Wednesday, September 30, 2009 Meeting
I opened the door of the old familiar meeting room. After two and half weeks away almost, we had returned to our old spot. I ran my hand along the wall beside the door frame and flicked on the row of lights. The fluorescents first flickered and then as the gasses inside began to warm the light brightened and I could see the room as we had left it. The chairs were still in the circle, one or two a little out of wack where people moved them to get in and out of the circle and there was a stray napkin and a wadded up tissue. I sat my purse down on my usual chair and slid out of leather jacket. I went around and picked those things up, tossed them in the waste basket, straightened the chairs, and went to the snack table and took off the old paper towels we had down and got the roll and tore off a couple of long streamers of paper towel and put them down. I brought some cider, strong and hot with the smells of apples and cinnamon and ginger and lemon zest and a bottle of sipping whiskey for those of us who liked their cider on the stiff side. God Speed was bringing the coffee and Westexan had made pear cobbler from pears off her own tree.
I went over and opened the last window to let in a little fresh air. It had threatened rain all day but now it was cool, damp smelling despite the lack of rain. I lit a cigarette, one of those lovely Turkish blend cigarettes and blew the smoke out of the open window and watched the wind whisk it away. It was good to be back in our usual space. I was so excited yesterday evening when the lead counselor called and said that we could return to our usual meeting place and he would be looking forward to seeing all of us there. As always, I felt a slight shiver when I heard the voice of the lead counselor. I couldn’t say it was pleasant, but to be absolutely honest, I couldn’t say it was unpleasant either.
“Man, finally back to our old place!” said Eric Lover by way of announcing her arrival. “I thought I had forgotten where this place was.” She sat her purse down on the seat by mine.
“God Speed is parking his car,” I said, watching the blue Mustang being parked. Evidently, GS wasn’t satisfied with where he was parking because he kept pulling the car up and back, out and back in. If he was here he would have to confess that the only way he felt totally safe about his Mustang was if he could part it six inches from the door of where ever he was supposed to be but six hundred miles away from any other cars. Eric Lover leaned forward and her lips curved in a smirky smile as we watched.
“What are you all watching?” said a voice.
“God Speed,” we said in unison. I turned to see Liz behind me. “Come watch.” Liz came over and watched with us. When God Speed finally parked, we stepped away from the window. Mel came in. She was the hero of the forum, having gotten us back up and running. She brought some lovely chocolate treats. I helped her unwrap her platters and set her treats out.
Westexan finally made it, God Speed in tow. She had the lovely pear cobbler and a big bowl of warm sugar drizzle to drizzle over it and a big container of cool whip if anyone preferred. No matter who or where you are, when something sweet and good is being served, you can guarantee a crowd and it seemed that no sooner had Westexan unwrapped the spicy sweet goodness of the cobbler, everyone magically appeared. Eric Lover, Liz, Mel, God Speed and I sat down with our plates of goodness and our cups of coffee and watched the others. I saw God Speed’s lip curl at the appearance of Hoyt who was pointedly ignoring God Speed. The Dude wandered in, a big smile on his face.
“What are you grinning about like a possum?” I asked.
“I have an appointment to see my counselor tomorrow night,” he said smugly.
“Oh, I had mine last night,” I said. “But this is your first one on one session, huh?” He grinned and nodded.
Violet and Minnie came in together. Hoyt passed behind God Speed and kicked GS’s chair and GS grumbled a bit and scooted his chair up. I looked at Eric Lover and she rolled her eyes and sighed. Dude sat down with his plate, piled high with whipped cream and commenced to eating.
“I think we should discuss the Theory,” said Vi, as she sat down beside Eric Lover.
“My theory?” asked Dude, his fork half way to his lips.
“Sure, why not?” I said. “It’s a good one.”
“OOO what are we talking about? What theory?” asked Isabella as she and Nia settled together by Dude.
“Dude’s theory, I think it is dandy one,” I said.
“I read that on the forum!!!” said Isabella, excitedly. “It was so good to be back in the forum…I missed publicly appreciating our Bill.” said the dedicated Bill Girl.
“I did too, “ I said. “Did you sign the birthday card?”
“I did,” said Nia. “You need to do that Isabella.”
“I will make sure to do that,” she said, cutting into the cobbler and scraping up a piece. “This is so good.”
Ilovetheviking, Vikinglover, Linzy, TBF and Renee came in and got their treats and sat down. We were all excitedly talking and did not notice until the lights went out that our counselors had arrived. We settled down quickly.
“It is nice to be back in our accustomed place again,” said the soft southern voice. “You all seem to be in high spirits this evening.”
“We are glad to be back in our forum,” said Linzy. “Thanks so much Mel, from the bottom of our hearts for getting our forum back up.”
“Well, you are welcome, sorry it took me so long,” she said.
“And I hope the folks at AS.org know how much we appreciate the forum space they gave us,” I said. “I left a little note thanking them.”
“And of course, we are glad to be back in our own meeting room,” said God Speed. “It is important for junkies to have that feeling of normalcy.”
“How did everyone recover from the Autumnal Equinox celebration?” asked the lead counselor.
“It was such a great party,” said Minnie. “Aslinn is planning a costume party at her house.”
“Yes, I received my invitation today,” said my counselor.
“Will you counselors be there?” I asked. “If you all haven’t received your invitations, you are all invited.”
“We shall be there,” said the lead counselor. “What shall we talk about this evening?”
I looked over at Dude and GS gave him a nudge. He sipped his coffee and gathered himself.
“Alright, so I have a theory about who kidnapped Bill Compton,” said Dude.
“Do you?” said the lead counselor.
“Yeah, it’s just a theory that Aslinn and I were hashing out last night. See, I think Sophie Anne is definitely behind all this, but she was not necessarily the one who did the actual taking of Bill Compton,” he said. “This is what I think. She discovers that Bill knows that she is selling V. Why she is doing that, is anyone’s guess. Now Bill is a threat to her peaceful little kingdom. And she is annoyed with Bill anyhow because he doesn’t think like a Vampire anymore, at least in her estimations,”
“Why not?” asked Liz.
“Well, because he is monogamous with Sookie, he feeds only from her, so she at the very least finds him…strange….so she thinks that she has to do something with Bill to get him out of her hair and she hears about the goings on in Texas with Lorena showing up at Godric’s Lair and making that big scene and embarrassing Lorena. Now, here is where we get really speculative: we have to assume that Lorena has been living in Russell Edgington’s kingdom for a while. Perhaps it is through him that Sophie Anne contacted on behalf of Lorena by Russell. Of course Sophie Anne would feign indifference, it’s all a big cat fight, below her concern. It is a problem for Lorena to handle, who impresses upon Russell how disrespectfully Bill treated one of his subjects…yadda yadda yadda…and voila…we have Bill kidnapped and in Lorena’s clutches,” said Dude.
“But what about who took him?” asked Eric Lover.
“I think, personally, it was a were or a younger Vampire, mainly because the person who kidnapped Bill using the silver garrote was wearing gloves at the time. That would be a way for Sophie Anne to declare ignorance and wash her hands of the whole deal,” he finished.
We sat in silence, thinking over everything the Dude said.
“And of course that would leave Eric out of the loop. The queen was not too highly impressed with Eric either because he allowed Bill to find out about the V business and this leaves him wide open for moving in on Sookie,” said True Blood Fan. “But how does Eric get involved?”
“That is easy,” I said. “Sookie is on her own, she feels like the injured party, not just because Bill was taken but because she feels Eric owes her something for tricking her into drinking his blood, and he is a very strong Vampire. If I were going into what I might consider enemy territory, I would want a strong Vampire at my back.”
“But will Eric do such a thing?” asked Hoyt.
“What? Go and get Bill out of whatever shiatsu he finds himself in?” Hoyt nodded at me. “Not for Bill’s sake, that is for sure, he could care less. But for Sookie, to get a little closer to her, I would bet money.”
“Well done, great first meeting back in our familiar surroundings,” said the soft southern voice. “We’ll meet again next week.”
The counselors stood at the big windows and watched us get into our cars. Then Eric turned to Bill and favored him with a glance.
“Interesting theory,” he said to the dark haired counselor.
“I concur,” he said, a bit tersely.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Retail Therapy
See, you never know who or what you might meet when you are shopping. I remember an old cartoon in Mad Magazine where the shadows of the cartoon characters sort of reflected who they really were. The cartoon had a lady looking over the fresh veggies at the grocery store and there was a man standing beside her and his shadow was looming over her with its arms in the air like a monster from the Saturday night movies on TV. After seeing that, I always wondered about people in places like Walmart or the mall and tried to imagine people in the mall and see what they really were.
It is also strange to see people out of their environment. Sort of like a little kid that sees their teachers out in the world. When I was a kid, I always thought the Janitor just stowed the teachers away in cabinets at the end of the school day, taking them out the next morning to do their thing. Until I became a teacher, I never realized how close to the truth that really was, with all the prep work and grading they have to do. But I digress.
I hadn't actually thought about that cartoon til I got an email from Viking'sLover. She said that she was at the mall, browsing at the Shoe Horn, taking in the latest foot wear when she caught, from the corner of her eye, an oddly familiar face. She had just turned down another aisle and Viking'sLover, being the type of person she is, followed the tall fleeting figure with long blond hair around the corner. The lady counselor.
How strange to see her there, her strange eyes looking at the shoes and her pale face looking amused, disgusted and full of pleasure as she ranged up and down the aisles, looking at one pair of pumps and then another, picking some things up and examining them and ignoring others, like anyone else. How bizarre!! Finally, after screwing up her courage, she went up to the woman.
"Hi," she said to the lady counselor. At first she had a blank expression on her face and Viking'sLover felt like an ass. Of course she would not recognize her, she being out of her element as well, without the context of the group to identify her. But then the lady counselor smiled.
"Good evening," she said. "How are we doing this evening?"
"Great!" said Viking's Lover, relieved. "And yourself?"
"I am well," she said, companionably. "I am looking for a pair of shoes. I recently ruined a lovely pair of pumps and my...Boss...has consented to replace them for me."
Viking'sLover stepped back a little to take in the lady counselor. She was dressed in a lovely straight skirt of some wonderful silk linen blend in coffee and a gun metal blue sweater and shirt set. It made her pale skin even paler and her eyes brighter blue. Her feet were encased by a pair of beautiful Jimmy Choo pumps in the same gun metal blue of her sweater.
"I like those shoes," said Viking'sLover.
"Thank you," she said. "Jimmy Choo, I love all his shoes, they are so comfortable." She continued looking at the shoes, not seeing anything that she liked. "Are you busy? I was thinking of sitting down for a while, perhaps you would like to join me, have a chat."
"Sure," said Viking'sLover.
They left the store together and went to the central food court. The lady counselor strolled, as if there was nothing else as important than walking that stretch of space. She strolled so slowly that Viking'sLover had to slow her steps, so she did not seem rush the lady counselor. Viking'sLover went and got herself a cup of coffee at the Coffee Pot and watched the lady counselor sit down at a small table in a dimly lit little alcove but a spot where she would have full view of the court. Viking'sLover paid for her caramel mochachino latte and walked over and sat down.
"You aren't having anything?" she asked.
"No, I just like to sit and watch people. Do you ever do that? Just sit a watch people?" she asked.
"Sure," said Viking'sLover.
"I have always loved watching people," said the lady counselor. "Seems as though I have done this very thing for decades."
"Where are you from, originally?" asked Viking'sLover, blowing on the coffee's surface sending a waft of the coffee to the lady counselor who seemed to drink the scent.
"I come form England originally, though I have been more years than I care to count in America," she said. "Things were very different then, of course."
"How so?" said Viking'sLover.
"Well, women were not as they are now. They were restrained and ruled over. But these days women are very free," she said. "And then I met the lead counselor and he opened up a whole new world for me. He liberated me."
"Are you two together?" she asked.
"You mean are we lovers?" Viking'sLover nodded. "Not for what seems ages now, but I have a certain loyalty to him. In fact we had gone our separate ways for many years until he summoned me back to his side to help him with the bar. I was ready to come back though. He and I have a familiar humor."
"What did you do when you weren't working with the lead counselor?" asked Viking'sLover.
"I did a number of things. I worked in fashion and clothing, I worked in another bar, I worked in the arts, many things," she said. "But I was bored with my life when I got the call, so I packed up and headed out. That is the thing about our kind, we don't make too many attachments and we love to travel and be stimulated by the sights and sounds of new places, new people."
"You say he liberated you? In what way?" she asked.
"Well, women were expected to behave one way, but when he freed me, he taught me that there were many ways to be a woman, that a woman could be as strong and aggressive as any other man. As a woman of your time, do you find yourself constrained by what the world says you are supposed to be?" the lady counselor asked.
"A little. Though I think more is expected of women than ever before. We are supposed to do it all: spouse, children, career, all at once and any woman who doesn't do it all is somehow looked down upon. Men can be who ever they like, but women still have to conform," said Viking'sLover.
The lady counselor looked away and at the crowd. Her eyes went from person to person, observing the young girls at a table squealing over some bit of silliness, older, matronly looking women slurping down sodas or coffees, trying to keep a list of things going on in their heads, men, looking around at the women and themselves, people busily on their way from one place or another. Finally, she looked back at Viking'sLover.
"I have never sought out the company of anyone who is not as I am," she said. "I always felt...above those who were not like me, but since I have met you, the people of the group, I have been interested in connecting with those who are like you."
"Well, I suppose you might say we are ordinary people," said Viking'sLover.
"No, not ordinary," said the lady counselor. "You are all quite different. Passionate. Full of life," she said the last word like a caress, with a strange sense of longing about it. "People haven't ever really been that way for a long time."
"Well, we are sort of different," said Viking'sLover. "Being who we are and how we met you and the other counselors."
"People used to be more alive, and then there was a time when people took life for granted. Now, apparently, the times have changed and there is more life to you," she said meditatively. "So where should we go now?"
The evening was surreal but it was the most fun she had ever had. The lady counselor finally found the perfect shoes to replace her ruined ones. Betsy Johnson's, in mauve, with an ankle strap. When they parted ways, the lady counselor leaned forward and brushed her lips on Viking'sLover's cheeks, first the right and then the left and bid her good night.
Sometimes all a girl needs is some retail therapy.
It is also strange to see people out of their environment. Sort of like a little kid that sees their teachers out in the world. When I was a kid, I always thought the Janitor just stowed the teachers away in cabinets at the end of the school day, taking them out the next morning to do their thing. Until I became a teacher, I never realized how close to the truth that really was, with all the prep work and grading they have to do. But I digress.
