This is the temporary home of the True Blood Anonymous Group blog. For comments, if you do not wish to sign up for an account, you may email me at dragohawkaslinndhan@yahoo.com. When we get back to our regular home at True-Blood.net, I will post your comments.
Thanks so much for all your support and many thanks to the AlexanderSkarsgard.org site, True-Blood.net's sister site for allowing us refugees to use a couple of threads at their forum to cuss and discuss our favorite show while our site is being repaired.
These are tales that are on the Website, preserved in case our forum ever goes down
again
________________________________________
Title: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on May 31, 2009, 08:00:34 PM
________________________________________
So, here I am, driving my virtual winnebago through cyberspace, listening to Bittersweet Symphony and adding all the jpegs and other luscious bits I collected on my laptop onto my desk top and counting down the hours and days to that certain Sunday night that we are all waiting for, some 13 nights, 8 hours and some odd seconds from now.
My autistic cat, Ishee, kissed, bit and purred and jumped on me all at once and is settled at my feet, letting me rumple his fur with my toes and all I can think of is how excited I will be when Sunday, June 14 starts and how the opening credits and the sound of Jace Everett's voice will thrill my heart and how my breath will not be exhaled until the closing credits.
It will be like a family reunion. Okay, a really wierd family reunion. There's Sookie and Tara and Sam and poor drunk Andy Bellefleur standing over poor Lafayette(?). Now the song changes to Nessum Dorma as it was performed by Madame Aretha Franklin. Sad music when contemplating the fate of the poor, flamboyant possibly deceased Lafayette Reynold.
I can't wait for Sookie to drive up to the Compton place and my long awaited reunion with my favorite Vampire, Mr. Bill Compton. All those long lonely nights that stretched out sharp as a knife and he kept me company in the cool blue glow of my TV and my computer monitor. I sound like a woman in love. Just a little. Now the song is Blue Oyster Cult (I wished I had an umalot key) playing Don't Fear the Reaper.
But what has my heart really pounding besides the endlessly virile and southern sexy Confederate Vet is the coming conflicts and adventures that our other Southern Vampire has in store for our waitress and her fangy boyfriend. Not to mention the mad goings on that are supposed to happen in Bon Temps with Maryann the Maenad and all the citizens of our formerly quiet little nowhere not far from Monroe, La.
I check that countdown ticker again. Shepard of Judea, is time really that slow?
13 nights, 8hrs and some odd seconds and counting.
_______________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 01, 2009, 06:13:06 PM
________________________________________
So here it is, me again, at 12 nights, 4 hours and some odd minutes and the clock seems to have stopped and I am waiting like a heroin junkie at a methadone clinic, hours before the doors open waiting for my fix of my legal drug of choice.
It just isn't fair. I read all the leaks and spoilers and they give you just enough to calm you but as the night rolls in and the sun sets, you start singing that damned song, and the clock seems to have stopped.
What do I plan to do the day of the first episode? I will be so excited, so ready to start. I will spend the day getting ready. About seven pm I will go and get my bath. That deep dish sit down and get all wrinkly bath. I'll probably have my copy of whatever Charlaine Harris Sookie book I'm reading for the millionth time in there with me and my cat will be beating down my bathroom door because I have locked him out and he wants to open the door, peek at me and then leave, leaving the door open to let the steam out. I will read about an hour, bathe, and get out and put on my jammies and my Fangtasia tee shirt. I'll piddle around, probably put lotion on and maybe clip and file my nails. I'll look at the clock. 8:05. Dammit!! Now what? Maybe I will fix myself a drink. No, too early. So I go up and get on the Forum.
We are all in the same boat. We junkies. We are all hooked on V: Vampire Bill, Vampire Eric, Vampire Pam. Posts will begin with "I wonder if this episode will have__" or "I can't wait for tonight!!" Or some of us may even be upset because for whatever reason, they don't get HBO. Let me tell you now, I have nothing but sympathy in my heart and if you want a blow by blow recap of the episode, just PM me, I will tell you everything, no holds barred. Just make sure you really want to know.
Then you look at the clock. 8:30. Thirty more minutes. JezzusPleezus, help me get through the next half hour, 30 minutes, 1800 seconds. You get up and get that cold drink and maybe your snack. A slice of cold pizza, or some Cheetos or nachos with cheeze. The phone rings. You look at the caller ID and it is your Aunt Lucille calling from North Carolina. She only calls you once every 10 years and only when she's been at the bottle and she kept you on the phone for an hour and a half the last time. (Okay, maybe that's just at my house) So you don't answer it. You look at the clock. 8:40. You decide to go to the loo. You don't want to be in the loo when some pivotal moment is happening and you come out and something has happened and your mom tries to explain it to you, but she doesn't always keep track of their names, so she says stuff like, "Well, the big blond guy__" "Eric?" you supply, hopefully. "I guess, anyway, he just gave whatshername the stink eye," of course you know from last season that whatshername is Sookie but what you really want her to do is be quiet because while she is trying to explain the thing you missed, you are missing another important piece of exposition (particularly if the exposition is coming in the form of a slow soft southern accent out of the throat of the man you would seriously like to throw on the ground and find out if you can make him speak Swahili). It's okay mom, I figured it out. So you go to the loo.
Then it is over. It is like the best sex you ever had, you are exhausted, breathless, a little glassy eyed and you can't wait to get on line and get in the forum to talk about it to other junkies. Ah, there is Westexan and Eric Lover and the long missed Nordanswede and you are all posting faster than you can you can keep up and read. You know that you will have to go back in the morning and look at the thread for season two episode one and reread everything and clarify comments and make a few new observations. But you do get on that night, but quickly, because the encore will be on an hour later and an hour after that, they will play it on HBOW and it's encore. You will see that episode possibly four times before dawn.
I am not ashamed. I will be the first to admit it, I am addicted to True Blood and I am not sorry, not one little bit ;D
12 nights, three hours and 44 minutes to go.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 02, 2009, 05:07:18 PM
________________________________________
So here we are, 11 nights, 5 hours and 19 minutes to go before the big day. And I was looking at our forum calendar and the premier date isn't even on the calendar. That's alright Liz, we know when it is supposed to happen, that warm, sultry night when we stroll ourselves from our mundane lives and slip effortlessly into the fictional world of Bon Temps, Louisiana. We can hear the night bugs and frogs in their rural opra, singing a southern lullaby as the doors to Merlottes swing closed behind us. We sit down at a booth. We see Hoyt Fortenberry sitting there, having a burger and beer. Arlene sashays by us, "Be there in minute honey," in that sweet drawl of her's. Take your time Arlene, I like to listen at ya voice. Sookie is walking on the other side of the room, bringing a pitcher of Bud to a table full of red necks you can tell she doesn't like. Tara looks happy though, and she works really hard these days.
Merlotte's just doesn't seem the same since Rene Lenier was found to be the Bon Temps Strangler. I really liked him and his hot blooded exotic look and ways. Of course I didn't like it that he was so anti Vampire, but you know, some people are just that way. There's Sam, the guy who owns Merlotte's. He's so cute. I've known scores of men like him. Great guys, cute, hard worker but with that intangible something that for one reason or another marks him off your list. Sookie is walking back toward the service window and she gives Sam the old hairy eyeball.
But if you are looking to see Vampires, you won't see any in Merlotte's, not since Liam, Diane and Malcolm came and made such a big show of themselves at Merlotte's trying to get Bill Compton's attention. After that and the revelation that Sookie had slept with Bill, Sam barred him from the bar and poured out all the True Blood he had on hand for Bon Temps only local Vampire. But in a way, I can't blame Sam, though I think Bill is terrific.
If you want, I can take you to a real Vampire Bar. It's in Shreveport, called Fangtasia. I know, a dopey name, but the bar is pretty cool and they have a great gal at the door named Pam. A toothsome lass, she is partners with the owner. His name is Eric. Boy, what a stunner. Though I am more partial to brunettes than blondes, this guy is lovely to behold if a little dangerous and surly. Still, it's got great music, great drinks and you can actually see real Vampires.
Hey, wait, who is that? That red headed girl. She looks about 17, real pretty. Sookie purses her lips. "What are you doing here? Bill said you weren't allowed to come in here," she whispers tersely. "I'm tired of sitting in that old house all night. I want me some fun," she spies poor dopey Hoyt Fortenberry sitting by his lonesome.
Poor Hoyt. He's been on his own since Jason joined that fellowship of the Sun Church. He went to a couple of them meetings but he didn't like it. He knew a real Vampire, Vampire Bill and he was an alright kind of guy. He didn't go in for all that hype about Vampires being evil out of the gate. Some Vampires were cool, like Bill Compton, some weren't, like them three that got burned up their house not long ago. Just like people that way. But that Jason was so caught up in all that stuff, he didn't have much time for him, or Sookie, and Sookie was real sweet, not at all crazy like some people said.
He was watching her speak to the red headed girl that walked in. Boy, she was pretty. Not like Dawn Green, who worked at Merlotte's until she was murdered by Rene. Here they were, friends, Hoyt, Rene and Jason and no one never thought for a minute that Rene was the one kiling those girls. He remembered that day Sookie and Jason found Dawn and how Rene was talking about how they should fry the f*ckers. Sookie sure fried Rene alright, in a matter of speaking. Sookie cut his head off. He was glad that Sookie was okay and relieved that Bill recovered from trying to come out in the sun to save her. Boy, he must really love her to do a thing like that.
That's when the red headed girl turns around and looks at Hoyt. "Hi, you're cute. Want some company?"
11 days, four hours, and 45 minutes.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 03, 2009, 04:04:43 PM
________________________________________
!0 nights, 5 hours and 59 minutes.
The days creep by. You make a list of things to do each day. In between, you turn over to HBO and if you are like me, you have multiple HBOS to check. I think I am the only person who actually clicks on the information button to see when a program is over to catch any little promo, any little tid bit about the show. Obsession, let's talk about it, shall we?
ob•ses•sion [ əb sésh'n, ob sésh'n ] (plural ob•ses•sions)
noun
Definition:
1. preoccupation: an idea or feeling that completely occupies the mind
His obsession with figures led him to make crucial economic mistakes.
2. state of being obsessed: the state of being obsessed by somebody or something
Their devotion to each other borders on obsession.
3. psychiatry uncontrollable persistence of idea: the uncontrollable persistence of an idea or emotion in the mind, sometimes associated with psychiatric disorder
From Encarta Online
Yeah, that's me. Obsessed. In the thrawls of obsession. But I am in good company. I can feel you in here, in the forum, sneaking on and off to see if there are new tids and bits. There are. A luscious new interview with Stephen Moyer and a very insightful interview with Ryan Kwanten. I hope you haven't been skipping the home page. You are missing some juicy bits in there.
I liked this phrase from the movie Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome, when they have the soliloquy in the end and the girl's voice says: "Time counts and keeps counting," We are doing that, counting down the days and the hours and checking that little countdown widget with it's little drops of blood dropping with every second.
I wonder if there will be any reprisals for the death of Vampire Eddie? I wonder how we will respond to Eric's back story. I wonder if Jason will come up close and personal with the man sleeping with his sister. I wonder what all the things I have read about in the book will be presnted in a new and interesting way and how I will feel about it. I wonder if Jessica will survive her adventures with her Vampire Daddy and her human step mom. I wonder if Sam will ever get over Sookie and find true love?
Time counts and keeps counting.
10 nights, five hours and 46 minutes.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 04, 2009, 08:18:49 PM
________________________________________
9 nights, 1 hour and 53 minutes
"Time keep on slippin' into the future."- Steve Miller Band
Nine nights to go. I put VCR tapes on the list for Walmart. I know, there are other forms of technology, but I like having the old ways at my fingertips. I will record two copies so I can change them out and not wear any one tape out with replays. They saved me while I waited for my permanent DVD copies. When they came in, I carefully stored away my tapes and still enjoy the extra features tape I have with the hour long specials about Vampires and the myths and the campy True Blood beverage commercials.
I sat down at my computer and designed my little labels to put on them and saved them to my print shop program so I could add the titles to the back label. Not a factory style job but a fun one.
When the first season ran, I set my automatic timer and slid my tape into the slot ever so carefully and checked it to make sure that the tape was in the correct position. I will do this again this season, I am sure.
Last season, I watched with my mom. She is an odd duck. I love her to bits and she has gotten into the show in her own way. She doesn't like Eric at all and only likes Bill on principal. It isn't because they aren't attractive, it's the biting. Mom has a phobia about biting. She could never be a Vampire's girlfriend.
She thinks Eric is a cold b*stard. She likes him as a villian, though I keep explaining to her that he isn't a villian, he is just Vampire and a very politically motivated, mercenary one at that. She says she will have to break down and read the books one of these days. She better hurry before I read the print clean off the page, I have read the books so much.
But I get tickled at her. She saw the new promos and she said "Eric has his hair short, he looks so young!!" Of course he does, Alex is only what, 33, 34 years old. Bill, she says, looks like an old soul, a young man with an old soul living behind his eyes. And I suppose that is the way his character should look.
Mom says Bill has doggie brows (she always calls them by their character names, never the actor's names). I asked her to elucidate. She says his eyebrows are straight across and when he moves them around he looks like the way dogs look. I guess she's right. When Stephen looks puzzled or sad, his eyebrows sort of meet in the middle like a dog. Puppy dog eyes. I can't resist them, can you?
9 nights, 1 hour, 38 minutes to go.
Wonder what it will be like when it is 1 hour to go?
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 05, 2009, 08:39:12 PM
________________________________________
8 days, 1 hour and 45 minutes
Everyone on the forum says they can't wait for the next season of True Blood but no one is more ready than I am. And that's not just being star struck.
As a fan of music, I hear people in music forums and the like say, "Man, that song saved my life," and before the last year, I always rolled my eyes a little, thinking they were a little over wrought. That is, until it happened to me.
Sitting here at the key board in my room on my tabletop computer, is a miracle. I have been sick since, damn, last June. Cancer. I spent the summer having tests and seeing chemotherapy and radiation experts and surgeons and dietiticians and my reiki healer, making a plan as to how I was going to be treated. By July, I was in the throws of chemotherapy, four hours a day, four days a week to begin with. I was okay through the 1st week, but then I started to get sick.
You read about pain and you think, "They will give me drugs to help me with that," and they do. But while you are waiting for the drugs to take effect, you are trying to focus on something else. And for me, it was True Blood.
When True Blood began, I was okay, but by mid September, I was in a lot of pain but my medicine would knock me out. So, on Sunday nights, I would wait out the pain one more hour, so I would be able to enjoy each episode without being in a haze. I hurt, but I was happy. And I made it through the season. I recorded every episode and I took my tapes to the chemo room at the hospital. We called it 'Club Chemo' and we were the baldies. There was me and Jaime and Tommy and Dolores and fiesty Shannon, a 70 year old great grandmother of three with a serious love jones for Alexander Skarsgard. There was Pete and Andy (who were 14 and way too young for True Blood but they watched it anyway). Me and my fellow baldies had incredible arguments and intense discussions about the show. What was Sam? Why did Bill let those evil Vampires sniff Sookie up?Who was the Bon Temps Strangler? What was the story on Miss Jeanette? We felt at ease amongst each other because we were Other. We talked sometimes about those uncomfortable subcontexts, about fear and loathing because you look different and are different (we all looked like left over skeletons at a party decoration store after Halloween. Put together, I bet we barely made up a moderate sized person). We talked about how people stared at you in the stores and in the waiting rooms and even said things that hurt your feelings.
Then, just after Christmas, I had pnuemonia and an infection from my central line catheter. I was admitted and have been in hospital just up to May 31. And there were a few times I thought I would not make it.
So, just when the first season was almost over, I joined the forum. I love it here. I love writing my long winded threads, making my silly pictures, working on my mythology thread, and listening to the show. I have read the books dozens of times, and True Blood is practically my soundtrack, I know the dialogue by heart almost. I can listen to it with my eyes closed and see the characters and feel so good and strangely safe. When my doctors would tell me bad news, I told them, "Nope, I ain't dying til I see the next season of True Blood, I ain't so you can just march yourselfs right on the hell out of here, I got my forum to check on," And that is what I would do. But I confess that sometimes, I cried a little cry over my laptop but resolved in my heart to see the next season.
So, when I say True Blood saved my life, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. True Blood and our humble forum with it's lovely members all chattering away with their opinions and desires and crushes and fascinations saved my life. And I wait because the moment that second season begins, I will have fulfilled a promise to myself that I would live to see the second season.
And what a season it will be.
8 nights, 1 hour and 13 minutes.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 06, 2009, 08:12:19 PM
________________________________________
7 nights, 1 hour and 54 minutes
"I dream of love as time runs through my hands" Sting- Desert Rose
And that is the thing that I get out of the show most of all is the love story. I love the whole notion of love that surpasses time and circumstances. I like the notion that true love never dies. That love survives time and space and is eternal.
Please don't give me a bunch of cynical BS about how bogus true love is. I have been hurt by men who swore they loved me, but I still believe there is such a thing as true love. I haven't found it yet, but I believe it is out there. So, until then, I will live vicariously through the romance and adventures of our telepathic waitress and her Vampire boyfriend.
I can be cynical about many things, about human nature, even question people's overall goodness, but I think there is so much evil in the world because there is not enough love in the world. And as John Lennon said "All We Need is Love".
So I wait, like the bride for her groom and I fall in love, well, at least for an hour or so. :-*
Good Night all you Lovers
7 nights 1 hour, 37 minutes
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 07, 2009, 10:00:07 PM
________________________________________
7 nights, 0 hours and 54 minutes
I can see us, at the True Blood Anonymous group. We are all milling around, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes (all junkies do, I hear) waiting to sit down.
"Okay, I'll start. Hi my name is Aslinn and I am a True Blood-o-holic. My drug of choice is Bill Compton. I guess I started to abuse True Blood sometime in August of last year. At first it was just Sunday nights around nine o'clock pm,"
"Hi Aslinn," says the group.
There is an attractive, pale skinned man sitting in the shadows, beside him is a taller man, standing there leaning against the door. They say nothing, just observing. We can't see their faces, but they are there. Our counselors.
"Pretty soon, though I was chasing the reruns every night and the encores about an hour or so later. Then I started taping it and it was all over for me. If I went more than a couple of hours without hearing__well___him__say "sweetheart", my heart would pound and my palms would sweat and my mouth would be all dry and tickle," I look around and Westexan was nodding her head. "Then I figured out how to use the OnDemand feature of my remote. Oh God, I was so doomed!! Night and day it played, I couldn't get the songs out of my head!!"
"Alligator Stew, I just hear that song and my mouth begins to water. 'Pick up a Pizza, pineapple ham, put it the back of the good times van'" said Violet, licking her lips.
"Oh and 'Don't Fear the Reaper', "says Nordanswede. "That's when he walked into my life and took it over," she whispers miserably.
"Tell us about it," says the tall shadowed man leaning against the door. His voice is low but somehow you are compelled to speak.
"Well, I don't really know how to talk about *gulp* him," she begins. "I saw him in that fourth episode and he's slouched in that throne and he looks so wonderful in those black leather pants and that vest and he has the most beautiful smile," Nordanswede's voice wavers. I pat her hand and Violet hands Westexan a tissue to pass to Nordanswede.
"Could I say something? It's great that you girls feel the way you do and can let it out, but I have to tell you, it isn't just you girls, we guys are in trouble too," said a male voice.
"Tell us about it, then," said Violet.
"Well, hi, my name is God Speed, you can call me GS, um and I've been mainlining Jessica since she made her appearance on the show in episode 10. I can't get enough of her. And I'm frustrated because I can't find enough clear pictures of her on the internet and I can't get my screen caps to work. My DVD's stopped playing and I took them to a friend of mine and he says___" GS stops for a moment and gasps softly. Violet pulls another tissue out of her bag and leans across the small circle and hands it to him. He takes it and dabs his eyes. "He says he has never met anyone before who played a DVD till it was blank." We all commiserate with him. Some of us are having the same problem as well. Especially with episodes six and seven. Amazon is going to make a lot of money this year.
"May I speak?" said another lady. We nod. " Hi, my name is Liz and I have multiple addictions. At first it was just a little Sookie Stackhouse Mysteries thing. You know, they never tell you how dangerous it is when you start doing "B"," we were puzzled.
"'B'?" asked Westexan.
"Books. Oh they say it is so harmless, even little kids are doing it. Some people say that is just healthy escapism. I thought, a little "Dead Until Dark" or the Lilly Bard mysteries would be fine, but no, I have to read them all, all the time. Damn that Charlaine Harris. She got me hooked!" said Liz, defiantly.
The man in the chair sitting in the shadows says, "Liz, remember, the first step to recovery is owning your own addiction," His voice is low and Southern.
"And then we started this forum and I thought it would help, you know, with the cravings. Mel and I thought this would help us get through the between season hiatus and help us get ready for the new one, maybe we could handle it better. But it hasn't. Because that damned woman has brought out another Stackhouse novel and it is just chock full of more mysteries!!" she sobbed. We all nod. We know the allure of the forums, regular opium dens of spoilers and sneak peeks and special exclusive interviews.
"Liz, try to use feeling words," prompted a shodowy figure on the opposite side of the room. It is a female voice, just as reasonable as the two men sitting in shadow near and in front of the door. When did she get here?
"I feel like I am sometimes a whole other person, that I even had another name and I felt so connected to the books and show that way," she says. "I use my real name now, but sometimes I think of myself as her, with all her power." she sobs louder. GS hands her his slightly damp tissue. "All I wanted to do is have a place where people could relieve their tension and talk about the books, but now___"
"I know, I know," I said. "I've been helping out at the forum, logging into the chat for the radio show, and I thought I would be, you know, okay. But instead___I practically break out in hives if I can't get into the forum right away, I worry constantly: Why haven't we heard from Bre, from Madargentinian, from Eric Lover?"
"They are casual users, they can handle the Sunday night high, like McM. Some people are like that, they can party and get all knocked out but then they can have their normal lives back!" says Mel, who rarely says anything but keeps us supplied with the lastest gossip, videos and news.
"Are you sure you want to be released from your bondage?" says the man standing in the shadows.
We all look around at each other. None of us want to say what we really feel, that we don't really want to walk away from the feeling we get from the Sunday night fix and then the little brain pops we get through the season in the form of episode reruns. We don't want to give up our little bull sessions in the forums where we speculate and conjecture the next episode. Finally, Westexan speaks.
"No, damn it, I don't want to give it up, I want the buzz and the thrill," she said. "And I am not afraid to admit it,"
"Your time is up, we should all plan to meet here tomorrow night," said the man sitting in the shadows, the man with the soft Southern voice.
We all straggle out onto the street. We are all True Blood addicts, looking for that next fix.
"Will I see you in the forum?" I asked Westexan.
"Yeah, I'm going home, put my feet up and watch my DVDs." she admitted.
"Me, too. Will I see you all tomorrow night here?"
"Maybe," she said. "Hopefully."
The tall man reaches over and flips the switch. Eric Northman stretches his long body and looks down at the dark haired Vampire sitting beside him. Bill stands and faces Eric, as Pam joins them.
"Looks like we have some devotees," said Pam.
"Yes in deed we do," says Eric. "How do you feel about that, Bill?"
"I'm delighted," he says, smiling, showing fang. The two Vampires smile back at him, showing fang of their own.
6 nights, 0 hours, 0 minutes.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 08, 2009, 06:24:39 PM
________________________________________
6 nights, 1 hour and 24 minutes.
"Time is irrelevant, it's not linear" U2- No Line on the Horizon
Funny thing about time. It seems to move so slowly when you are young and then speeds along when you are older. I thought I would never get to 16. It was taking too long. Then it was twenty-one, I couldn't wait to be able to belly up to the bar and order a cold one, even if I did have to present ID to the bartender.
But once you hit twenty-one, time begins to race down hill. And you look around at people racing down that same hill and you are trying to figure out where you stand. Are you where you are supposed to be in the social time line that other people create for you?
I think that of all things that is interesting and marvelous and a little sad is the way the clock stands still for Vampires. They are frozen to the look they had whenever they were turned. But they see the passage of human time and they know and see human history. Perhaps they ignore most of it as the affairs of human kind and beneath their notice. But imagine, being friends with someone like Eric, who lived for a thousand years and has seen man go from the dark ages to the new age.
Imagine, that when Eric was made Vampire, most people, even the wealthy, could not read or write. Books were expensive luxuries, transportation was a horse or horse and cart or by foot. Women were property (though there are some people who think that today) to be disposed of as their father, brother or husband or even son saw fit. Religion was a strange mixture of pagan and extremely early Christianity (if it was known at all). Language was different. Even English as it was spoken a thousand years ago was very different from English today. Ask any High School senior about The Canterbury Tales and they will tell you just how different it is.
Communication was word of mouth. Major news was by town crier (though spin was always what it is). Singing minstrels made their living delivering news all through the European world and America was a rumor, a legend told by some Norseman someone like Eric made have heard and may have even smiled at the man's imagination.
Food was whatever you managed to coax out of the ground or hunt down. War was truly hand to hand, money was whatever precious material you had (Iberians, those people who would become the natives of Spain, used tin).
Healthcare was whatever herbs and roots the local midwife or herbalist/alchemist could prepare for you. The human body was the ultimate final frontier and the world beyond the clouds was inhabited by frightening and terrible gods and beasts.
Go forward five hundred years. If Eric is a real person and a Vampire, he will have seen the first female queen of England (no, not Elizabeth I, there was Maud, granddaughter of the Conqueror). He would have seen the first of several worldwide plagues, Christianity would be the main religion, and he would have seen the beginnings of the Holy Inquisition. He would have seen the discovery of the New World and perhaps remembered those old stories he heard about Norsemen finding a strange new world on the other side of the sea. He would have heard about the wonderful new playwright William Shakespeare but he would not have been able to see a play until theatres came up with a more effective means of lighting. The Globe was an open air theatre and used natural sunlight to light the stage.
Beginning with the 1600's he would have seen the Renaissance, where art and science and philosophy made violent love to one another and gave birth to medicine, mechinization, industrialization, astronomy, advanced mathematics, democracy, physiology and more war and revolution.
And Time would continue to pass. Our Eric saw the first imaginings of flight, of creation, of accelerated travel and ships that traveled constantly over the seas. He would stand in line to ride a train and be fascinated to know it was being run on steam. London's streets, by the time he meets Pam, are probably gas lit. By 1865, when Lorena is making Bill Vampire, Eric will be seeing the beginnings of mass production and the use of electricity. He will read the newpaper, if he is in London a couple of decades later, about one of the first serial killers in modern history and consider Jack the Ripper an amateur.
By the early 1900's, Wilbur and Orville Wright will have flown at Kitty Hawk, the first World War will have broken out, the Spanish Flu will have caused a pandemic and more soldiers will die of the flu than of combat. And he will buy his first car, probably a model A. He will see World War Two and the atomic age. Man will fly transatlantic, then fly to the moon. The Cold War will break out, America will go to Vietnam, a woman will go into space in the space shuttle, there will be a space station inhabited by human beings circling the earth and he will see the dawn of the computer age.
By the time we meet Eric if you read the books first, the paper back imprint on my copy says May 2001. Five months before September 11. When we meet Eric on the screen, he is already texting, messaging and playing video games on the same little hand held device.
