
ravelfic: my guess was a little more of a Thom wins scenario... but my interpretation of the UST might just be wishful thinking.
Fahye Dielle: it's at least partly right. Thom is smart enough to realise the redundancy of trying to get between them
ravelfic: well, not wishful
ravelfic: maybe Thom realizes that yes, he still does have that power over Adam, i.e. he is more certain that Adam still desires him on some level.
Fahye Dielle: if their relationship was a little more back-and-forth and they were more similar, he might be able to see that as a path of action. but it's 'Alanna' and now it's 'Alanna and Adam' and because it's Alanna's choice he can't DO anyth
ravelfic: And also he can be certain that Adam will reject that for Alanna’s sake.
ravelfic: So Thom still holds all the cards, in a way; he still has a measure of control over Adam.
schiarire: That would be nice, but it's not what I'm getting ...
Fahye Dielle: *leaps onto holly's train of though* maybe some control, yes, but he couldn't do anything with that control that wouldn't make all three of them totally miserable
ravelfic: yes... but i would think if alanna wasn't one of the 3 involved in that scenario, he wouldn't care. he'd still relish having that kind of manipulative control.
OORamiusOo: like thom would hesitate to make everybody miserable if it was the result he wanted?
ravelfic: though since alanna *is* one of the 3, his recent zen outlook doesn't make as much sense with my crackpot theories. :}
Fahye Dielle: oh yes. but it'll hurt Alanna and she'll not just be phasing him out but actively hostile. which...in some ways I think he might even try for, if the phasing gets too bad, because it's negative attention but it's still ATTENTION
Fahye Dielle: but for now he's going to let things be. because Alanna is still speaking to him.
schiarire: He would much prefer for her to actively hate him than to phase him out, yes.
schiarire: yeah. kind of speaking.
OORamiusOo: Because it means that she's still focused on him.
Fahye Dielle: Wonderful. So somewhere there's a breaking point where the phasing-out get to the point that Thom embarks on destructive paths in order to get her attention
Fahye Dielle: Which is kind of a hefty portion of the Roger thing *eyes*
Fahye Dielle: Alanna had a life and friends and boyfriends and enemies and was on the edge of not really thinking about him that much at all. The way he saw it.
Fahye Dielle: But Roger was the one thing she couldn't ignore
schiarire: oh. yes. well, those are all PAST roger things. there are MORE roger things planned

ETA4: After a summary.

ravelfic: ooooo. so Adam and Alanna were pushed together because of what Thom did, i.e. supposedly planning to run off with Roger.
Fahye Dielle: And the ironic thing is, the closer THEY get the more likely Thom is to paticipate in said running-off
OORamiusOo: well, adam and alanna were already together. but that's kind of what, yeah. RUSHED THINGS, if you will. and, yes
Fahye Dielle: or at least show all signs pointing to
ravelfic: ahaha. TRAIN WRECK.
Fahye Dielle: Lucifer: *watches. with binoculars*
ravelfic: oh no, not the binoculars again...
schiarire: Sadly Roger also doesn't really care about Thom as much as Thom wants. BECAUSE ONE PERSON CAN'T.
schiarire: but apart from those two (who don't combine well) thom has no one!
OORamiusOo: Adam: I cared. Until you started sleeping with my FATHER.
schiarire: Adam's father: I love it when they talk about me. *gets popcorn*
Fahye Dielle: we had a plan to get him a bastard who would love him! remember? and we had no idea if such a character existed anywhere in any canon. and then....the Lucifer thing happened oops. so no go.
OORamiusOo: (and now he cares again only in a totally CREEPY AND INEXPLICABLE way)
OORamiusOo: oops indeed
schiarire: The Lucifer thing hardly prevents new and loving bastards. Lucifer doesn't count at all. Because Lucifer doesn't count Thom at all. :O

ETA5: Post digression.

schiarire: i feel like all this character analysis hit puberty and became an online dating service.
OORamiusOo: *snorts*
OORamiusOo: right. where did we veer off track? thom's unhealthy obsession with his sister? Oh, wait, that's pretty much everything.
OORamiusOo: the answer to my question "why roger" could've just been "alanna"
schiarire: indeed. i don't know why you made me use words.
ravelfic: 'Hi, I'm Thom, I enjoy fucking with people's heads, commanding attention, raising the dead because I CAN, and i'm obsessed wtih my sister.'
ravelfic: 'and i enjoy long walks on the beach.'
Fahye Dielle: but Thom is kind of a one-track record. "why ANYTHING?" "Alanna"
schiarire: which is so sad for him because her answer for why ANYTHING is not 'thom'
schiarire: it is the answer for many things
schiarire: but not ALL of them
Fahye Dielle: that is the fundamental trouble right there

ETA6: What Heather said about it.



Tue, Dec. 13th, 2005 03:33 pm
*Thom's sprawled across his bed, drawing idly.

When there's a knock at the door he says*

It's not locked, Dell.



Tue, Dec. 13th, 2005 09:51 am
Dear Sister,

I imagine you don't want to see me now. Not that you really have for a while. Or is it rather that we've always had these problems but we've refused to notice?

You must realize I don't want him. And by now you should know why I worried . . . but you've chosen well. Congratulations. This still doesn't mean you're allowed to have babies.

What? it's a valid position!

Anyway, I went to see Delia after the whole . . . thing . . . I'm saying this in case you were worried. Which you shouldn't have been, of course. I prefer you.




Mon, Nov. 28th, 2005 09:20 pm
Sister dear,

I'm not angry. You know.




Mon, Nov. 21st, 2005 10:09 pm
Sister Dearest,

I don't know what you expected.

Next time leave your bodyguard at home. I will not be replaced.




Tue, Nov. 15th, 2005 10:26 pm
De Alanna,

I haven't slept in, in, I don't know, you know how it is when eventually you no longer have any conception of 'time' and you just hallucinate and say how do you do around and around in your own fevered brain until you just, it's so wearing. And I feel so tired. Kind of hollow inside. It would help if your bitchboy of the moment hadn't punched me in the face, would it really be so terrible if just for the experience of it, you know, thrills, whatever, a little novelty you didn't date someone quite so violent? Would it really be the end of the world? Do they revoke your Order of Knighthood or something? Can't you give that a try sometime?

No, I suppose you can't.

And I know you must be upset. I wish I didn't don't want to don't blame you. I really -- I'm going -- I promise I'll do something about it. I'm going to do something about it. But I don't know what, Sister. I don't, I don't know what I can do at this point. I don't know anything.

Right, whatever, you never thought you'd see the day. Very funny. I'm in stitches here. Try to be serious, won't you.

I am, you know.

I do, you know.