I hadn't actually thought about that cartoon til I got an email from Viking'sLover. She said that she was at the mall, browsing at the Shoe Horn, taking in the latest foot wear when she caught, from the corner of her eye, an oddly familiar face. She had just turned down another aisle and Viking'sLover, being the type of person she is, followed the tall fleeting figure with long blond hair around the corner. The lady counselor.
How strange to see her there, her strange eyes looking at the shoes and her pale face looking amused, disgusted and full of pleasure as she ranged up and down the aisles, looking at one pair of pumps and then another, picking some things up and examining them and ignoring others, like anyone else. How bizarre!! Finally, after screwing up her courage, she went up to the woman.
"Hi," she said to the lady counselor. At first she had a blank expression on her face and Viking'sLover felt like an ass. Of course she would not recognize her, she being out of her element as well, without the context of the group to identify her. But then the lady counselor smiled.
"Good evening," she said. "How are we doing this evening?"
"Great!" said Viking's Lover, relieved. "And yourself?"
"I am well," she said, companionably. "I am looking for a pair of shoes. I recently ruined a lovely pair of pumps and my...Boss...has consented to replace them for me."
Viking'sLover stepped back a little to take in the lady counselor. She was dressed in a lovely straight skirt of some wonderful silk linen blend in coffee and a gun metal blue sweater and shirt set. It made her pale skin even paler and her eyes brighter blue. Her feet were encased by a pair of beautiful Jimmy Choo pumps in the same gun metal blue of her sweater.
"I like those shoes," said Viking'sLover.
"Thank you," she said. "Jimmy Choo, I love all his shoes, they are so comfortable." She continued looking at the shoes, not seeing anything that she liked. "Are you busy? I was thinking of sitting down for a while, perhaps you would like to join me, have a chat."
"Sure," said Viking'sLover.
They left the store together and went to the central food court. The lady counselor strolled, as if there was nothing else as important than walking that stretch of space. She strolled so slowly that Viking'sLover had to slow her steps, so she did not seem rush the lady counselor. Viking'sLover went and got herself a cup of coffee at the Coffee Pot and watched the lady counselor sit down at a small table in a dimly lit little alcove but a spot where she would have full view of the court. Viking'sLover paid for her caramel mochachino latte and walked over and sat down.
"You aren't having anything?" she asked.
"No, I just like to sit and watch people. Do you ever do that? Just sit a watch people?" she asked.
"Sure," said Viking'sLover.
"I have always loved watching people," said the lady counselor. "Seems as though I have done this very thing for decades."
"Where are you from, originally?" asked Viking'sLover, blowing on the coffee's surface sending a waft of the coffee to the lady counselor who seemed to drink the scent.
"I come form England originally, though I have been more years than I care to count in America," she said. "Things were very different then, of course."
"How so?" said Viking'sLover.
"Well, women were not as they are now. They were restrained and ruled over. But these days women are very free," she said. "And then I met the lead counselor and he opened up a whole new world for me. He liberated me."
"Are you two together?" she asked.
"You mean are we lovers?" Viking'sLover nodded. "Not for what seems ages now, but I have a certain loyalty to him. In fact we had gone our separate ways for many years until he summoned me back to his side to help him with the bar. I was ready to come back though. He and I have a familiar humor."
"What did you do when you weren't working with the lead counselor?" asked Viking'sLover.
"I did a number of things. I worked in fashion and clothing, I worked in another bar, I worked in the arts, many things," she said. "But I was bored with my life when I got the call, so I packed up and headed out. That is the thing about our kind, we don't make too many attachments and we love to travel and be stimulated by the sights and sounds of new places, new people."
"You say he liberated you? In what way?" she asked.
"Well, women were expected to behave one way, but when he freed me, he taught me that there were many ways to be a woman, that a woman could be as strong and aggressive as any other man. As a woman of your time, do you find yourself constrained by what the world says you are supposed to be?" the lady counselor asked.
"A little. Though I think more is expected of women than ever before. We are supposed to do it all: spouse, children, career, all at once and any woman who doesn't do it all is somehow looked down upon. Men can be who ever they like, but women still have to conform," said Viking'sLover.
The lady counselor looked away and at the crowd. Her eyes went from person to person, observing the young girls at a table squealing over some bit of silliness, older, matronly looking women slurping down sodas or coffees, trying to keep a list of things going on in their heads, men, looking around at the women and themselves, people busily on their way from one place or another. Finally, she looked back at Viking'sLover.
"I have never sought out the company of anyone who is not as I am," she said. "I always felt...above those who were not like me, but since I have met you, the people of the group, I have been interested in connecting with those who are like you."
"Well, I suppose you might say we are ordinary people," said Viking'sLover.
"No, not ordinary," said the lady counselor. "You are all quite different. Passionate. Full of life," she said the last word like a caress, with a strange sense of longing about it. "People haven't ever really been that way for a long time."
"Well, we are sort of different," said Viking'sLover. "Being who we are and how we met you and the other counselors."
"People used to be more alive, and then there was a time when people took life for granted. Now, apparently, the times have changed and there is more life to you," she said meditatively. "So where should we go now?"
The evening was surreal but it was the most fun she had ever had. The lady counselor finally found the perfect shoes to replace her ruined ones. Betsy Johnson's, in mauve, with an ankle strap. When they parted ways, the lady counselor leaned forward and brushed her lips on Viking'sLover's cheeks, first the right and then the left and bid her good night.
Sometimes all a girl needs is some retail therapy.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
The Bluest Eye
The eyes are the windows of the soul. At least that is what Renee had always heard. The eyes tell you so much. They tell you about the person’s most immediate emotions. Red rimmed and full of tears they speak of either sadness or joy. A faraway look bespoke of memories of the past or plans of the future. And twinkling eyes told you of great happiness or anticipation or of lust or anger.
Brown eyes are warm, like a glass of brandy. Green eyes are the eyes of envy. Hazel eyes remind us of coffee or of summer earth with green things growing proudly in the sun. Grey eyes are stormy. And blue eyes….oh yes, blue eyes can be cold or hot, the eyes of heaven and hell, cutting you to the bone or melting your very soul.
His blue eyes are all those things at once. How could it be possible that these blue eyes could hold every emotion? Was it because they had seen so much? Oddly, that was the first reason that popped into her mind as she looked into his eyes, that he had seen the world change so much since the time he was made as he is now. He had seen America change from the divided nation it once was into the brave new world it is now. Was it because he had endured such sadness? Yes, he had so much loss, so much loneliness, and so much savagery he had seen and been a part of in his long existence.
Would she shrink away if she knew just how savage he had been? Would she look at him, as she did now, with wonder and compassion and yes, passion, if she knew the bloody things he’d been involved in and with? Or would she want to be away from him, frightened, disgusted. Would all of them feel this way if they knew just how precisely brutal they all had been and could be still? Or would she accept all of these things, as easily as she had accepted his hand as they walked together under the still dark night with all its sacredness and horrors?
She liked looking in his eyes, light when they were in the world of light, cobalt, like blue print blue in the shadows, deepening to black in the darkness they now traveled in. He was all these things, angel and demon, sensualist and saint, day dream and nightmare. He had never loved this existence and sometimes even loathed it. But there were a few things he liked about this moment in his existence, and this was one of them, that stolen moment when he would look at her and she at him and she would, without a spoken word, tell him exactly what would happen this evening.
No two were alike, they all needed him and he they for different reasons. Renee needed something very simple and very basic from him now. She stopped him and he began to lower himself to the ground, pulling her down to rest beside him. He pushed her hair away from her face as she settled against him, her hand on his silent chest. It moved up to this neck where there was no pulse and her fingers slid into his clean dark hair and pulled his beautiful heart shaped face down to her. He hesitated just for a moment….and lowered his head to her.
Good Night Renee
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The Autumnal Equinox Part Two
Ilovetheviking, Karalee and Raki finally made it, just before the meat was finished. They were bringing goodies as well. I eyeballed the big pot of chicken and dumplings and pecan pie. No dieters here, I am afraid.
When the meat was ready and piled onto platters for easy serving, we settled at the dinner table. Wine and beer and soda were passed down the table. There is no such thing as good conversation when excellent food is being served. The most you could hear was the chomping of jaws as ribs and wings and steaks were torn into.
The late afternoon was a bit cooler and as we struggled from the supper table and moseyed over to our chairs around the now lit fire pit, I pulled on my leather jacket and grabbed my beer and sat down and lit a cigarette. Not one of the lovely Turkish blends but one of my regular ones. I blew out the smoke and watched the grey light begin to fade.
After a moment to let our supper settle, we got up and cleaned up the supper table, replacing the yummy dinner food with the lovely desserts I knew we would revisit over and over throughout the evening. Pies, cakes, puddings, tarts and candies tempted us as we ranged the table and filled our plates, enjoying the sweets and treats.
Finally, we settled on blankets under the marquee and began watching the episodes. We would not see all the episodes together but we were determined to watch as many as we could, GS fast forwarding through the Jace Everette song after the first time. Rowdy and spirited, though, we sang along through the first time, GS shaking his head saying that none of us should give up our day jobs. We were so involved, we did not see the counselors walking toward us in the shadowed yard.
I felt the pressure of a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turned to see the shadowed face of my counselor who was squatted down beside me.
“Oh, hi, when did you get here?” I asked. The group turned at the sound of my voice. The lead counselor was some feet away, looking around at the torch lit yard and the female counselor was standing beside him, her arms crossed and the young female, tentative but excited, waved at GS and Hoyt and Dude, who waved back.
My counselor stood up. He was smiling down at me and took the hand I raised to him and helped me stand on my feet.
“We just arrived,” he said simply. “It appears you are having a lovely time.”
“We are, we are so glad you could come,” I said. God Speed was speaking to the lead counselor and he motioned him over to the outdoor kitchen. He motioned him behind the bar and they disappeared momentarily and the lead counselor stood back up and motioned my counselor over to see what God Speed was showing him. Quick as a flash, he was standing there looking down at the fridge and what it contained. They both smiled at each other and nodded. Jen came over and got four of the bottles and took them in the house to warm them in the microwave. My counselor came over to me.
“How lovely of you, that you would remember us and provide us with special libations. I am constantly amazed by all of you, how much you accept without question and your thoughtfulness,” he said in his soft southern accent. Jen walked by and handed the counselor his bottle, doing the same to the female counselor and her younger protégé and finally to the lead counselor who accepted his bottle was a slight bow. God Speed scowled a little as Hoyt and Dude went over to speak with the young counselor.
“Well, we just want to make you feel at home,” I said.
“You are all so kind to us,” he said. The young counselor was standing beside the stereo set up GS had and was going through the cds. Jen was talking to the female counselor who was drinking the warm refreshment and complimenting her on her outfit, dark mustard pants and a rust colored summer sweater, her hair pulled back in barrettes, giving her a modish late sixties look. The pretty blond counselor was wearing burgundy red pants that hugged her long legs and narrow hips and a matching sweater, her hair pulled back in a pony tail.
The lead counselor was talking to Westexan and Eric Lover. He seemed fascinated with Westexan who was expecting a little bundle of joy and was absolutely radiant with good health. The lead counselor was smiling at her as he watched her hand rest lightly on her belly. I wondered if he would like to touch her belly and what thoughts he might have as he did so.
Rene and Ilovetheviking joined my counselor and I and we talked of nothing important, just the trip here, the lovely meal and the coming holidays. My counselor asked about the holidays and how they are celebrated. He seemed to remember things as we mentioned things we did in our families as traditions, other things seemed to be foreign to him but they delighted him. I wondered how his kind celebrated the holidays, if they celebrated at all. If there was anything that deterred me from being one of them is the way they seemed to forget the best things about being one of us, the distractions and diversions we planned for ourselves. Was it necessary to give those things up to live as they do?
Suddenly the sound of clapping and shouts turned our attention to the space in front of the stereo. The lead counselor was dancing with Eric Lover and GS was dancing with his wife and Dude was taking a turn with the young counselor. It was amazing to watch the lead counselor, tall as he is, dancing with Eric Lover, as short as she is. They were dancing to Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl”. Suddenly, there was a change in partners as the lead counselor grabbed Jen and pulled her in his arms and GS took over dancing with Eric Lover.
When the song ended, everyone clapped and the dancers cleared the dance area and the song changed.
“Do you dance?” asked my counselor.
“I do dance, a bit,” I said. “Do you dance?”
“I do like to dance, though I am not as good at modern dancing as I am at older styles of dancing,” he said. “Will you save me a dance?”
“Of course, just….claim me,” I said.
“I will,” he said. Westexan came up to us and, like the lead counselor, our counselor too was fascinated with her delicate condition. He seemed to want to touch the baby bump with his wonderfully articulate hand, but he refrained.
I excused myself and walked over to the plastic tub and reached for a Guinness and opened it and walked over to the stereo where the young counselor was standing once again, looking for a cd. She looked at me and smiled. I smiled back at her.
“I wanted to thank you for standing up for me at my hearing,” she said quietly.
“Your hearing?” I asked.
“Uh….yeah,” she said. It was then I realized that my dream was real and I had been somewhere with these three.
“Don’t mention it,” I said, giving her a meaningful look. “It was my pleasure.” She nodded and went back to peering at the cds.
I chose a cd and popped it in. Patsy Cline began to sing ‘Walking after Midnight’ and I turned and saw Violet being led into the dance area by our counselor. I edged around to sit by the fire with GS, AP, Hoyt, Dude and the lead counselor. They were talking about Machiavelli, and the implications of his writings in modern masculine thought. I sat quietly, listening to the voices of my friends and the lead counselor. Could I really count the counselors as our friends? I sometimes thought about them, but did they really qualify as friends. Or were they simply enabling us in our addictions? Reached for my bag on the ground between me and the lead counselor and retrieved my cigarette tin and took out one of the precious Turkish blend cigarettes and lit it.
When the music changed to ‘Mustang Sally’ I looked over to see Eric Lover dancing with the female counselor, like girls used to do in the fifties and sixties, jiving to the old soul song. Violet and our counselor was watching the two of them and laughing.
“Aslinn dearest, would warm me another bottle of refreshment?” asked the lead counselor.
“Sure,” I said. I got up and he followed me to the outdoor kitchen while I retrieved a bottle and he followed me to the back door. He stood at the doorway, leaned against the door frame. I looked at him quizzically.