Imagine, going from horse back to driving a high powered Corvette in a thousand years, of reading a book he purchased (probably) with a debit card/credit card, when wealth was usually whatever you carried with you. And that book was printed by a machine instead of being labouriuosly hand written. Eric gets his news directly from CNN and not the town crier. And England has a Queen on the throne, Elizabeth II, and there is no longer a Holy Roman Empire and Islam is edging up on Christianity as the largest religion on earth.
Women are no longer chattle (for the most part) and boy do they dress differently from when he met Pam in her flounces and lace. Wars are still being waged and diseases still threaten us, but simple infections, like the one that killed his wife Aude, can be treated with penicillin.
Recon someone like Eric would be a little busy? And we think waiting six nights and 30 minutes is tough.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 09, 2009, 06:38:26 PM
________________________________________
5 days, 0 hours and 26 minutes.
"Night and day, you are the one, only you beneath the moon and under the sun," Cole Porter, Night and Day
(Overvoice: A slow southern, seductive voice)
Let's get intimate. It's so close, that night we have been looking forward to, and the spoilers and sneak peaks and clips are doing nothing but making you hungry for more. Alan Ball is such a tease.
But let's get a little closer, turn down the lights, let's whisper.
Don't worry, I'll hear you perfectly. It's a common side effect of our condition. Get a little closer. Put your lips against my ear and tell me what you want.
There is an anxious, painful element to waiting for the time to be right, for the atmosphere to be perfect, for the lighting to be just so. Can you hear me sweetheart? Good. The seduction is everything. You have been waiting for a long time for this moment and I know how hungry you are. But wait just a little longer. I promise you will be satisfied. May I put my arm around you? Just try to relax.
Even the waiting can be pleasurable. The desire and frustrations are so delicious. Sometimes that is what makes the moment of reconing so sweet. And when you are finally spent, you can lie back and enjoy it again in your thoughts.
You will always be able to feel me, moving around in your mind and your imagination. That's the beauty of our story. All the adventure and fear and danger will make your heart race. What sweetheart? Oh yes, there will be love and lust and passion, you needn't worry about that, trust me, everything will be fine.
May I kiss you good night?
5 nights, 0 hours and 11 minutes
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 10, 2009, 06:52:05 PM
________________________________________
4 nights, 0 hours and 41 minutes
"Midnight is where the day begins" Lemon- U2
This may seem trivial, but the best thing about being a Catholic is the calendar and if you are Catholic, you know what I mean. Just about everyday is dedicated to some saint. And if you have one of those primo calendars there is a little tid in the square about each and every saint.
You should see my calendar. Not because it is a Catholic feast of the saints calendar nor because it is a computer made True Blood Calendar with lovely pictures of Vampires and other jpegs trawled from the net. It is scribbled upon like a calendar belonging to a very busy business woman's with things crabbed into the little squares. On closer look, you can see where I marked the days of the TB-a-thon on June 4-7 so I could tune in and watch season one more time before the new season starts. Then the 10th and 11th are the various appearances of Stephen Moyer on the talk shows. (Don't forget he is on Jimmy Fallon tonight on NBC and the Early Show in the morning). Then in the Sunday June 14th box, is a great big red star made by my blood red sharpie pen marking the day I return to Bon Temps.
Then on June 17th Ryan Kwanten appears on Jimmy Kimmel.
And every Sunday after that for the remaining 11 weeks is marked with the letters TB.
As we watch the episodes, I will be cognizant of how many episodes we have left. The first three or four will not worry me, there will be plenty of TB left, but as the season gets to the 6th and 7th episode, I will begin to get nervous because our time in Bon Temps will winding down and I know I will be waiting for at least five or six months to get my DVDs and I will be watching TB OnDemand as much as possible to save my video tapes for when the series will disappear from OD and I will then be waiting for the new book to arrive.
It's a vicious cycle, more vicious than a Vampire.
But I love it. I look forward to it like a child waiting for Santa Claus. I mark off the days like opening the little doors on an advent calendar, waiting for dark to fall and bring us the delights of the screen.
These are sad bad days boys and girls and we need our distractions. There are those of us with loved ones away in Iraq and Afganistan, there are those who are having financial problems, some facing sickness and ailments, others just lonely, looking for a safe place to connect with other people.
In the great depression, it was the cinema that distracted people from their difficult lives. For a nickle, you could go into a lavishly decorated movie palace and sit in the dark and be transported somewhere else where the people are beautiful and their lives are adventurous and romantic and out of the ordinary. Films that made you laugh and cry, and fall in love and shout at the screen. But they kept bringing you back for more.
I know some people who have forgone vacations or road trips for small gatherings at home with friends who bring snacks and drinks and settle down for that golden hour of escape in front of the TV.
I know that it is the high point of the week for me.
And I know it is for some of you, too.
4 nigts, 0 hours and 8 minutes ;D
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 11, 2009, 05:42:36 PM
________________________________________
3 nights, 1 hour, 58 minutes
"Can you hear it coming in the air tonight?" Phil Collins
I can feel the tension in the air, the vibrations of anxiety coming from you. We have been feasting our eyes on vidi clips and reading articles with slyly dropped hints about the first four episodes. We have feasted our eyes on beauty in the form of premier photos and some of us have defended our sweet Charlaine from those who would judge her and not her work.
My nerves are on edge. I am no longer sated by watching hypnotically the episodes from last season. I feel my hunger growing. Perhaps we have become the Vampires, hungry for reflections of ourselves in the characters.
Isn't there something about our Undead friends that is a part of us. There is a part of us that is both civilized and savage. That looks at the world around us and shakes our head, feeling less and less a part of the world of "human", a world of human where an 88 year old man can go to museum that remembers the horrors of a mad man to create his own horrors, a final solution for a man who worked as a guard in a museum. This is the time when I hope there is something in the darkness to exact a little justice.
There is a part of us who longs to be a part of the night. The night is scary but it is also when our desires take on flesh. I love to stand in the pale moonlight and feel a part of her and watch her as she counts time in her waxing amd waning. To be thing that goes bump in the night. To be the object of lust and fear. To chase things in the night and feel it's heart racing.
The sun is beginning to go down and my heart is racing. I know that three more nights will find me freshly bathed, a small snack and a drop of wine and I will be ready to know what happened.
It can't be Sunday soon enough, to let me escape from this far darker world.
3 days, one hour and 18 minutes
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 12, 2009, 05:46:23 PM
________________________________________
2 nights, 1 hour and 54 minutes.
I am sitting in the dark alone. It isn't completely dark but it is very dimly lit and the first time I know there someone in the room with me is when I hear his voice. It is not the low, soft Southern voice that seems so soothing to me but a deeper voice.
"Good, you are here. Can I get you something to drink?" I mention a CC & 7 and I watch him pour the liquor and soda carefully over the ice. He knows how and what to do but he seems to be concentrating on the act as though it was a foreign activity to him. He grabs a napkin and brings me the drink, sitting it in front of me on the napkin. He sits down opposite me. "So why did you want to see me, lover?"
"Curiosity.." I say, haltingly.
"Killed the cat," he finishes for me. He smiles. There is something disarming about his smile, sexy and dangerous at the same time. Right now, I can't decide which it is, so I look a way. "But really, what can I do for you?"
"I guess I just wanted to know what I can expect from you," I say.
"Oh, you can expect many surprises from me dearest. I plan to take you places and show you things most people never get to see. A virtual world within worlds," he leans back in his chair and puts his hand upon the table. I like hands. They tell you so much. This man's hands were very large and very, very pale with large veins. His nails are large and slighlty square and neatly clipped and very clean. I notice a sort of amber toned discoloration on his cuticles, but it must because he is so fair. I move my hand to touch his but I catch myself in time. He turns his hand over and extends it. An invitation to touch his hand.
I slide my fingers over the cool hard palm and marvel at it, as if I had never seen so simple a human appendage. Someone unfamiliar with someone of his kind would mistake the look of that hand as soft, one that had never done anything beyond count his money. But I knew differently. He has a long and rich history. I turn over his hand and run my fingers over the prominent veins and the hairless skin of the back of his hand. I look up and grin a little at him and his indulgence of my curiosity. He smiles again at me, this time I definitely know what sort of smile it is. It was a sexy smile and felt it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I shiver, well tremble a little.
"Are you trembling because you are afraid of me?" he asks.
"No. Well, maybe, a little," I say.
"I don't think it is fear lover, it is anticipation," he says. "I feel that way too. Will all your friends like me, do you think?"
"I think we all like you, even if we admire someone else in a different way," I say carefully.
"Ah, so you are one of his," he says. He takes his hand back, and I am a little disappointed of that.
"Well, I'm a little old fashioned. You won't hold that against me will you?" I ask.
"No, of course I hope I will be able to bring you over to my side. I like having friends," he says. Somehow, I am reading many definitions into that word. There are friends and then there are friends.
"And I think it would be exciting to have a friend like you," I say.
"Yes, we'll have many adventures. Some of them would be a little dangerous, but I take good care of my friends. After all, I want us to have many more adventures together," he says.
"So, when do we start?" I ask.
"Soon, very soon, lover," he says.
2 nights, 1 hour, 18 minutes.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 13, 2009, 05:26:06 PM
________________________________________
1 night, 1 hour, 53 minutes
"Oh, my Love, my Darlin', I hunger for your touch," Unchained Melody
I know you are out there, I can hear you breathing, your quick hot little pants of excitement. I know you have come to see what will happen next. Who will live, who will die, who will love and will hate. Don't worry, the time is coming and you will begin to unravel the mysteries you have so longed to plunder.
My maker and I will be there, waiting for you, to guide you through the adventure. Everyone who is anyone will be there and all you have to bring with you is a sense of adventure and, oh yes, your appetite.
Will all your favorites be there? Perhaps, in some form or other. But the finding out is what will make it so much fun. Of course our love birds will be there. If I had feelings, I would be as you are right now. I would have sweaty palms and my heart would beat fast. Imagine, my heart beating after all this time. I don't think I could stand it.
Of course my maker is feeling something, something he doesn't normally feel because____ he doesn't like to have feelings of any kind. You already know that though, don't you? I suppose it would be inevitable, though, since coming out of the coffin and dealing everyday with humans at the bar. But humans are so much alike that he never paid that much attention to them as long as they bought drinks and spent money on t-shirts and calendars. But then she comes along and.. Well, you know her, she's so different from other humans, not like us, but not like them either. In a class all her own.
Let me ask you something. Do you stand out? Yeah, just as I thought. Come on in. Good luck getting out! That is if you want out.
1 night 1 hour 37 minutes
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 14, 2009, 03:25:51 PM
________________________________________
I can feel you out there children, I can hear you breathing. As the day comes to an end and the sun begins to move toward sinking, you are growing more anxious, trying to find things to do. You work at something for a while and you look at the clock, you are disappointed that it has only been five minutes.
You go to your computer and turn it on and you let it get loaded up and you go to the home page and check the home page first, to see if there are any articles or interviews posted at the last minute and you read the bits and listen to the interviews and watch the posted videos. You look at the clock. Only 40 minutes have passed. You go into the forum.
There is Aslinn, your humble moderator, but she is there all the time. (does she ever sleep, you wonder? Sometimes, yes, but during the day, not at night. Hum) Tool has been there a couple of times, Westexan has stuck her toe in and sniffed around. Violet, too. How long now? 5 minutes. Damn.
You feel like a kid going to the last class of the day and you know that the class is only 50 minutes but it sems like fifty minutes is actually six hours. (sort of like a thousand years is but a day unto the Lord) The last three or for hours seem longer than the last three or four months. It stretches out and the clock seems to stop.
You meander through a few posts, posts that seemed so incredble and important to respond to two weeks ago seem something else. Not less important, just overshadowed for the moment by the waiting game.
I went to see this play in college, it is a college staple, Waiting for Godot. I don't remember who wrote it and if any of you know, please feel free to inform the rest of us.
Anyhow, we read it first in class and it took us at least 20 minutes. But the play live, lasts 3 hours. It is because you actually watch the characters do nothing but wait.
The characters are these sort of dimwitted clowns who are waiting for this person they have never seen but know they have to meet him. It is a grand metaphor for man's futile attempts to find and know God and understand his role in our lives. The play closes with Godot never arriving and the clowns forever waiting.
But unlike the clowns, we will have our visitation.
Sooner or later. in 3 hrs and 35 minutes
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 18, 2009, 07:57:26 PM
________________________________________
The meeting room is a little more crowded tonight. We look a little hung over. I shuffle over to the coffee pot. God Speed made the coffe, it is heavy on the Hennessy. I sit down next to Madargentinian. SHe looks a little dazed.
Nordanswede is absent. She must be working through her hang over. We all seriously fell off the wagon this weekend, with the premier and all. But Eric Lover is there, and her hands are shaking a little. I pat her on the shoulder in what I hope is a reassuring way.
Our two counselors are sitting in the shadows. A deep voice says, "Would someone like to begin. How did it go this past weekend?"
I hear a sob. I look over. Mel is tears and Liz is patting her on the back saying over and over again that it is okay.
"What is the matter Mel?" asked a soft southern voice.
"I'm just so glad Lafayette is alive," Mel sobs.
"Yes," says the deeper voice, "We are all relieved."
"I tried so hard not to watch," said God Speed.
"God Speed, my bullsh*t meter reads that as false," says the deep voice.
"No, honest, I wanted to see if I could do it. I mean, isn't that what we are all here for? To get better?" he asked.
"Is that your goal?" asked the soft southern voice.
"Maybe, 'cause then I would maybe get more done than looking for pictures of Jessica. Oh I got some really yummy ones I posted on the forum, did you all see them?" he asks us.
"Hey, I did, I saw the one of Jessica wearing Sookie's yellow graveyard dress," said Madargentinian.
"I didn't even try," I said. "I sat down on the couch with my Satackhouse Po' Boy and glass of wine and was ready and waiting when the recap from last season started. I couldn't hardly wait for The Dark Knight to go off," I said.
"The Dark Knight?" asked the southern voice.
"Batman?" I said in the general direction of the person in the shadows.
"Is he one of us?" he asked the taller shadow.
"I don't think so," said the deeper voice. "But go on Aslinn,"
"Anyway, I just about peed on myself when I saw it and I was so relieved it wasn't Lafayette in the back of Andy's car. And then Poor Sookie goes to Bill for a little peace and quiet and who just has to interrupt their little moment?" I give God Speed the stink eye.
"Don't you eyeball me Aslinn, it is not her fault. Bill made her the way she is, she didn't ask him to turn her," he said.
"Don't you go after me son, Bill Compton didn't want to make her, he was forced to make her," I snapped. "Besides, she's a little b___"
"Ah, ah, Aslinn, let's not attack other members of the group," says the soft southern voice. "Now, go on with your story."
"Then Sam snaps at Sookie. I mean, it isn't her fault he hooked up with some crazy woman when he was a kid and stole her money. It isn't her fault that Sookie fell in love with Bill, it just happened," I sighed. "It just isn't fair." Violet gave me a tissue. She always has tissues and I always forget.
"And Jason!!" said Eric Lover.
"What about Jason," says the deep voice.
"He just makes me so mad. He's so stupid, getting involved with the Fellowship.Doesn't he know what they are all about?" she said tersely.
"Apparently not," said the deep voice. "Perhaps we should wrap up for the week,"
"But I haven't said anything yet," said Violet
"Alright, go on ahead," said the deep voice.
"I just wanna say: Damn you Bill Compton, I love you," she says tearfully.
"Well, that's just fine Violet," said the soft southern voice.
"We'll see you all next week then," said the deep voice.
After the last of the members of the True Blood Anonymous group files out of the room, the two shadows look a each other.
"We've got them exactly where we want them," said the soft southern voice.
"Oh, yes indeedy," said the deeper voice.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 24, 2009, 08:40:08 PM
________________________________________
"TrueBloodFan is bringing the coffee," I said. GodSpeed was looking a little bloodshot and disgruntled but I suppose we all did.
Flaud was here. This was his first meeting and already there was some tension between he and GodSpeed. They both mainlined Jessica, their drug of choice from the family of addictive substances known as True Blood. Westexan sidled up to me.
"I brought tissues tonight," I said.
"Violet will be so pleased," she said. "Kleenex is having a very good year." About that time Liz came in.
"How's it, Liz?" I asked.
"Crap. I'm so strung out. I spiked a little Bill with some Eric the other night and I think I almost OD-ed," she sniffed. It wasn't good to mix your addictives. It made things a little blurry.
Violet came in in a rush. Had she been a cartoon, she would have been one of those fight clouds with shoes, fists and punctuation marks flying from it. She had the deluxe box of Kleenex in her arms.
TrueBloodFan finally came in, carrying several big thermoses in a cardboard box. Flaud rushed over to her and helped her take them out.
"I just couldn't decide which coffee to bring. I was so blissed out since the last meeting, another big episode and everything happening so fast and Lafayette and then Bill," TBF broke down and began to sob.
Eric Lover patted her on the back and went to the table and chose the caramel mocha latte and filled a cup.
"Are you stoned?" I asked her.
"Sh, I know the rules say that we shouldn't come to group high but I have never had such large doses of Eric in my life, so pure and so___ last season I wasn't like this, but there is so much of him this season!" she swallowed hard. Her eyes had that hard glassy look of someone who was using a lot of hard Viking.
"You better not let the counselors see you looking like that," I said.
"That's why I am drinking a lot of coffee," she said, raising the large Styrofoam cup. "Maybe I'll sober up a little."
Mel came in, she was walking wounded, she limped over to to Liz and more or less slumped into the chair. Madargentinian came over to me. She pulled me by the arm.
"I went to Shreveport and got in touch with my connection. She had a very special product and I though you would enjoy it," she whispered.
"Madargentinian, you can't deal in group!" I said. "The counselors!!"
"Take a peek, you will enjoy it," she whispered. I looked in the package. I looked at her.
"Is it pure?" I asked.
"Straight from the source," she said. I looked at it. It was a copy of Living Dead in Dallas. Inside was the signature of CH herself. On the cover was my addictive compound: Bill. I salivated openly. I couldn't wait to get home so I could use. I tucked the book into my bag.
"Thanks, Mad, I appreciate it," I said.
Dealing, coming to group high, a brewing junkie war for Jessica, this could get bloody.
Finally we all settled down and the lights dimmed, only the central ceiling light lit us in our circle.
"Shall we start?" said the southern voice.
"I don't know who you think you are," said Flaud to Godspeed, "but you cannot hog up all that Jessica."
"Me? Hogging up Jessica? That would make a cat laugh. You are doing up on her every time I turn around," said Godspeed. "You will never appreciate her and the way she makes you feel. You are just doing up. I savour her."
"Yeah, right, whatever," he said.
"That's enough," said the deeper voice. "You know the rules of the group. No using before attending," Eric Lover looked at me and I gave her an imperceptible shake of my head. I was so glad she was sitting with her back to the counselors. She was so obviously stoned.
"Liz, tell us about your week," said the soft female voice by the door. How does our third counselor always come in late and no one hears her?
"Horrible. I spent the first few days doing screen caps for the first two episodes. Thousands of frames of the show made into pictures for the forums. And then___" she stopped.
"And then?" said the female voice.
"I was doing a little Bill, you know, just to keep myself "well" and I thought that I could sprinkle a little Eric on top, for a little boost, and I just__disappeared. My kids said I was there but it was like I was on screen saver. I've never been so messed up in front of my kids," said Liz miserably.
"Everyone take a deep breath and try to relax," said the soft southern voice. I rubbed my eyes and face.
"I went to Shreveport," said Madargentinian. "What? I couldn't help it!"
"I thought we established that you were to stay away from Shreveport when the connection was there," said the southern voice.
"I know, I know, but I got in my car and started down the road and before I realized it I was there and my hands were shaking and there were so many other junkies there and we were just__enthralled," she said.
"Did you get any from her? Any product?" said the deep voice.
"No, I just was there," she said weakly.
"My bullsh*t meter is reading that as false," said the deep voice.
"Violet, how was your week? said the southern voice.
"Rough. You don't know what it is like! You worry over a person like Lafayette and you discover that he is alive, but chained up in a dungeon and then Eric was so___Eric, I mean, I had to do two doses of Bill just to come down, he was so wild and funny and scary at the same time, and the end. Will they do Plan C?" she asked.
"Don't concern yourself with Lafayette," said the deep voice. I rubbed my face again.
"Aslinn, do you have anything to say?" said the southern voice.
"Yeah, I got something to say. What about Sam? What about that woman who is after him? What about Stackhouse?" I said.
"Could be fun," said the female voice.
"Fun but stupid," said the deep voice. "Go on Aslinn,"
"I mean, I was never into doing much Sam and frankly I never liked Stackhouse. I tried a little Stackhouse but I ended up draggy and hung over afterwards. That is how I got into Bill and now I just want to sit around, be "made up to" all the time. And Sam just never did it for me, never did get a buzz." I leaned back. "But you sit around, slurp back a little Lafayette, do up on a little Bill, ride the high boyfriend," I said, then I recovered myself. "Sorry, no disrespect."
"None taken," said the deep voice. "So how do you feel about the situation."
"Well Aslinn is a pure Bill user. Even among junkies there is a sort of etiquette," said the female voice.
"I think it is wrong. Pisses me off to see Eric all up in Bill's space, manhandling him. I gotta have my Bill straight, and I won't have him all sullied up by a lot of Eric," I said.
"Have you even tried any Eric?" said Eric Lover defensively.
"Yeah, I tried some. Walked around like queen sh*t of turd castle, all arrogant and in charge, real delusions of grandeur. I like feeling all warm and fuzzy like lying in back in warm tub of water, surrounded by soft light, floating__" my voice sort of trailed away. I was having a flashback to episode seven from last season.
"This is a prime example of a flashback from dropping a little too much Bill," said the female voice.
"Maybe we should wind this up. Any goals for next Sunday?" said the deep voice.
No one spoke. Finally Westexan spoke.
"Just try to get through it and try to stay clean through the week," she said.
"Fat chance with all the reruns," sobbed Violet.
The three counselors came together.
"A lot of them were stoned in group," said Pam, brushing back her long blond hair.
"And we have dealing going on, that is poorly played," said Eric.
"It will only get worse for them," said Bill. "They are close to being out to sea."
"That's what I like to hear," said Eric.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on June 30, 2009, 02:29:42 PM
________________________________________
The three counselors are sitting in the True Blood Anonymous meeting room. The group will not meet this week because of the upcoming 4th of July holiday but the counselors are having a pow wow about the direction of the group.
Eric is sullen. He isn't sure that he likes the way the group is going. There is dealing going on, not just out on the street and back alleys, but right here in the group meeting room. Bill is on the phone, speaking softly into his phone. Pam is watching him, a disgusted look on her face as he whispers "You, too," into the phone. She rolls her eyes as she watches him stow the phone away in his pocket. Does he really have to do that here? What is he, attached at the hip?
"Pam, just ignore Bill, he does it for attention," said the Viking Vampire dismissing Bill's open mouthed rebuttle. "Let's get down to business. We have members coming in stoned, we have open dealing, and we have a feud going on."
"I will not tolerate Godspeed and Flaud sniffing around my house at dusk. And Jessica is absolutely no help. She goes upstairs to mine and Sookie's room and smiles at them and waves and they just smile back up at her like she's the Vampire version of Juliette," said Bill, tersely.
"I hear that's not all that's sniffing around your house Bill," said Pam.
"How do you mean?" asked Bill, trying to look innocent.
"Chow tells me that while Sookie was at work the last couple of nights, you were entertaining a couple of group members, Violet on Monday night and Aslinn on Tuesday night?" she said. "You know that is a no-no."
"They were in crisis, how could I possibly turn them away? What sort of a counselor would I be?" he snapped.
"Bill, now you know the rules, you can't let them get so close to you. Besides, you are sentimental and if you are not careful, those ladies will find themselves made up to in short order," said Eric.
"Well, maybe you shouldn't talk, wasn't Eric Lover seen leaving the back of Fangtasia the other night?" asked Bill.
"If she was?" asked the Viking Vampire.
"If something should happen to Eric Lover, you would be___" said Bill
"What?" said Eric, leaning in to the younger Vampire.
"Please, give me a break," said Pam, rolling her eyes a second time, but at both the men in the room.
"Okay, so we are both breaking the rules, no tearing holes in each others coats over this. But since you have had some private time with them in counseling, what is your concensus?" asked Eric.
"Well, they are really strung out. Aslinn admitted to devouring an entire Living Dead in Dallas in one sitting, took her three hours to do and two days to climb off it," said Bill.
"Incredible," said Eric.
"Yes, she does have a sizable appetite," said Bill. "And Violet is in real trouble. She became so hysterical, I had to hold her for two hours just to calm her,"
"I just bet you did," said Pam.
"Pam, go get me a Blood out of the car," said Eric.
"I'll send Chow, he's just outside," said Pam.
"Pam!" said the Sheriff of Area 5. He looked at her and she clicked her tongue against her fangs in aggrivation. "Pam?" said Eric his voice less threatening.
"What?" she said, exasperated.
"Those are great pumps," said Eric. She turned back to the door and went out. Eric turned back to Bill. Eric liked to aggrivate his child. "Being a maker is so rewarding." he said."I think this little break will be good for the group. They will have limited access to TB and they will perhaps have to resort to older product, a book or the first season. When they finally come back to a new episode, they will be very, very hungry."
"And that is what we want," said Bill, smiling a smile that would be sweet if it weren't full of sharp fangs.
"Just be careful, we don't want to overcook them," said Eric, showing his own toothsome smile.
Later gator.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 07, 2009, 03:06:49 PM
________________________________________
I am slumped in my chair, watching everyone mill around getting coffee. Liberator brought it this time and it is strong. I need it in the worst way so I sip it cautiously, feeling the caffeine do it's work.
God Speed and Flaud are ignoring each other and both are ignoring Liberator. Jessica Junkies are a pretty tense bunch. I hold my head in my hands and I try to wake up. There are just pockets of time I feel I have lost. I remember most of the week except Tuesday for some reason. What did I do on Tuesday? The harder I try to remember, the worse it gets for me.
Violet comes in, a little breathless. She looks frazzled.
"Hey, what's with you?" she asks.
"I don't know. It's like I'm losing time for some reason. I can remember everything I have done this week except for last Tuesday. What is wrong with me?" I asked.
"Funny you should say that, I have no memory at all of Monday. I know I had a Monday but it seems like I misplaced it somewhere and I can't find it," she said softly.
"Did you use?" I asked. "Because I feel like I definitely used."
"Of course I used, but I didn't think I did that much. We had a rerun this Sunday last," she said. "Of course I read a couple of the books over the weekend and I watched the DVDs, but I don't think I used that much."
"How many books?" I said.
"Two, and part of a third one. You?" she asked.
"Five____five books," I said, a little ashamed "And I did a little GK."
"See, you are doing up on TB then dosing yourself with another genre, that is dangerous Aslinn," she said.
Liz and Mel sit down and I notice that both are pooped as well. I nudge Liz.
"Everything okay Liz?" I ask.
"I'm just a little overcooked, I guess," she said.
"We are in the same boat you know, all of us excited addicts and we have new episode coming up. Nothing like some new product to clean us up, make us well," I said.
"Yeah, that is something worth looking forward to," said Liz.
Eric Lover comes in. She is surprisingly spry and radiating health. While all of us experience the high and the glow that comes with it, there is nothing quite like doing up on a little hardcore Viking from time to time. I've done a little Viking and the rush is incredible. You feel as though you could do anything.
Madargentinian is absent from our group. I miss her. I would ask the counselors if they have heard from her, but I probably would not get much of answer. Besides, I think the couselors suspect that she is dealing in group, which she was and then of course she went to see the connection, and the counselors didn;t approve of that. Perhaps she is keeping a low profile. God Speed motions me over into a corner and I get up and go over to him.
"How are you guys doing?" I asked, referring to the feud.
"I am just keeping my distance, but that isn't what I called you over for. I have this bizarre feeling that I have lost time. Tuesday and Wednesday seems like a blur to me, and for somereason, I feel like I have been somewhere else," he said
"Where else could you have been?" I asked.
"This sounds totally wierd but I feel like I have been to Bill's but, that can't be possible, can it?" he asked.
"With this group, with addicts like us, I wouldn't be surprised. I have to tell you, Violet and I feel the same thing going on. It is like I can't remember Tuesday and she can't remember Monday," I said, commiserating with my fellow junkie. True Blood Fan is here as well. She looks a little dazed as well.
"You okay?" I said.
"Just a little wired. Hey, you know I have a feeling___" she begins.
"Like you lost time?" asked Violet?
"Yeah," she says but we are interrupted.
"Let's get started shall we?" said the tall shadow against the wall. How come we never see the counselor's when they come in? Why don't we see them at all? "How did everyone cope with the weekend?"
Liz snorts. "Isn't it obvious? We are overcooked. Too much "B" too much TB, too much DVD, too much forum. Too much of everything," she said. "I am too strung out," I patted Liz in a way I hope was reassuring.
"Liz, why don't you come out in the hall and speak to me a moment," said the third counselor, the female. Liz nodded and followed the shadow into the hallway. Whoa, I had never seen one of the counselors do that.
In the hall way. Liz is standing in front of the counselor. The counselor is in shadow, still but you know it is a tall woman with lovely long blonde hair. Her voice is the voice of confidence. Liz feels better in her presence already.
"Listen, Liz, being an addict is that way. Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do. And remember, you are with addicts who abuse the product as well. Sometimes, we all act irradically." said the confident female voice. "I have been watching you and listening to you. You do a great job, just keep doing the best that you can. And cheer up, this Sunday we will all get well again."
"Do you think so?" asked Liz. The counselor leans in. You can't really see her face still, but you can see a pair of the loveliest blue eyes and they almost___hypnotize you.
"Yes, I do," she said.
Back in the meeting room, we are listening to God Speed chattering about his favorite topic: Jessica.
"I know I am strung out. My wife says it, everyone I know says it, but I don't care, I like being this way," said God Speed defiantly.
"What lengths would you go to in order to procure Jessica?" spat the usually soft southern voice.
"Just about any length," said God Speed.
"Even going places where you do not belong?" asked the southern counselor in his soft yet menacing voice.
"Yes," said God Speed.
"Hey, he isn't alone, I would too," said Liberator. "You could just look at that smile all day, er night," he ammended.
"Well, whoopee doo," said Flaud, rolling his eyes. "You think you are the ones who would do whatever it takes for a little Jessica, you are wrong."
"Jessica is loaded weapon, she is not a doll for you to play dress up," said the southern voice, raised and octive and angry. The tall counselor put his hand on the shorter counselor to calm him.
"Aslinn, what have you say for yourself, how was your weekend?" asked the tall counselor.
"Me? I'm no different than the others. Me and Violet have lost time during the week, I couldn't tell you where it went. And VCat and I were squeeing all over the forum about Bill so much so I had to split a post to put part of it in the official "squeeing" section of our forum. I was stoned for two days after that. Then I did five books, yeah, count 'em, five books and watched a little Generation Kill, which is always a mistake, using Swedish product from another genre," I sighed, "but the worst thing about it was the fact there was no new product. I missed my Sunday night escape. I watched the TB-a-thon but it did absolutely no good. Just made me hungry for more."
"More what?" asked the southern voice, now calm and soothing.
"More Bill, more Eric, your basic everything. I wanted it all. I want to see what happens next. Is it so wrong? To want something so bad?" I trawl the internet, practically sleep at the forums, watch TV."
"How did this make you feel, especially when you hopped Genres," asked the tall counselor.
"Good, I felt good." I said. "But, I did some Bill and came down in that warm fuzzy feeling I always have, that hot soak in a deep bathtub feeling and that was even better."
"Well, don't worry sweetheart, there will be fresh product for you on Sunday, for all of you," said the southern voice.
"I can't wait," said Violet.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 10, 2009, 05:08:05 PM
________________________________________
A round table meeting of the True Blood Anonymous group
In Attendance: Westexan, Violet, True Blood Fan, Eric Lover, Liz, Mel, Godspeed, Flaud, Liberator, Madargentinian, VCat and Minnie and Aslinn.
The place was a little nowhere place and every town has one. The food is good and greasy and the ambience is too. It is one of those little dark dives that your mother warned you about going in because that was where the drunks went to sober up or the town cronies went to play cards in the room in the back and the big guy at the counter was making book. In other words, my kind of place.
The waitress looked at us closely like a counterfeitor eyeballing a questionable 20 spot. I could tell she didn't like seeing the three little square tables pulled together the way we had them. We had that desperate look on our faces, the one that said trouble was coming and you better get out of the way cuz it was about to visit your house. She just wanted us on the side walk. She was no Sookie Stackhouse in the looks department but her other sense had us dead to rights, we were a desperate bunch.
We are TB addicts, one and all. Some of us drop a little Bill Compton, three of us main line Jessica, and few of us suck up a little hard Viking. Sometimes we knock back a little Lafayette as an appetizer. Some of us mix genres between TB and GK. And that can be a very, very bad thing. One day, if we aren't careful, we'll be overcooked, worthless.
But that was one day in the far, far future. Right now we were in even in worse trouble. Some of us were walking wounded, limping in on old product, like Violet, who was doing a little season one. Some of were trying to get well on "B" which was doing one maybe two books a day sometimes two and half books a day. Some of us were just subsisting on OnDemand playing those first three episodes over and over.
Right now, Godspeed was singing that damned Marcy Playground song (I smell sex and candy) He won't sing his baby to sleep at night, but he sings that song over and over. He even has it as his frigging ringtone!! We needed help, we needed an intervention.
And it wasn't just for using. We all use, we aren't going to poke holes in anyone's coat over that. We are dealing. I haven't seen Mad since she handed off a tidy little package to me: a signed copy of Living Dead in Dallas with Bill on the cover (yeah, I know Sookie is there, too, but Bill is my focus, my disease, my affliction.) She didn't come to group last week because she knows the counselors know she is dealing.
There is me and Violet and Westexan and Godspeed, who are having blank spaces in our memories about where we have been and who we have been with. I don't know, but my doctor has recommended that I need to up my B12, I am seriously close to being anemic. (Note to self: Ask Vi if she is experiencing an over all listlessness and malaise. Perhaps she needs B12, too)
And Eric Lover. My God. She's never had so much Viking in her life. You can see see it on her face. She looks like she has been hit right on the nose with a sock full of warm mashed potatoes. A shocked, but fascinated sort of look as if she was about to ask you to hit her again, like she doesn't believe you hit her the first time. And she was like that in group with the counselors there. And that is very poorly played.
"Okay, you know why we are here," I said. "Let's hear some talking about this situation." Immediately the excuses and the blaming and denials began. The Jessica Boys are arguing vociferously over who was who to her and who had rights to how much, and who appreciated who and what more.
"Will you shut the eff up!!" I said in my falsely demure voice. "We are all guilty, we are all massive consumers and let me tell you the Big Viking is not the only one who is "gracious aplenty". They all are, and high tension too, so you 'Three Men and a Vampire Baby' chill out."
The waitress comes by with our orders: Three pitchers of Bud, thirteen orders of hamburgers with twelve orders of fries and one with onion rings (with mustard ::) Okay so that was the one thing Denise Rattray and I agreed on. The rest not so much.) We stopped long enough to salt, pepper and redress or undress our hamburgers. (sometimes it was just too time consuming to 'have it your way')
Eric Lover obviously had the munchies because she was eating her burger like she was interrogating a red neck. But doing up on Eric will give you the munchies. My burger was very rare. I usually do mine medium well, but lately, just run that meat through a warm room. I caught myself noting down the street address of the local blood bank. Don't ask me why.
"Aslinn, this is just been real tough for me," said Liz."You just never know when it hits you. It could be while you are on the phone, or doing the radio show, or knocking back a cold one after the kids have settled for the night. You say to yourself: Today, I think will do something else, I'll take a walk or do something with the kids and you end up right there, watching, writing about it, searching for news and information. You want to do everything right because you never know who is visiting the forums____" she trailed off.
"Yeah, I mean, sometimes, we are doing the radio show and it feels like___someone else is there____listening and watching the chatter, not saying anything___just there___the way the counselors are there but we never get to see their faces, just hear their voices. They sound so familiar, but I can't place them. Ever get that feeling?" asked Mel.
"I do, sometimes it is like there is someone at my bedroom window and I am getting undressed and I have this feeling there is someone there, just floating effortlessly at the window and when I turn around, it is like he just swoops away," I said, my voice trailing off.
"That's just TB paranoia, I get it all the time. Like I will be out in my yard in the evening, just as it gets dark and I get this feeling there are these intense eyes staring out of this lovely heart shaped face and I turn around____and he's___I mean, it's gone," said Westexan.
"I don't get that way, but boy do I dream! Such dreams that___" VCat blushes heavily. "Really intense dreams." she finishes.
Minnie was quiet. She ate her burger slowly and swallowed, sipping her beer, her eyes tracking us all as we spoke. Finally the time came for us to settle up. I gathered up the checks, it was my treat. Finally Minnie spoke.
"Aslinn?" she asked
"Yeah?" I asked back.
"Tip yo waitress," she said.
I did, and more than 20 %. I learned that from Bill ;D Sookie would be so proud.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 11, 2009, 06:36:56 PM
________________________________________
I can hear you out there children. You are panting and feverish, your eyes are glassy and your pulse is racing. You have been tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable.
You won't be completely comfortable until you have settled in you favorite chair or the couch, with your cold drink and perhaps a snack nad you hear "And now, HBO's Original Series, True Blood". You will glance at the phone and make sure you have turned it off.
What will happen to Lafayette? What is the Bull-Man? Who is Daphne and what will she do to our Sam? Will Bill, Sookie and Jessica be okay in Dallas? What is Eric's connection to the missing Vampire Godric? Will Tara be okay? Should we trust Eggs? Is Karl more than he seems?
Will Jason see the darker side of Reverend Newlin? Who is Pussylover9?
All these burning questions run through our brains and run in vicious circles. Some may be answered tomorrow night, others may not. But I do know one thing, and I am as certain as night follows the day: I will be there until I know.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 14, 2009, 10:38:04 PM
________________________________________
I brought the coffee this time. Minnie brought in a large tray of what appeared to be red velvet cupcakes and white icing with little shish kabob skewers in them. I looked at her quizzically with my eyebrows raised. "Stakes," she said, smiling as she sat down.
I sat down beside her. Westexan came in with Violet and sat down next me. "Did you hear?" she asked.
"Hear what?" I said.
"I heard Liz went to see the Connection," said Westexan.
"Ah s***, the counselors will not be happy about this," I said. "Think they know?"
"They always know," said Westexan. But we were interupted by a loud fight between the Jessica Boys.
"She wouldn't bite Hoyt," said God Speed. "She never even kissed a boy before that."
"Yeah, but she rang up that "Room Service" stud at the hotel," said Flaud. He said Room Service stud as if he were describing a nasty intestinal botherment.
"Hey, a girl has to eat!!" said Liberator.
"Hey would you three settle down. You don't see we Bill and Eric girls getting in a fight," said Eric Lover.
"Yeah, but I have a serious bone to pick with Mr. Northman, he better quit being so mean to my Bill or I'll start wanting to run a stake through that Viking's heart," I said, my voice low.
"Here, here Aslinn," said Vi.
"What? He's Eric's subordinate and he better learn to mind," said Eric Lover.
I was itching to make my favorite finger gesture when Liz walked in. She was tired but she looked a little spacy. Sort of like Madargentinian did after seeing the Connection in Shreveport that day. I nudged Eric Lover and nodded toward Liz. Eric Lover slumped in her seat and crossed her legs at the ankles and shook her head at Liz's blissed out face. Minnie frowned in silence.
Mel came in a little later. She had been busy. She put up the screen caps and the latest news and a report on Liz's visit to the Connection. Jezzus Pleezzus does she want to get in trouble with the counselors? I got up and got one of Minnie's cup cakes. I pulled the stake out of the center and began methodically to lick off the yummy creme cheese icing with little red sprinkles. It tasted good. I looked at Eric Lover.
"I wouldn't really stake him you know," I said to my friend.
"I know you wouldn't. And I mostly don't want anything to happen to Bill either," she said.
"Mostly?" I asked. Eric Lover just smiled.
"Those any good?" she asked.
"Yummy," I said, my One Word Answer. Eric Lover got up and got one for herself.
Finally the lights dimmed down til there was one light panel in the center of the room. The counselors were here, arriving as they always did, silently and invisibly. I crammed the last of my cup cake in my mouth, wadded up the little paper cup it was in and brushed off my Tru:Blood t-shirt. I sat up a little straighter and sipped my heavily Irish fortified coffee.
"I am interested in how everyone has been since last we all met," said the slow southern voice. "How has everyone been?" I felt the counselor walk by me, his cool fingertips brushing the back of my neck. I shivered, and not just from the temperature of his fingers but something a little more basic. He passed on and gave Vi a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. Vi allowed her head to go back a fraction but nothing more.
"The episode was good," said VCat. "Exciting. That Maryann is something."
"Yes, she certainly is," said the warm female voice of the third counselor. "Great clothes, she needed some nice pumps to go with that dress."
"Tara is in real trouble," observed Minnie. "I still don't trust Eggs."
"Why don't you trust him Minnie?" said the deeper voice.
"He's just too good to be true. He comes out of no where and he is so charming but I don't think he's good for her."
"I liked the bit with Eric and Lafayette," said Eric Lover. "Boy I'd love to try some of Eric's blood, wouldn't you all?"
"Why m...I mean Eric's blood," said the deep voice.
"Look at what it did! It not only healed him but it made him feel wild. If I clamped my lips on that big Viking I would drink and drink and drink," said Eric Lover, licking her lips hungrily. "I wouldn't waste a drop either."
"Don't be greedy, you could get overcooked on so much of Eric's blood," said the deep voice.
"I liked the way Bill was with Jessica," said God Speed. "He didn't yell at her and he was more patient with her. I liked that."
"It was kind of funny that she couldn't get out of her travel coffin though," said Mel, laughing.
"You try getting out of what amounts to an oversized guitar case," said Liberator.
"I know all that, I didn't mean anything. I thought it was real sweet of Bill too, teaching her how to glamour and sort admitting that he was just a teensy jealous of her being able to start her Vampire life out in the open like that," said Mel.
"I worry about Sam," said Minnie.
"Tell us Minnie," said the soft southern voice.
"He is so confused. He isn't happy with Sookie, he is scared for Tara, and Daphne? What does she know about Sam and what about those scratches?" said Minnie.
"I sense there is more," said the southern voice.
"And Jason. Is that preacher's wife gonna seduce him? Is that preacher crazy. And were my eyes deceiving me but was he in that Vampire porn video Sookie was eyeballing on the TV?" asked Minnie.
"Liz?" said the deep voice. She jumped visibly at the sound of the counselor's voice.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Do you have anything you wish to confess?" he asked reasonably.
"No, not really," she said.
"Tell us, you are among friends here," said the soft southern voice.
"Oh, alright, I went to see the Connection," she said.
"Did you buy product from her?" said the deep voice.
Liz didn't answer. Buying "B" from the Connection was a taboo in our group. Liz was smart being quiet. I slumped further in my chair.
"Aslinn, you have been quiet," said the deep voice. I looked at Eric Lover in the corner of my eye.
"I don't really have a lot to say tonight," I said.
"Are you sure?" said the soft southern voice.
"No, I do have lots to say, but I don't want anyone to get in the group to be upset with me. I think I have had just about enough of Eric treating Bill like crap. I love me some Bill, and I have, from time time to time, laced in a little Eric, I'm just not hard core on the Viking. He doesn't have to be a s*** to Bill. Bill knows he's all in charge, and I think he has a lot of nerve disparaging Bill's maturity when he got Bill a room without a bed. C'mon, where was Sookie supposed to sleep, the freaking bathtub? And what is it to Eric if Bill ordered Tru:Blood? Doesn't he think that if Bill feeds from Sookie she will not be as effective when she goes to look for Godric? Or is he expecting Bill to call up some "Room Service" floozy? Which is probably more expensive. I think Eric is being abusive," I finished. I caught the shorter shadow looking at the taller shadow.
"Thank you for sharing your feelings Aslinn," said the soft southern voice.
"I think we will leave it there for tonight," said the female voice.
We all filed out and as I left, I turned to see the three shadows standing in the corner. I turned and walked out.
"Well, you were right, a little hiatus worked them up fairly well," said Pam.
"Aslinn was pretty upset tonight," said Bill. "But I kind of like her to be upset and worked up. Makes her aggressive when I counsel her tonight."
"I think I shall have to go and have a private session with Eric Lover. She needs a little healing elixer," said Eric.
"Don't you think we should bring Jessica in next week?" said Pam.
"Perhaps, my ward is doing very well these days," said Bill.
See you all next week.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 17, 2009, 08:55:27 PM
________________________________________
Eric Lover watches as cat-like the owner of Fangtasia moved around behind the bar. She tried to still her beating heart but he smiled at the effort because he can hear her heart pounding in her chest and he likes it. Had it been beating, Eric would have felt his own heart pounding in concert with hers but since it didn't, he satisfied himself with the slight spinning and dizzy feeling of Eric Lover's mind.
What brought her to the bar this evening? Was it more than his blood, that wonderful intoxicating blood that can only come from his own thousand year old veins? Is Bill experiencing the same thing with his visitors, coming to him for solace and comfort and counseling.
Eric liked his new friends. Humans never really interested him that much but now he is fascinated. These True Blood Fans were not precisely fangbangers, which he loathed. They were bright, intelligent, if slightly troubled. They had their picks. Some liked him, others liked Bill, a few liked Pam and at least four he knew of liked Jessica. They would not indiscriminately go with just any of his kind. They were particular.
Eric Lover tracked the ancient Viking with her eyes as he moved around the bar. He is making her a drink. He always makes them something to drink. Aslinn likes CC & 7. Eric Lover likes rum and coke. He even dropped a cherry in it for color. The alcohol calms them a little and after all he could use a cocktail, too.
He was aware of his beauty. His height, his long waist, his muscular shoulders and arms, his defined chest, his hips, his long legs. Eric Lover's eyes carressed him and her gaze was so strong it was as if he could feel her hands on him. What was happening to him? Were there some humans who could glamour as well as any of his kind? Maybe there was some truth in what Lafayette said when he said he nearly glamoured people already.
If Eric was like Sookie, he would read Eric Lover's mind and know what she was thinking and how she saw him. So often he looked into the eyes of his lovers and saw the sad glazed look of the glamoured. Of course he would have to glamour her later, so Eric Lover would not remember, but for now she was wide awake and that was the way he wanted her. Wide awake to him, looking into his eyes, drowning there, watching him talk and listening to her voice as she spoke to him and he spoke to her.
He walked over to Eric Lover, sitting his favorite booth. He sat the drink in front of her and sat down beside her. He picked up her hand and looked at her.
"Now lover, what is I can do for you?" he asked.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 19, 2009, 03:09:51 PM
________________________________________
Okay, here's something serious.
The sun was going down. It had been murderously hot in West Texas and Westexan (wonder how she came by that name?) was sitting on her porch, drinking a cold Dos Equis with a lime in the neck, watching the blood red sun sink lower and lower into the horizon.
The cold shower she had taken hadn't helped much and she could feel moisture on her skin from the heat. But some of this heat was not from the cruel sun now going to bed in the Pacific Ocean not so very far from where she was sitting. Some of it was was coming from somewhere deep inside her.
She took another drink and the tangy, slightly metallic taste of the beer stung her dulled taste buds. No, her elevated temperature was coming from somewhere else. Some place where the air was hot but wet at the same time, where people and thier nice manners danced around what they were really thinking about.
Would he stop being nice and courtly and finally get down to some serious making up to. She hoped so. She wondered what it would be like to touch his cool skin, skin that never got above tepid, to lie there under the sheets and feel him stretched out beside her. Would she shiver because his skin is cool or would she shiver because of something just a little more elemental, that though his skin was cool, his spirit was a live flame. She breathed softly, a little pant, and drank another drink of beer.
What time is it? Is it time yet? She looked at her watch. No. It still was not time yet.
Westexan polished off her beer and stood up, watching the sun finally disappear, almost hearing the angry orb hiss as it surely disappeared into the sea. Perhaps she would take another shower, just to cool off.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 20, 2009, 08:30:42 PM
________________________________________
Here is a little something for Liz who is packing for her visit. She says it's to Comic Con, but really it's to Bon Temps.
The Vampire slipped out of the shower and padded quietly across the floor of his bathroom in his pre-war house. Pre Civil War that is. He runs his fingers through his wet hair and slicks it back from his face. Usually that face is very pale but the hot water has made him pink. He sniffs, an oddly human gesture since he has no reason to breathe. But he likes to smell things and right now he smells the scent of the shampoo with it's traces of bergamot and jasmine. Of course the Vampire doesn't know that bergamot and jasmine are two ingredients that witches mix together for a love potion.
He runs his wonderfully articulate hands over the steamy mirror and he looks at his reflection. The Vampire leans in and looks at his face. It is so pink from the steam he catches a glimpse of himself the way he looked before he was Vampire. He grabs a towel and rubs it over his wet hair, fluffing the shiny dark hair half way dry , lays the towel by the sink and rakes his fingers through it. He smiles and there is a light snick as his fangs extend themselves. He looks at them in the mirror. He doesn't care for that vision of himself so he wrinkles his upper lip a bit and his fangs retract.
He picks the towel back up and rubs his still moist body with it, his skin becoming just a little pinker with the friction, but he can already feel the warmth on his skin fading. Soon he will be the normal temperature for one of his kind. Cool, rarely above tepid.
But things are different now. He loves Sookie but these new people, these new women are so interesting. They like him for all the things he is and a few things he is not. He doesn't always make great decisions. Like tonight. He felt guilty about Violet, but he would see her again soon. Liz needed him tonight.
He thought about Liz. He'd met her before and kissed her lovely warm hand twice. Since the time of his being made, he has been fascinated with human warmth. And Liz is very warm. Almost hot blooded. And that was a very good thing to be.
He walked naked from the bathroom to his bedroom and sorted through drawers. He chose a grey henley and jeans and underwear. He smiled at the white cotton shorts that men had been wearing for some time and thought about the underthings he wore when he was not as he is now. He began to dress. He went to the bureau and put on a little Grey Flannel, another dose of bergamot, and ran his fingers through his now dry hair. His head suddenly jerked upwards, he could hear a car coming up the drive. He was glad that God Speed had come to pick up Jessica just before he got in the shower. She was delighted to take his hand and follow him out to the electric blue Mustang God Speed drives.
The Vampire made his way down the stairs and went into his parlor and lit a few candles. There was a timid knock at the door. He smiled and walked toward the door. He opened it and smiled at Liz.
"Am I late?" asked Liz.
"You are just in time," said Bill. "Won't you come in?"
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 21, 2009, 05:59:24 PM
________________________________________
Karalee brought biscotti and cappachinos. The True Blood Anonymous group were meeting. Liz and Mel were gone. Some said they were getting ready to go to Comic Con. The counselors had said that would be a very bad idea, with Alan The Source Ball and Charlaine The Connection Harris there.
God Speed and Liberator were there, but Flaud was missing. Still, there was palitable tension in the air between the two Jessica-Heads as they glared sullenly at each other. Liberator must know that God Speed had Jessica with him in the car on moonlit ride in the bayou, the wind blowing back her red hair and that smile that shined so brightly, God Speed had a difficult time keeping his eyes on the road.
"Hey GS, Liberator," I said, as I grabbed a cappachino and piece of biscotti in a napkin. I sat down and dropped my "big bag of crazy" on the floor by my seat. I stirred the coffee and settled to dip the biscotti to soften it a bit before I bit into it. Um, nutmeg and cinnamon, yummy.
Eric Lover and Westexan sat down. Brother, can't they ever come to meeting sober? Geesh, look at Eric Lover all done up on V (which for her was Viking). And Westexan, all sunburned and glassy-eyed, chock full of Bill. I shook my head and dipped my biscotti and shut the eff up. I wasn't stoned, but I had used that day but just enough to stay well. ::)
True Blood Fan was there. She looked pretty sassy, a little Bill glow on her face. But she was maintaining. Probably just perused the forum. A Positive was there. He is a Jessica boy but he keeps it under control, at least he doesn't row with the other Jessica-Heads.
"Did you hear we may be getting a couple of new counselors?" muttered Westexan.
"No, I haven't, " I said.
"Yeah and I heard they are really young too, a guy and a girl," said Eric Lover.
"What about the three we already have?" I said.
"They will be here too, but I heard that one is just starting out as a counselor and the other one has just come into the area," said Westexan.
"Wonder what they will be like?" I mused. I polished off my biscotti and shook the crumbs off my new Team Bill t-shirt. I noticed that Eric Lover was wearing her Team Eric shirt.
Minnie and VCat hurried in with Violet who dug around in her canvas bag and pulled out her box of tissues and began offering it around. I took one on priniciple. I just never knew when I was going to break loose and there is nothing worse than being stuffy and snotty and teary and no tissues to wipe and blow. Suddenly the lights dimmed, as they always did and the three lead counselors were at their usual shadow filled corners. The tall one leaning by the door, the one with the soft southern voice sitting beside him, the female at the opposite door behind me. But this evening there were two figures with them. By the female at the door opposite was another smaller, slender female. I caught God Speed's face for a second and he seemed about to say something but he caught my eye and I shook my head a fraction.
Standing by the tall counselor was a small shadow of a person who appeared to be a slender boy. He was leaning against the wall by the taller man. He whispered something in a foreign language and the tall counselor bent low and said something in reply.
"How has everyone been since our last meeting?" said the low southern voice.
"I wanna ask a question and it is bothering the heck out of me," said Minnie.
"Go right on ahead Minnie, don't hold back," said the southern voice.
"Why doesn't Sam ask about the scars on Daphne's back. He noticed it when they were skinny dipping, he saw it when she was pulling her clothes off when he was following her into the woods behind the Stackhouse place. Why didn't he say 'Hey chere, what happened to your back?'" said Minnie.
"Perhaps he would have if he had not been so startled when she turned into the doe," suggested the counselor.