“I don’t have an invitation,” he said.
“And I can’t…” I said.
“Unfortunately, no, but this is okay,” he said. He watched me take the lid off the bottle and put it in the microwave for a minute and half. When it was ready, I replaced the lid and shook the bottle gently and handed it to him.
“What does that taste like?” I asked.
“What do you think it tastes like,” he asked.
“Well…” I said.
“Sort of, not as rich though, and not as interesting as from the vessel,” he said, looking at me. “But, enough about my dietary habits.” He turned from the door way and I followed him out. “Where are God Speed’s children?”
“All the small assorted God Speeds are staying with their grandparents for the night,” I said.
“I hope it wasn’t on our account,” he said.
“Oh no, it was so we could be rowdy if we wanted to,” I said.
“Do you get rowdy dearest?” he asked.
“In the right company, I have been known to get rowdy,” I said.
“And are we the right company?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” I said.
“You remember things, some things, don’t you?” he asked.
“We all remember some things. And some things, we chose to ignore,” I said.
“That may be a good thing,” he said. He was a dark study for a moment and then he smiled. He was still in some shadow, the way I personally liked him. I drank some of my Guinness and thought about how strange it felt to be in the house and he was stuck at the doorway.
“How long will you be able to stay with us?” I asked.
“Til nearly dawn. We have contacts with whom we can stay for our rest,” he said.
And that is how long the party lasted. We danced and sang and drank with our counselors til it was time to say good bye. The last dance of the evening, I danced with my counselor. I thought he had forgotten about me, but when Patsy began to croon ‘Sweet Dreams’ he came and claimed me.
“I always save the best for last,” he said, in his soft southern voice.
And then they were gone. We were tired but happy with the coming of the grey lights of dawn and we all helped GS clean up. I watched him as he dumped the nearly dozen red glass bottles into the fire pit, and broke them up with a fire brand, letting the fire lick at the fluid coating the sides.
There were certain realities we accepted, but we knew that a m*ther f*cker didn’t need to know everything.
As I went to my rest that morning in the hotel room that Eric Lover and I were sharing with Vi and Westexan I wondered about what would be happening to us over the hiatus and what would be happening with them, our counselors, and would we be surprised by the events unfolding before us in the coming summer. I sighed softly, turned on my side and closed my eyes against the coming day.
When the meat was ready and piled onto platters for easy serving, we settled at the dinner table. Wine and beer and soda were passed down the table. There is no such thing as good conversation when excellent food is being served. The most you could hear was the chomping of jaws as ribs and wings and steaks were torn into.
The late afternoon was a bit cooler and as we struggled from the supper table and moseyed over to our chairs around the now lit fire pit, I pulled on my leather jacket and grabbed my beer and sat down and lit a cigarette. Not one of the lovely Turkish blends but one of my regular ones. I blew out the smoke and watched the grey light begin to fade.
After a moment to let our supper settle, we got up and cleaned up the supper table, replacing the yummy dinner food with the lovely desserts I knew we would revisit over and over throughout the evening. Pies, cakes, puddings, tarts and candies tempted us as we ranged the table and filled our plates, enjoying the sweets and treats.
Finally, we settled on blankets under the marquee and began watching the episodes. We would not see all the episodes together but we were determined to watch as many as we could, GS fast forwarding through the Jace Everette song after the first time. Rowdy and spirited, though, we sang along through the first time, GS shaking his head saying that none of us should give up our day jobs. We were so involved, we did not see the counselors walking toward us in the shadowed yard.
I felt the pressure of a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turned to see the shadowed face of my counselor who was squatted down beside me.
“Oh, hi, when did you get here?” I asked. The group turned at the sound of my voice. The lead counselor was some feet away, looking around at the torch lit yard and the female counselor was standing beside him, her arms crossed and the young female, tentative but excited, waved at GS and Hoyt and Dude, who waved back.
My counselor stood up. He was smiling down at me and took the hand I raised to him and helped me stand on my feet.
“We just arrived,” he said simply. “It appears you are having a lovely time.”
“We are, we are so glad you could come,” I said. God Speed was speaking to the lead counselor and he motioned him over to the outdoor kitchen. He motioned him behind the bar and they disappeared momentarily and the lead counselor stood back up and motioned my counselor over to see what God Speed was showing him. Quick as a flash, he was standing there looking down at the fridge and what it contained. They both smiled at each other and nodded. Jen came over and got four of the bottles and took them in the house to warm them in the microwave. My counselor came over to me.
“How lovely of you, that you would remember us and provide us with special libations. I am constantly amazed by all of you, how much you accept without question and your thoughtfulness,” he said in his soft southern accent. Jen walked by and handed the counselor his bottle, doing the same to the female counselor and her younger protégé and finally to the lead counselor who accepted his bottle was a slight bow. God Speed scowled a little as Hoyt and Dude went over to speak with the young counselor.
“Well, we just want to make you feel at home,” I said.
“You are all so kind to us,” he said. The young counselor was standing beside the stereo set up GS had and was going through the cds. Jen was talking to the female counselor who was drinking the warm refreshment and complimenting her on her outfit, dark mustard pants and a rust colored summer sweater, her hair pulled back in barrettes, giving her a modish late sixties look. The pretty blond counselor was wearing burgundy red pants that hugged her long legs and narrow hips and a matching sweater, her hair pulled back in a pony tail.
The lead counselor was talking to Westexan and Eric Lover. He seemed fascinated with Westexan who was expecting a little bundle of joy and was absolutely radiant with good health. The lead counselor was smiling at her as he watched her hand rest lightly on her belly. I wondered if he would like to touch her belly and what thoughts he might have as he did so.
Rene and Ilovetheviking joined my counselor and I and we talked of nothing important, just the trip here, the lovely meal and the coming holidays. My counselor asked about the holidays and how they are celebrated. He seemed to remember things as we mentioned things we did in our families as traditions, other things seemed to be foreign to him but they delighted him. I wondered how his kind celebrated the holidays, if they celebrated at all. If there was anything that deterred me from being one of them is the way they seemed to forget the best things about being one of us, the distractions and diversions we planned for ourselves. Was it necessary to give those things up to live as they do?
Suddenly the sound of clapping and shouts turned our attention to the space in front of the stereo. The lead counselor was dancing with Eric Lover and GS was dancing with his wife and Dude was taking a turn with the young counselor. It was amazing to watch the lead counselor, tall as he is, dancing with Eric Lover, as short as she is. They were dancing to Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl”. Suddenly, there was a change in partners as the lead counselor grabbed Jen and pulled her in his arms and GS took over dancing with Eric Lover.
When the song ended, everyone clapped and the dancers cleared the dance area and the song changed.
“Do you dance?” asked my counselor.
“I do dance, a bit,” I said. “Do you dance?”
“I do like to dance, though I am not as good at modern dancing as I am at older styles of dancing,” he said. “Will you save me a dance?”
“Of course, just….claim me,” I said.
“I will,” he said. Westexan came up to us and, like the lead counselor, our counselor too was fascinated with her delicate condition. He seemed to want to touch the baby bump with his wonderfully articulate hand, but he refrained.
I excused myself and walked over to the plastic tub and reached for a Guinness and opened it and walked over to the stereo where the young counselor was standing once again, looking for a cd. She looked at me and smiled. I smiled back at her.
“I wanted to thank you for standing up for me at my hearing,” she said quietly.
“Your hearing?” I asked.
“Uh….yeah,” she said. It was then I realized that my dream was real and I had been somewhere with these three.
“Don’t mention it,” I said, giving her a meaningful look. “It was my pleasure.” She nodded and went back to peering at the cds.
I chose a cd and popped it in. Patsy Cline began to sing ‘Walking after Midnight’ and I turned and saw Violet being led into the dance area by our counselor. I edged around to sit by the fire with GS, AP, Hoyt, Dude and the lead counselor. They were talking about Machiavelli, and the implications of his writings in modern masculine thought. I sat quietly, listening to the voices of my friends and the lead counselor. Could I really count the counselors as our friends? I sometimes thought about them, but did they really qualify as friends. Or were they simply enabling us in our addictions? Reached for my bag on the ground between me and the lead counselor and retrieved my cigarette tin and took out one of the precious Turkish blend cigarettes and lit it.
When the music changed to ‘Mustang Sally’ I looked over to see Eric Lover dancing with the female counselor, like girls used to do in the fifties and sixties, jiving to the old soul song. Violet and our counselor was watching the two of them and laughing.
“Aslinn dearest, would warm me another bottle of refreshment?” asked the lead counselor.
“Sure,” I said. I got up and he followed me to the outdoor kitchen while I retrieved a bottle and he followed me to the back door. He stood at the doorway, leaned against the door frame. I looked at him quizzically.
“I don’t have an invitation,” he said.
“And I can’t…” I said.
“Unfortunately, no, but this is okay,” he said. He watched me take the lid off the bottle and put it in the microwave for a minute and half. When it was ready, I replaced the lid and shook the bottle gently and handed it to him.
“What does that taste like?” I asked.
“What do you think it tastes like,” he asked.
“Well…” I said.
“Sort of, not as rich though, and not as interesting as from the vessel,” he said, looking at me. “But, enough about my dietary habits.” He turned from the door way and I followed him out. “Where are God Speed’s children?”
“All the small assorted God Speeds are staying with their grandparents for the night,” I said.
“I hope it wasn’t on our account,” he said.
“Oh no, it was so we could be rowdy if we wanted to,” I said.
“Do you get rowdy dearest?” he asked.
“In the right company, I have been known to get rowdy,” I said.
“And are we the right company?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” I said.
“You remember things, some things, don’t you?” he asked.
“We all remember some things. And some things, we chose to ignore,” I said.
“That may be a good thing,” he said. He was a dark study for a moment and then he smiled. He was still in some shadow, the way I personally liked him. I drank some of my Guinness and thought about how strange it felt to be in the house and he was stuck at the doorway.
“How long will you be able to stay with us?” I asked.
“Til nearly dawn. We have contacts with whom we can stay for our rest,” he said.
And that is how long the party lasted. We danced and sang and drank with our counselors til it was time to say good bye. The last dance of the evening, I danced with my counselor. I thought he had forgotten about me, but when Patsy began to croon ‘Sweet Dreams’ he came and claimed me.
“I always save the best for last,” he said, in his soft southern voice.
And then they were gone. We were tired but happy with the coming of the grey lights of dawn and we all helped GS clean up. I watched him as he dumped the nearly dozen red glass bottles into the fire pit, and broke them up with a fire brand, letting the fire lick at the fluid coating the sides.
There were certain realities we accepted, but we knew that a m*ther f*cker didn’t need to know everything.
As I went to my rest that morning in the hotel room that Eric Lover and I were sharing with Vi and Westexan I wondered about what would be happening to us over the hiatus and what would be happening with them, our counselors, and would we be surprised by the events unfolding before us in the coming summer. I sighed softly, turned on my side and closed my eyes against the coming day.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Autumnal Equinox Party Part One
The little yellow house belonging to the God Speed’s was set in a lovely and quiet little semi rural suburb. We were the first to arrive, Eric Lover and I, and I was excited to see my buddy and fellow moderator in the TB forum. God Speed and his wife same out and we hugged each other and we began to unload the delicacies we’d brought. I loved this time of year and the overcast, cool day was a treasure. It would be perfect for our feast.
We went into the house and Jen showed us where we could stash things that had to be kept cool. God Speed explained that Jen’s mom had the kids and they had already set out the tables and God Speed was marinating the ribs and chicken and a huge package of steaks, making them ready to be barbequed that afternoon when the gang got to the house. God Speed then led us to the back garden.
From the road, you would never suspect the loveliness of God Speed’s garden. Nearly a half acre, the back garden was separated by the forests by big South Carolina pines. The outdoor kitchen was a roofed affair, with a lovely red terra cotta tile floor. Extending out from there was a fire pit, surrounded by the same terra cotta tiles. There was a long bar and a huge pit behind that, big enough to roast half a cow if GS and his fam were peckish. There was also a small galley sink and an array of five gas jet burners to place pots to warm. Under the cabinets was a small refrigerator but his pride was the grill, which he had filled with good wood, waiting to be ignited.
Had I known the God Speeds were such wonderful gardeners, I would have hired them immediately to put the plants out in my own garden. There were flowers and plants of every stripe and shade and there were bird feeders all around drawing the bright birds to his garden that had already deserted my yard for the warmer climes of the south. There was a well favored play set with a swing and slide and a little fort and damp white sand at the foot to cushion little butts that slid down the slide. Oil torches were already solidly planted in the clay earth and waited for the darkness.
The outdoor theatre was already set up and God Speed had thoughtfully erected a marquee over the area in case there was a spot of rain. He had also put up a marquee for the two long tables he had set up and Jen had covered with merry red and gold table linens, waiting to groan with the lovely food we were all bringing.
“It looks great GS,” I said. “This is going to be so much fun.” Eric Lover sidled over to us. We were glad to be getting with our friends from the forum to eat and watch the episodes and chat about the show.
“Come here, I want to show you something,” he said, motioning me behind the bar. I stepped around and he opened the small refrigerator. I squatted down and looked inside. Snugged inside were familiar red bottles. Then it dawned on me.
“Are those real?” I asked. “I mean….are they…”
“Yep, you can find the most bizarre things on the internet. Completely synthetic, and only one flavor I am afraid,” he showed me the label reading O-. “But I think they will appreciate it.”
“They better…how many Truebies of your acquaintance would know where to find…that?” I said pointing at the twelve bottles. He closed the fridge door and we both stood up.
“What was it?” asked Eric Lover.
“GS went out and found us some Tru:Blood….and not what they sell on the HBO site, either,” I said, looking at her significantly.
“So you are telling me…” she said, slowly.
“Yep…” I said.
“Don’t you think it is weird? It’s like we sort of know, but not really?” she said.
“I am taking a military stand on that issue,” I said.
“How do you mean?” asked GS.
“I won’t ask, and I won’t effing tell,” I said. “There are just some things I don’t really want to know.”
“Just sit back and enjoy it, I always say,” said Eric Lover, lighting up a cigarette.
“A m*ther f*cker don’t have know everything, right?” said GS, paraphrasing our favorite cook.
“That’s right,” I said.
About that time, we were interrupted by the voices of Minnie and Violet and Roygbiv who had arrived together.
“Hey GS, Westexan has pulled up and brought a lot of chairs and things you asked her to bring,” said Minnie.
“Did you bring brownies?” I asked.