"But later at the bar, when they were going to__you know___do it, he could have asked her then," suggested Violet.
"But that might have prevented him from being with her," suggested the soft southern voice.
"Yeah, like 'nice rack' wouldn't have broke the deal for me," said Violet under her breath.
"Well, she said 'nice balls'. How does she know, he still had his pants on," suggested A Positive.
"The fade pattern on his blue jeans," suggested the slightly bemused voice of the female counselor behind me. I turned slightly and laughed but I heard the younger female say to her: "You can tell that way?" and she shushed her quietly.
"And I want to ask a big WTF about Tara and Maryann. What is that woman up to? And is Tara out of her ever loving mind letting that woman lay up in Sookie's house. What is Sookie gonna do when she finds that plague of locusts in her house?" said Liberator.
"Yeah, and what was the deal with her dressing up like Gran? That was so creepy and Tara didn't even notice it!" said God Speed. Well!! Something they can both agree on!
"And all that rowdiness at Merlotte's," said Karalee. "They were after each other like a pack of animals."
"That is what Maryann does, causes madness and chaos," said the young man by the wall, his voice heavily accented. We all piped down. A counselor had never spoken out in group like that. I waited for the tall shadow to say something but he just stood there passively.
"I liked the bit about Jessica. Even though she is Vampire now, she is still like a little girl, being made to attend a boring family reunion when she is knee deep in a new relationship," said God Speed.
"I thought it was funny when she said that Bill would be the reason that she would get an eating disorder," said Karalee.
"I don't think it would be funny," said A Positive.
"Me neither," said God Speed.
"What about Jason?" said VCat.
"Looks like Jason is about to get some puddin' whupped on him," said Violet. "And her husband is just soooo creepy."
"I agree. I still think he is Pussylover9," I said.
"Why would you say that?" asked the deep voice, his voice tense.
"I think that is the preacher's code name, I think that is Lafayette's Dallas connection," I explained.
"I'll take it under advisement," said the deep voice, softer and more relaxed.
"And Bill and Sookie, they are in so much danger. Bill is terrified, though he is trying to hide his fear from Sookie by constantly reminding her," said Westexan. "I know that it sounds like he is petulant but I think he is honestly scared for her. He has no control over this situation. There are so many older and more vicious Vampires around them."
"I think Sookie is scared too, a little," said VCat. "I think that is why she is being so sexually aggressive with Bill," her voice sotto voce, as if she were sharing a gossipy piece of confidence to the room. "It covers up her fear."
"And Bill looked so sad when he woke from his daytime sleep. I don't think I've seen him this sad since he had that terrible dream about her after her Gran died," said True Blood Fan.
I wiped at my face, a little taken aback by my tears.
"What is wrong Aslinn," said the deep voice coming from the tall shadow.
"Eric," I said. Eric Lover looked at me, a shocked expression on her face. I wiped my face.
"Yes, I have feelings for Eric too, maybe not like the ones I have for Bill, but I do___for Eric___yes, __I do," I said, crying a little harder. Eric Lover patted me on the back.
"Tell us Aslinn, why did Eric make you feel the way you do right now?" said the female voice behind me. I sniffed hard and brushed my shirt, my fingers sliding over the lovely face of my Bill.
"Well, it's just so sad. Here Eric was, a warrior, and he was dying and his friends were helping him and he knew he wouldn't make it___" I sobbed a little and wiped at my face and Violet sent me down another couple of tissues. I took them and wiped my streaky face with them. "See, I always looked at Eric as this big warrior Viking Vampire and all the stuff that comes with him, but when he told Bill his story and we could see it, you know, and they had him laid out on his funeral pyre, so that when he finally died, he would be sent to Valhalla, Viking style. And he was near death and this boy, this beautiful, savage boy jumps up on his pyre with him and invites him to be his companion, and he makes Eric. It was so different from the way Lorena made Bill or Bill made Jessica. It was savage, but at the same time, it was gentle, there was no struggle."
"And this thing, this being made, it troubled you, yes?" asked the young male.
"Yes, it did, but no, no really, because Eric should never die. Just as Bill should never die," I sat up a bit. "They were both brave, but Bill had a wife and children and Eric, even if he had those things too, back in those days, he would very likely have died on some other battlefield on some other night had he not died on this one. But that's not all, that's not what touched me so much," I said.
"What was it Aslinn?" asked the southern voice.
"It was Eric's face, after he finished telling Bill and he said is this soft voice, such a contrast to the angry voice that spat between clenched teeth at Stan and Isabell only seconds before. His voice was so soft and gentle when he said 'Godric is my maker,' It was intense. I wanted to cry the tears his proud Vampire self would never allow him to do," I covered my face in my hands and cried on behalf of the thousand year old Vampire. The young man said something to the tall shadow and he answered him.
"Good work Aslinn, good work everyone," said the soft southern voice. "We'll meet back next week."
I gathered up my bag and stood up. I followed the group members out the door. This time I didn't look back at the counselors.
The lights came back up and the five gathered around.
"Is it always so intense Eric?" asked Godric.
"It is, and each one of them bring their own unique intensity. I envy Bill tonight. Aslinn will need to counsel with him privately, I imagine," said Eric to his maker.
"Why Bill, why not with you if her feelings were so intense about you?" asked Godric.
"Each member has their particular addiction but they are all True Blood addicts, their high can come from multiples sources," said Bill respectfully.
"What will you do about the little insight Aslinn gave you?" said Pam.
"Call, Lafayette, I have work for him to do," said Eric.
"We should make her, she would make a hell of a Vampire," said Pam
"I'll take that under advisement as well," said Eric.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 22, 2009, 08:43:04 PM
________________________________________
This one I am entitling:
There is Nothing Like Riding in a High Powered Car
Especially one driven by a person who can really drive, who knows the road like he knows the intimate curves of a woman's body. He is a big man but knows how to elegantly fold his large frame into the driver's seat of his blood red Corvette. Watching him slide into the driver's side was like watching sex, he fit so carefully into the seat, his hips relaxing as he slouched back and he put his hands on the ignition and the steering wheel. Once the motor purrs to life, he takes off.
The pale faced blond is illuminated by the dash board lights, a sort of blue light dancing over his features, enhancing the color of his eyes as they traced the road in an unconscious way drivers do. His hand is relaxed on the steering wheel. He likes to go fast, but he slowly builds up his speed so you don't realize you are going so fast until you see the lights of houses becoming strange otherworldly streaks. But you don't mind. You are with him and he knows this road very well.
You are sitting very close to him and you try not to stare, but you do. You can feel the butterfly light passage of air as he moves to shift gears (of course he would drive a standard clutch, no automatic for him) and the air feels like static electricity. You don't want to look at the speedometer, you don't want to know how fast you are going because with this man you decide you are either perfectly safe or you aren't, whether you are in his fast car or ___somewhere else.
And so you keep going, the road in front of you winding like a coal black snake into the darkness, the beautiful blond is driving very fast and it is the ride of a lifetime and you decide to relax. Whatever happens tonight simply happens. There is no turning back and there is no time for regret. It is too late to stop now. He probably wouldn't anyway. You decide to surrender.
There really is nothing like riding in a high powered car.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 24, 2009, 04:33:40 PM
________________________________________
Something for Violet because she missed her special Monday night "counseling session" so Liz could get some much needed "reassurance"
Tell Me
The sun was going down as Violet drove down the two lane country road to a town she had never been in but seemed to know from somewhere in her deepest dreams and fantasies. The big locust trees and oaks were draped with the Spanish moss so peculiar to the south and she knew that when she drove home much later, really towards dawn, that the parasitic weed would become as old lace and shine silvery blue in the darkness and the high beams of her headlights.
She knew that once she passed the bar she was nearly there and she would have to keep her eyes open for the little turn off road that would take her to the man she was rushing to see. What was he doing now? Was he waiting for the sun to go down too? His brilliant blue eyes looking up at nothing, waiting for his body to tell him that all was dark and safe? She could feel her heart race as she saw Hummingbird Road and the bar and the last streaks of the sun disappearing into the horizon. She had never been so excited in her life.
Violet was never one for being alone in the dark, but she knew that when she got to her destination she would not be alone and he would protect her from the creatures of the night that capered and grimaced in the shadows. That was because he was a child of the night, an ancient child, who had seen many things both beautiful and savage and that was what she liked about him, his boundless energy and his long history.
There was the turn off. She slowed down and turned the wheel carefully as she headed down the road. The trees were closer to the road. She drove past the old farm house with it's screened back porch, it's windows darkened except a few low lamps from deeper in the interior of the rooms. No one was home and for some reason, she was relieved. Just a little ways now and she would see the old plantation house. As the lights of her car washed over the porch she could see him, standing on the porch, leaned against the wall of his house.
She parked the car and turned off the engine. She unstrapped her seat belt and just as she put her hand on the door handle, she felt the driver's side door open and saw his pale hand extended toward her. She slid her hand into his and his fingers curled elegantly and gently around her own small hand and he gently helped her out. Being a thoroughly modern woman she was always charmed by his gallantry, his wonderfully genteel manners and his old fashioned courtly way about him.
She stood up and looked at the man standing in front of her. Had she ever seen such a beautiful face in her life? His pale heart shaped face held his features so lovingly. His high brow with his hair falling carelessly across it, his sweet straight eyebrows, the lovely curve of his noble nose, the sharply sculpted lips with the corners so delicately curved down. Not stern, not a frown, but a little sad until he gave her a shy, sweet smile, a thing so quick it was like seeing a shooting star skipping across a velvet cloth night and but had a physical presence all it's own. She even noticed how neatly his earlobes gently melted into his jaw line.
"I thought we would begin with a walk," he said, his voice gentle. "It's such a lovely night." There was that ghost of a smile again and the endearing way he had of bowing his head a little but looking at you with a sort of upward glance.
"Alright," she said, a little breathier than she would have liked, but his quick more open smile reassured her that her tone of voice and the slight tremor was perfectly acceptable to the man holding her hand, twining his elegant fingers in her own, enveloping her palm with his.
He walked along and he could feel her. Just through the palm of her hand, he could feel her blood racing and feel her heart beating and he even knew when she could took a breath because her temperature would go up the slightest bit as oxygen made it's way through her human body. It was these little things he made a study of. He flared his nostrils again to catch her scent, the smell of some sweet soap. What was it? Something sweet, like her name, something that intoxicated the Vampire.
"How was your trip sweetheart?" he asked. He liked to listen to her voice. She was like all the ladies he "counseled" privately. She was not afraid of him, so there was no need to glamour her until later, just so she wouldn't remember. Well, not remember precisely, because there was some part of him that did not want them to forget entirely. Because he liked them and he wanted them to come back and see him. He had been lonely for so long and now, everything was different.
So as she spoke, telling him about her trip, he listened to the melodic rise and fall of her voice. He held her hand, sometimes, pulling it to his utterly silent chest , drawing her a little closer to him. There, what perfume was she wearing? Sandalwood? Chamomile? Attar of Roses? Something a little musky, not too sweet but not quite earthy, something in between. The perfume of the flower. He noticed that her hair was darker than his own chestnut hair and so shiny, like polished satin.
"So, what can I do for you tonight, Violet?" he asked gently. She stopped their progress and turned to him. He let got of her hand and his large, heavily veined hands went up and smoothed her already silky hair. He looked into her eyes. "What do you want? Tell me," he said softly.
"I...
Good night Violet ;D
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 27, 2009, 08:14:10 PM
________________________________________
An emergency counselor's meeting at the home of the Sheriff of Area Five. I call it:
Beyond this Place, there be Dragons
On the outside the home looks like any suburban home. No one would ever think that this quiet little house in a suburb of Shreveport with it's carefully manicured lawn and pleasant exterior would house one of the most powerful men in Northern Louisiana.
The neighbors have never seen the man who lives here in the day and nor have they seen his friends here gathered. During the day, the house is quiet, just the blood red Corvette parked in the driveway and weekly visit from the gardener who mows his grass and waters the large and extremely healthy scarlett carson roses growing in the front.
Ginger, one of the waitresses from Fangtasia is in attendance, bringing in trays of Tru:Blood to the others gathered there. She likes waiting on Eric in his house though he largely ignores her. She is always a little disappointed the sheriff doesn't invite her to stay.
Pam is sitting in the Danish modern chair, dressed in a skirt and blouse in pale cremes and piped in baby blue. Her long pale legs are crossed and her feet are encased in matching high heeled pumps that make her almost as tall as the sheriff. She accepts the warm bottle from Ginger without a glance. Chow is standing by the door. When the meeting starts he will discretely step out the front door with Ginger, who hates it when she is excluded but does not argue with the master of the house.
Bill is sitting at the end of the sofa, sullen as usual. Eric said this meeting was important and he wanted to get back home for his personal counseling session. His ladies were very upset and he wanted to console them and help them put what they have seen in perspective.
Jessica was in the corner talking on the telephone to God Speed. She was setting a date with him on Friday night. Of all the Jessica heads in the group, God Speed seemed to be the most level headed so Bill reasons that though God Speed may be a little out to sea with her, his stern warning to the both of them would be enough to keep them both in line.
Godric was squatted by the fire, poking the logs with a fire brand, watching the sparks fly up into the chimney. Though it was the end of July, their kind enjoy the warmth of fire any time of the year and his young, beautiful and savage face was aglow with the red and yellow and orange of the flames.
The man in question, the Sheriff of Area Five, Eric Northman, was sitting at the highly polished ebony wood desk, looking at the computer. He was reading his email. He saw something he evidently liked and though his voice was soft as a butterfly lighting on the skin of a sun burned girl in string bikini, all the guests heard him when he whispered "Eric Lover, how sweet," Heightened senses were a common side effect of their condition.
Eric's home is beautifully decorated and modern. Such a contrast with Bill's southern manse. The floors match his desk, heavy dark ebony wood floors with a large reindeer skin rug on the floor from Sweden. There is a large oval shaped coffee table of dark mahogany. The mantle of the fireplace is heavy sand stone dry stacked to the ceiling. The walls are lavishly painted in coffee and heavy framed paintings hang on the walls. Among them is a beautiful painting done especially for him of a blond Valkyrie, on a large black charger dressed in chain mail and a heavy breast plate. Frank Frazetta really knew how to paint a woman's form.
The sofa Bill is sitting on is a deep red tuxedo couch with deep cushions. Whenever he looked at it, he thought of the girl who's email he had just read and smiled for just a moment. Some memories were so wonderfully intense.
He stood and walked over to the fire and exchanged a few words with Godric in their mother tongue and then turned to face the others. Godric stood as well. He looked at all of them.
"Well, what is the concensus? How do they feel?" he asked the room.
"The ladies with whom I communicate are very upset," said Bill carefully.
"Oh, no doubt, considering what they saw," said Eric.
"I have heard from most of them Eric and they are very upset about our go-go dancer," said Pam. "Apparently they like him."
"What's not to like?" said Eric. "I find him curious. I have not heard from him, have you?"
"No," said Pam. "But he's scared."
"He should be," said Eric. "What else?"
"Well, with the previews, Eric, there is apparently some concern for your safety, even those who are committed to Mr. Compton do not like to see you in apparent trouble." said Godric in his heavily accented English. "These people are very devoted are they not?"
"They are. There are many who like you as well, though they do not know you yet. They sympathize with you," said Eric respectfully.
"This is very strange. How is it that they are so sympathetic to us, even though we are...what we are?" said Godric, moving to sit in the chair by Pam. "We do have that ignoble past."
"They see past it," said Bill. "They take our past before the Great Revelation as simply a fact and look to see what we might become after having been among them in the open. They have such intense discussions about our humanity, our faith, even our sexual mores. They certainly have carnal feelings for us, but they want to know us, too."
"These humans, they are not tolerant of one another," observed the ancient and dangerous child.
"Ah, but they are trying, they see us, our kind as the symbol of anyone who is different. They explore our difference and thus, explore their own," said Bill.
"I like their intensity and honesty. They are not like others of their kind, they want to move around in our world. I am afraid that the coming weeks may be a test for some of them," said the Sheriff.
"Some of the ones I have communicated with also worry about your involvement with bringing Lorena into the picture," said Pam.
"And well they should. I have my motives, mostly political right now," said Eric, looking at Bill for a second. Bill stared at Eric intently. "Wipe that look off your face Bill Compton, I am in no mood for your anger."
"Whether you are in the mood for my anger or not, you will feel it and soon," he answered the Sheriff through gritted teeth.
"Do you boys think you can give me a small break," said Pam, rolling her eyes. "One would think you were human with all the testosterone in the room."
"May I say something?" said Jessica.
"Yes Jessica?" asked Eric.
"God Speed told me they are having a meeting, just the group, on Thursday at Aslinn's house," said the pretty young girl with the blood red hair.
"In the day?" asked the Sheriff.
"No, at night. Aslinn is having a barbeque and they are all going to be there," she answered.
"Perhaps we should drop in," said Eric.
To be continued______
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 29, 2009, 12:51:28 AM
________________________________________
Linzy, the newest member of the True Blood Anonymous group, has brought the coffee. Jeezus Pleezus, we are gonna need it because we are all troubled.
I sit down silently between Eric Lover and Violet. I rested my head on Eric Lover's shoulder and sniffed. Violet hands me a tissue. I have been inconsolable. Godspeed walks by and squeezes my shoulder.
Liz and Mel come in looking very guilty. They have been to see the Source and the Connection and the counselors warned them, at first with a chilling word: a resounding "No" (talk about your one word answer) and then with an attempt at gentle persuasion. Junkies know no bounds. They politely ignored them.
Liberator and God Speed were subdued. Perhaps they were thinking about the gathering at my house. Liberator promised to bring us all the sodas and red bull he could muster and God Speed was bringing the brats for the Jason Stackhouse Po'Boys. The menu was impressive, but I wondered what sort of mood I will be in. Whether the counselors would approve I haven't the slightest. Right then, I seriously didn't care. Only another junkie would understand. I wanted a drink, but I settled for a cigarette. Eric Lover caged one from me and I held the lighter for her. Liberator gave the cigarettes the stink eye but said nothing.
I reached into my big bag of crazy for my little altoid tin I use for an ash tray and shared it with Eric Lover. Westexan looked at my hand. It was trembling.
It did not take long for the lights to go off and all of us settle into our seats and get ready to begin. I could feel the presence of one of the counselors as he walked by. The one with the southern accent. He squeezed my shoulder as if to comfort me and I almost caught his profile, but he melted into the shadows. The two females were standing at the door behind us and I could hear soft whispering but could not tell what they were talking about. The younger male was at the same place as before, standing beside the tall counselor with the deeper voice. He was silent, but from time to time it was as if I could make out the flash of his eyes.
"Tough week?" asked the tall shadow, his arms behind his back. "How is everyone?" No one answered.
"Liz, how was your weekend?" asked the woman.
"We're busted. Mel and I went to see the Source and the Connection and their minion. It was great, all those fans there, a regular junkie's paradise with free product: match book covers and free posters and glasses and samples of Tru:Blood," said Liz happily.
"Real Tru:Blood?" said the younger female voice sceptically.
"Well, no, it is a red orange drink," said Mel. "But it looks just like the real thing."
"I just know I'm gettin' an eatin' disorder," she huffed but was shushed by the older female.
"Will you be sharing this product with the forum, your virtual opium den?" asked the tall shadow.
"Um, we already have," said Mel tentatively. "I posted some video and some other stuff, we announced a wedding being planned."
"I thought we established..." said the soft southern voice.
"I know, I know!" said Liz emphatically. "But you don't know what it is like to be so close and have some many people just like you."
"Not like you, Liz, there is only one you," said the soft southern voice.
"How was it after Sunday night?' asked the tall shadow. I sobbed softly. "What?"
"We are concerned," said Eric Lover.
"About what? What has troubled our friends so?" asked the young man with the heavy accent.
"Well, Stackhouse for one. He is so deep into the Fellowship and that preacher's wife has whupped her pudding on him," said Westexan. The young man said something to the taller man in a foreign language and the tall man answered him.
"And this coupling is troubling you all?" he asked.
"Well, not in and of itself, but it shows that Jason is still thinking south of his belt buckle," said Vi.
"And he doesn't know that this is just another bad thing he is letting his little head is get him into," said Linzy. The young man asked another question and the tall shadow made a motion of clutching his pearls, so to speak, and the young man nodded again.
"And Sookie, she is so dense sometimes for someone who reads other people's minds," said Liberator. "The instant I got the message that they had Eric's maker, I would have hauled my fanny out of there!"
"Liberator, I told you what fanny meant," said Vi, shocked.
"Sorry, butt, I mean," said Liberator. "And now the Fellowship has her, too."
"And to be perfectly frank..." said God Speed. "I think we all agree we need some resolution with the Tara thing. After a while, orgies are boring. And I am worried about Jessica."
"Why?" asked the young female voice.
"Because Jessica is smack in the middle of big ol' Vampire mess and her maker hasn't clued her in on the situation and how much danger she is in," said God Speed. "I hope Hoyt takes her out of that mess."
"Aw, you're so sweet," said the younger voice. The older female voice muttered something about "don't encourage him".
I lit another cigarette and blew the smoke out in a long plume and Liberator made a motion of fanning the smoke away. I stuck my tongue out at him.
"Aslinn, you haven't said anything," said the southern voice.
"I got nothing to say," I said under my breath.
"Yes, you do," said the female voice.
"Nothing nice. And my mother taught me that if you can't say something nice, keep your effin' pie hole shut," I said.
"Aslinn!!" said Eric Lover. "A civil tongue"
"Sorry," I said turning my head a little. "Besides, I don't want to upset anyone."
"You are among friends Aslinn, tell us your thoughts," said the tall man.
"Ok, here it is. Lafayette, he has to be able to get out from under Eric, he was a hustler and yes he sold V but enough is enough. He's PTSDin' all over Terry's Scambled Terry's Scramble, with Andy standing over him shouting at him and he has that flash back of Eric. It was so grotesque. Especially after all the compassion I had for Eric last time," I said. "And then he brought in that bi...wit...that woman from Bill's past. That evil, rotten, filthy woman. I wanna rip her heart out."
"My Aslinn, why?" asked the tall shadow.
"Because of what she did to him, she corrupted him," I broke down in sobs, Eric Lover patted me and Vi gave me several tissues and God Speed brought me a heavily fortified styrofoam cup of Irish "nevermind". "Poor Bill, he was so sweet and good and all he wanted to do was get home to his family and he was starving and she fed him all up and she put her moves on him and made him and then turned him into a real monster," I sucked in my breath. "And to hear that sweet southern voice mock those people and then he....shagged her in that bloody bed after they killed them. She's a monster." Vi sobbed a little at that, too and she plucked out a couple fo her own tissues.
"But he is different now," said the southern voice.
"I know, but will that monster rear it's ugly head again? After all he's been through and as far as he has come?" I said, miserably.
"He will atone, for all the times he has agrieved you, he will atone," said the southern voice.
"Well, we are all tired, we have had a very emotional night, let's pick this up next week," said the tall man. "And Aslinn?"
"Yeah?" I said.
"Trust me," he said simply.
We filed out into the night. What will happen tomorrow when we gather at my house? What discussions will take place and what would the counselors say? And what did he mean by "trust me"?
I suppose we will just have to wait and see.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 29, 2009, 10:48:01 PM
________________________________________
Keep this Party Going
It had been raining earlier in the day but it cleared off by the time the first of my guests appeared at the barbecue. I had set up long tables along the back fence under the pergola and they practically groaned with the lovely food the members of the True Blood Anonymous group had brought. Dad had run the skimmer around the small but adequate kidney shaped pool surrounded by the red wood deck and the oriental rock garden. I was so pleased at the way the house and yard looked, the little Cape Cod newly painted a blue grey and the profusion of pink and tiger lilies and sweet summer pansies with their little faery faces nodding at our ankles as we walked by them, unnoticed.
Thank God I had asked everyone to bring a yard chair and blankets. Eric Lover and Westexan helped me shove the tiki torches into the ground we would light later as the sun went down. VCat was busy stinging the paper lanterns (mix the colors now VCat, like girl/boy seating) The atmosphere was carnival-like and for once we were relaxed. There was of course a surprise I had cooked up for later, but for now we were just who we were True Blood fanatics at a combination pool party and BBQ.
God Speed and Liberator, having made a truce were at the grill, stacking the briquettes and hashing over exactly how to do it. God Speed was a spread 'em out evenly man, Liberator went for the small mountain in the center technique. I frankly didn't give a gooey son of a mother fudge as long as I got my Stackhouse Po'boy first. Raki was sitting by the pool, sorting out the floating candles we were going to be putting in the pool later and Vi was setting large white pillar candles with three wicks on the tables around the pool and dispersed them through the foliage around the area. It would be an enchanted evening.
Minnie pulled up and got out with her blanket over her arm and a basket of organic brownies. When she walked by, she handed me a small one which I shared with anewaphorist, who had brought his guitar and was goofing on John Lennon though I had the stereo on and was playing a little light reggae. Talk about Instant Karma. One Love meets Love is all You Need. Surreal.
I got up to get myself a Guinness while Liz mixed a gin and tonic. It was a little early on the east coast to be drinking but hell, it was Miller Time somewhere in the world. We needed this. We needed to be together because when the sun went down, I hoped we would all find answers.
When the boys finally called that the brats were done and placed a huge platter of the greasy grilled meat on the food heavy table, we all lined up to dress our sandwiches and grab fresh drinks. There is just nothing like the redolent smells of charcoal and lighter fluid, cold beer and wine, brats, macaroni, potato and noodle salad and sweet and spicy baked beans all topped off the sounds of people biting into sandwiches with the same gusto of a Vampire Sheriff interrogating a red neck.
After a second run on the pies and cakes and more than a few hits from Minnie's brownie basket, we all began to relax. No calorie counters here. Last minute fluttering to light the tiki torches and candles, sending more than a hundred a float in my pool created an otherworldly atmosphere that preclude the fact that we were gathering in a blue collar neighborhood in West Virginia. Perhaps there were faeries at the foot of my garden. When the last bit of day faded, I turned down the stereo and called everyone to attention.
"Okay junkies, settled down. I wanna thank God Speed and Liberator for manning the grill and fixing the meat for our Po' boys. Thanks to everyone who brought food, especially Minnie who brought her special organic brownies," I lifted my Guinness in her direction. "God bless ya darlin'" I stood still for a moment and looked at the faces up turned, looking forward to what would happen next.
"I called you all here because I invited some important people to speak to us. We know them as the Source and the Connection. I give you the only people who can give us answers to all our questions. Alan Ball and Charlaine Harris."
From the back of the yard came a friendly looking man and woman. They looked so ordinary, so pleasant. Who knew they were the nefarious creators of the substances we were all so addicted to. But in these days and times, even sweet folk you might see and nod pleasantly to can be ruthless dealers of substances that will effect every particle of your soul.
Anewaphorist and God Speed brought out two chairs for them to sit on and I sat down by Vi and Westexan and Eric Lover. I lit a cigarette and handed my pack to Eric Lover who took one. We settled to listen. Just as Alan Ball was about to open his mouth to speak, a small caravan of three cars, a red corvette, a black Mercedes and a BMW station wagon pulled up in front of the house. A tall shadow unfolded himself from the car.
Holy shiatsu, the Counselors were here...