“You bet, the original recipe and then my organic brownies,” she said.
“Well, aren’t you sweet,” I said. GS went by us to help Westexan with the stuff in her SUV. She had picked up Renee on her way. Hoyt and The Dude were coming, bringing with them a loaded dolly around the side of the side of the house.
“Jeezus Pleezus, Dude, what the hell have you got there?” I asked.
“Honey Mead,” he said. “You spoke of it in the meeting posting and I hunted a barrel of it for you.” He smiled at me.
“Fantastic,” I said, excitedly. “Hoyt, are you going to be good?”
“Since it is GS’s house, I recon I better,” he said. “Have you heard from the counselors? Are they really coming?”
“According to the email I got from the lead counselor, they will be here around dark,” I said.
“Will all of them be there?” asked Dude.
“Yep, so you better help GS with the chairs,” I said. “Come on chere,” I said to Eric Lover, “Let’s go help with the cutting and chopping,”
While the fellahs went around to help GS, Eric Lover and I went into the house. Westexan was sitting on a stool, having cold lemonade and resting. I stopped in front of the lovely Jen and asked for orders and she handed me a large bowl and suggested a green salad. I collected up lettuce, cukes, tomatoes, scallions and a friendly yellow pepper and split them between me and Eric Lover and grabbed a couple of paring knives and we set to cutting fresh veggies for the salad. GS came in and Jen reminded him to get the big square of indoor outdoor carpet for the theatre area and the five or six folding chairs stowed away in the storage shed. He nodded and slapped Dude on the shoulder and went to sort out the chores Jen had just given him. He was a stormy study and Eric Lover and I exchanged glances.
True Blood Fan and Viking’s Lover and anewaphorist (AP) came in loaded down. I could smell jambalaya coming from a big pot True Blood Fan was carrying. Jen showed them where to put everything and began to pull out the chinette plates and the silverware and paper napkins and a small box of salt and pepper shakers like the ones you would find at a picnic. I proceeded to grab up the mushrooms and a large Vidalia and a green pepper to coarsely chop for the steaks. We were going to waddle away from GS’ house from the food we were going to eat.
Liz and Mel come in with Bullet Sucker. Liz was carrying several plastic bags of fresh corn and Mel was carrying a large cardboard box of various covered dishes. Hoyt rushed over and grabbed the box and Minnie and Eric Lover went to get the corn. Minnie began stripping the corn with Violet’s help, getting it ready for the boiling pots.
“Save some in the husks,” said GS, grabbing a piece of pepper in the medley I was chopping. I slapped his hand with the flat of the knife blade and he made an injured face. “We’ll put them on the grill.” Minnie nodded and counted out six ears and pulled the husks back and desilked them and pulled the husks back over the corn.
“How was your trip?” I asked Liz.
“Not bad, the roads were wide open,” she said. “Mel is still in binary shock…”
“I can imagine,” I said, looking at Mel. She stopped muttering to herself but still looked a little stony from bug hunting on our down forum. She looked like a lady who needed a drink. I sliced the last of the onion and covered the plate with saran wrap. “It’s a little early, but I think it’s Miller time.”
“God Speed should have the big tubs of soda and beer out as we speak,” said Jen.
We trouped out as God Speed and Dude struggled under the weight of one of the large plastic tubs full of cold sodas and beers. They sat it down on the grass by the tables and turned to get the other tub. I reached in for a long neck Guinness. I opened the bottle and took a slug of the black stuff and sighed. I went over and joined Eric Lover and Westexan and Minnie. Minnie’s phone rang and she answered. She spoke briefly and hung up.
“Ilovetheviking, Karalee, and Raki are on the road and will be here in while, they got a little late start,” she said.
“There is plenty of time,” I said.
I opened my tin case and doled out one of the lovely Turkish blend cigarettes to Eric Lover who took it and lit it. Dude settled himself into a chair and AP, his guitar in hand came and sat on the periphery, smoked what I suspected was not Turkish blend, and then, more relaxed, began to strum his guitar quietly.
“That was some meeting Wednesday night,” said Viking’s Lover.
“It was,” said Liz, settling with a gin and tonic, her personal favorite legal beverage. “I don’t think I have ever heard a counselor suggest a topic.”
“Me neither,” said Westexan. “Wonder if we will be allowed to speak of it tonight.”
“Maybe now, without the counselors, but I suspect they will discourage us from talking about it in front of them,” said GS, joining the rest of us. Hoyt edged closely to the fire pit, standing at first, then sitting down beside Westexan, who swatted at him. He grinned at her.
“Well, I think Renee had a wonderful notion. She thought that Sookie might take Jessica in hand and maybe control her, but Jessica has to get out of her predicament first….she has to stop right there. I just don’t think she has the self control to just feed and glamour,” I said. GS had a stricken look on his face. “Sorry GS.”
“Tell them about your dream,” suggested GS.
“I don’t know what it was,” I said, looking at GS and Eric Lover. I times past, we had all had moments when we had lost time and there were segments of memory that we almost remembered, but banished as dreams, but wiping off my boots of the dust the other night was just a little too real for me. So, with a sigh, I recounted the dream (Which I entered and you can find below) and afterwards everyone had a thoughtful look on their face.
“Oh, you are probably right about that, about her, Jessica, though I would like to think that Sookie would take the red headed girl under her wing,” said GS. “Sookie will be so distracted between the goings on with Bill and the increasing interest she is having with Eric.”
“Besides, I think sometimes Sookie says, ‘well, she’s a Vampire and can take care of herself,’ but Bill was with his maker for a long time and learned how to be a Vampire. Eric, too. You know, what if Jessica is a part of Eric’s job with the queen, sorta kinda,” suggested Westexan.
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“What if he had Jessica there with him all that time and he told her he was taking her back to Bill to be his eyes and ears? She has that Leon dude’s phone, what if she called Eric and told him exactly where Bill and Sookie would be, with strict orders that Sookie was to be left alone,” said Westexan.
“Could be,” I said, rolling the cigarette carefully between my fingers. “Doesn’t cast the Big Viking in a very good light, does it?”
“No, it certainly does not,” said Eric Lover.
“Hey, this is just speculation, here, it may be 100% Lorena’s caper, and Eric is totally blameless,” said Minnie. “That is what I think.” There was a short storm of mutterings consisting primarily with short words beginning with the letter b….We Truebies might disagree about a lot of things, but our hatred of the woman who made Bill Vampire was universal. I lingered in thought long enough to imagine something heavy, sharp and medieval falling on that evil creature.
“What do you think Aslinn,” asked True Blood Fan.
“I reserve judgment,” I said. “If I didn’t think the lead counselor would bleed me dry, I would contact the Source again to see what he knows.”
“After the last time we did that, I would be afraid to do something of that magnitude,” said AP.
“And then there is poor Lafayette, still in the Big Viking’s periphery. What will happen to him? And if the Source is telling us the truth, and Lafayette can find a relationship to be in, how is he supposed to do that and still hustle Eric’s V for him?” said Violet. “See, all these people are all tangled up in Eric’s sh*t, begging your pardon,” she said to the Eric Girls. “That is why I think Eric may be involved with Bill’s abduction.”
“He would want to keep that mission on the quiet,” said Hoyt. “I mean, the queen was very specific…she said that if Bill ever found out about the fact the queen was involved in selling V, she would have his fangs for ear rings, and I don’t imagine he would be pleased with supping down Tru:Blood for three months till they grow back.”
“Yeah, our Eric likes his refreshment straight from the vessel,” said Westexan. “And he cares nothing about Bill, and I imagine he overlooks Sookie’s ability to see through him.”
“Well, with his blood in her, she is as good as glamoured,” said Roygbiv.
Leaving the conversation until later, we began to move around, preparing for the cooking of the meat. God Speed lit the wood in his grill, letting it get hot before he put the marinated meat on the grill to cook. The ribs would cook first then the steaks and the quicker cooking chicken and vegetables. By my estimations, by the time we finished eating and settled to watch our theatre version of the episodes, the counselors will have arrived.
To Be Continued……
We went into the house and Jen showed us where we could stash things that had to be kept cool. God Speed explained that Jen’s mom had the kids and they had already set out the tables and God Speed was marinating the ribs and chicken and a huge package of steaks, making them ready to be barbequed that afternoon when the gang got to the house. God Speed then led us to the back garden.
From the road, you would never suspect the loveliness of God Speed’s garden. Nearly a half acre, the back garden was separated by the forests by big South Carolina pines. The outdoor kitchen was a roofed affair, with a lovely red terra cotta tile floor. Extending out from there was a fire pit, surrounded by the same terra cotta tiles. There was a long bar and a huge pit behind that, big enough to roast half a cow if GS and his fam were peckish. There was also a small galley sink and an array of five gas jet burners to place pots to warm. Under the cabinets was a small refrigerator but his pride was the grill, which he had filled with good wood, waiting to be ignited.
Had I known the God Speeds were such wonderful gardeners, I would have hired them immediately to put the plants out in my own garden. There were flowers and plants of every stripe and shade and there were bird feeders all around drawing the bright birds to his garden that had already deserted my yard for the warmer climes of the south. There was a well favored play set with a swing and slide and a little fort and damp white sand at the foot to cushion little butts that slid down the slide. Oil torches were already solidly planted in the clay earth and waited for the darkness.
The outdoor theatre was already set up and God Speed had thoughtfully erected a marquee over the area in case there was a spot of rain. He had also put up a marquee for the two long tables he had set up and Jen had covered with merry red and gold table linens, waiting to groan with the lovely food we were all bringing.
“It looks great GS,” I said. “This is going to be so much fun.” Eric Lover sidled over to us. We were glad to be getting with our friends from the forum to eat and watch the episodes and chat about the show.
“Come here, I want to show you something,” he said, motioning me behind the bar. I stepped around and he opened the small refrigerator. I squatted down and looked inside. Snugged inside were familiar red bottles. Then it dawned on me.
“Are those real?” I asked. “I mean….are they…”
“Yep, you can find the most bizarre things on the internet. Completely synthetic, and only one flavor I am afraid,” he showed me the label reading O-. “But I think they will appreciate it.”
“They better…how many Truebies of your acquaintance would know where to find…that?” I said pointing at the twelve bottles. He closed the fridge door and we both stood up.
“What was it?” asked Eric Lover.
“GS went out and found us some Tru:Blood….and not what they sell on the HBO site, either,” I said, looking at her significantly.
“So you are telling me…” she said, slowly.
“Yep…” I said.
“Don’t you think it is weird? It’s like we sort of know, but not really?” she said.
“I am taking a military stand on that issue,” I said.
“How do you mean?” asked GS.
“I won’t ask, and I won’t effing tell,” I said. “There are just some things I don’t really want to know.”
“Just sit back and enjoy it, I always say,” said Eric Lover, lighting up a cigarette.
“A m*ther f*cker don’t have know everything, right?” said GS, paraphrasing our favorite cook.
“That’s right,” I said.
About that time, we were interrupted by the voices of Minnie and Violet and Roygbiv who had arrived together.
“Hey GS, Westexan has pulled up and brought a lot of chairs and things you asked her to bring,” said Minnie.
“Did you bring brownies?” I asked.
“You bet, the original recipe and then my organic brownies,” she said.
“Well, aren’t you sweet,” I said. GS went by us to help Westexan with the stuff in her SUV. She had picked up Renee on her way. Hoyt and The Dude were coming, bringing with them a loaded dolly around the side of the side of the house.
“Jeezus Pleezus, Dude, what the hell have you got there?” I asked.
“Honey Mead,” he said. “You spoke of it in the meeting posting and I hunted a barrel of it for you.” He smiled at me.
“Fantastic,” I said, excitedly. “Hoyt, are you going to be good?”
“Since it is GS’s house, I recon I better,” he said. “Have you heard from the counselors? Are they really coming?”
“According to the email I got from the lead counselor, they will be here around dark,” I said.
“Will all of them be there?” asked Dude.
“Yep, so you better help GS with the chairs,” I said. “Come on chere,” I said to Eric Lover, “Let’s go help with the cutting and chopping,”
While the fellahs went around to help GS, Eric Lover and I went into the house. Westexan was sitting on a stool, having cold lemonade and resting. I stopped in front of the lovely Jen and asked for orders and she handed me a large bowl and suggested a green salad. I collected up lettuce, cukes, tomatoes, scallions and a friendly yellow pepper and split them between me and Eric Lover and grabbed a couple of paring knives and we set to cutting fresh veggies for the salad. GS came in and Jen reminded him to get the big square of indoor outdoor carpet for the theatre area and the five or six folding chairs stowed away in the storage shed. He nodded and slapped Dude on the shoulder and went to sort out the chores Jen had just given him. He was a stormy study and Eric Lover and I exchanged glances.
True Blood Fan and Viking’s Lover and anewaphorist (AP) came in loaded down. I could smell jambalaya coming from a big pot True Blood Fan was carrying. Jen showed them where to put everything and began to pull out the chinette plates and the silverware and paper napkins and a small box of salt and pepper shakers like the ones you would find at a picnic. I proceeded to grab up the mushrooms and a large Vidalia and a green pepper to coarsely chop for the steaks. We were going to waddle away from GS’ house from the food we were going to eat.
Liz and Mel come in with Bullet Sucker. Liz was carrying several plastic bags of fresh corn and Mel was carrying a large cardboard box of various covered dishes. Hoyt rushed over and grabbed the box and Minnie and Eric Lover went to get the corn. Minnie began stripping the corn with Violet’s help, getting it ready for the boiling pots.
“Save some in the husks,” said GS, grabbing a piece of pepper in the medley I was chopping. I slapped his hand with the flat of the knife blade and he made an injured face. “We’ll put them on the grill.” Minnie nodded and counted out six ears and pulled the husks back and desilked them and pulled the husks back over the corn.
“How was your trip?” I asked Liz.
“Not bad, the roads were wide open,” she said. “Mel is still in binary shock…”
“I can imagine,” I said, looking at Mel. She stopped muttering to herself but still looked a little stony from bug hunting on our down forum. She looked like a lady who needed a drink. I sliced the last of the onion and covered the plate with saran wrap. “It’s a little early, but I think it’s Miller time.”
“God Speed should have the big tubs of soda and beer out as we speak,” said Jen.
We trouped out as God Speed and Dude struggled under the weight of one of the large plastic tubs full of cold sodas and beers. They sat it down on the grass by the tables and turned to get the other tub. I reached in for a long neck Guinness. I opened the bottle and took a slug of the black stuff and sighed. I went over and joined Eric Lover and Westexan and Minnie. Minnie’s phone rang and she answered. She spoke briefly and hung up.
“Ilovetheviking, Karalee, and Raki are on the road and will be here in while, they got a little late start,” she said.
“There is plenty of time,” I said.
I opened my tin case and doled out one of the lovely Turkish blend cigarettes to Eric Lover who took it and lit it. Dude settled himself into a chair and AP, his guitar in hand came and sat on the periphery, smoked what I suspected was not Turkish blend, and then, more relaxed, began to strum his guitar quietly.
“That was some meeting Wednesday night,” said Viking’s Lover.
“It was,” said Liz, settling with a gin and tonic, her personal favorite legal beverage. “I don’t think I have ever heard a counselor suggest a topic.”
“Me neither,” said Westexan. “Wonder if we will be allowed to speak of it tonight.”
“Maybe now, without the counselors, but I suspect they will discourage us from talking about it in front of them,” said GS, joining the rest of us. Hoyt edged closely to the fire pit, standing at first, then sitting down beside Westexan, who swatted at him. He grinned at her.
“Well, I think Renee had a wonderful notion. She thought that Sookie might take Jessica in hand and maybe control her, but Jessica has to get out of her predicament first….she has to stop right there. I just don’t think she has the self control to just feed and glamour,” I said. GS had a stricken look on his face. “Sorry GS.”
“Tell them about your dream,” suggested GS.
“I don’t know what it was,” I said, looking at GS and Eric Lover. I times past, we had all had moments when we had lost time and there were segments of memory that we almost remembered, but banished as dreams, but wiping off my boots of the dust the other night was just a little too real for me. So, with a sigh, I recounted the dream (Which I entered and you can find below) and afterwards everyone had a thoughtful look on their face.
“Oh, you are probably right about that, about her, Jessica, though I would like to think that Sookie would take the red headed girl under her wing,” said GS. “Sookie will be so distracted between the goings on with Bill and the increasing interest she is having with Eric.”
“Besides, I think sometimes Sookie says, ‘well, she’s a Vampire and can take care of herself,’ but Bill was with his maker for a long time and learned how to be a Vampire. Eric, too. You know, what if Jessica is a part of Eric’s job with the queen, sorta kinda,” suggested Westexan.
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“What if he had Jessica there with him all that time and he told her he was taking her back to Bill to be his eyes and ears? She has that Leon dude’s phone, what if she called Eric and told him exactly where Bill and Sookie would be, with strict orders that Sookie was to be left alone,” said Westexan.
“Could be,” I said, rolling the cigarette carefully between my fingers. “Doesn’t cast the Big Viking in a very good light, does it?”
“No, it certainly does not,” said Eric Lover.
“Hey, this is just speculation, here, it may be 100% Lorena’s caper, and Eric is totally blameless,” said Minnie. “That is what I think.” There was a short storm of mutterings consisting primarily with short words beginning with the letter b….We Truebies might disagree about a lot of things, but our hatred of the woman who made Bill Vampire was universal. I lingered in thought long enough to imagine something heavy, sharp and medieval falling on that evil creature.
“What do you think Aslinn,” asked True Blood Fan.
“I reserve judgment,” I said. “If I didn’t think the lead counselor would bleed me dry, I would contact the Source again to see what he knows.”
“After the last time we did that, I would be afraid to do something of that magnitude,” said AP.
“And then there is poor Lafayette, still in the Big Viking’s periphery. What will happen to him? And if the Source is telling us the truth, and Lafayette can find a relationship to be in, how is he supposed to do that and still hustle Eric’s V for him?” said Violet. “See, all these people are all tangled up in Eric’s sh*t, begging your pardon,” she said to the Eric Girls. “That is why I think Eric may be involved with Bill’s abduction.”
“He would want to keep that mission on the quiet,” said Hoyt. “I mean, the queen was very specific…she said that if Bill ever found out about the fact the queen was involved in selling V, she would have his fangs for ear rings, and I don’t imagine he would be pleased with supping down Tru:Blood for three months till they grow back.”
“Yeah, our Eric likes his refreshment straight from the vessel,” said Westexan. “And he cares nothing about Bill, and I imagine he overlooks Sookie’s ability to see through him.”
“Well, with his blood in her, she is as good as glamoured,” said Roygbiv.
Leaving the conversation until later, we began to move around, preparing for the cooking of the meat. God Speed lit the wood in his grill, letting it get hot before he put the marinated meat on the grill to cook. The ribs would cook first then the steaks and the quicker cooking chicken and vegetables. By my estimations, by the time we finished eating and settled to watch our theatre version of the episodes, the counselors will have arrived.
To Be Continued……
The Dream
I was standing in the white blue of a klieg light with two other people. We were in a junk yard, compacted and waiting to be compacted automobiles all around us. There were others there, ranging around us. They were like us, excitedly waiting for someone to make their appearance.
The two people I was standing with was a young girl with a fall of long, straight red hair. Her eyes were huge with terror. The other person was a man with dark hair, swept casually back. He was tense but was hiding it better. There were voices all around us that hushed with the appearance of a a small, thin man in a suit and tie. He walked with deliberate slowness, carrying a cane like a staff of authority. I watched him as a pretty but authoritarian woman handed him into the bed of a bashed in pickup truck and sat down in a chair that had been placed there.
"Thank you Louisa," he said in s soft, bored voice. His lazy expression did not fool me. I knew he was lethal, dangerous, and maybe, just maybe, the fates of the three of us were in his hands. I swallowed and licked my lips. He looked at me and curled his lips in what he might call a smile but I called a snear. I looked him in the face and did not blink. He seemed to understand that while I was respectful to him, I was showing him that he could not cow me so easily. I was determined to be brave...well, as brave as I could be, for as long as I could be brave.
He fiddled with his black berry and read the little screen and looked up.
"You again?" he said to the dark haired man.
"Yes," said the soft voice of the man standing next to me.
I was surprised when my phone rang early in this morning, just before dawn and heard the voice of my counselor. He explained that the young lady counselor in training was being sent up before a special judicial board and asked if I would be there. I agreed though I told him that I didn't know what good it would do for me to be there.
"Perhaps he will allow you to put some perspective on the situation," my counselor suggested. "Whatever happens it is all my fault, but perhaps her punishment would not be so severe."
"What about GS and Hoyt?" I asked. "Or Dude?"
"No, they are far too passionate, and would not be able to think things through. But you are very compassionate and careful," he said. "And do not worry about yourself. The Lead Counselor will be there."
"Okay, where should I meet you?" I said.
"The bar, we'll travel from there," he said.
When I got to the bar, there was still a hint of daylight and I walked over to the door. It was already open and there were a few patrons. Ginger was there, her strange little muddled face was drawn.
"Hey Ginger," I said, sitting down at the bar. I had dressed in a gun metal blue shirt and black pants and black boots with a low heel, in case a hasty retreat must be made.
"Hey," she said. "Can I get you something?"
"A cold soda would be nice," I said.
"You going with the Boss?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said. "When does he arrive?"
"Any second now," she said. She got a glass and filled it with ice and poured a soda over it and sat it on a napkin in front of me. I opened my purse and took out my tin of Turkish cigarettes and lit one, savouring the sweet taste of the tobacco.
"Do you like the tobacco?" I heard a deep voice behind me.
"It is very nice, thank you," I said.
"Your counselor spoke to you?" he said.
"He did, though I am confused about what I am to do at this hearing," I said. "I can't imagine what good I will be to you or the young female counselor."
"Perhaps there will be nothing you can do, but your counselor thought that you may be able to lend some insight as to what is going on. You are so well versed in the two worlds," he said. "It will be cool where we are going. Do you have something to put on?"
"My jacket is in my car," I said. "Am I dressed appropriately?"
"You look very ready," he said, which was a strange way to put it, but he was right. I was ready. I think....
Not long after, my counselor came in.
"Thank you for coming sweetheart," he said, a light kiss from his dry cool lips grazed my cheek like a butterfly.
"Where is your protegee?" I asked.
"She is in my car, she is very upset. You know she was the one who suggested that you come with us," he said. "You are always so thoughtful to her."
"Well, I don't know what I can do for her, but I'll do my best, whatever it is," I said.
"We should leave if we are to get there in time," said the lead counselor.
We three went outside and I went to my car and got my jacket and after a moment of discussion, I sat down in the passenger seat of the blood red Corvette, my black leather jacket on my lap. The lead counselor, all six and half feet of him slid elegantly into the front seat. He started the engine and flipped on the head lights and backed out of the parking lot.
"Our kind has been dealing with our own sort of problems ourselves for what seems to be thousands of years," he began to explain to me. "The role of...guardian... to new comers has been a well respected one, as we are very much a minority. To take that role lightly is to court disaster."
"So, not only the young counselor but my counselor is in...jeopardy?" I asked, hesitantly.
"He may be, though not as severely as his...ward," said the lead counselor. "We have never heard the arguments of someone of your kind in any of our tribunals, ever. Your counselor and I are setting quite a precedence. But you need not worry. You are safe...I have already arranged this with the judge. You are here for the young counselor. And no one else Aslinn, not for me and certainly not for your counselor," he said, his voice a little cold. He looked at me for a second. "Do you understand?"
"I understand what you are saying, quite well," I said. Which was not precisely what he meant. He wanted me to understand and agree with him, but I was not prepared to do that. "You don't like my counselor very much do you?"
"Honestly, if I gave him a moment's thought, I would have to say that I do not," he said casually. "But I like you."
"Why couldn't I ride with him?" I asked.
"Your counselor must calm his ward. As her guardian, only he can do that and she must be calm. And Aslinn, please refrain from touching her...or us...while we are there. Our kind is well..." he said, faltering a bit.
"I understand," I said.
So there I stood in the cold light in this darkened place. The lead counselor was standing some feet away, his arms behind his back.
"What seems to be the trouble Sheriff, and tell us about the young woman you have brought to our hearing," said the judge, lazily.
"Magister, as you know, the role of guardian for our kind is one of great responsibility. My underling has been a guardian for his ward for some time now and he has allowed her to get into trouble, she does not understand the rules of our society well enough to know the measures that may have to be taken on account of her rash decisions," said the lead counselor.
"In deed, your underling has not been a successful guardian. And this woman?" he asked, his gaze now upon me.
"This woman is Aslinn, and she has insight into the worlds in which we exist. I would be gratified if you and the court will listen to what she says," said the Sheriff.
"This is unusual, but as we are living along side each other, I suppose it was inevitable that one of her kind would be called upon to be a part of these proceedings. Young woman," he said. I looked at him. "Respect is expected at all times in this court."
"Yes Judge, of course," I said.
"Then, let us proceed." he said. "I see you have brought your ward," he said, addressing my counselor.
"Yes, Magister," he said.
"What has happened?" he asked.
My counselor reviewed the events that led us here.The young woman was visibly shaken. She looked at me and I longed to squeeze her hand but I remembered the lead counselor's warning. I winked at her and smiled quickly, hopefully she would get some feeling of confidence from it.
"This is serious. What have you to say for yourself?" asked the Magister, looking at the extremely pale girl.
"As you well know, I did not ask for this. I was forced to become as you are," she said, looking at everyone. "And my guardian has not had a lot of time to teach me the rules..."
"But you do have a brain, you can put two and two together..." said the Magister.
I stepped forward a bit and waited for the Magister to recognize me.
"Yes?" he said, a bored quality to his voice.
"Your expectations are far too high for her. You knew nothing of her when she was brought into this life. She had little or no experience of the world and though she is...as you are now..." took a breath, "She is still as she was, only now she is very powerful and she has feelings that she has no control over."
"That is where her guardian is meant to step in," said the Magister, looking at my counselor.
"But, and I am in no way defending him, you understand, circumstances were such that he could not guide her properly. She needed more and he simply was unable to give her more," I said. "He was away to help find the Sheriff of Area Nine and he had to attend to those matters. To his credit, he took her out of harm's way. But this is not the problem."
"And what is the problem, as you see it?" asked the Magister.
"Here is the problem. It is many layered. One is a matter of her personal diet. She does not like the diet that is meant to sustain her. Another is her personal feelings for one of my kind," I said simply. "And finally, she needs guidance, not just from her counselor. Among our kind, there is a saying that it takes a village to raise a child. I think it may be useful, in this case, if you adopt a similar notion," I suggested. "You forced her guardian to make her as she is now, perhaps this was justice, I have no opinion, but he has no experience either in being a guardian."
"He is a member of our community and has been for 173 years," pointed out the Magister.
"Yes, but things are different, you are moving within the two worlds, yours and mine. Things for new born members of your community are going to be different for them than it was for him, or the sheriff," I looked at the lead counselor. "Or even from yourself."
"If you were in my position, which...." he looked at me and smiled a cruel smile,"...you are not, what would you counsel the tribunal to do?"
"Allow this young woman a chance to reform herself," I said.
The judge sat there, unmoving. The entire assembly did not move. I stood there, looking at him and he looking at me (at least he seemed to be, but who could tell, honestly). Finally, he seemed to decide something.
"Very well...but we will review this case further in June," he said. "Sheriff, come here to the bench for a private word."
I watched the large shadow of the lead counselor walk by me without a look in my way. I looked at my counselor briefly and he looked at me. I looked at his ward, and she seemed a little more relieved.
"Yes, Magister?" he said.
"Have you considered inviting this person into our ranks?" asked the Magister.
"There are quite a few of her kind I have thought of who would be excellent members of our community," said the sheriff.
"But?" he asked.
"We are not sure they would translate well in the ah, conversion process and my underling and I sense that if we convert them, we will lose an essential...spark we feel is necessary," he said carefully.
"I will think about this. Sheriff, make sure she is glamoured, she should have little or no memory of what has happened tonight," said the Magister.
"Certainly," he said. The Viking Sheriff of Area Five turned and walked back toward us. He took my arm and we began our walk out of the area and to the cars.
Once back in the car, I sat there, awash in feelings. Had I done okay, did I follow all the protocols? Had broken any taboos?
"Aslinn your heart is beating very fast again," said the lead counselor.
"I was just concerned that I did a good job," I said.
"Well, you did what I hoped you would do, buy us some time. The Magister was impressed, you presented yourself well," said the confident voice of the lead counselor. "Have you ever thought of being in our community?"
"Of course," I said. "To be as you are, to see as you see, to know as you know. I like to watch hings as they evolve, though I am not terribly impressed with my kind most of the time."