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 30, 2009, 06:46:33 PM
________________________________________
When The Party is Over
I opened my eyes briefly.
"Is she waking?" asked the deep voice.
"She is," the southern voice confirmed. "Don't open your eyes, sweetheart, just listen a minute."
I lay there quietly. I could feel that I was in the house, my house, and the room was very dimly lit because my eyelids shuttered out all light against my eyes. I was leaned against my counselor and his hand was on my arm, cool and comforting.
"My friends, my guests?" I asked.
"You needn't worry about your guests, they are being escorted home safely as we speak," said the deep voice. He was very close to me now. I pictured in my mind the silohette of the tall counselor sitting on the huge rectangular coffee table, leaning close to me. Had I opened my eyes I would have been able to see his face, but something precluded my ability to simply turn and look at the lead counselor. Perhaps, in my heart, I didn't want to. So I kept my eyes shut and listened to his stern, but not ungentle voice as he spoke to me.
"And the other group members?" I inquired.
"Many have left already. God Speed is doing your counselor a favor by escorting his...counselor in training home. I will be personally escorting Eric Lover home myself," said the lead counselor. The slight change in the deep voice, an all most imperceptable sound of excitement in his tone, almost prompted me to open my eyes but I kept them shut.
"Tell me Aslinn, why did you invite the Source and the Connection to your home tonight?" he asked.
"Answers, we need answers, we can't wait for them. We have to know what will happen in the two worlds. Will Bill and Sookie get back together? Or is she lost to Eric? Will Bill die of silver poisoning or will he live? Will something bad happen to Eric? What will the show be like this season and next? We are so hungry," I said.
"I know you are, sweetheart," said my counselor, kissing the top of my head, like a father to a child being comforted after a bad dream.
"You have to be patient," said the deep voice of the lead counselor. His voice was still a little brusque.
"Are you angry with us?" I said.
"No, but I find you all...curious...don't you like being surprised?" he asked.
"We do, it is so exciting, but we wait all week and devour the previews. You should see the way we analyze every frame...it's literally frame by frame!!" I said, raising up a little, my voice getting excited.
"Shh," said my counselor, stroking my face with a feather light touch. "Be calm."
"I have seen your web site. It is quite high rent, as opposed to others I have seen," said the deep voice. I felt his hand close around my wrist and it's cool pressure there. "But Aslinn, I told you something before and you should really take it to heart."
"And what was that?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. I could feel the change in the air and I knew the lead counselor was leaning very close to my ear.
"Trust me," he said softly.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on July 31, 2009, 05:31:38 PM
________________________________________
A little nothing I promised to God Speed. And don't lean in too close to the monitor, you'll get it all foggy. I call this one:
Black Panties and an Angel's Face
With the flash of her blue eyes and the glow of her pale porcelain skin and the delicate little creases around the corners of her mouth when she smiled, God Speed knew he was lost, lost forever in a swirl of desire, dark fragments of fantasy that filtered through what was passing for his mind these days. His physical hungers and thirsts were secondary to his addiction and there she was before him, sweet and innocent, sort of otherworldy virginal but a temptress. Lolita with an edge so to speak.
When he was a boy, he never cared for faerie tales and he never believed in the notion of Snow White or Cinderella. He liked the women he gazed at in the pages of old school graphic novels like Conan the Barbarian with wild women in savage furs or Valkyries in chain mail and gold breastplates or seductive queens, full bodied, voluptuous who knew the arts of passion and lust.
Not this, not her, and her slender frame and her beautiful cascade of blood red hair, emphasising her pointed features. They always call women with that color hair a fire brand and though her touch was cool as cemetery marble, she burned him with the slightest touch and he caught his breath and made his heart stop for just a couple of beats and she could hear it and she smiled because she liked it that she made him feel this way. When she pressed herself against him, he could feel her sweet breasts but not the beating of her little heart.
There was something of the kitten/cat in her. He liked it when she sidled up to him and laced her arm in his, pressing her body against him as if to warm herself against him, and perhaps she was. Or when he held her, and she rubbed her cool cheek against his face and felt his warm lips and breath on her own.
It was madness those few hours alone with her in the dark, in the night and he could never quite keep her in the back of his mind until she moved slowly back into the fore his thoughts. Obsessed, consumed. He had held the rose in his arms and she had pricked him with her thorny kiss and he was weaker for it. For it, for her, lost absolutely to his desires for her. Forever and ever and not just his forever but her forever.
God Speed was drowning.
________________________________________
Here is a little nothing I was just thinking about. Insert self and your fave Vampire here.
Night Blooming Flowers
Moon Glories, maybe not be the official name of the strange otherworldly flower that grows and produces huge supper plate blossoms that bloom only when the sun goes down, opening up and releasing their intoxicating scent. Sweet and musky they envelop every other smell in the garden, they open your mind to darker thoughts and fancies.
Will it be tonight, when you stand before me in your peculiar beauty, transfixed by the blessing and curse that is you. Will you smile your disarming and perhaps feral smile as I walk without any control into your arms. Will you be surprised by the way my pulse is quickened by you and for you and for you alone. Do you mind if I am a little afraid? Because you are dangerous to love and hold and want. Will you mind that I am willing to be or do whatever you have in mind for me? And will you do me the honor of acquiessing to my simple needs? Would that excite you? Can we make prisoners of one another for just a little while?
My dark lover, my night angel, it will not be the same as the hunt and chase but there are things just as delightful. Would you like for me to run, as fast as I can, so you can chase me? Would you like to hear my heart pounding as I push aside branches and will you laugh a little anxious laugh with my gasp of surprise when you finally catch me? I know you did not have run fast and you know that I did not run that fast because I want you to catch me, pull me to you, and pull me down and claim me tonight, under the moon, under stars, under the dark sky that has been your day, your morning, your eternal twilight.
Will you kiss me with your cool lips, and touch me with your cool hands and pin me with your body and smile again at the heaving of my chest as I pant, not just from the chase but for what will surely come next? If I kiss you, what will I taste? Will I taste your wildness and your passions? When I smell you will I smell the scent of the pasts you have wandered through to get my now, this very moment? Will you taste my desire? Will you smell passion and pleasure and a little fear coming from my body? Will that delight you a little? Because it is a little scary to surrender and I would like to think that when I do it, you surrender a part of yourself to me. Will that bond us together if not for your forever, at least for my forever so the memories of you will linger til that other dark angel comes to claim my last breath.
My darling, my lover, enfold me in your arms, kiss me and claim me and sate me and sate your own needs with me. Tell me I am yours, and you are mine, even if it is impossible for you to promise entirely. Call me precious and perfect. Let us be as Pagans and savages and know that the gods are in love and sex and desire and passions. Let us worship each other in the lunar light and the moon glories are blooming, baptising us in their exotic perfume.
Hurry, before dawn...
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 03, 2009, 03:32:52 PM
________________________________________
I call this one:
A Dark Study
Pam was leaning on the bar, having a warm bottle of True Blood. Chow was in the back, getting another carton of Chivas Regal and Southern Comfort from the storeroom and the Sheriff of Area Five, her maker, was sitting on his throne, though the Vampire Bar, Fangtasia, was empty. He was lost in thought, as he seemed to be these days. Pam was not sure how she felt about that.
Eric Northman was usually such a vibrant, enthusiastic Vampire, but now he brooded and it wasn't just over the blond woman in Bon Temps that made him this way. Pam liked Sookie a lot but there was a part of her that felt that Eric's esteem of her was over the top. But now, even she was being eclipsed by these...new people.
The "raid" at the barbeque was troubling her sire. He liked these people, more than he cared to admit, but they were trying to get around him, break the rules, none more so than Aslinn, who liked her business partner but wanted more than she was ready to handle. And what she wanted was your basic everything. She wanted to know how it would all turn out. Why? What was this human woman afraid of? Why didn't she do what Eric told even Pam to do so many moonlights ago when he made her, and that was to trust him.
Pam shook her head silently and sipped the warm synthetic blood. Sometimes being out of the coffin sucked, and not in that really good Vampire way. Still, Aslinn got her. She understood Pam in a way that few others did outside her forum, that she was a liberated woman after she was made. But even this did not give her solace because she hated to see Eric this way, confused and fascinated.
Pam straightened her back and turned and walked over to the dark study which was the Viking. He did not acknowledge her approach until she gracefully knelt in front of the sheriff, her maker and first lover. His eyes opened to her and he smiled a quick smile.
"What is the matter Eric, you are so troubled, I feel your inner conflict. Please speak to me," she pleaded with her maker.
"I have been reading the posts in their forum. I think Aslinn is worried about me," he said.
"Why?" she asked.
"She worries about all of us. But she worries about me and Compton," he said. "That is why she had the Source and the Connection at the gathering."
"What does she think she will learn?" asked Pam.
"I don't know. She wrote that if anything happened to me or Bill she would be heartbroken, that some of the glamour would be gone," said Eric.
"Why do they care?" she asked.
"That, I do not know, but they all do in their own way...yes they care," he said.
"Well, perhaps they will open up more in the group this Wednesday," suggested Pam.
"Perhaps," said the Vampire in his thoughtful, dark study.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 04, 2009, 06:00:49 PM
________________________________________
Q and A
Eric Northman, the Sheriff of Area Five and lead counselor of the True Blood Anonymous group had called all the counselors to his home for a meeting about the coming group tomorrow night. He found an interesting question on the forum where he often visited with his new friends and read the things they wrote.
Bill was sitting there at Eric's desk, per the sheriff's request, and his cobalt blue eyes scanned the screen of Eric's computer. He was glad God Speed had suggested Mozilla as a possible solution to the spate of technical issues and was proud to see he had been made moderator with his Aslinn. Just as Bill hated to type using the number keys on his cell phone, he also hated to refresh the page as he moved back and forth. He too was looking at the forum, where he spent a lot of time when he wasn't working on another project. Godric was sitting in another chair, just behind the Vampire at the computer, his pale face even more pallid from the light of the screen, reading the posts behind Bill's shoulder.
"I understand your concern about this question, Eric, it is troubling, in view of recent events at dear Aslinn's home. Tell me Bill, will you see her tonight?" he asked in his precise and elegant accent.
"Yes, I expect her later. Violet came to see me last night and she too was troubled," said the southern Vampire.
"What do you think? Should they continue this speculating?" asked Godric.
"Come, sit down, we will discuss this question together," said Eric. He motioned for Godric to take a seat of honor, a dark blood colored wing back chair. The young, ancient man sat down gracefully, carefully, as if he felt some nights all of his 2000 years on this planet.
Pam and Chow sat up a little straighter. Being in the presence of the man who made their leader was incredible to them. Even Chow, silent and stoic, recognized the power that emanated from his young face. Only his eyes gave lie to his youth and beauty for out them peered a very old soul indeed. And though he had never been a respecter of persons, Vampire or human or other, he did respect and even fear a little this Vampire before him.
Bill stood and went to sit beside his child, Jessica. Even she was in awe of the man in the wing back chair. Young and petulant and given to tantrums to her maker, she sat quietly. Even Vampires can develop crushes. But, Jessica was a very young Vampire and she was still in touch with her "woman" feelings if not her human feelings. At least not entirely.
Eric sat beside Bill. Though Bill was not his favorite Vampire in his little world in Northern Louisiana, he had some level of, if not respect, for he surely did not respect the younger Vampire, a small level of tolerance for him. But Bill was not his focus. His thoughts were, and he let them run through his brilliant mind unhindered before he spoke. His maker looked at him thoughtfully. Finally he spoke.
"I communicated with Aslinn this evening after I read a question. I think it was made in jest by one of my girls, as Aslinn calls them. The question seems to be in regard to speculating on what will happen next in the two worlds," he said tentatively. "So I emailed her."
"Of what did this communication consist?" asked Godric.
"If you will permit, I must ask Bill to explain to you about what this forum does," said Eric. "Compton, you have our attention."
"Apparently, people come to this forum for different reasons and they come by various routes. Some come through the Connection, Ms. Harris, and some come through the Source, Mr. Ball. Some create relationships with both through either. But one of the things that happens is the two worlds collide and there are inevitable comparisons," explained Bill carefully. "Some come for different reasons, solidarity, friendship, distraction, an outlet from the troubled world in which they reside. But they all wonder the same thing: What will happen next and how will it happen and will it differ from what they may already know?"
"And your answer Eric?" asked Godric.
"My maker, you must understand. We live in a world that is not our making. We are being invited into their world. My thinking on this troubles me," said the Viking.
"What troubles you, my child?" asked the handsome young man, putting his hand on the upper arm of his favorite son.
"My thinking is, that their imaginations, coming through their speculations, is our spark of life. Perhaps, if they do not have the will to speculate, we will not have a place in their world. We will be two dimensional, flat, expected. Their speculations may be our spark of...existence," said the Sheriff, softly.
"Ah, the real reason you did not want the Source and the Connection speaking to the group. If they know all the answers..." the Vampire responded.
"If they know all the answers, they will not be interested in us anymore and we will fade away from their consciousness, and I love to be among them and listen to the thrill of their minds and read the excitement in their words. It is almost like in the old days, we hunted as a pair, my maker, and we could feel their hearts beating and their blood rushing. Their energy is essential to us," finished the troubled Vampire.
"More essential than blood?" asked Pam.
"Yes," said Eric to his child.
"Even more than Tru:Blood?" asked Jessica. Eric smiled at the child Vampire and her naivety.
"Yes, Jessica, even more than that," he answered, staying Bill's hand from chastising his child for what he saw as a foolish question.
Godric put his head back for a few moments, his hot eyes shut as he absorbed this revelation. The others sat quietly and waited in respectful silence. Of all the children he had made, this was the child he loved most deeply. Eric's bravery on the battlefield that night before he made him Vampire, the brilliant mind he discovered afterward was a real treasure to him. Eric was the son he had never in his human life had the chance to make. His heart missed him when it was time for the maker and child to part ways but there had not been a day in a long succession of days that he had not though of his beautiful son, making his way in the world. He always felt that of all his children, had anything happened to stop Eric's existence he would feel it with a pain so sharp it would have killed him instantly. He squeezed his son's arm gently before he spoke again.
"Strange, is it not. They are as we are, we are as they, dependent on each other," said the Vampire, finally. "You made a wise decision, encourage them to do this, even if they think is foolish. There is no such thing as too much speculation. And Bill?"
"Yes, Godric?" he asked
"Keep encouraging your Aslinn to do as my child said," the older Vampire finished.
"And what was that?" Bill asked.
"Tell her Eric said 'Trust Me'. She will understand, will she not? You will see to it?" asked Godric.
"Of course, Aslinn is mine," said Bill, confidently.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 05, 2009, 08:27:27 PM
________________________________________
The seventh episode of the season is always a bit of a heart breaker because it signaled the half way point of the season and tensions were high. None more so than at the True Blood Anonymous Group meeting.
One of the newest members, Rene had brought bakeapple tartlets, made from the fruit called a cloudberry whose genetic roots came from a Viking bog that was a part of a one thousand year old settlement. Everyone could smell the lovely spices and vanilla and sugar in them. Another new member, Hoyt, (Jezzus Pleezus, another Jessica-Head) brought in the coffee. God Speed brought in the Bailey's for those of us who needed fortification tonight, we were going to need it.
After the "raid" on the barbecue and the gentle chastisement I received from the lead counselor that night and the strangely worried sounding email from him about the issue of speculations and again the request to "Trust Me" which I still didn't know if I could do, and then the things my counselor whispered so softly in my ear last night. Why did I remember last night? I usually don't, not a face really but...other things.
It was about these other things I was thinking when Eric Lover flopped down in the seat beside me and adjusted her red Fangtasia tee-shirt and checked the strings on her tennis shoes to make sure they were secure.
"Where did you get the tee shirt?" I asked.
"I don't know, I woke up the next morning after the party at your place and I was wearing this shirt and my underwear but I don't remember how I got it," she whispered.
God Speed caught my eye and with a motion of his head, I went over to see what was up.
"Did you get an email from the counselor?" he whispered, looking around the room.
"Yeah, did you?" I asked. He nodded his head. "What did it say?"
"Trust Me," said God Speed. "How about yours?"
It said a lot of things but it all boiled down to two words," I said.
"Yep," said God Speed.
We broke up and went to our respective chairs. Minnie, Violet, with her tissues, and Westexan, God Speed, VCat and Liberator and Hoyt, Renee and the others, about 15 in all were sitting in a circle when the lights, as they always do, dimmed to the central panel and the counselors, our usual three and their protege's took their familiar seats and standing places by the two doors in the room.
It took the taller of them to actually find his place because something drew him to the coffee table. He bent low at the waist and I could hear him audibly sniff the tartlets and a slight moan escape him. It was a sound of pleasure and delight. He said something to the younger man in his foreign language who seemed in a blink to simply appear by his side and the taller man held one of the tartlets in his hand. The young man leaned forward a little to sniff the fragrant fruit and pastry and made a sound of delight himself. They both carefully wrapped one and took it back with them but I did not observe them eating the treats.
I sat up and fought off the urge for a cigarette. There were so many feelings whirling in my junkie's brain right now. I was confused and elated with the recent episode. I wanted to begin talking right away but held my self back when Minnie, the quietest member of our group spoke first.
"Godric is my new hero," she said quietly. The young male counselor said something to the tall counselor standing beside him and he said something back.
"Why do you say this?" asked the heavily accented voice.
"He saved Sookie from Gabe, that would have been horrible," said Minnie.
"I dislike men who act like animals," said the young man simple "It is good this was done."
"And Jason, stepping up for his sister like that," said Hoyt. "I thought Jason would never be like that about Sookie again, being with a Vampire and all, but he was, he defended her."
"Jessica was so sweet, like a little girl, but like a Vampire too. She knows that whatever happens to her, Hoyt will take good care of her, respect her," said God Speed.
"Wow God Speed, we thought you's be all torn up about that whole thing," said Westexan.
"No, I am cool with Hoyt...on the show that is," said God Speed giving our Hoyt the stink eye. Liberator cast a poor eye on Hoyt, as well. Brother, here we go again. I could smell fresh blood on the water.
"And then there is Bill, trapped with Lorena," said Violet.
"She's evil, " said Eric Lover. "Even I would stake her."
"Really Eric Lover?" asked the soft southern voice. I shivered with the sound of it. "Why would you do that?"
"She stole Bill away and made him a monster and she deserves it because she is doing this to him now," she said. "And she grabbed poor Barry."
"At the behest of the Big Viking, Eric Lover," I reminded her.
"I know, I know, but still, it isn't right. Sookie doesn't need to be tricked into helping out, it's become something of a moral imperative to her now," said Eric Lover.
"I think something beautiful is happening to Eric," I said, a dreamy sound to my voice.
"What is that Aslinn?" said the tall shadow.
"His heart is breaking," I said.
"For Sookie?" said Minnie.
"No," I said. "It was like when he became a Vampire, he froze his heart like a block of Nordic ice and there it was, cold in his chest for so many centuries, and now it is melting and Eric's heart is breaking. Like Bill's did when Lorena took him away from his family, and made him a monster, made him beg her on his knees to release him."
I stopped and dug around in my big bag of crazy but Eric Lover handed me the pack of Marlboros and her lighter and I took one and lit it.
"The very idea that Eric's maker would die at the hands of these monsters breaks his heart. If he survives this with the seed of his soul intact...things could begin that could break a lot of the hearts in this room, and warm others," I said. "But what a wonderful thing to experience, to watch, when we see him, this ruthless man, cry his bloody tears. It is so delicious, like birth."
"And then there are things you wrote in the forum Aslinn, about sacrifice," said Westexan.
"Yes, greater love hath no man," I said. "But that is speculating."
"Go ahead Aslinn," said the female voice behind me. There was a light sniffle and I reached toward Violet and she handed me several tissues and I reached them behind my shoulder and I felt the gentle tug of a hand, pulling the tissues and a muffled thank you. The young female was crying a little.
"Well, that's what we do, right Liz, we speculate about how things will happen," I said.
"That's what we do," she said.
"Seeing Eric chained to that altar..." I said.
"It is a profound statement," said the southern voice.
"Sacrifice. Who knew a creature such as he would make that sort of statement," I said. I sniffed loudly. "I don't know, I don't know. I want to believe all things have a purpose, a special gift, a coffee with too much Irish in it or a...It is just so noble. No wonder he hates people, I would too if I were him."
"Yeah," said Liberator, "You see those crazy Sun people or that effing crazy lady back in Bon Temps making devil worshippin' zombies out of the people, even Terry Bellefleur, and then those same people would look down on someone like Eric. Or Bill, who has been nothing but nice to them."
"Who says Eric hates people," asked God Speed.
"Eric did, he was disgusted by Bill having killed another of their own over a human, and then I think he was sickened by the fouls humans who preyed on his kind that he had locked up," I said.
"Even Lafayette?" asked Renee.
"No, not Lafayette because even though he was hustling Eddie, he wasn't hurting him, though I guess the distinction didn't matter," I rubbed my face. "What I am trying to say is, why would Eric want to even pretend he had human feelings when he had such stellar examples around him: Fangbangers, hustlers, the dregs of human society."
"Eric does not hate humans," said the young man. "But he does feel little sentimentality for them. But, as you said, as his heart breaks it causes him to feel more."
"So, tell me Aslinn, or any of you in the group, have you taken what I said to you to heart?" asked the tall shadow. "Do you trust me?"
"I..
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 06, 2009, 02:44:02 PM
________________________________________
Something to sniff over :'(
The Scent of a Memory
The Vampire stood in the shadows of the midnight garden of his suburban home in Northern Louisiana, looking at the starry sky and holding the delicate tartlet in the crumbled napkin gently in his hand. He held it up to his noble nose and closed his eyes and sniffed it again. The aroma of the cloudberries was a scent that he never dreamed he would experience again and he savored it and remembered the last time he breathed their fresh citrus and strawberry like bouquet.
It was late summer and he and his maker were preparing to bid one another farewell. It was cool but temperature was not a factor in their basic physical comfort. The taller, younger man stood silently with the smaller older man, though the casual observer would take the taller man to be the eldest of the two. They stared at the Northern Lights and listened to the faint electrical drone of the azure and emerald and some times amethyst and gold display before them. It danced like an inferno, heralding the door of Valhalla, a place in which both men had believed in another time, but not now. Well, perhaps they did in another way, but regardless, the gods were departed to them, dead, but not as eternal as they.
As they watched the lights, they knew the time of leave-taking was near. It happened with all of their kind. It was a strange imitation of nature. For a while the fledgling stayed with the parent until it was time for the young bird to soar alone in the world and either survive or fall victim to other predators.
The two stood there. Eric could smell the last of the cloudberries on the bushes behind him. When he was not as he is now, his wife made him sweet treats of the crushed fruit and honey and sort of hearty bread. Now the smell would remind him of this moment in his existence. The moment he said good bye to the one person he truly cared about.
“They say that if you do not watch me depart, we will see each other again,” said the young man to his son.
“Who says?” asked Eric.
“They do, in the village,” said the young looking man, nodding his chin toward the village.
“Do you believe them, my maker?” asked the Viking Vampire.
“Perhaps,” said Godric. “Good bye Eric, my child.”
“Good bye, Godric, my father, my brother, my son,” said Eric, repeating back the words his maker said to him before he snatched Eric away from his human death. They looked at each other again and Eric turned away first, looking again at the celestial play of lights on the black horizon. He heard Godric walk away into the night and Eric did not turn around. He did not want his maker to see the sanguine tears welling up in his pale eyes.
Eric placed his heavy hand upon the heart that did not beat.
And felt it break.
The memory of his pain brought the Viking back into the here and now. His hand still held the tartlet. He sniffed it once more and sat it on a large flat stone for the birds that would come into his day lit garden to eat. He looked up at the night sky and saw there were no Northern Lights, only the vast empty black of space.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 06, 2009, 09:57:09 PM
________________________________________
A little something for VCat, to cheer her up
Of Night, Light and the Half-Light
Cat, known as VCat on the forum, had little or no memory how she got to the old plantation. It did not trouble her that she had no recollection of the trip she took in a fever. She had to be there, she had to see the man whose voice thrilled her, who walked in the shadows of her dreams and moved around in the periphery of her mind.
She pulled in front of the house and fairly ran up the steps and Bill did not disappoint her by seeming shocked at her presence at his door. In fact he smiled his lovely shy smile, stepped to one side and admitted her into his home. It was just as she imagined it would be. She could feel his past in the house, as if it haunted him, a sad ghost that he loved and hated because it was so long ago. Her eyes took in everything and she breathed the air that surrounded him, a clean, dry, hint of something timeless that she simply could not put her finger on, but was not unpleasant.
He stood in the doorway and watched her, a little amused with the way her eyes took in every detail. He liked it that she even picked up the book he had been reading. A book of William Butler Yeats’ poetry laid face down when he stood to open the door. Bill loved the metaphysical poet and mystic.
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Of night, light and the half light…what beauty. The lights in the room were dim. He had electricity, but he loved to burn his candles and a couple of old fashioned hurricane lamps with frosted glass. He liked to set the stage, create the atmosphere because it helped them when it came time...for him to spread his cloths at their feet.
It isn’t always precisely like that. He had no desire to seduce. Seduction had such repugnant connotations, as if the word meant something insincere. He was sincere with all of them. He cared deeply for all of them and they raised up such lovely and painful covenants of…desire, hopes, dreams, fears and passions. Sometimes of flesh and he indulged them fully. Sometimes all they wanted was his comfort and he was more than happy to provide that, too. It felt good to Bill to be a comfort to someone after all this time.
He could hear the way Cat’s heart was racing and her quickened breathing but he knew how to calm them. They were his girls after all and he knew them all very well and each one was special and precious to him. She was looking at him now. Her gaze was intense and he could see her jumble of emotions raging inside her.
He walked over and sat on the couch opposite her. He reclined in the corner, his arms along the back and the arm of the couch.
“What is the matter sweetheart? Are you troubled about something?” he asked in his soft southern voice. Her breath caught in her chest and he could hear her heart skip a beat. “Why don’t you come over here and talk to me. Perhaps we can find out what is on your mind together.”
Cat stood up and walked around the coffee table and sat down beside him. He turned to her, hooking his foot around the calf of his opposite leg. His hand lay easily on his thigh and he felt her eyes rest there. With his other hand, he touched her face gently. Her eyes closed briefly at the touch of his cool fingertips. She slowly leaned forward and she felt his hands turning her effortlessly as he pulled her back against his chest.
He needn’t speak another word. Lying against his chest, feeling his solid coolness on this balmy night was comfort enough. She lay there for a long time, cuddled and calm. It did not trouble her that his body did not have all the minute ticks and subtle movements of ordinary men. Because Bill was no ordinary man and his distinctiveness was a part of who he was and she embraced it, just as he was embracing her now. He was still. She suspected he could sit in this position all night, motionless until the dawn required his retreat.
But then his hand began to stroke her arm and she felt his cool breath, something he did that was that touch of them, rather than the silence of his physical otherness. He leaned toward her just enough to tickle the edge of her ear with his delicate lips.