"But?" he asked
"I like the sun, remember, I told you that once," I said. He laughed.
"I suspect that I like you as you are, Aslinn," said the lead counselor.
I awoke, a disoriented feeling, as if I had been somewhere but I didn't remember precisely where. I slid form my bed and walked to the bathroom and came back. I noticed my boots in the floor. I picked them up to put them in my closet. They were covered in dust, obviously worn recently. I turned on the light and looked at them. The dust was heavy on my boot tops. I plucked a couple of tissues to wipe them and tried to remember where I had been.
It had to have been a dream...hadn't it?
The two people I was standing with was a young girl with a fall of long, straight red hair. Her eyes were huge with terror. The other person was a man with dark hair, swept casually back. He was tense but was hiding it better. There were voices all around us that hushed with the appearance of a a small, thin man in a suit and tie. He walked with deliberate slowness, carrying a cane like a staff of authority. I watched him as a pretty but authoritarian woman handed him into the bed of a bashed in pickup truck and sat down in a chair that had been placed there.
"Thank you Louisa," he said in s soft, bored voice. His lazy expression did not fool me. I knew he was lethal, dangerous, and maybe, just maybe, the fates of the three of us were in his hands. I swallowed and licked my lips. He looked at me and curled his lips in what he might call a smile but I called a snear. I looked him in the face and did not blink. He seemed to understand that while I was respectful to him, I was showing him that he could not cow me so easily. I was determined to be brave...well, as brave as I could be, for as long as I could be brave.
He fiddled with his black berry and read the little screen and looked up.
"You again?" he said to the dark haired man.
"Yes," said the soft voice of the man standing next to me.
I was surprised when my phone rang early in this morning, just before dawn and heard the voice of my counselor. He explained that the young lady counselor in training was being sent up before a special judicial board and asked if I would be there. I agreed though I told him that I didn't know what good it would do for me to be there.
"Perhaps he will allow you to put some perspective on the situation," my counselor suggested. "Whatever happens it is all my fault, but perhaps her punishment would not be so severe."
"What about GS and Hoyt?" I asked. "Or Dude?"
"No, they are far too passionate, and would not be able to think things through. But you are very compassionate and careful," he said. "And do not worry about yourself. The Lead Counselor will be there."
"Okay, where should I meet you?" I said.
"The bar, we'll travel from there," he said.
When I got to the bar, there was still a hint of daylight and I walked over to the door. It was already open and there were a few patrons. Ginger was there, her strange little muddled face was drawn.
"Hey Ginger," I said, sitting down at the bar. I had dressed in a gun metal blue shirt and black pants and black boots with a low heel, in case a hasty retreat must be made.
"Hey," she said. "Can I get you something?"
"A cold soda would be nice," I said.
"You going with the Boss?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said. "When does he arrive?"
"Any second now," she said. She got a glass and filled it with ice and poured a soda over it and sat it on a napkin in front of me. I opened my purse and took out my tin of Turkish cigarettes and lit one, savouring the sweet taste of the tobacco.
"Do you like the tobacco?" I heard a deep voice behind me.
"It is very nice, thank you," I said.
"Your counselor spoke to you?" he said.
"He did, though I am confused about what I am to do at this hearing," I said. "I can't imagine what good I will be to you or the young female counselor."
"Perhaps there will be nothing you can do, but your counselor thought that you may be able to lend some insight as to what is going on. You are so well versed in the two worlds," he said. "It will be cool where we are going. Do you have something to put on?"
"My jacket is in my car," I said. "Am I dressed appropriately?"
"You look very ready," he said, which was a strange way to put it, but he was right. I was ready. I think....
Not long after, my counselor came in.
"Thank you for coming sweetheart," he said, a light kiss from his dry cool lips grazed my cheek like a butterfly.
"Where is your protegee?" I asked.
"She is in my car, she is very upset. You know she was the one who suggested that you come with us," he said. "You are always so thoughtful to her."
"Well, I don't know what I can do for her, but I'll do my best, whatever it is," I said.
"We should leave if we are to get there in time," said the lead counselor.
We three went outside and I went to my car and got my jacket and after a moment of discussion, I sat down in the passenger seat of the blood red Corvette, my black leather jacket on my lap. The lead counselor, all six and half feet of him slid elegantly into the front seat. He started the engine and flipped on the head lights and backed out of the parking lot.
"Our kind has been dealing with our own sort of problems ourselves for what seems to be thousands of years," he began to explain to me. "The role of...guardian... to new comers has been a well respected one, as we are very much a minority. To take that role lightly is to court disaster."
"So, not only the young counselor but my counselor is in...jeopardy?" I asked, hesitantly.
"He may be, though not as severely as his...ward," said the lead counselor. "We have never heard the arguments of someone of your kind in any of our tribunals, ever. Your counselor and I are setting quite a precedence. But you need not worry. You are safe...I have already arranged this with the judge. You are here for the young counselor. And no one else Aslinn, not for me and certainly not for your counselor," he said, his voice a little cold. He looked at me for a second. "Do you understand?"
"I understand what you are saying, quite well," I said. Which was not precisely what he meant. He wanted me to understand and agree with him, but I was not prepared to do that. "You don't like my counselor very much do you?"
"Honestly, if I gave him a moment's thought, I would have to say that I do not," he said casually. "But I like you."
"Why couldn't I ride with him?" I asked.
"Your counselor must calm his ward. As her guardian, only he can do that and she must be calm. And Aslinn, please refrain from touching her...or us...while we are there. Our kind is well..." he said, faltering a bit.
"I understand," I said.
So there I stood in the cold light in this darkened place. The lead counselor was standing some feet away, his arms behind his back.
"What seems to be the trouble Sheriff, and tell us about the young woman you have brought to our hearing," said the judge, lazily.
"Magister, as you know, the role of guardian for our kind is one of great responsibility. My underling has been a guardian for his ward for some time now and he has allowed her to get into trouble, she does not understand the rules of our society well enough to know the measures that may have to be taken on account of her rash decisions," said the lead counselor.
"In deed, your underling has not been a successful guardian. And this woman?" he asked, his gaze now upon me.
"This woman is Aslinn, and she has insight into the worlds in which we exist. I would be gratified if you and the court will listen to what she says," said the Sheriff.
"This is unusual, but as we are living along side each other, I suppose it was inevitable that one of her kind would be called upon to be a part of these proceedings. Young woman," he said. I looked at him. "Respect is expected at all times in this court."
"Yes Judge, of course," I said.
"Then, let us proceed." he said. "I see you have brought your ward," he said, addressing my counselor.
"Yes, Magister," he said.
"What has happened?" he asked.
My counselor reviewed the events that led us here.The young woman was visibly shaken. She looked at me and I longed to squeeze her hand but I remembered the lead counselor's warning. I winked at her and smiled quickly, hopefully she would get some feeling of confidence from it.
"This is serious. What have you to say for yourself?" asked the Magister, looking at the extremely pale girl.
"As you well know, I did not ask for this. I was forced to become as you are," she said, looking at everyone. "And my guardian has not had a lot of time to teach me the rules..."
"But you do have a brain, you can put two and two together..." said the Magister.
I stepped forward a bit and waited for the Magister to recognize me.
"Yes?" he said, a bored quality to his voice.
"Your expectations are far too high for her. You knew nothing of her when she was brought into this life. She had little or no experience of the world and though she is...as you are now..." took a breath, "She is still as she was, only now she is very powerful and she has feelings that she has no control over."
"That is where her guardian is meant to step in," said the Magister, looking at my counselor.
"But, and I am in no way defending him, you understand, circumstances were such that he could not guide her properly. She needed more and he simply was unable to give her more," I said. "He was away to help find the Sheriff of Area Nine and he had to attend to those matters. To his credit, he took her out of harm's way. But this is not the problem."
"And what is the problem, as you see it?" asked the Magister.
"Here is the problem. It is many layered. One is a matter of her personal diet. She does not like the diet that is meant to sustain her. Another is her personal feelings for one of my kind," I said simply. "And finally, she needs guidance, not just from her counselor. Among our kind, there is a saying that it takes a village to raise a child. I think it may be useful, in this case, if you adopt a similar notion," I suggested. "You forced her guardian to make her as she is now, perhaps this was justice, I have no opinion, but he has no experience either in being a guardian."
"He is a member of our community and has been for 173 years," pointed out the Magister.
"Yes, but things are different, you are moving within the two worlds, yours and mine. Things for new born members of your community are going to be different for them than it was for him, or the sheriff," I looked at the lead counselor. "Or even from yourself."
"If you were in my position, which...." he looked at me and smiled a cruel smile,"...you are not, what would you counsel the tribunal to do?"
"Allow this young woman a chance to reform herself," I said.
The judge sat there, unmoving. The entire assembly did not move. I stood there, looking at him and he looking at me (at least he seemed to be, but who could tell, honestly). Finally, he seemed to decide something.
"Very well...but we will review this case further in June," he said. "Sheriff, come here to the bench for a private word."
I watched the large shadow of the lead counselor walk by me without a look in my way. I looked at my counselor briefly and he looked at me. I looked at his ward, and she seemed a little more relieved.
"Yes, Magister?" he said.
"Have you considered inviting this person into our ranks?" asked the Magister.
"There are quite a few of her kind I have thought of who would be excellent members of our community," said the sheriff.
"But?" he asked.
"We are not sure they would translate well in the ah, conversion process and my underling and I sense that if we convert them, we will lose an essential...spark we feel is necessary," he said carefully.
"I will think about this. Sheriff, make sure she is glamoured, she should have little or no memory of what has happened tonight," said the Magister.
"Certainly," he said. The Viking Sheriff of Area Five turned and walked back toward us. He took my arm and we began our walk out of the area and to the cars.
Once back in the car, I sat there, awash in feelings. Had I done okay, did I follow all the protocols? Had broken any taboos?
"Aslinn your heart is beating very fast again," said the lead counselor.
"I was just concerned that I did a good job," I said.
"Well, you did what I hoped you would do, buy us some time. The Magister was impressed, you presented yourself well," said the confident voice of the lead counselor. "Have you ever thought of being in our community?"
"Of course," I said. "To be as you are, to see as you see, to know as you know. I like to watch hings as they evolve, though I am not terribly impressed with my kind most of the time."
"But?" he asked
"I like the sun, remember, I told you that once," I said. He laughed.
"I suspect that I like you as you are, Aslinn," said the lead counselor.
I awoke, a disoriented feeling, as if I had been somewhere but I didn't remember precisely where. I slid form my bed and walked to the bathroom and came back. I noticed my boots in the floor. I picked them up to put them in my closet. They were covered in dust, obviously worn recently. I turned on the light and looked at them. The dust was heavy on my boot tops. I plucked a couple of tissues to wipe them and tried to remember where I had been.
It had to have been a dream...hadn't it?
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Wednesday, September 23 Meeting
Here we are, in our temporary spot in the unadorned nowhere room where the True Blood Anonymous group meets. Viking’s Lover brought a peanut butter candy cake and I was thrilled. I could smell the salty sweetness of the peanut butter and the lovely vanilla smell of the cake co-mingling, as if a jar of Jif got together with a pound cake and made a yummy, sweet baby….but I digress. Westexan brought in her thermoses of hot coffee and I smiled at the decaffeinated thermos she brought for herself. God Speed set down the bottles of Irish Nevermind. We smiled at each other.
“Agent 99 ½,” I said to GS.
“Agent 665,” he said back to me. We had been fomenting a little minor coup over at the AS.org forum by posting non-AS things and I (gasp) had changed out my neutral siggie and avatar for ones devoted to my favorite Vampire in the whole world, Bill Compton.
Liz came in with Mel, the later looking frazzled, muttering to herself over and over “Computers are our friends, computers are our friends,” It was her mantra but I doubt she anywhere near believed this. Still, we were getting used to the “refugee camp” and we were planning a party a God Speed’s. I was still working on our Mythology thread…I mean blog…and still making puzzles and in a fit of frustration, went on ahead and opened up nominations again for the award show. You just can’t keep a junkie down.
Eric Lover came in and sat her big bag crazy in her usual seat and went to get coffee and nevermind and I sat down and lit a cigarette. Ilovetheviking and True Blood Fan and Viking’s Lover sat down. Hoyt came in, skirting the coffee table, casting an evil eye upon God Speed. GS sat down beside Westexan. Westexan smiled at me and rolled her eyes. Jessica junkies, impossible.
I slouched further in my seat and sipped my coffee. Personally I was riding a mild high. I had been looking at season one and I was a bit stoned from the Bill I had done. But I was maintaining, unlike Eric Lover who was a little hung over. Someone should have warned her that hard Viking would make her hyper. She sat down beside me, ate her cake, and sipped her hot cup of wake up and cadged a cigarette from me.
Minnie and Violet, Mistress of Kleenex, came in, got their snacks and sat down, waving merrily.
“Aslinn, I saw that birthday greeting you put up for the lovely Brit. So sweet,” she said, smiling at me.
“Well, I couldn’t let his big day go by without recognizing it, even though we aren’t really sure of when the big day was….some people were so shy,” I said.
“That is okay, Aslinn, I am sure SM will love it,” said Minnie. “Oh and I can’t wait to try some of your banana pudding. When we get back to our house, you should post it on the Merlotte’s menu.”
“I will,” I said. My mouth was watering over the menu for the big party.
Finally, as it was part of our ritual, the lights went out except for the center panel and the counselors arrived. I sat up a little straighter and saw the outline of my counselor, sitting in his accustomed spot and I could hear the voices of the two females behind me. I could tell it was all GS could do not to turn and look at them. And then there was the lead counselor, the one who troubled me, the one I longed ignore, but simply could not. His big shadowy form leaned easily against the door.
“How are you?” asked my counselor and my heart skipped a beat. “Is everyone doing okay since the end of our last adventure?”
“Well, we are managing the best we can with us still refugeeing in the other forum. And of course our Aslinn is doing her bit, by having two blogs set up for our mythology and other stuff,” said Liz.
“Yes, I have visited her blogs. They are quite lovely,” he said. “I was wondering if anyone would like to start the discussion with Jessica?” asked my counselor. It was the first time a counselor suggested a topic. This made me nervous and a little wary. What could this mean?
“Well, what I want to know is: Is Jessica in serious trouble? Did she kill that trucker? What will happen to her if she has begun a rampage?” asked God Speed. “Will she have to be taken before the magister?”
“It isn’t fair,” said Hoyt. “She doesn’t have any guidance. I don’t blame Bill precisely, but she is left on her own and she is a new Vampire and she doesn’t know how to control her impulses as yet.”
“Bill isn’t a good maker, but look at the stellar example he had for a maker,” I said sarcastically.
“Do you think she and Hoyt will make up? Maybe if she sees Hoyt again and they make up, she won’t do that again,” suggested Eric Lover.
“Yeah, but she doesn’t like the True Blood and Bill said two-thirds of all Vampires don’t survive their first year because of the problems they have with feeding. You know, if they had stayed in the coffin, nobody would know that the drained bodies were victims of Vampires,” said True Blood Fan. “I think Jessica has developed that eating disorder that she warned Bill about.” I heard a squeaky little gasp behind my back and I automatically took the tissues that Violet offered me and I passed them back to the counselors behind me.
“But will she be staked for that? What sort of punishment might the magister impose?” said Ilovetheviking. “And what would happen to Bill? He is responsible for her as her maker.”
“Which,” I reminded the group, “he was forced to make at the behest of the magister to begin with.”
“Which he had to do because he killed Long Shadow,” reminded the female counselor.
“This is all Eric’s fault,” said Hoyt.
“How do you get to that?” asked Eric Lover. When a user of hard Viking gets riled up, they are unpredictable. I shifted uncomfortably.
“If he hadn’t brought charges against Bill and just let it go, Bill would never have had to go to the magister in the first place,” reasoned Hoyt.
“And where would that leave you, Hoyt? You and God Speed wouldn’t have Jessica to mainline if he hadn’t,” she said tersely. That shut Hoyt up right away and God Speed just looked sad, a desperate look on his face. “Besides, what if Hoyt finds out what she has done? Will that scare him off forever?”
“We can only hope,” said God Speed, giving Hoyt an evil look.
“Well, we will leave it right there for now…” said the Lead counselor. “We will be at God Speed’s for your autumnal solstice party just at dark.”
I got up to snag one more piece of cake and a cup of coffee. The room emptied out and I turned and went to gather my purse and found a small package on the seat of my chair. I sat down in the chair Eric Lover had been occupying and opened the package. They were cigarettes, in a foreign package. I opened one and sniffed the tobacco inside. It was very sweet and aromatic. A card fluttered onto the floor and I bent down to pick it up.
“For you dearest,” it read.
“Agent 99 ½,” I said to GS.
“Agent 665,” he said back to me. We had been fomenting a little minor coup over at the AS.org forum by posting non-AS things and I (gasp) had changed out my neutral siggie and avatar for ones devoted to my favorite Vampire in the whole world, Bill Compton.
Liz came in with Mel, the later looking frazzled, muttering to herself over and over “Computers are our friends, computers are our friends,” It was her mantra but I doubt she anywhere near believed this. Still, we were getting used to the “refugee camp” and we were planning a party a God Speed’s. I was still working on our Mythology thread…I mean blog…and still making puzzles and in a fit of frustration, went on ahead and opened up nominations again for the award show. You just can’t keep a junkie down.
Eric Lover came in and sat her big bag crazy in her usual seat and went to get coffee and nevermind and I sat down and lit a cigarette. Ilovetheviking and True Blood Fan and Viking’s Lover sat down. Hoyt came in, skirting the coffee table, casting an evil eye upon God Speed. GS sat down beside Westexan. Westexan smiled at me and rolled her eyes. Jessica junkies, impossible.
I slouched further in my seat and sipped my coffee. Personally I was riding a mild high. I had been looking at season one and I was a bit stoned from the Bill I had done. But I was maintaining, unlike Eric Lover who was a little hung over. Someone should have warned her that hard Viking would make her hyper. She sat down beside me, ate her cake, and sipped her hot cup of wake up and cadged a cigarette from me.
Minnie and Violet, Mistress of Kleenex, came in, got their snacks and sat down, waving merrily.
“Aslinn, I saw that birthday greeting you put up for the lovely Brit. So sweet,” she said, smiling at me.
“Well, I couldn’t let his big day go by without recognizing it, even though we aren’t really sure of when the big day was….some people were so shy,” I said.
“That is okay, Aslinn, I am sure SM will love it,” said Minnie. “Oh and I can’t wait to try some of your banana pudding. When we get back to our house, you should post it on the Merlotte’s menu.”
“I will,” I said. My mouth was watering over the menu for the big party.
Finally, as it was part of our ritual, the lights went out except for the center panel and the counselors arrived. I sat up a little straighter and saw the outline of my counselor, sitting in his accustomed spot and I could hear the voices of the two females behind me. I could tell it was all GS could do not to turn and look at them. And then there was the lead counselor, the one who troubled me, the one I longed ignore, but simply could not. His big shadowy form leaned easily against the door.
“How are you?” asked my counselor and my heart skipped a beat. “Is everyone doing okay since the end of our last adventure?”
“Well, we are managing the best we can with us still refugeeing in the other forum. And of course our Aslinn is doing her bit, by having two blogs set up for our mythology and other stuff,” said Liz.
“Yes, I have visited her blogs. They are quite lovely,” he said. “I was wondering if anyone would like to start the discussion with Jessica?” asked my counselor. It was the first time a counselor suggested a topic. This made me nervous and a little wary. What could this mean?
“Well, what I want to know is: Is Jessica in serious trouble? Did she kill that trucker? What will happen to her if she has begun a rampage?” asked God Speed. “Will she have to be taken before the magister?”
“It isn’t fair,” said Hoyt. “She doesn’t have any guidance. I don’t blame Bill precisely, but she is left on her own and she is a new Vampire and she doesn’t know how to control her impulses as yet.”
“Bill isn’t a good maker, but look at the stellar example he had for a maker,” I said sarcastically.
“Do you think she and Hoyt will make up? Maybe if she sees Hoyt again and they make up, she won’t do that again,” suggested Eric Lover.
“Yeah, but she doesn’t like the True Blood and Bill said two-thirds of all Vampires don’t survive their first year because of the problems they have with feeding. You know, if they had stayed in the coffin, nobody would know that the drained bodies were victims of Vampires,” said True Blood Fan. “I think Jessica has developed that eating disorder that she warned Bill about.” I heard a squeaky little gasp behind my back and I automatically took the tissues that Violet offered me and I passed them back to the counselors behind me.
“But will she be staked for that? What sort of punishment might the magister impose?” said Ilovetheviking. “And what would happen to Bill? He is responsible for her as her maker.”
“Which,” I reminded the group, “he was forced to make at the behest of the magister to begin with.”
“Which he had to do because he killed Long Shadow,” reminded the female counselor.
“This is all Eric’s fault,” said Hoyt.
“How do you get to that?” asked Eric Lover. When a user of hard Viking gets riled up, they are unpredictable. I shifted uncomfortably.
“If he hadn’t brought charges against Bill and just let it go, Bill would never have had to go to the magister in the first place,” reasoned Hoyt.
“And where would that leave you, Hoyt? You and God Speed wouldn’t have Jessica to mainline if he hadn’t,” she said tersely. That shut Hoyt up right away and God Speed just looked sad, a desperate look on his face. “Besides, what if Hoyt finds out what she has done? Will that scare him off forever?”
“We can only hope,” said God Speed, giving Hoyt an evil look.
“Well, we will leave it right there for now…” said the Lead counselor. “We will be at God Speed’s for your autumnal solstice party just at dark.”
I got up to snag one more piece of cake and a cup of coffee. The room emptied out and I turned and went to gather my purse and found a small package on the seat of my chair. I sat down in the chair Eric Lover had been occupying and opened the package. They were cigarettes, in a foreign package. I opened one and sniffed the tobacco inside. It was very sweet and aromatic. A card fluttered onto the floor and I bent down to pick it up.
“For you dearest,” it read.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Memory Lane
The Viking was at his rest in his comfortable home in Northern Louisiana. Aslinn had sparked something in his imagination and now his mind was running on it. He lay there in his ornately carved bed,his body prone, head resting on a pillow. His eyes were closed, still behind their lids.
He had, of course, thought about the place that had been home so many centuries ago when Godric was with them. He missed home from time to time and it startled him when Aslinn asked him if he ever got home sick. Since he had been made, he had tried his best not to think about the small village he was born to. Of course, to modern standards, his village and his home and the grand mead hall where his father held court and feasted and told stories, would seem dismal, primitive but at that time, he thought it was the finest village he had seen.
The mead hall was his father’s domain. It smelled of fur and leather and mead and warrior. He remembered now the first time he was brought to the mead house after his first hunt when he was 12. He had brought down an elk and he and his best friend had field dressed it and brought the heart and liver to his father as tribute. His father had blooded him and kissed him roughly on the face and when they came into the village, he brought his son into the hall and poured him a cup of his best honey mead and his mother brought him food and smiled proudly at him.
Norse people built lodges, similar to the ships they built, long and well supported by heavy logs and mud and wattle and covered in stacked stone on the outside and reindeer hide on the walls on the inside. His wife had made separate sleeping compartments of large mattresses of grass and clover and herbs and covered them in thick furs. The compartments were closed off by heavy hand dyed fabrics in muted greens and rusty reds. He remembered the stone floor he’d laid himself for her that she covered in reindeer hides. There was a fire pit with a spit for roasting meat and she had heavy earthen ware bowls and platters that she cooked vegetables and greens in, supplementing their diet.
In the summers, they would pull away the hides in front of the windows and his wife and the women who were servants in his house would carry out the furs and bedding and rugs and wall coverings and beat them, taking out the filler and burning it and gathering dried grass and refilling them. They would sweep out the lodges and air out the lodge and make things ready for the summer. They would plant their crops and plan hunting parties and fishing parties and war parties. The women worked as hard as the men. She was bright, attractive, full bodied from child bearing but all together pleasing and intelligent and knew what was expected of a future chieftain’s wife.
He remembered how he would come to her bed and she opened her arms to him and he made love with her while the snows and winds and rains of the winter howled all around him. He remembered how ferociously he loved her before a battle or a hunting journey, hoping that he had left a part of himself to grow inside her so should something happen to him, he would be immortalized in his sons. He remembered how she had been taken to the women's house to birth his first son and he lay in the bed they had shared, waiting for the news that his wife and child were safe in the world and the midwives came to him and said, “You have a son,” and laid the fat red boy in his arms and he lay there on his side and cradled the child in the crook of his arm, unwrapping him to look at his child, his large hands seeming to big for the task at hand.
His son had been born in the winter, and he loved the winter. In winter, his wife would cut branches of fir and cedar to sweeten the air and brighten the drab lodge with holly and its red and white berries. They would gather at the mead hall and celebrate Yule, the time of winter when the spirits of their gods walked the earth and celebrated with them and blessed them during the bleaker, shorter days of cold. They would make stews and soups and roast meat and drink mead and tell stories and dance. How long had it been since he had danced to some lovely Norse song. He wondered if these new friends of theirs liked to dance.
Why does she do this, little Aslinn, why does she evoke such things in his mind? He had not thought of the boy or his mother or his village in a long time. He was not sure he liked it, but he was curious about his feelings now. They all made him think of his past, when he was not as he is now. He asked her counselor if he was disturbed when Aslinn did this, and the dark haired man simply looked at him. Of course, he was not that far from his past, he would have clearer memories and he had a closer relationship to his feelings, though this too was difficult for the southern gentleman.
With this thought, Eric Northman finally went into his deeper rest.
He had, of course, thought about the place that had been home so many centuries ago when Godric was with them. He missed home from time to time and it startled him when Aslinn asked him if he ever got home sick. Since he had been made, he had tried his best not to think about the small village he was born to. Of course, to modern standards, his village and his home and the grand mead hall where his father held court and feasted and told stories, would seem dismal, primitive but at that time, he thought it was the finest village he had seen.
The mead hall was his father’s domain. It smelled of fur and leather and mead and warrior. He remembered now the first time he was brought to the mead house after his first hunt when he was 12. He had brought down an elk and he and his best friend had field dressed it and brought the heart and liver to his father as tribute. His father had blooded him and kissed him roughly on the face and when they came into the village, he brought his son into the hall and poured him a cup of his best honey mead and his mother brought him food and smiled proudly at him.
Norse people built lodges, similar to the ships they built, long and well supported by heavy logs and mud and wattle and covered in stacked stone on the outside and reindeer hide on the walls on the inside. His wife had made separate sleeping compartments of large mattresses of grass and clover and herbs and covered them in thick furs. The compartments were closed off by heavy hand dyed fabrics in muted greens and rusty reds. He remembered the stone floor he’d laid himself for her that she covered in reindeer hides. There was a fire pit with a spit for roasting meat and she had heavy earthen ware bowls and platters that she cooked vegetables and greens in, supplementing their diet.
In the summers, they would pull away the hides in front of the windows and his wife and the women who were servants in his house would carry out the furs and bedding and rugs and wall coverings and beat them, taking out the filler and burning it and gathering dried grass and refilling them. They would sweep out the lodges and air out the lodge and make things ready for the summer. They would plant their crops and plan hunting parties and fishing parties and war parties. The women worked as hard as the men. She was bright, attractive, full bodied from child bearing but all together pleasing and intelligent and knew what was expected of a future chieftain’s wife.
He remembered how he would come to her bed and she opened her arms to him and he made love with her while the snows and winds and rains of the winter howled all around him. He remembered how ferociously he loved her before a battle or a hunting journey, hoping that he had left a part of himself to grow inside her so should something happen to him, he would be immortalized in his sons. He remembered how she had been taken to the women's house to birth his first son and he lay in the bed they had shared, waiting for the news that his wife and child were safe in the world and the midwives came to him and said, “You have a son,” and laid the fat red boy in his arms and he lay there on his side and cradled the child in the crook of his arm, unwrapping him to look at his child, his large hands seeming to big for the task at hand.
His son had been born in the winter, and he loved the winter. In winter, his wife would cut branches of fir and cedar to sweeten the air and brighten the drab lodge with holly and its red and white berries. They would gather at the mead hall and celebrate Yule, the time of winter when the spirits of their gods walked the earth and celebrated with them and blessed them during the bleaker, shorter days of cold. They would make stews and soups and roast meat and drink mead and tell stories and dance. How long had it been since he had danced to some lovely Norse song. He wondered if these new friends of theirs liked to dance.
Why does she do this, little Aslinn, why does she evoke such things in his mind? He had not thought of the boy or his mother or his village in a long time. He was not sure he liked it, but he was curious about his feelings now. They all made him think of his past, when he was not as he is now. He asked her counselor if he was disturbed when Aslinn did this, and the dark haired man simply looked at him. Of course, he was not that far from his past, he would have clearer memories and he had a closer relationship to his feelings, though this too was difficult for the southern gentleman.