“Tell me what you came for,” he said softly.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 08, 2009, 07:42:05 PM
________________________________________
The Dreamer must Awake
An hour before sun down and the dreamer lay still as a statue on the bed, the room dark except for the soft reddish glow of the small bronze lamps with their red crystal shades on the plain, darkly stained dresser, flanking the large mirror. The room is in the center of the North Louisiana suburban home so there are no windows to bother covering with black paint and heavy lined velvet curtains as he had in a previous home he once owned.
The chest of drawers on the right side of the room stood against the wall, near the walk in closet and a low leather couch, big enough for two people, was positioned on the left side of the room. A highly polished square table sat before it with an ornate chess board, pieces moved around as though the dreamer had been in the middle of a game when he simply went to the bed and lay down and closed his eyes and sleep took him with the beginning of dawn.
The bed itself was right out of a fantasy. Made of oak cut from the forests of Sweden in the middle of the first millennium, the dreamer had carefully stored it in first a monastery and then with various royal families until he made his way to the New World. It had as long and varied a past as he. Kings were conceived, plans plotted, and orders commanded in this bed.
Oak was sacred to many people's and tribes and his was no exception. The bed itself was heavily carved, on the headboard the goddess Frigg, reclined and looked down on the dreamer. She was the wife of Odin and looked to in matters of love and sex and the dreamer, though he had no religion, liked knowing that as he went into his rest, the goddess stared down at him. Other animals in phantasmagorical knots and tangles decorated the heavy bed and patient, thoughtful viewers could find plants, animals, even lovers, like a Norse Kama Sutra in lovely detailed tangles in the vines and leaves and fruit.
Upon the bed laid a large heavily worked patchwork quilt of Burmese silk pieces, thinly pounded leathers and heavy hand brushed velvets, all in a festival of jeweled colors. The sheets were a pale faded saffron color in expensive Egyptian flax, six hundred thread count per square inch and looked like rubbed satin.
The dreamer lay with the sheets and quilt folded at the waist, his chest bare and still. His right arm lay parallel to his body, his hand flat on the mattress. His other hand rested on his belly somewhere between his navel and...the rest of him. How many nights and how many woman had allowed her hand to smooth over the pattern of hair there and gently twine her finger tips in the pale gold of the curls around his last vestige of humanity, the place where he and his mother, a woman he did not remember, were physically joined. The belly was naked to the viewer and a light sprinkling of blond curls made a gentle diamond shape around his navel and had he been nude, would have trailed down to "Adam's Thicket". But as it was, he was discretely covered.
Still there was something wildly indecent about what was visible to the viewer. His belly was slightly concave, lying prone as he was. His rib cage was just visible under his slightly pink ivory skin. Even at rest, the muscles of his chest looked what they are, hard and heavy with preternatural strength earned first in his mortal life and preserved in perfection in his other existence.
His clavicles stood out strongly, but not in a starved way but as a further detail of his sculpted form. His head was slightly turned to the left, his face clean and clear, his lips slightly parted as if to breathe though he did not. They were just a shade darker than the rest of him and delicate. If he were a prince, albeit a dark one, the princess sent to wake him from his daytime rest would be pleased to kiss him. Above his lips sat his nose, not delicately made but strong, straight, a good feature to pull the rest of his features. His eyes were well set, not too deep yet not too shallow.
His eyes were closed and his eyelids had a slight sheen to them. His eye lashes would seem scant to the observer but closer observation yielded a truth that his eye lashes were lush, lying without a flutter. His eyes were unmoving behind them. No REM sleep for him, but he did dream. Though what this man was dreaming no one could tell, and certainly not your humble observer. When he wakened, he would look at the dimly lit room with light colored eyes, depending on the light, seemed either blue or green, and perhaps from time to time, winter sky grey.
His high brow was uncreased and his strong but pale eyebrows hung relaxed over his eyes. His hair was swept away from his face, showing his even hair line. His short hair was tousled in a casual way and was softly blond, cut carefully around his ears, his side burns sharply following the contours of his gently oval face.
He lay there, silently as the grave that never yawned before him, until the sun went down finally over the North Louisiana landscape. When it finally disappeared, the dreamer must awake.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 10, 2009, 09:23:18 PM
________________________________________
Wild Child, Full of Grace
Godric, a two thousand year old Vampire, sat down under a dark sky and contemplated the world and his place in it and rose up an enlightened being. Like any sentient being, he thought about the notion of suffering of both his kind and our kind. What answers did he find in the deep well of his immortal... self...for does his kind have a soul? And if so, is it a soul redeemable to the Supreme Maker?
His pale eyes scanned the darkness. Was there such a place for him and his kind? Or were they all condemned to this "dark night", that moment of despair, in a world where they would always be trapped in their own self reflections: the hunters without a conscience, lost to the world of brotherhood, solidarity, humanity. Could there ever be a truce between the children of the dawn and the children of the night? He feared not.
If there were any to blame, it would lay with both camps: the Vampires in their savagery and the humans in their fear. But even the children of the dawn had their own shadows of the soul. They kill and rape each other and corrupt one another as viciously as his kind. They even eat each other. Were there human "Vampires" without benefit of the dark gift who become as his kind and predate their fellows. Monsters?
And his child? Eric was beautiful and savage, the animal with an intellect, brilliant, a survivalist. He taught him all the rituals of the Blood. Godric bowed his head. He would have to answer to the Supreme Maker for his beautiful son. He cursed himself for not being enlightened sooner so he could teach his child about the soul. Perhaps there was still time to teach Eric this truth and recreate the Viking from savage to Wild Child, Full of Grace.
Inspired by "Wild Child" by the Doors
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 11, 2009, 07:41:00 PM
________________________________________
Diary of a Junkie
How long has it been since your last fix? Was it when you logged on at the forum after dinner, while the spouse was watching the news? Did you look up at the clock and say to yourself: "Just 15 minutes Lord and if you will help me not do more than 15 minutes..." and then you look up at the clock again and you realize you have been staring at the forum floor, watching the posts for two hours.
It's the guilt you know, the guilt that grabs you before anything. Like the fact that you promised that you would get your house cleaned up and you pop in season one for background noise and you see the moment that Vampire strolls into Merlotte's and you say:"I'll just watch this scene," and you realize how long you have been watching "just that scene" when you realize you are escaping Dragon House and you have met that other Vampire.
And how about those books? Do you have your nose buried in one of those books, so simply written but so intoxicating. Like Alan Ball said, you stretch out in bed to do a chapter and you realize you have read six. See, even he is an addict.
Do your friends, family and co-workers think Eric and Bill are new neighbors you have just met? Do you watch True Blood alone? When you are depressed? Have you been in contact with other addicts. Are you selling yourself to make the payments on your cable Bill. Do you have a manager? Have you hocked your spouses car to buy Tru:Blood when it comes out in September?
When you go for a long time without it, do you itch, do your palms get sweaty, do you fidget? Are you irritable? Do you think those who criticize the show are unibrowed, low orbital bridge, mouth breathing neanderthals who wouldn't know literature and culture if it came up and sodomized their pine tree?
Perhaps you are in love. Perhaps the mere sight of a dark haired, slow talking, blue eyed southern boy makes your head spin and your heart pound. Maybe it is a demure, very virginal little spitfire redhead who gets your tighty-whities in a bunch. Or maybe, just maybe, it is a tall blond hunk of burning love from Shreveport with a badass attitude that makes you squirm around in your chair. Maybe it is a sweet guy next door who runs a bar that has you howling for more. Perhaps telepaths are more to your liking...but then you knew that, didn't you, because you could hear my thoughts.
Do you wonder along at walmart and see a blouse and say: Would Tara wear this? And God save me from the henley selection in the men's underwear department. (I wonder if Bill still wears boxers or has he become a jockey man?) Do you answer your boss' business phone with the salutation: "Hello Hookah, what's it to you?"
Don't talk to me about sleepless nights. And when you do sleep, you can't escape it. They are all there and brother are are they all there. Is your sex life improving by exponential numbers. Have you ever called your lover _____(insert the name of your favorite here). When faced with ethical dilemmas do you ask yourself "What would Godric do?"
If you do any, I mean any of these things, you are a junkie. There is little hope for you. You should give up now, surrender, and let go.
Trust Me
E
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 12, 2009, 07:33:12 PM
________________________________________
As you can imagine, the junkies at the True Blood Anonymous Group meeting were stirred up like hornets in their paper mache` nest having just been poked by a mischievous child. Teameric was excitedly dancing around the coffee/snack table in the corner, busily putting together the components to her rich Irish coffee that tasted like a liquid cookie and Violet was neatly slicing squares of her lovely birthday cake. In the words of Pam, sorta, "Twenty-three, how sweet it is,"
I was standing there holding forth on the merits of selecting just the right screen name for forum use with God Speed and Armywife and True Blood Fan were chatting about the coming scenes with their favorite Viking. Eric Lover was laughing at something funny the usually quiet Minnie said and Roygbiv and Liberator and Mr. Crowley were discussing Liberator's favorite topic: Jessica. MikeyLikesIt and Vamplover were chatting about new Tru:Blood drink contest on the website. Mel and Liz were excited about the new satire letter written girlfan gush style to Godric. Some people had no sense of humor.
Finally we started to get in our usual places. While the last couple of sessions had been full of drama, today we were excited as we took our seats. I plopped down between Eric Lover and Westexan and lit a smoke, handing Eric Lover my pack. She lit up too as the lights went out all around us. Some of the new people gasped a little in surprise but we who had been coming in from the start knew it was because the counselors were here.
The five shadows took their accustomed places. The lead counselor, a male shadow about 6 and a half feet tall leaned against the door, another male shadow sat in a folding chair beside him, the one with the soft southern voice. The third male shadow stood opposite. He said something in a foreign language to the taller man and he answered him.
Directly behind us were the two female counselors, one a tall woman with a slightly languid voice and a thinner petite female stood beside her. Their place was by the main entrance.
The room itself is an anonymous room, like any meeting room in a social center or school anywhere in the world with banks of large windows and putty colored tile floors and a circle of chairs in the center. The central panel of lights lit up the middle of the room, leaving the rest in shadow. It was not decorated, not even with motivational posters. And the night sky was our view.
"It is nice to see some new people here, how have all of you been?" asked the soft southern voice. I loved to listen to this counselor speak, the timbre of his voice was so soothing and correct. It was a voice I knew from a dream.
"This episode was intense," said Liz, the first to speak. "Those words: Don't use words you don't understand/ Don't use words I don't understand. They say so such about Eric's character."
"What do you think it means?" asked the tall shadow of the lead counselor.
"I think it means Eric is about to find out exactly what those words mean," said Liz. "I think Eric is about to experience an epiphany."
"Like a moment of enlightenment?" asked the young man in his lovely accented voice.
"Yes, a moment of enlightenment, a revelation," she said.
"I wished someone would give Tara a moment of revelation about the crazy woman in her house feeding her a pie that looks like an autopsy," said Violet. "It seems like the longer she stays, the more lost she becomes."
"Sam too, he is in trouble with Daphne's body in his freezer," said Westexan.
"There are many more revelations to come," said the soft southern voice and I shivered with a thrill chill I could not easily shake.
"Jason had a revelation. Sara and Steve are evil," said Liberator. "But I loved that "gotcha" he did on that grinning jack ass. 'I been to heaven already...it was inside your wife' Whammo!!"
"I loved Eric's "stupid human" trick. His warning to Jason was priceless," said MIkeyLikesit.
"And he has the prettiest smile," said Teameric.
"And then Jason hugging Bill. Poor Bill, he doesn't have that whole public display of affection down yet does he?" said God Speed. "And then there is poor Jessica." A light sob was stifled behind me. I reached toward Violet and twiddled my fingers for a couple of tissues and I grabbed them and offered them behind my shoulder, without turning around, to the young woman behind me. I felt her pull the tissue from my finger tips and heard her muffled thank you.
"Perhaps she see Dr. Ludwig. Maybe she can help her, she is the doctor to the supernatural world," suggested Vamplover.
"That is an excellent suggestion," said the tall shadow.
"And besides Lorena, the Vampire I would like to see a heavy sharp pointy object fall on is Stan," said God Speed.
"Why is that?" asked the female voice in her quiet tones.
"I think he was the one who was responsible for Godric's capture by the Sun Church," said God Speed.
"Do you really think so?" said the tall shadow a bit agitated.
"Sure, he's ambitious enough," said God Speed. "He doesn't like Godric's Zen-like view of human/Vampire co-existence."
"I will take that under advisement," said the tall shadow.
"And Sookie was great, standing up for herself like that to Lorena. Bill was great, beating her over the head with the tv and all but he needed to tell Sookie right away about Lorena," said Eric Lover. "But I am worried now about them with Luke in the room all wired up with a bomb."
"And Sookie went to Eric and freed him from his silver chains just like Aslinn thought she would," said Mr. Crowley.
"Aslinn, haven't you anything to say?" asked the soft southern voice. "You are so quiet."
"It seems like everything is culminating into the notion of sacrifice. On various altars whether to ancient god or an ancient grudge. I fear for our friends in Bon Temps and Dallas," I said. "Sometimes, we think the old ways are gone, but they really aren't."
"And what old ways are these?" asked the young man in his melodic voice.
"That blood calls out to blood. Sangui et Sangui. Eric's blood to Godric, Sookie's blood to Bill, even Bill's blood to his maker, Lorena. The blood of the mortals to the gods."
"We are all one blood in the universe," said Roygbiv. "It is a stain that can either sully or purify."
"You must not worry, my friend," said the young male voice, now sad. "Sometimes peace comes at a price, and that price is sometimes bloody."
"It isn't fair is it?" I said.
"But sometimes, very necessary. As our lead counselor so often says, you should trust him, now you must accord me the same privilege, " said the sad voice.
"Our time is up," said the southern voice. "Excellent work tonight."
After we left the room, the five counselors stood together.
"Eric, our time is running down, we have four episodes left. Do you think our friends will make it?" asked Godric.
"They will, they are tough and they are hopelessly addicted to what we give them," said Eric.
"I like them. I wished the other world was like this. They are the way I wished we could all be," said the ancient child.
"Even I have grown fond of them," said Pam. "And I don't give humans a thought usually."
"Bill, will you call that Dr for me?" asked Jessica.
"Of course Jessica," said Bill. "As soon as possible."
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 13, 2009, 06:09:09 PM
________________________________________
The Kiss
This is for me...I need a date with my favorite Vampire, but please, insert yourself and your favorite Vampire here.
Have you ever wanted to be kissed by a beautiful stranger? Perhaps you are walking on rain swept sidewalk one night and they are walking toward you and your eyes lock and they slide their arm around your waist and stop you and lean in and you first feel the pressure of their mouth on yours and then your heads turn ever so so slightly and you open your mouth for the full effect and you feel their tongue playing clever little games with yours? Would you push them away a little? Startled at first then excited?
Everything that you are would be consumed in enjoying this kiss. What would you do if they held you just a little closer? Pulling you against them and you feel everything about them, the structures of their bodies through their clothes, their hand against your back, or lower, pressing you closer, the gentle sway of your body against theirs. Your legs slide against theirs and they press you just a little closer with one hand and their other begins to move over you, searching the map of your body, learning the curves and rises of your form.
They break their kiss and nuzzle your neck, their lips pursing against your skin and maybe, you feel the slight upwards tilt of their smile because they can feel the way your pulse is pounding against their lips. They like it, it is intense and they like it they are doing this to you, making you feel this and they don't stop you as you begin your own exploration of their shoulders, back, chest, wherever your hand wanders and they perhaps guide your hands to more interesting places to explore. Curves and muscles and peaks and valleys that is their terra firma.
Are you surprised that though you are on a city street you are being very intimate with this stranger who found you alluring enough to break with taboo and pull you into their embrace and kiss you, like they have resumed doing. Don't close your eyes, take in every second. Breathe and experience their scent, clean and different, a little wild, other worldly. Taste love and sex and desire and danger incarnate on their mouth. No one is watching you as you consume and are being consumed by this being, this creature, who has enchanted you who is seducing you where you stand.
You know you are playing with fire. But it is a dangerous lovely fire that only comes once in a lifetime if ever at all. Don't ask yourself who this being is or what will happen next because it is too late. Whatever you were going to do, whatever your destination had been is unimportant as you feel the stranger's lips on yours their tongue in your mouth, their hands on your body and their body in your hands. Because it will all be over in a second.
Let the moment take you and spin you and intoxicate you as they put their hands up to your face and begin to end the encounter. You want desperately to hold them to you but it is futile. It was never meant to last more than a moment. Don't speak and break the moment that they look into your eyes and you theirs. They kiss you gently one more time and caress your face once more and seem to disappear.
But it will be a moment you will savor. And then smile.
Good Evening. ;D
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 15, 2009, 05:00:30 PM
________________________________________
The Clock on the Mantle
As relaxed as I was, I could not help but look at the clock on the mantle. It sits between two candle sconces with red glass shades and the candles have burned themselves very low. The fire is low too, but that is okay. I still feel warm though the man resting beside me is cool to the touch.
He is laying there beside me on the wide cushions of the sofa. I am lying on my side, my back against the couch, simply looking at him. His brilliant blue eyes are closed for now. I know he is awake though there is no movement behind his eyes. He seems to be just in repose, allowing me to take in his lovely features before I have to leave the house and he must retreat before the dawn.
I look at his face and sweep the hair away from his brow with my fingertips and look at his lovely heart shaped face. My fingers barely touch his face as I trace the tiny lines around his eyes, over the bridge of his nose, outlining that dangerous mouth, whether it be curled in a snarl or parted for a kiss. That is part of his allure. But only a small part.
My fingers continue their exploration over his chin and along his jaw, touching his long sideburns which might be thought of as old fashioned but I think they accentuate his pointed features. I continue to his neck, the band of tendons that create it's strong shape down to his breast bone. I fllip his shirt back a little with the tips of my fingers to lightly touch the soft pelt of hair on shadowing the paleness of his skin. If I were to put my fingers where his carotid artery should be, there would be no pulse and though this should really trouble me, it doesn't. It is a part of of this man's otherness and I accept it.
His hands lay at rest, one low on his chest, at the top of his belly, the other on my knee, my leg resting carefully across his hip. I can feel the fabric of his clothing against the skin of my bare leg, my skirt pulled up only a little and I can feel his cool palm on my knee. My leg is bent at the knee and the top of my foot is resting against his hip and upper thigh. His legs are stretched out and crossed at the ankle. He is bare foot and even they are graceful and lovely and pale.
My eyes move back up his body and I take time out to look closely at his hands, strong and artistic, made to play the piano in the room, which he did for me earlier in the evening, playing a piece from Mozart that made me cry and I think he liked it a little that I cried from the passion in the music and the passion of the pianist who played it. It was a somber piece, from a funeral Mass, but it reminded me just how brief my human life was and how long his history had been and would be.
Earlier that evening, he knew I was there for his comfort and his voice telling me that everything would be okay, that things would only get better and I was confused and scared and I had a question on my lips, a request that burned hotter than the fever that raged inside me, that he could feel through the fabric of my dress. I made my request but he refused, a confused, hurt and sort of helpless look on his face. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I would be glad to help you in any other way, but that I cannot do,"
There was a part of me that was angry and I cried, almost ashamed of being turned away. We had been sitting very close together when I made my request, he was stroking my hair and holding my hand and I had never seen such a sad look on any creature's face. And then I became angry. I shook my hand from his, and I pushed him away from me and stood up to go but before I even made it to the big double doors of his house, he met me.
"Don't go, come back and let me just, try to comfort you. What you ask will not solve your problem. Come, sit with me, and let me talk to you," he said, his voice reasonable. I nodded and he led me back to the sofa. There we sat and he spoke to me in his soft dark voice. I settled myself against him and I think I must have slept for a while because I woke, curled against him as I am now. He must have laid us both down.
I glanced at the clock. There were only a few hours left and he would have to retreat and I would have to go. I looked back at him. He shifted and moved to his side facing me, pulling my leg higher against his hip, his hand cupping my face.
"Is there nothing else, no other wish I can grant you?" he asked softly, looking at me with those lustrous cobalt blue eyes. He leaned forward just a little. "Tell me..."
_______________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 17, 2009, 12:55:51 AM
________________________________________
With or Without You
"Sleight of hand and twist of fate..." With or Without You- U2
"A Vampire or a Victim, It depends on who's around," Stay U2
"You're not the only one/ Staring at the Sun" Staring at the Sun U2
"Because I could not stop for death / He kindly stopped for me" Emily Dickinson
"Father, brother, son," Godric
I was singing a hymn on my way to the bar. "I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses," I sang the song that came unbidden to my mind as I watched the sun go down over the horizon. I am not a singer and this evening, I heard my voice tremble and crack.
Eric Lover was asleep in the back, and Violet was in the passenger side of the car. She handed me a tissue, from her endless supply of tissues, and I wiped my eyes and put my hand between my legs to fish a cigarette out of the pack nestled there with the lighter. Eric Lover draped her hand over my shoulder and I put the crumpled pack in her hand with the lighter. God Speed, who had driven the earlier part of the trip was in the back with Eric Lover. I thought he was asleep but he just sat there, quiet, looking at the darkening scenery as we bulleted through the deep south.
"Aren't you tired Aslinn, want me to drive?" asked Vi. I shook my head.
"I could drive all night," I said, tears till on my cheeks. I inhaled on the cigarette and blew out a plume of smoke that was caught instantly by the suction from the driver's side window. I looked in the rear view mirror and I could see five other cars with members of the True Blood Anonymous group following us. When I left, my dad asked me where I was going. "To see a man..." I began but I simply turned around and got in the car and took off.
I had called my counselor and he tried to tell me that the Lead Counselor would not want to see us right now, that we should email him and send him our regards but for the first time ever I disagreed with the low soft southern voice. See, we knew them as well as they knew us, we knew them better than they knew each other.
We would not last till Wednesday for the regular meeting, we would not be able to tell him what was in our hearts. Losing the visiting counselor was a blow to us, we didn't know how to feel about it and we had to get to the man who would know. Finally we came to our journey's end.
The bar was dark. It would not open tonight out of deference to not only the man who was gone but the man remaining. I got out of the car in time to see my counselor come out of the shadows.
"Are you disappointed we could not take your advice?" I asked the shadow.
"No, but I do not understand," he said in his soft voice.
"It's not to understand, it is to do, it's what our kind does," I said. "We grieve."
I turned and followed the others the others into the bar, the door held open by a short thin blond woman, dressed in black and brassy looking with a hard edge about her. But even this simple creature felt the pain in the man in the bar.
We sat down at the bar and at the tables and the woman who opened the door for us came around the bar.
"Offer them something to drink Ginger and when they are served, leave us," said the voice in the corner. It was a sad, unusually tired voice. The woman asked to the bar in general what we would like to drink. To make it simple we all had a beer. She began setting up bottles and God Speed and Liberator and anewaphorist went up and got the bottles and passed them around to us.
"Ginger, Aslinn is shivering, get her my jacket out of the office," said the voice. "You should not be here."
"Do not presume, with all respect, to tell any of us who should be here and who should not be here, not after what we have witnessed," I said to the man in the shadows. When Ginger reappeared, I did take the jacket from her hands and slide it around my shoulders. But I felt other hands, settling it over me and reached up and squeezed the cool hand of my counselor, who squeezed my shoulder and sat behind us, several feet away, in the shadows.
Several of us noticed the female counselor settle herself at a booth in the corner.
"So, why are you here?" asked the voice of the lead counselor.
"You said "Trust Me" so now, I guess we want you to trust us," said Liz."You need us."
"Need...I don't understand..." he said hesitantly.
"Enough of that," said Eric Lover. "That whole 'Don't use words you don't understand/don't use words I don't understand' crap. You know what Liz is saying to you. We are grieving too,"
"Why are you grieving?" he asked.
"Come on, we may be junkies, but we understand devotion, love, inspiration," said God Speed. "We understand loss."
"We did not know the visiting counselor for long, but he brought something wonderful to the group," said Roygbiv. "He was magikal, a pure spirit, and now we will miss his goodness and his compassion."
"He wanted peace for himself and his kind," said anewaphorist. "He wanted to sacrifice himself for the sins of his kind."
"Christ," muttered the man in the shadows.
"Perhaps, just like that," said Vi. "But more like a protest."
"Protest?" repeated the lead counselor.
"The monks in Vietnam," I said. "Buddhist monks sacrificed themsleves to try to end the war by an act of self immolation."
"But," said God Speed. "I think he did it to prevent a war."
The shadow on it's throne did not say anything. We sat quietly, expectantly, and still he said nothing. His hands sat motionless, the only bit of him that we could see. I reached out to Violet who gave me several tissues. I got up and walked toward the shadow. I stopped in front of him and extended the tissues to him. He took them and then took my hand. He pulled into the shadow that was himself and I felt his cool lips on the back of my hot hand.
"Thank you," he whispered. "Is there nothing I can do for you in return for your kindness and understanding?"
"Nothing, I am earning a star for my crown," I said.
"Is this a ritual among your kind?" he asked.
"Yes, it is called sitting up with the dead," I said.
"How appropriate," he whispered.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 17, 2009, 05:57:25 PM
________________________________________
I Come to the Garden Alone
Cold hearted orb that rules the night,
Removes the colours from our sight.
Red is grey and yellow white,
But we decide which is right.
And which is an illusion- Late Lament-Moody Blues
The lovely suburban house in Northern Louisiana was the home of the most powerful man in the state, though no one outside his exclusive circle knew that fact. The man in question, Eric Northman, stood in his moon garden, looking at the dark flowers which would seem so brightly colored in the sun were black to him. He looked at her, barley visible in the sky, just a small silver curve.
They stayed til nearly dawn. These people, these humans, why? Why did they care? And why did he think of them now. They seemed to know exactly what he needed. There were no cliched platitudes, they simply sat there and chatted and even laughed softly and drank beer, switching to coffee as it came time for them to leave. He refused their money but they all put together the equal of their bar tab and gave it to him to give to that feckless Ginger. He had it in his pocket. It would be the biggest tip that little fangbanger had every been given. But even she was good, in her own way, not hovering, not whining or rolling her eyes. Even she had a simple sort of dignity about her. But one at a time, they each made their way to him and shared something they felt from his maker, something only he though was aware of. They were cautious and generous and thoughtful.
Perhaps that is what Godric had been trying to explain to him. He was so willing to fawn over him and be servile to him, the dutiful child to his father, but he did not see what these people saw in the one person Eric loved above himself. Not until they all arrived at the bar.
Bill had called and said that Aslinn was coming and the rest of the group. He told Eric he tried to dissuade them, but Aslinn is feisty, rowdy, and has a mixture of both respect and a funny sort of disrespect towards him. Eric Lover had emailed him and told him she was on her way to pick Aslinn and some of the others up and that she would take no refusal. Of course he and she had a little chat in his office before she left. So lovely.
But now he was alone. He thought about the ancient child who had been everything, just as he said he would be: Father, brother, son. Eric tried to hold himself together but he began to cry again. He hated his weakness and was glad to know that the only things that would see him was the little sliver moon winking down at him. He turned his face to it's dim light that turned his night black tears to silver.
Wiping his bloody tears away with the back of his hand, he resolved in his heart that this would be the last time he cried for his Maker. They had a few more adventures to enjoy in the next weeks and he was anticipating them.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 19, 2009, 06:47:35 PM
________________________________________
God Speed was down with a nasty (http://www.pic4ever.com/images/2mpe5id.gif)so I brought the coffee tonight with more than ample helpings of Irish Nevermind. Eric Lover brought in a huge tray of peanut butter and chocolate fudge cut into big rich slabs that would make a grown man cry. Liberator whizzed by and grabbed a piece and had it devoured most of the way by the time Eric Lover heard a muffled thank you between gooey rich bites of decadence.
Westexan came over and got her cup and I poured her a helping of caffeinated wallop. I didn't dare look at the mirror today. I knew it wouldn't make a difference to the others. We were all shell shocked by the entire episode and by the grief and by the wake we had with the counselors that next evening. But now it was time to discuss everything we'd seen and prepare for what was to come.
Minnie came into the meeting hall with Mikeylikesit. He came over and got his cup of coffee and grabbed one of the generous portions of fudge and took a bite. "Taste good?" asked Eric Lover.
"Of course it does, that's why they call me Mikey," he said with a big grin. I poured a cup for Vamp Lover and then poured my self one and sat down in the chair beside the one with Eric Lover's big bag of crazy sitting in the seat. Westexan sat on the other side of me and Roygbiv sat by her. Vi took the seat on the other side of Eric Lover's chair and as was part of her ritual, began offering around her tissue box. I took several, as we all did.
True Blood Fan and Karalee and anewaphorist sat down together, anewaphorist sitting beside Liberator. I supped my coffee and watched as Liz and Mel sat down in their usual places. I waved at them and they waved back. Our humble den mothers, keeping our virtual opium den running smoothly.
Isabella was here for the first time, and she nervously sat down by Roygbiv.
Our group was growing by leaps and bounds.
Finally we all settled in and we waited for the signal to begin the group. That signal was the lights around the walls of the large anonymous room going out, leaving the central panel lit. Without a sound the four counselors slid into their accustomed places, the absence of the fifth counselor felt by all there.
"Before we begin with group," said the lead counselor, "I would like thank those of you for coming to sit with me Monday evening. Among our kind, we do not have ceremonies to remember those who have journeyed from this existence. Your presence was a real honor to his memory and we, the other counselors and I, were moved."
"It was our honor," said Liz.
"Shall we begin the group," said the low southern voice. "Besides our loss, what are your impressions of the activities of Sunday night?"
"Well, there is a lot of speculation," said Westexan. "About the blood Sookie swallowed."
"I concur," said the southern voice, a bit tersely.
"I mean, we all know it was bound to happen, right?" said Westexan. "But I think the thing we are uncomfortable with is the way we saw it happen. It was very calculating."
"Yes, it was," said the southern voice. We could see the shadow profile of the seated counselor looking up at the lead counselor, leaned against the door. The lead counselor did not acknowledge the gaze. "Go on."
"But that isn't the only thing I wonder about," said Vi. "If it is the way Bill explained to her, that she would have sexual feelings for Eric, as a consequence of the blood, couldn't that be true as well for her feelings for Bill?"
"Yes indeed," said the lead counselor. "What conclusions were you able to draw?"
"Well," began anewaphorist. "Sookie liked Bill the moment she saw him, and then when she discovered she couldn't read his thoughts, it made him even more attractive to her, the blood just cinched things."
"And remember," said Liberator, " She drank tons of Long Shadow's blood and she didn't have dreams of Long Shadow. I think there might be something to the intent and desire of both the Vampire sharing the blood and the receiver of the blood."
"So that would mean that Sookie may have thought that Eric was attractive," said Eric Lover.
"Of course, what's not to like, good looking, sexy, dangerous," said Mikeylikesit. "But bad for you, sort of like this damned tasty fudge."
"And vice versa, Eric is sexually attracted to Sookie," said Roygbiv. "But you'd have to be dead from the waist down not to appreciate Eric. I love Bill, but I wouldn't necessarily kick the old boy out of the sack."
"Old boy?" asked Eric Lover.
"Well, he is 1000 years old," Roygbiv answered. The lead counselor laughed out loud, a strange sound coming from the tall shadow that always seemed so serious in group.
"What else seems to be on your minds?" asked the southern voice.
"Well and then there is the situation with Nan Flanagan and everything that happened after that," said Karalee. "I mean, how much power does she wield? Could she have sent them all before the Magister? Could she take Eric's area from him?"
"She's a bureaucrat, but I think she could be dangerous. She is the public face of the Vampires in America. She could be lots of trouble," said a male voice. It was God Speed. He'd made it after all. He must have killed his(http://www.pic4ever.com/images/2mpe5id.gif). "But I think she could be dangerous in the future, I'd keep an eye out on her if I were Eric."
"I'll take that under advisement," said the lead counselor.
"Then there is that pesky business with Maryann and Bon Temps," said True Blood Fan. "Sookie and Jason and Bill are going to have trouble on their hands with this one."
"And I cheered when Lafayette grabbed Tara and got her out of the house," said Minnie.
"Then there is the thing with Hoyt and his momma. His momma is such an old bat. Saying you were raised that way is no excuse," said Mikelikesit.
"I agree, I bet there are a lot of us here who were raised that way that don;t believe that way," said Aslinn.
"And how do you believe dearest?" said the lead counselor.
"In this I see the face of God. I see my Maker in every face and I don't care what color, religion, or Kind they are. They are my people, and all are God's people." I said. "Just like Godric and others just like him wanted it to be." There were nodding heads and sounds of agreement.
"Good work everyone," said the female voice. "Aslinn, can you stay there for a moment, the lead counselor wishes to speak to you."
I went over and poured myself a final cup of coffee and packed the empty carafe in my canvas bag. I wrapped a couple of large bricks of fudge in a napkin to savor later. I sat back down and sipped my coffee. I knew he was there. He hadn't moved.
"Are you well Aslinn?" he asked.
"As well as I ever have been, thanks for asking," I said. "Can I do something for you?"
"No, but there may be something I can offer you," said the low deep voice.
"Sorry, that wouldn't be right," I said.
"You have a very special sort of temperament," he observed.
"Actually, no, I don't," I said. I stood up and grabbed my bag and my purse. "I like lying in the sun, too." I turned toward the door. "Good Evening."
"Good evening," he repeated.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 23, 2009, 08:48:00 AM
________________________________________
A little nothing for True Blood Fan
The Night Rose
Passion and desire is like a rain wet rose, fresh and smelling of the sweetness of night and blooming in the secrets of the dark. Each petal moves away to reveal something more elegant and beautiful. The subtle velvet softness and shy discovery of each desire was as wonderful as the moment when everything stopped for the blooming of this particular, perfect flower.
She'd been gone only for a little while as he moved around his house, preparing to go to his rest with the first whispers of dawn. Before she'd arrived, he'd walked the weedy perimeter of his garden and despaired that he could not see the trees and grass and flowers as they were meant to be seen. He could not remember if the now huge rose bushes were ones he's planted so very long ago or if they were planted later. He touched one with the tips of his fingers, his wonderfully articulated hand caressing the bud as he would the face of a lover.
He carefully picked one. He was a romantic at heart and felt a touch out of step because men of his time were taught to be gallant and gentle. And though he'd had savage experiences during this, his other existence, he'd rediscovered and recovered some of his gentleness. Would she think him too old fashioned? He decided to take the chance.
He came around the house in time to see her getting out of the car. He walked up to her normally in his deliberate gait and leaned forward to kiss her cheek.
"Hello sweetheart, so glad you could come see me at last," he said, giving her his closed lipped smile, so shy and sweet she smiled back at him. "I was just walking in my garden and I thought you might like one of my roses. It made me think of you." She shyly took the rose and held it up to her nose, breathing the lovely smell. He took her hand and led her up the steps to the wide and gracious porch of the old plantation. He opened the door and handed her over the threshold.
What would happen tonight? He did not know. He liked the mystery of each visit he had with one of his ladies.Sometimes it was just for a chat, some reassurance, something like a peek again into ordinary life. He would offer them a glass of wine or something stronger if they desired. He would sit sit and talk with them. They always wanted to know about his life and they always asked about things they'd read or seen. That was another lovely thing about this experience, they knew about him and his life to an extent, there was no need to cloak any of the details.
They also liked to wander around his house, as she was doing now. She asked about the portraits on the wall and he told her who they were as far as he knew: his father and mother, his sister Sarah. He wished he'd had Adele over to see them, she may have been able to identify them. Perhaps he would give Sterling a call and he could come and look at the portraits.
And as it always happened, there was that moment at the crossroads, where decisions were being made about the course of the evening. And that was where they were at that moment. He put his hand on her face and touched her skin, so smooth and sweet, like the the rose he picked for her. He stepped a little closer to her and she looked into his lovely heart shaped face and and into his wonderful blue eyes.
Some flowers bloom so beautifully, like a night rose in his overgrown garden.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 24, 2009, 09:41:28 PM
________________________________________
The True Blood Anonymous group were meeting on Tuesday this week to discuss the events of Sunday. Roygbiv and Raki brought the coffee and scones and Westexan brought the pecan cobbler. Everyone had a strange, hard edged look on their face like they’d received some holy inspiration or glimpsed the shadows of hell. Trouble had come to Bon Temps and we were all surprised and excited.
I went to the circle of folding chairs and dumped my purse down on the seat by the seat containing Eric Lover’s purse. Westexan had come in with Liz and Mel and Godspeed, having shed himself of his bug and looking worried and excited about the things he’d seen his little red headed girl had done. The world was turned upside down and we were afraid of what might happen next. Isabella and Nia and were squeezing excitedly about their favorite topic, the Vampire, Bill Compton and Roygbiv and Raki were discussing the maenad and her plans for the town.
Godspeed came over to me as I stood in line for a coffee and scone. Eric Lover hustled in with Liberator and Hope and True Blood Fan and VCat. They came over to me and Godspeed leaned in.
“What do you think they will say about the things we have seen?” he asked.
“Who? The Counselors? I don’t know,” I said. “ I have never heard them say anything about the things we see or talk about. Except for the visiting counselor, they never offer any insight to what we see, or our speculations, they just encourage us to talk about it.”
“I think we need to get some answers about this. What is going to happen to them? And what did Sookie do to Maryann?” said Eric Lover.
“I don’t know, but what if it has something to do with Eric’s blood in Sookie?” I said. “What if Eric’s thousand year old blood magnified her powers?”
“That seems credible,” said Godspeed. “And what about Jessica? Is this going to change his affection for her?”
“That thing with his mom?” said True Blood Fan. “Maybe he will understand. He seems to love her and he seems to understand about Vampires, maybe he will work it out.”
Finally we got our coffee and snack and began to spread out to sit in the circle. There was a lot of chattering that barely died out even when the lights dimmed except for the center lights. Violet and Minnie got in at the last moment, followed silently by the female counselor and her protégé .
“How are you feeling tonight?” asked the tall counselor from his accoustomed place leaned against the door. There was a chorus to rival the voices of Legion in the possessed man. The noise went on for some minutes when the lead counselor raised his voice a fraction and we finally calmed down with his commanding “That is enough.”
We were silent and finally, Minnie, the quietest of the group began to speak.
“Bon Temps is in deep shiatsu. Tara was in custody of Lafayette and Lettie Mae and Bill and Sookie had to work together to get inside her head and help her break Maryann’s influence,” she said. “And is Sam going to come out of the dog house?”
“And how are they going to defeat the maenad? What can Queen Sophie Anne know?” asked Isabella. “How can Tara still want to go after Eggs?”
“How do you counselors feel about all this?” asked Godspeed.
“We are interested in what you have to say. What speculations are you coming up with?” said the counselor with the soft southern accent.
“Well, we have a lot of things going on,” said Violet. “We have the dream with Sookie and Eric, confirming the link between them effecting her.”
“We have this new streak of confidence and even….thoughts….coming from Jason, he was wicked clever to use the power of Maryann’s glamour or whatever it is to get Sam out of his predicament,” said Isabella.
“And,” said a stranger to the group, “We have Bill going to the Queen of Louisiana.”
“And who are you, dearest?” said the lead counselor.
“I’m Northwoman,” she said. “Is this okay?”
“Perfectly,” said the lead counselor.
“Well, what can the Queen possibly tell Bill? And why did he stop dead in his tracks?” she asked.
“Perhaps he saw something he hadn’t expected,” said the soft southern voice.
“I loved what Lafayette said to Lettie Mae,” said Roygbiv.
“And what did Lafayette say that intrigued you?” asked the southern voice.
“Just because me and Jesus agreed to see other people, doesn’t mean we don’t talk,” she quoted.
“And of course Bill now knows that Lafayette is doing something for Eric, which is sort of a deal breaker with Sookie. Eric was supposed to leave Lafayette alone, “ said God Speed.
“Free him, but not necessarily leave him alone,” corrected Eric Lover.
“It still suggests to Bill that there are things going on behind the scenes where Eric is concerned, and since Sookie did go out of her way and put herself under obligation to Eric, anything to do with her friend Lafayette is suspect,” said God Speed.
“I concur,” said the southern accent.
“I still want to know if Eric’s blood is the thing that amped her powers and caused her to be able to repel Maryann,” I said.
“That is curious,” said the lead counselor. “Tell us more?”
“Well, his blood is so old and powerful, and she drank from the source, so it was fresh. She took Bill’s blood, that is true, but Bill is a baby compared to Eric in the Vampire world. Everyone on the forum was speculating about her connection with Bill and I do agree with them to a degree, but I think that because Eric’s blood is doubly so, triply so, we see an intensification of her powers and her reactions to Eric,” I said. “This will lead into a very unusual partnership between the supernaturals in Bon Temps, known and unknown and Eric. They won’t have time for petty rivalriess over territory, lovers or anything else. Getting rid of Maryann will be the only thing that will save all them.”
“Yes, indeed,” said the lead counselor.
“Tell me, how will you cope with your forum being off line?” said the female counselor, changing the subject.
“I will watch the last few episodes again and study them for clues,” said God Speed. I nodded in agreement with him.
“And my computer crashed and I have to retrieve all my lovely jpegs and work on a few things on my computer, so I will be busy. Plus I am doing some research about that little bother in Bon Temps. There has to be way to banish her and keep her from ever coming back or kill her, something in esoteric writings, a magical tome I have among the hundreds I own,” I said.
“If you find anything, will you email them to me, sweetheart?” asked the southern voice.
“And me as well,” said the lead counselor.
“Of course. I have all the things I have written for the forum in the mythology thread as well, perhaps there is something I have missed. You know…I keep thinking about that statue, the bird woman/mother goddess statue…” I looked at Roygbiv who looked at me.
“Call us as well, if you discover something my dear,” said the lead counselor.
I walked out into the night. It had been raining, but it stopped. Roygbiv and Violet sidled up to me. Eric Lover lit a cigarette and looked at the both of us. God Speed and Westexan stood still.
“C’mon, “I said. “Let’s go back to my house and let me show you my very eccentric library. Here is a meeting I don’t think the counselors will object to.”
The Viking Vampire stood and watched our little meeting on the wet sidewalk. Bill came and stood beside him.
“Make sure Aslinn contacts you the moment she finds anything,” said Eric.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 25, 2009, 04:28:04 PM
________________________________________
The Quest
We arrived at my house around 10:00pm. I let my guests inside. Westexan, Roygbiv, Eric Lover, Violet and God Speed followed me into my unassuming grey blue Cape Cod house in a blue collar neighborhood in WV. I went into the kitchen and brewed some coffee and put out a couple of large trays to carry cookies and sugar and crème and some Irish Nevermind. I then led them up to the inner sanctuary, my library that would get me burned at the stake by the Inquisition if that insidious organization dared rear it's ugly head once again. I had no time for the nickel tour.
My inner sanctorum was the attic. Lining the vertical walls were heavy, pine shelves my father built me and the room dividers had custom built shelves that followed the angles of the slanted ceiling of my little attic loft. Every shelf was crammed with books, some new and shiny with bright print, others were very old and held together with colored duct tape and a spell to keep the pages contained within the covers. Books that did not fit were stacked in miniature towers of Babel. Small trinkets, objects d’art and other pieces were placed on every known surface. All that was absent was Merlin, hunkered over a cauldron or a crystal ball, seeing into the future.
Dominating the floor was a pair of twin beds resting on their box foundations, covered in heavy paisley duck canvas. Between them sat a large steamer trunk covered in a brightly colored shawl I picked up in Rome. Scattered on the floor and around the twin beds were old ratty and much squashed pillows. I reached into a cabinet my father made me and I gave Eric Lover her own ashtray. I went to the cubby in the corner of the room and emptied my ashtray while I turned on the one eyed god sitting on my computer desk. God Speed sat the heavy tray down and I set the smaller tray with the cups and saucers beside it.
“I have a feeling that everything we need is here, plus the all knowing eye there,” I said, pointing to my laptop as it blinked at me, warming up. "Look up anything to do with symbols, the heart, statues, female images, the “god” and “goddess”,” I said. “God Speed, you take the captain’s chair and you do the internet search.”
I went to my shelves. I had read every book among the thousands in my library. It wasn’t the Dewey dunce cap system like one would find in the public library but I knew where I could find books on demonology, Vampires, Werewolves, homunculus and berserkers. Faeries and gnomes and angels lived like chums in single bed flat. I knew where my serial killers and assorted criminals lived. Jack the Ripper, Charles Manson, the Bean Family of Scotland; they were all there, snuggled up together like rats in a nest.
Then there was witchcraft and witches and witch hunters had unhappy truces in my shelves. World religions and their scriptures found a land without sectarian violence in the walls of my library. I pulled out several books from each shelf creating a pile of books on the floor around the pallets and we all went to work, sifting through pages of lore, legend and practice.
“Aslinn, I found something,” said God Speed. I got up from the chair and stretched as I walked into the cubby to see what God Speed was looking at.
The heart is a symbol of romantic love from the middle ages but it was also
symbolic of the soul and the very seat of the intellect. In Egypt, the Egyptians
considered the heart the organ of life and knowledge and the brain as merely
dead tissue. The heart was given it's own canoptic jar for burial while the brain
was simply thrown away. The jar containing the heart also contained the soul.
“That jives with something I found,” said Violet. “In this book called The Witch Book by Raymond Buckland. It says that the poppet could be made of clay, a sort of image of a human used in witchcraft. It was not uncommon for people to hide their souls in these images. They would add things like spells and charms, herbs, special stones, hair, even urine and blood and they would pray over it and seal the poppet and keep it safe. Sometimes a woman would go to a witch at the birth of each child to have one of these images made and it would be cared for forever and eventually buried with them when they died. Archeologists have been digging up these little dollies for years, thinking they were toys, but they were actually the souls of these people.”
“So do you think this is what Maryann is doing, her soul is protected by that statue?” asked Roygbiv.
“I am not sure. We keep seeing it and she told Sam she would be very unhappy if anything were to happen to it. She even has it set up in prominent place in Sookie’s house,” I said. “Even if we are way off base, it would make some sense.”
“And don’t forget that tree outside the house. It looks something like a wickerman, but also looks like a crucifixion tree, a sacrificial altar of sorts,” said Roygbiv.
“Well, too, it makes sense that Bill is visiting the Queen of Louisiana. He is in the heart of Vou Dou country,” said Westexan. “Do they have a tradition, I mean beyond Vou Dou dolls?”
“Well, I wrote in my Mythology thread about Vou Dou, that the Vou Dou Doll was actually a part of European magikal practice. But they use it a little differently. Wade Davis explained that the way the bokur or priest protected his own soul was to put it in a jar filled with his essence: urine, nail clippings, hair, even semen and bury it during the dark of the moon. Now all magik is derivative, the bokur may think he is doing something known only to his Craft, but he is doing something far more ancient,” I lit a cigarette. “We may have this totally wrong…it is hard to say what will happen in this world as manipulated by the Source.”
“Do you want to call the counselors?” asked Eric Lover.
“Yes, you call our Lead Counselor and I will call my counselor and tell them what we think we might know,” I said, hitting the number on speed dial on my little cell phone.
Sources: Signs and Symbols by Mark O’Connell and Raje Airey, The Witch Book by Raymond Buckland, and Serpent and the Rainbow by Wade Davis.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 26, 2009, 04:25:07 PM
________________________________________
Mrs. GodSpeed’s little date with a Vampire....And Godspeed, stay away from that delete post button..
They were dancing, the beautiful blonde Viking and the equally lovely red head in his arms. The world around them melted away and all she could see were his blazing blue eyes. They might seem cool to anyone else but to Jen, they were hot like boiling water. All she could do was concentrate on the way he was looking at her and his arms around her, holding her against him. Even the music was a far away din.
The 6 ½ foot tall Sheriff of Area Five was just as captivated by Jen. He loved her hair, like a sheave of fire falling around her shoulders. He could feel her heat against him, even through his clothes and onto his cool skin. He leaned a little closer and his nostrils flared, smelling of her skin and her light perfume. What was it? L’Air du Temps? Something a little tangier? He closed his eyes for just a second to experience it a little more sharply.
He could, in addition to her body heat, feel her body’s inner movements. Her heart beat against his silent chest, her pulse against his neck where her wrist lay in the curve of his shoulder and neck. Her fingers twined themselves gently in the blond fringes of his hair.
For the first time in his very long history, he wondered what that lovely red hair might look like spread out on one of the pillows of his bed and the low lamp light catching the tiny stray golden strands of hair in the lush redness. His hand slid upwards, till his huge palm lay between her shoulder blades. He pressed her closer and put his face in her neck. He loved to do that. They always gasped a little at it and it made their pulse race just a little. He pressed her a little harder, constricting her breathing just a little to make her sigh so he could feel the little puff of warm air against the base of his throat.
See, intimate touching was just a part of what he enjoyed about human contact. It was the little things that perhaps only those of his kind enjoyed. The sound of the heart beat, the feel of warm breath (And by the gods of Valhalla Jen was warm), the sound of their blood rushing through their veins, their smells. Most of their kind did not realize that his kind loved smells most of all. Soaps, perfumes, lotions, shampoos, even the warmer scents of their bodies, the intimate smells. Perhaps they are thought of as odors to their kind but to him and others like him, they are a world of ideas and notions and passions. They could taste the smells, as he had seen their kind tasting some sweet treat, like the time he gave one of his lovely ladies a small box of chocolates and though he could not actually taste the confection himself, he was dizzied by the smell of it on their breaths and lips.
Now, he could smell the scent of the bourbon and coke on Jen’s lips. The hot spicy bite of the whiskey and the caress of the soda made her a very tantalizing treat indeed. He raised his head to look at her and then, slowly, like a dream, he lowered his head and his lips…..
Good night Jen, sweet dreams….
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 27, 2009, 06:11:24 PM
________________________________________
Human?
I am not human but I look like you. My heart does not beat but it can break. You cry your saline tears but when I cry, my tears are carmine with the stuff of life itself. I can feel love, but I may have to dig deep to find it. I am immortal, but I can end, by my own hand or another. I can feel profound pain and anguish. I can have desires as well.
I walk the corridors of time and watch the world change around me. I watch your savageries but I too am savage. Stories have been told of my kind, of our lusts and powers and frailties. But I reflect everything you ever were afraid of, and everything you ever desired. I have seen kingdoms rise and fall but I am always the same, day after day, year after year, century after century. Do you want to see history make itself right in front of you?
You hunger for meat and drink and so do I. You have desires of the flesh and I am desire in the flesh. You look for angels and demons in your dreams and here I am, standing here before you. Both and neither. What are you waiting for? An invitation? Walk into the lion's den that is my world. Will you consume or be consumed? My skin is pale, but my soul is dark, dark as the night that I walk and I am pulling you into that forever night.
Don't struggle. There is no turning back. All of your bravery and confidence is nothing in the face of what you have found in me. I am cool to the touch but I have the fire of my kind, a cold flame, and I want you to burn for me. You dream in colors of green and gold and blue but my world is black and silver and blood, blood red.
Do you want to dance with the devil? I am no Satan but I am wicked. I know nothing of god or the devil. That was a quarrel I have never had a part in. But I know who you are. I know what you want. The lover who will never die, the dark gift of my deeper kiss. Would you walk with me as my companion, my lover, my mate? Will you leave all you know and love to be one of my kind, other, hated and feared by "good" people?
You will see the world with new eyes and your veins will be filled with my blood and you will feel me moving around in your body, even when we are apart and I will always be a part of you and I will always hear your voice in my head. All you have to do is surrender, everything, and I will be everything to you from now on and this life will replace the life you have always known. I will always give you a choice, there will be no mephistophelian deals between us, but our bargain will be a bloody one.
The moon will be your sun and the nighttime world your playground. No more noonday devils for you to fear because you will become the thing that prowls the night. We will hunt and play and be the masters of the witching hour. Would you like to learn to fly? Run faster than the human eye can follow? Control the mind of another?
So make up your mind, decide now. Be all that I am, and be with me forever or stand up now and walk away. This is your last chance. If I take you in my arms I will not let you go.
Tell me what you want...say it.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on August 29, 2009, 07:53:23 PM
________________________________________
Search and Discovery
The lead counselor sat at his desk, reading the off prints, bits form the internet and our combined thoughts regarding the bit of bother in Bon Temps. His eyebrows were knitted together and his mouth, usually in a straight line or an easy lopsided grin was drawn down, troubled. The other counselor, a dark study himself, was sitting in the chair in front of his desk. He could hear the heavy thumping of the music from the bar coming through the walls.
"And this is what they think? Our friends from the group?" asked the Viking after a long silence.
"Yes," he said.
"Interesting...I wonder about this a lot, what do you think we should do about our trouble in your neighborhood?" asked the lead counselor.
"I will be speaking to the queen, and she will give us some information, I am sure. Aslinn is almost as knowledgeable in these matters as she," said the southern voice.
"I have been thinking about our Aslinn. She has a certain temperament," said the handsome blond.
"No," said the equally attractive dark haired man. "She is who she is. It may ruin her to be otherwise."
"You may be right. Sometimes they don't translate well. Still, I think we should keep all this in mind. Where are our friends now?" he asked.
"They are at Aslinn's home," said the counselor.
"Why don't we go and speak to them and see what else they may have found," said the Viking, standing up and pulling on his leather jacket. He smelled it for moment. "She wears musk, I can smell it faintly in my jacket."
"I know precisely what she wears," said the southern voice.
"Oh, I am sure you do," said the lead counselor.
I was sitting in my rocking chair, reading a book roughly the size of a cinder block. God Speed was still on the computer, looking at the forum. Eric Lover was sitting on one of the mattresses that doubles as a couch in my library, reading a note book with bits and pieces I had collected over the years from library books and internet sites and other publications, stroking my bad tempered cat, Ishee, absently. Roygbiv was sitting on a cushion, watching a few of the episodes, a little pad of paper on her knee. We had watched the scenes several times as well. I looked up and watched her scribbling away, wondering what else her sharp eyes might be catching. Westexan was making another pot of coffee and Vi had warmed some tarts in the oven and was bringing them up for a snack.
I heard the door bell and got up to answer it. The lead counselor was standing on the top of the steps that led to my door. He looked casual, his hands behind his back. I stepped aside and motioned for him to enter. My counselor followed suit and leaned over for a light peck on my cheek. I kept my eyes downward, as I knew I should, as if it was something I was told to do in a dream.