With this thought, Eric Northman finally went into his deeper rest.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Mondays Give Me the Blues
I had made it to the bar in Northern Louisiana with time to spare to meet a few of my friends from the TB Anonymous Group. The blond woman at the door waved me through with her toothy smile and I walked through the room, ignoring the black clad patrons, who looked at me briefly in my jeans and layered tank tops, steel blue on top, white on the bottom, the strap of my big bag of crazy slung across my chest. I sat down at the bar and the bartender grabbed a pint glass and drew my usual Guinness. I thanked him and put the price of the drink in his brandy snifter. He showed me his equally toothy smile and nodded at the tip and went on to pour whiskey and open warm bottles of red liquid and put them on the tray for Ginger who smiled at me as she walked by.
I sipped my Guinness and wiped off my mustache and dug around in my bag for my smokes, fishing one out and lighting it. I surveyed the room. There were a few couples dancing on the dance floor. Some of them were same sex, others traditional. I watched the male and female go go dancers gyrating and swaying to the music. The bar was filling up and it was a good night, even for a Monday night.
We were getting together to plan an after the autumnal solstice party. It would be the last day of summer, and the first day of fall, the day and night would be equal hours. From now on, the nights would be longer and the days more crisp as the seasons turned. I loved the fall and winter, the cooler air turning cold and the trees changing color and then falling away leaving the beautiful skeletons of the trees. Soon it would be Samhain, Halloween, and I was planning a wonderful party for my fellow junkies and I hoped the counselors would come and be a part of the celebration of the Celtic new year.
I reached into my bag again and pulled out my little notebook and was going over the list of things we were bringing to the solstice party. God Speed was hosting it, and he was barbecuing ribs and chicken wings and brats and we were all bringing the sides and desserts. Minnie was bringing her brownies and making homemade honey wheat bread. I was bringing macaroni salad and slaw and fresh green beans and new potatoes. Eric Lover was bringing red beans and rice and Lafayette's No Bad Ju-Ju cornbread, right off the recipe collection from our forum. Westexan was bringing tamales and guacamole dip. Violet was bringing Spanish Rice and enchiladas. The menu went on and on and I was studying it when the bartender came over to me.
"The Boss is upset that you are not sitting at his booth tonight," he said.
"Well, I didn't want to take liberties that are not mine to take," I said.
"He says that when you are here, you and your friends, that you are to use that booth," he informed me.
"Fine, thank the Boss for me then," I said. I got up from the bar and reached for my nearly empty glass but the bartender swept it away from me.
"I'll send Ginger over with a fresh drink," he said.
I went over and sat down. I looked over at the throne. The handsome blond was sitting there, partially obscured by the shadows. He nodded toward me and I did the same, comforted by the shadows he was sitting in. I still preferred not seeing the Lead Counselor's face. I knew he was beautiful, he had to be, but what a terrible beauty.
Finally God Speed and Westexan and Eric Lover came in and went and stopped at the bar first. The bartender motioned to the booth in the back in the dark and they bespoke of libations and the bartender nodded. They came in and sat down with me.
"Glad you guys could make it," I said. "I am so looking forward to the party. I missed Sunday night so much."
"So did I and the forum as well. Any news as to when the site will be back up?" asked God Speed.
"Not yet, but at least we have the other forum to discuss things in and we have our new meeting place," I said, sipping my beer. "How are you doing Westexan?"
"Pretty good," said the pretty, pregnant member of our forum.
"Good to hear," I said. "How are you Eric Lover?"
"Pretty good, tired, working like a dog, trying to keep my mind off things. I started reading the books again," she said. "Thanks bunches for the crossword puzzles and the search word puzzles," The bartender sent Ginger with our drinks and we tipped her, since we were not allowed to pay for our drinks here. She smiled at us and hurried off but I knew sure as God made little green apples that she would be keeping a close eye on this booth, especially with the Boss sitting there on his throne.
Minnie and Violet and Viking Lover and Bullet Sucker came in and sat down. Ginger came over promptly and took orders for their drinks. We chatted and caught up with one another, all of us lamenting the end of the summer and our great rollicking adventure, the little tell tale signs of withdrawal and our homesickness for our regular forum.
We talked about the party we were planning and what we would all be bringing, wringing a promise of a peaceful truce between God Speed and Hoyt. Bullet Sucker said she thought she knew where she could get some honey mead for the party and Viking Lover wanted to make her special spiced cider. I forgot all about the Boss sitting on his throne until Ginger came to the table. She brought us fresh drinks and said, "Aslinn, the boss says you are to come to his office for a moment, he wishes a word with you."
"Okay, thanks Ginger," I said. I grabbed my fresh drink, took a final draw off my cigarette and stubbed it out and slid out of the booth.
I stepped across the bar and to the office door and pecked on it.
"Come in dearest," said the voice of the Boss, loud and clear over the din of the bar. I opened the door and stepped in and sat down. He was sitting there in the shadows, just as I liked for him to be. "How are you this evening, you and all your friends?"
"Fine. We are planning an Autumn Solstice party at God Speed's house. Would you and the other counselors like to attend?" I asked.
"Perhaps. Are you still coping with your website down?" he asked.
"Yes, but we sure miss it. It is funny, but we are really homesick," I said. "Do you ever get that way? Homesick?"
"Yes, I do, though I have never had anyone ask me. It seems like centuries since the last time I was on home ground," he said, a hint of melancholy in his deep voice, a voice I felt vibrating in my chest. "So tell me Aslinn, what sort of things will you be doing at the party?"
"Well, we will be having food and drink and music and God Speed has one of those projectors so we will be sitting outside, watching the events of the last couple of summers on his garage wall, sort of like an outdoor theatre."
"What a wonderful idea. When you watch the events what will you be looking for?" he asked.
"Clues! The Source says that there are clues in this last summer's events that hint at next summer's adventures," I said excitedly. I pulled a cigarette from my purse and the lead counselor pulled an ashtray from his desk drawer. "You don't mind that I smoke?"
"No, though the next time I see you I will bring you some nice sweet Turkish tobacco for you to enjoy," he said. "You sound so excited Aslinn, I can feel the way your little heart is beating, it makes me a little dizzy."
I didn't know what to say about that. I was consciously trying to will my heart to slow down. I wasn't sure why, I just didn't want the counselor to be that tuned into me.
"Did you receive my gift?" he asked.
"Justine?" I asked. "Yes, I did, and I added it to my little collection of first editions."
"It gives me pleasure to know that my book is nestled in with things you cherish, touch, look at and ponder," he said, his voice soft and seductive. "Your counselor says that you have visited with him."
"Yes, I was anxious for him..." I said."I was relieved beyond words."
"Dearest, I want to ask you a question. If you thought I were missing, would you worry?" he asked
"Of course, you are our lead counselor, of course I would worry," I said."Should I worry?"
"No, and don't upset yourself," he said casually.
"I have to go," I said, standing up.
"Aslinn?" he said.
"Yes?" I answered.
"Trust me, just...trust me," he said.
"Good night," I said.
"Good night Aslinn," he said.
Happy Birthday Stephen Moyer
We have seen many possible dates for this shy man's birthdate, but it doesn't matter. We know that he is a Libra and this is the profile for our Stephen.
The key words for Libra is I balance. Their element is the air and ruling planet is Venus.His is the sign of marriage and partnership. Their sign rules the lower back and hips and Libras need to take special care there, as well as with their kidneys. His gem is the opal.
The Libra's special colors are blue and lavender. Their flower is the rose and their tree is the Ash.
Their personal weaknesses are fickleness and faithfulness. But once true love is found, they find the balance that helps them steady the scales in their own life.
Best matches: Gemini and Leo
Sunday, September 20, 2009
The First Sunday
This is the first Sunday without a new episode and I am lonely for the adventures already. We had lovely adventures, sometimes sad, sometimes scary, sometimes funny. I miss them already, the feeling of anticipation, knowing that I would be satisfied with somethings, hungry for more of the others, and sated of still other parts of the tale, anxious as how it would all finally be played out.
Thirty-seven weeks til June 1st. We don't know the exact date of the new season, so I will begin actually counting from here. Thirty-seven weeks. I don't know which is supposed to sound shorter, 37 weeks or nine months and one week...I still don't know how I will get through the hiatus.
The Emmys are on tonight. I know True Blood is up for three of those gimme emmys that they give the genre shows. It just isn't fair. And then, to throw us a bone, they made Stephen a presenter. If Stephen is there I will be there, just loving away...
The there are the Golden Globes. Do you think TB will be nommed this year? I wished they would. You know what I really didn't like about Anna's speech when she accepted her globe? She didn't thank Stephen, and I think she should have. Not because he is her fiancee (then boyfriend) but because she was only as good as her costar who she played off of. Shame on you Anna.
Thirty-seven weeks...and counting
Thirty-seven weeks til June 1st. We don't know the exact date of the new season, so I will begin actually counting from here. Thirty-seven weeks. I don't know which is supposed to sound shorter, 37 weeks or nine months and one week...I still don't know how I will get through the hiatus.
The Emmys are on tonight. I know True Blood is up for three of those gimme emmys that they give the genre shows. It just isn't fair. And then, to throw us a bone, they made Stephen a presenter. If Stephen is there I will be there, just loving away...
The there are the Golden Globes. Do you think TB will be nommed this year? I wished they would. You know what I really didn't like about Anna's speech when she accepted her globe? She didn't thank Stephen, and I think she should have. Not because he is her fiancee (then boyfriend) but because she was only as good as her costar who she played off of. Shame on you Anna.
Thirty-seven weeks...and counting
Friday, September 18, 2009
Haunted
"Just like a paperback novel 'bout a ghost in a wishing well" Gordon Lightfoot
I am walking through the old pre-Civil War house, listening to the echoes of my foot falls. There is dust on the furniture and I notice the dampish smell of the house, as though no one has been here in a while. I remembered a fragment of the last time I was in this house and warmth of the fire and how the rooms smelled of him that dry soft smell, the smell of time, of history, but this smell was oppressive. I longed to banish it from the air.
I walked upstairs and looked at the planters style bed and at the heavy drapes. I went to the window and looked down. He was there, looking up at me. I could hardly contain my joy as I ran out of the room, back down the stairs and out the big double doors. He turned as I came down his front stairs and held his arms out to me.
"I thought you were gone," I said, feeling his arms come around me. "I am so worried. How will I get through this without you?"
"You won't sweetheart, I'll be here. You have created the third world. The Source has created one world, the Connection another and you have created the third and that is where we will live exclusively until summer. We live because of you and all the people who are invested in these worlds," he said in his soft southern voice.
"But the house..it is empty and cold and lonely, like a haunted place," I said.
"It is easily remedied sweetheart, won't you come inside?" he suggested.
We walked slowly to the house and he handed me back through the front door and into the foyer of his house. We stepped into the parlor and he immediately set to work lighting a fire. Once that was accomplished, he turned to me.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" he asked.
"Please," I said.
"Sit down, warm yourself, I'll be right back," he said, leaving me to sit in his parlor. I sat back in the sofa and stretched out my legs. It was a bit warm for a fire, but I liked the way the wood smell banished the odor of dampness. I heard his foot falls as he stepped in from the dining room, carrying a large glass of red wine. "I hope you like it, it is something the lead counselor sent me for you. He says it has a lovely warmth to it."
I took the glass and sipped it. It was a burgundy, sweet with a slight tart after taste and I felt the warmth of it spread through my chest.
"Is it good?" he asked. "As you know, I am no judge of wine."
"It is wonderful, send my compliments to the lead counselor," I said.
"I shall," he said. "How are the other members of the group?"
"Well, we feel a little out to sea with our virtual home gone, but the place we are inhabiting now is wonderful and generous," I said.
"I have been visiting there as well. And you are okay with your new meeting place?" he asked.
"We will be fine, I think we will make out til we get home," I said. "I worried that you might not be there."
"Don't let those thoughts trouble you. Like I said, you have created the third world for us to live in and interact in. What will you write about during the hiatus?" he asked.
"I love the holidays, so there will be one for as many holidays as I can mark on the calendar and can spark my imagination," I said. "The there are date nights and meetings. I think I will scrounge in the forum for topics to follow in the TBA meetings, some little something to cuss and discuss."
"Well, I am sure that you will use your lovely mind to keep us alive," he said, brushing my hair away from my face. "And don't forget your mythology thread Sweetheart, you write such interesting things there, too."
"I won't," I said. I took his hand, running my fingertips over the prominent veins on his hands.
He watched me as I looked at his hands, and nowhere else. I was afraid that if I looked into his lovely heart-shaped face that he would simply fade away and I would be sitting alone, in front of a cold fire in that damp room. His hands moved up to cup my face.
"Look at me Aslinn, look into my eyes," he said, leaning closer.
Just a little something that I needed....
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Long Good Night
We have only a short while longer my dearest sweetheart. Together for just little more and then I must go, taking flight for the long dawn and the long sleep that must come, a sort of hibernation, resting and drawing life from that rest. Will you miss me?
One of the popular writers of your world posed the question: Do the dead dream? Of course we do. Our difference does not preclude us from the ability to learn and know and hate and love. I know you will miss me and our times together, and they have been great times and adventures. And I promised you that I would take care of you through all our adventures, that I would whisk you away in my arms if the dangers were too much and run like dew before the morning sun or fly away with you into the night sky. You will always be safe because I am a part of you and you are a part of me.
Do you promise to dream of me just as I shall dream of you? Perhaps then we can have more adventures, just you and I. Will you speak of me and write of me to each other? Will you look into the memories of our adventures in the two worlds while you wait for me to wake? I actually look forward to the separation in a way, not because I want to be away from you but because I know that you will be just as hungry and greedy for me as I will be for you.
So one more adventure for us and then we are done for a while. You will have the fall and the winter, and how I love the seasons and you will dream of me and I will dream of you and you will wake me from even the deepest rest with your discussions of me and I hope I wake you at night with my cool kisses. I will hold you to me while you dream your sweet dreams and disappear just before dawn but you will know I was there, you will feel me like I feel you.
And I know that when the spring comes and the nights are warmer you will begin to think of me and you will be anxious for my return and before you know it, I will be back, and we will have more things to learn about our worlds. But do not forget me sweetheart, dearest, the time will pass faster than you think and we will be together again.
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