"Did you get our information and our speculations?" I asked him.
"We did, dearest, and we wish to speak to you about them," said the lead counselor.
"Where are others, sweetheart?" asked my counselor's soft southern voice.
"They are upstairs, in my library," I said. "Won't you come up?" I led the way, taking them up the narrow steps to my little attic sanctuary.
Everyone in the room looked toward us as we entered, though I noticed their eyes were down cast as well. God Speed stood up and walked into the main part of the room. One of the things I observe about the counselors, is that they love to look around in new environments, and me, being a real clutter bug and collector of the odd and unique, provided them with a feast for the eyes.
The lead counselor allowed his eyes to roam my covered slanted walls, putting his fingers on things I had tacked up there: old star charts, printed copies of old tarot cards, little pictures of faeries and gnomes, the print I had of Dracula and Mina. An ornate celtic knot picture I colored over a long winter with markers, other debris that became a part of my special den. My counselor was looking at the old icons I had collected and arranged on one of the few straight up and down walls, creating a backdrop for my polished plaster statue of Our Lady of Grace, draped in two antique rosaries I bought in a flea market. A couple of the candles were burning.
"Were we of any help to you and your search for information?" I asked.
""We were pleased that you were able to find so much information," said the lead counselor. "Your counselor is on his way to see a lady who may have some further information that may be valuable to us."
"I would appreciate it if he could share his information with us so I can add it to my collection. This world we are intrigued with has introduced so many new ideas," I said. "Have you thought about visiting the source?"
"The source will not help us in this matter, nor would he help you, you know how he is about "spoilers"," said the southern voice of my counselor.
"I want to know something," said God Speed. "Are all of them in danger?"
"Yes, and perhaps, some in more danger than others," said the lead counselor.
"I don't like the way all this sounds," said God Speed.
"Oh, neither do we," the lead counselor assured him.
""Won't you sit down, make yourselves comfortable," I said, offering them the rocker and God Speed rolled my desk chair over, walking around to sit on one of the cushions. I sat beside Eric Lover and Westexan. My counselor took my desk chair and the lead counselor sat down in my rocker, picking up to heavy tome I had set in the seat. He looked at the spine: The Elemental Encyclopedia of 5000 Spells by Judika Illes.
"I must say Aslinn, you have very eccentric reading habits," said the lead counselor.
"That is what my mother says," I said.
"So," said the southern voice. "How would you handle this situation?"
"It will take everyone. Andy, Sam, Jason, Sookie, all of them. Even Tara and Lafayette and Lettie Mae," I said. "And all the supernaturals will have to be involved."
"Why?" asked the lead counselor.
"Look, if they don't stop her and there is a mess in Bon Temps, because the others don't know there is more in the world than Vampires, who the hell do you think they are going to blame?" I said. "Especially after what happened in Dallas. That was a blood bath, I agree with Nan Flanagan on that point, it was a PR nightmare. With the other supernaturals still in their respective closets, the only one they can blame for this sort of thing is human cultists and Vampires. If Maryann creates a scene with a lot of blood, guts and naked people, there will be more than enough people out there willing to point fingers at Vampires."
"I think it is time for the supernaturals, both those in the open and living in secret to come together and help each other, otherwise, none of them are safe," said Eric Lover. "This could be something incredible for the town and the people."
"Besides, it's good business," said God Speed.
"Explain," said the lead counselor.
"Well, it tells other supernaturals that Bon Temps is a good place to come, live and spend their money. Means money in everyone's till: Sam's, Eric's, the other businesses and the people who work for them," said God Speed.
"True," said the lead counselor. He stood up. "Aslinn, walk us out please, we must be away."
I walked them to the door and opened it, following them out on to the stone walkway. My counselor pecked my cheek again and walked on out to his car. The lead counselor stood there a moment longer.
"Aslinn, remember what I told you not so long ago?" he said.
"You have told me many things," I said. He leaned close to me.
"Trust me," he said, softly.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on September 02, 2009, 12:09:48 AM
________________________________________
Belly Up to the Bar
I drove the busy road in a commercial area and found the place I was looking for. It wasn't too busy but I knew as the night wore on it would become more authentic. It was an out of the way place and I would have been afraid to be here alone in any other place, but I wasn't, not in this place because I knew the man who's establishment lay before me.
I stopped long enough to look at myself in the mirror and I smoothed my blouse and got out, my money and ID in my pocket. I smoothed my skirt down and walked up to the entrance. I opened the door and the woman at the door waved me through with barely a glance, she knew me after all, even thought I was not precisely sure how I knew her. I was perhaps a little too conservatively dressed for this place, but I was here to meet my friends. God Speed and Eric Lover and Violet and Westexan were meeting me for a drink. I made my way past a couple of people who looked at me briefly and went back to their conversation. I perched on a bar stool and looked at the bartender. He was a thick set Asian man who wore his hair slicked back.
"Hello, what will you have?" he asked.
"A Guinness?" I asked. He nodded and grabbed a pint glass and held it tilted under the tap and slowly straightened it to make the head, the perfect creamy head that all drinkers of the Devil's Buttermilk enjoyed. He didn't even need to use the paddle to smooth it. He sat it in front of me on a bar napkin and I slid the money in front of him. He waved it away.
"Boss says that you and your friends drink for free here," he explained, smiling. Anyone else seeing his toothy grin would be discomfited but not me. I smiled back and put the price of the pint in his brandy snifter. My money may be no good to the Boss, but I think the bartender appreciated it.
I lifted the glass and said, "Your parish priest," by way of salute and I sipped the pint, giving myself a creamy mustache which I wiped off and lit a cigarette. Good thing about this sort of bar, they don't have rules about lighting up.
I watched the bartender pulling beers and mixing drinks, sometimes blinking and shaking my head at his amazing speed. I turned away and looked at the bar in general. The throne was empty but the office door was open. If I were to walk toward the back of the bar, I would be able to see the owner of the bar. But I kept my seat. I was not sure I wanted to see the boss.
I sat there reflexively smoking and drinking the pint. God Speed, Westexan and Violet and Eric Lover finally came and they walked over to me. They ordered their drinks and the bartender told them the same thing about their money and they dutifully put the price of their drinks in his tip glass. He smiled and nodded at them and went on to work. Suddenly he raised his head, as if hearing a voice over an intercom we could not hear and then came over to us.
"The Boss says that you are to sit in his booth tonight and to enjoy the bar," he said, pointing to the elevated wrap around booth that faced the bar. We picked up our drinks and went to the proverbial "booth in the back in the dark" and sat down. We could see everything that happened in the bar from this vantage spot. We settled.
"Do you think we should talk about a few things?" asked God Speed.
"The main thing, the things we talk about in group we should save for group. But I want to talk about the hiatus," I said, sipping back another drink. "We will have a very long hiatus ahead, with the Labor Day weekend."
"And the Great Migration. We won't even have the forum to pacify us," said Westexan. "And we had it rough when the forum was down with technical issues."
"What do you plan to do Aslinn?" asked Vi.
"I am going to resort to "B" and to this season, watching all the episodes, writing things to paste on the forum when it comes back up, trawling for pictures on the homepage," I said. "I have my mom doing "B" now." I felt a little guilty for that. But they say every junkie makes a new one.
"I have family coming in," said Westexan. "But you know, the same thing happened during the fourth of July, I was there, perfectly happy and . .nine o'clock came around and my palms started sweating, my pulse began to race and I began to sing The Song." She shook her head.
"The golden hour," I said reverently. "Where all hearts are open and no secrets are hidden."
"HBO is giving us a trubie-athon," said Eric Lover hopefully.
"Such subtle torture.. " said God Speed. "I know that we have promised to not talk about the episode, but can't we? Just a little?" I could see the junkie coming out in my friend.
"We better not," I said. About that time the skinny blond waitress came up to the booth. I searched my memory for her name. "Ginger, right?"
"The Boss wants you to come to his office, he wishes a word with you," said the nervous waitress.
I stood and smoothed my skirt again, and picked up my glass. Ginger took it from me. "The Boss says I should I should bring you and your friends a fresh drink."
"Okay," I said, letting her take the pint glass from my hand. I walked behind the go go stages, now temporarily empty. I saw the dancers talking to two patrons, both of them extending and bending their necks. They seemed to be trying to offer the best display of their carotid arteries to the dancers who were eying them hungrily. Again, I suppose this should trouble me in some unknown way, but it didn't.
I stepped into the bar's business office. The big chair was turned away from me and I could hear the low deep voice speaking on the phone. I took the opportunity to look around at the pictures and posters. I gazed at the Edward Gorey print of Dracula and Mina and the photo stills from various Vampire movies. There were books stacked up on a low shelf, but there were folders and other debris stacked on top. There were no family pictures, no pictures of the owner himself except the bleary black and white newsprint picture of him in front of the bar, faded yellowish the way news print does. On the wall opposite the door, were other book shelves, some in foreign language. One was one I recognized, a very old print in French, Justine, by the Marquis De Sade. I slid it from the shelf and opened it carefully. 1801..a copy of the first edition...I hurriedly put it back.
"Do you read French Pornography, Aslinn?" asked the deep voice. I jumped a little.
"Not in the original language, my French is terrible," I said.
"Sit, relax," said the deep voice. He was turned to me but he was thrown in shadow. "Come in Ginger," he said absently. The waitress came in brought me my fresh pint, expertly poured again. I sipped it and automatically wiped the foam away. "That is so cute dearest, I don't see many women drinking black beer."
"It's good for the blood," I said. "Full of iron."
"Is it now?" he asked. "So, have you read Justine? Or just looked at the pictures?"
"I have read Justine, yes," I said. "In English, though, much is lost in transliteration."
"Well, I didn't ask you to see me just to discuss post revolution French erotica, thought I might be sorely tempted to invite you sometime to do that very thing," he said lazily.
"So, what can I do for you?" I asked.
"How have you been?" he asked.
"Okay," I said. "We are very excited about group tomorrow night."
"No, that is not what I want to talk about," said the deep voice.
"Well, we really like the bar and we thank you for letting us drink on the cuff," I suggested.
"Don't be coy Aslinn. You know what I am talking about." he said. His voice was getting softer. Something told me that when this man's voice got softer and more reasonable, he was getting impatient.
"I am fine, and how have you been keeping? Well, I hope," I said. He laughed a little under his breath.
"I like you," he said.
"Well, I like you, I suppose, for someone I never get a real clear look at," I said.
"Would you like to see me? I need only lean forward," he suggested, his voice lazy again. But I was wary.
Why didn't I want to see his face? What if I did see his face? What would I see? Would he be Satan in Sunday hat? Would I be able to look away if I really wanted.
"No," I said finally. "I like you being the deep voice in the shadow. The Mystery Man."
"Ummm, not the answer I'd hoped for," he said.
"I remember something, like from a dream, just before the summer, I came here and you made me a drink and let me hold your hand," I said. I don't know why I knew this and I don't know why I was mentioning it now.
"Would you like to hold it now?" he asked and extended his hand. He was wearing a black button down shirt because he had the french cuff turned down.
"Tell your fortune, read your tarot cards," I shook my head. "No, not tonight."
"I know, I am not the man with whom you'd like to hold hands," he said. "But I remember another night, when I took you for a ride in my car."
"Well, I always appreciated a fine fast ride in a fine fast car," said, then felt like I could slap myself silly for saying something so absolutely innocently filthy. I turned away and he laughed in earnest then and it was a magikal sound.
"Aslinn, you would like to flirt and talk dirty but you are too modest," he said.
"Well, it's the Catholic in me, all that guilt," I said.
"Um, well, dearest, since you are being willfully obtuse, I will ask you a question," he said. "What will you be doing over hiatus the short one and the long one?"
"We have lots planned. Will we be hearing from you and the other counselors?" I asked.
"You are just as greedy as another woman of my acquaintance," he said, his voice taking on a petulant tone.
"Now who is being obtuse?" I said.
"I am," he said. "Why do you and the others come? What are you looking for?"
"I honestly don't know," I said. "Why do you think it is that we come?"
"I haven't a clue," he said dreamily, as if he was trying to see into the future.
"We have become junkies for each other," I said just as dreamily. "We need the two worlds, they need us."
"Aslinn, if I didn't know better, I'd think you had been reading my mind," he said.
"You know better," I said. I sipped back the last swallow and stood up. I fought the urge to smooth my skirt again. He laughed again, that magikal sound.
"Good night Aslinn," he said.
"Good night," I said.
He watched the door shut behind me and flipped open his phone and dialed a number.
"We have them where we want them," said the handsome blond sheriff of area five. He listened to the voice on the other end."Um...well, good night." he flipped his phone shut and stood up. He stretched for a moment and walked over to the shelf and picked up the lovely old pornographic novel and smiled his lopsided boyish grin that would have been charming if it hadn't shown his fangs. He said Pam's name to the room and a few seconds later she appeared.
"Wrap this for me and mail it Aslinn," said the sheriff.
"Justine?" she rolled her eyes. "It's a little much."
"Did I ask you for commentary?" he asked. "Do it."
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on September 02, 2009, 06:34:32 PM
________________________________________
Karalee and Ilovetheviking brought the coffee and treats. Karalee had brewed up several thermoses of Blue Mountain Coffee and Ilovetheviking made spice cake cupcakes with butter rum icing so rich it crossed your eyes. I was standing there, absently licking the icing off my cupcake, watching God Speed and Hoyt fume at each other. I rolled my eyes and shook my head as I sat down in my spot, the chair in front of the main door, where the lady counselor and her young protege stood behind me.
Eric Lover and Westexan and Violet and Roygbiv, my co-researchers sat beside me and we ate silently, sipping the good strong coffee, spiked heavily with Irish Nevermind. I finished my cupcake and watched with frank admiration as God Speed balanced four of the little rich treats between his fingers while he ate a fifth in a couple of bites. Well, they were small cupcakes. Hoyt was not letting up on his glaring...It was likely to become a regular duel, ten paces with socks full of warm mashed potatoes...or rocks, whichever comes first.
Liz and Mel came in and sat down...they had been busy with the technical problems that had been plaguing the forum and were now facing the Great Migration over the Labor Day weekend and a weekend without an episode...how were we to survive? There were forces at work in the world we were so invested in and though we had many ideas, there were few concrete solutions. True Blood Fan, Minnie, and Linzy also made their way in with Nia and Isabella in tow. Mikeylikesit and Northwoman came in from the other entrance. Lina, Renee and Raki were the last to arrive, Raki slurping down the last of her Mountain Dew only to pour herself a hot cup of joe.
We were all seated and talking about things we were concerned about, things we had seen and things we had questions about. By the volume of the chatter I was worried for our junkies, myself included. Would I survive the long weekend and the loss of the forum? I foresaw a lot of season one and two in my life and and a lot of "B". Finally the lights around the room went out, leaving our center panel as always, the only illumination in the room. It did not take us long to realize there was a fifth person in the room. My counselor had given up his seat to her and she sat regally beside the lead counselor who was standing against the door in his customary place.
The female counselor and her protege were in their customary places. The younger woman was sniffing and crying and without asking, Violet, the fountain of all good things kleenex automatically tore out large bunches of tissues, handed them to me, which I put over my shoulder to offer the person standing behind me. I felt them being pulled out of my fingertips and a muffled and tearful thank you was offered to the back of my head. I looked at God Speed and willed him silently to be still.
"Friends, we have a visitor with us. She is merely observing the process. Anything you say in front of her is of course confidential," said the low deep voice of the lead counselor.
"Is she going to be one of our counselors?" asked Hoyt. He was asking the question all of us wanted to know but not want to ask. The loss of the beloved visiting counselor was too much for us and we all felt his absence still though his time with us was so short.
"No, she is merely observing the meeting," said the lead counselor. "So, tell us, how are doing since Sunday," again the cacophony of voices rose until the lead counselor called for us to settle and come to some orderly discussion.
"There are a lot of questions on my mind," said Hoyt. "And a few them have to do with Jessica."
"If they have to do with Jessica, the I will ask the questions, not you, you you junkie..." said God Speed. I had never know for God Speed to be at a loss for words.
"Oh, that was brilliant, bravo," said Hoyt sarcastically, clapping his hands together.
"You wanna take this outside?" God Speed said, his fists clenched.
"Sure, why not," said Hoyt, rising to the occasion. I looked at my counselor's shadow.
"Gentlemen, please settle down, this is not the appropriate venue for a fight," said the southern voice.
"Yeah, someone tell Bill that," said Northwoman. "Sucker punching Eric two weeks ago, a fine example of 'not the appropriate venue'."
"That was then," said Violet. "We need to discuss what happened Sunday. That Lettie Mae has lost her mind, letting Tara go to save that worthless man out at Maryann's."
"Sookie's," corrected God Speed.
"Hey, it's just something that people say: 'Party over at Maryann's'," said Hoyt defensively.
"And what did MOMMA's BOY HOYT do? He got mad at Jessica for doing what Vampires do!!!!" said God Speed. Behind me the young counselor wailed and the older female tersely told her to get a grip.
"Must I remind you that we will allow no disorder in this meeting of the group," said the soft, deep voice of the lead counselor.
"Sorry," said Hoyt.
"God Speed?" said the lead counselor.
"I apologize to the group, except for one," said God Speed, glaring at Hoyt.
"And poor terrorized Lafayette, who is so scared he doesn't know the difference between a pistol and a rifle," said Roygbiv. "My daddy always said that if you didn't know the word for a thing, you sure the hell couldn't use it."
"I am scared for Lafayette," said Minnie. "We thought he was dead in the beginning but now it might look like he is going to be definitely dead."
"And Sookie, why is she always so impulsive, why can't she wait for Bill to get back with a little more information?" said Nia.
"Little is effing right," said Northwoman. "Who does that woman think she is? The Queen of Louisiana?"
"As a matter of fact..." said the visiting counselor's voice.
"Oh, yeah...sorry. So Bill goes to see the queen and she's all in a wad with her little bloodbag, who happens to be Sookie's cousin Hadley and she holds Bill there, detains him with her insistence that he dine with her even though he is on a restricted diet, makes him play yahtzee of all things, then dangles one tiny little tid bit of information in front of him."
"And don't forget Eric," said Westexan.
"Who could forget Eric. Tiny teacup humans...that was so funny!!!" said Eric Lover, laughing outloud. I smiled as well in spite of myself. It was funny.
"But the point is," said Lina, "Eric is up to something, and I am not sure I like how this is heading."
"How so," said the lead counselor.
"It makes Eric out to be badder than he really is," said Lina.
"So you don't think that he is capable of such stuff?" asked the visiting counselor.
"I don't think so, I am not sure. The Source paints him one way, the Connection the other," said Lina.
"You should not rely too heavily on what you have seen, there may be things in play you know nothing of," said the Southern voice.
"Yes indeed," said the lead counselor icily to his fellow counselor.
"So, how do we kill her, the Maenad?" said Mikeylikesit.
"That is an unknown factor," said Liz. "I am not sure they can, and if they can, what will they do?"
"We are not sure, but it definitely involves Sam," said Mel. "And Sookie."
"It involves the whole town, everyone will have to be involved and use all their considerable powers and abilities to fight her," I said. "And Eric can fly.. "
"That was so great," said God Speed. "Goodnight tiny humans."
"You would like something like that, Eric looking at those little kids like a couple of hostess Twinkies," said Hoyt.
"Eric might do a lot of things and be a lot of things, but he would never hurt a child," said Eric Lover.
"Yeah right, the first thing we saw Eric do was tear that red neck apart like a big chicken wing from a KFC family bucket," said Hoyt.
"But a little kid is different. You keep it up Hoyt and God Speed won't be the only one to lay into you," said Eric Lover.
"That aside," I said. "What is going to happen to our town? What will happen to Sookie? Who is she apologizing to, and what is that big egg in the middle of Gran's bed and what will happen to Jessica? Could she get hurt in this?"
"She better not get hurt or I will have words with Mr. William Compton," said God Speed.
"What do you mean you will have words? If anyone is going to have words with Vampire Bill, it will be me," said Hoyt.
"Let's wrap this up," said the female voice behind me.
"Yes, lets," said the Southern voice.
We all filed out, God Speed and Hoyt heading in other directions. When the counselors were alone, Eric turned on the lights. The Queen of Louisiana, Sophie Anne looked up at him.
"My they are passionate," said the attractive pale red head.
"Yes, your Majesty," said Bill.
"And they have their loyalties and their favorites but they are all invested in the two worlds," said Eric.
"Do you think they will survive the holidays and the hiatus?" asked the Queen of Louisiana.
"That too, is unknown," said Eric.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on September 03, 2009, 06:42:51 PM
________________________________________
So here was something I was thinking about while I was having a bath. And I hope God Speed and Only1Jen take it as the humorous offering it is meant to be.
Marriage Counseling
See, sometimes it happens in a relationship and there has to be an intervention. And that is what brought the God Speed's, Mr and Mrs, into the counseling offices. They had a little problem.
"So, what seems to be your problem?" said the pretty and plump partridge of a woman sitting behind her desk in the tastefully decorated counseling suite.
"Well," began the Mr. "We are helplessly, hopelessly love with each other, but we have serious, serious very serious attractions to other people."
"Well, how serious is it? Do you argue about them? Are you not..what is the phrase..."hooking up" as they say?" asked the counselor.
Well, hell yeah we're hooking up!" exclaimed the Mrs.
"A gentleman never tells," says the Mr. You could tell he was not amused.
"So, what seems to be the problem?" asked the counselor.
"Well, it's just that, it seems like..." said the Mrs. hesitantly.
"Yes?" she probed.
"I think about him all the time..." said Mrs. God Speed.
"And I think about her all the time," confessed Mr. God Speed.
"Have you ever had contact with these people? Are you actively seeing these other people?" asked the counselor.
"We see them every Sunday night, sometimes together, sometimes apart," said Mrs. God Speed. "It depends on when I work."
"And I have even seen her while I was sitting alone with the kids, my two oldest are of course in bed and I have the baby right there with me," said the Mr. weakly.
"So are these people like neighbors?" asked the counselor.
"Well, we made the mistake of inviting them into our home, they can't come in without an invitation," said the Mrs.
"So who are these people?" asked the counselor.
"Well, the one I am attracted to is a big blond, sort of a Viking type, 6'4" about 180 pounds, deep voice, lovely toothy grin, big hands.. " Mrs God Speed's voice got that dreamy, far away sound to it.
"And the woman you are attracted to?" asked the counselor.
"She's young, lives with her...what should I call him?" God Speed looked at his wife.
"Well, he calls her his ward, so you could call him her guardian," said Mrs. God Speed. "That's it, her guardian."
"She lives with her guardian and she is pretty, a lot like my wife, porcelain skin, big blue eyes, long red hair," said God Speed.
"She lives with her guardian, how old is she?" asked the counselor.
She is 17, but I don't think that matters anymore?" said God Speed.
"Why not?" asked the counselor.
"Because she ...it just doesn't..." said God Speed.
"Are Sunday nights the only times you see them?" asked the counselor.
"Oh no, we see them all the time, all through the week, sometimes four times in one night, sometimes we just call them up, sometimes they are just a part of our schedule, our routine," said the Mrs.
"And you are intimate?" asked the counselor.
"Well, yeah," said Mrs. GS.
"Again, a gentleman never tells," said GS emphatically.
"Are they married?" asked the counselor.
"Mine was, a very, very, very long time ago," said Mrs. GS. "But she died."
"And mine was never married, in fact she never kissed a boy before Hoyt," said Mr. GS.
"So she has a boyfriend?" asked the counselor.
"Yeah," said Mr. GS
"And does your person have a girlfriend?" asked the counselor.
"No, not really. He likes someone though, she's with another man, but he likes her a lot," said Mrs. GS
"And this does not bother you?" asked the counselor.
The two of them looked at each other. "No, not really," they said together.
"Well, I hope you don't think I'm being nosy, but why are you here? I get the sense that neither of you really mind that the other is involved with someone else who are in turn involved with other people. Why come to me?" asked the counselor.
"Well, I belong to a 12 step group," said Mr. GS. "And my lead counselor suggested that we come and see you and just make sure that we were okay in our relationship and if this was normal."
"Well, normal is a relative term, what may be normal for me may not be normal for you and vice versa. But as long as you both seem comfortable with situation, why worry?" suggested the counselor.
"Well, that's all we wanted to hear," said Mrs. GS.
"Yeah, that's pretty much all we needed to know," said GS.
After the couple left, the counselor picked up the phone and dialed a number with the Shreveport area code. "Yes Ginger, is the sheriff around?" after a few minutes she looked down, "Yes Mr. Northman, they came for their appointment, I told them not worry that everything was perfectly normal." Listened for a moment. "Yes, and no, thank you very much for the business. I'll see you soon."
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on September 08, 2009, 06:49:16 PM
________________________________________
Playing Poker with the Counselors
Since there was no new episode, the counselors decided to have an informal meeting and card party at the Vampire Bar. All the lights in the bar were turned off except for a spot light beaming brightly on the green felt table. Each counselor had a large stack of money and chips in various colors. All had warm bottles of TB. The only thing missing was the halo of cigar smoke over their heads.
You tell a lot about a poker player by the way they stack their money and chips...or don't. The lead counselor, confident, ruthless and casual had a messy stack of currency and a scattering of chips, where he raked in piles and simply played off the winnings. He sat relaxed, his cards rarely in his hands after he looked at them, face down on the table. The dark haired counselor had a neat stack of money and neat stacks of chips, assorted by color but in various heights. He had a tense sort look, as he always did, so that face became known as his poker face, strained and inscrutable.The older female counselor, with her long blond hair pulled back into a pony tail had separated her money into denominations and stacked her chips the same way broken up into biddable stacks. She maintained a look of ennui, and rolled her eyes at the outrageous bidding war that sometimes erupted between the two headstrong males at the table.The young female, given money by her guardian, had a small stack of money and a few scattered chips. She held her cards close, hunkered over them and did not have a poker face. You could always tell what to bid by the look on her pretty but sullen face. The visiting counselor, as gregarious and free spirited as the lead counselor, had money tucked into the bodice of her low cut dress, chips scattered in front of her, and twisted and turned so much you were likely to see at least one of the cards in her hand.
Ginger and the bartender brought drinks to the table. Every so often, the visiting counselor would catch Ginger near her and ask for an opinion on a hand, holding the cards breast level so Ginger would have to look down her dress practically to look at the hand. The lead counselor loved to watch her antics. The southern voiced counselor was relieved that her attentions were elsewhere, and the female counselor was only slightly amused, Ginger, after all was not the brightest color in the pallet and not really that tasty. The young counselor was too nervous to pay attention to the obvious display going on around her. She was almost out of money and really what she wanted to do was curl up in the owner's booth and talk on the phone. But at least she was out of that old creepy house.
The lead counselor had won again and was racking the pile of chips and money over to him. He smiled his winsome smile at the dark haired counselor who was busy taking a drink.
"So, how are our friends faring, our friends form your little meeting?" asked the visiting counselor.
"They made it without too much discomfort. Mel got the forum up and running in record time and Aslinn worked on collecting her graphics and making new banners. Liz spent time with her family," said the counselor with the soft southern accent.
"But poor God Speed has come down with some sort of (http://www.pic4ever.com/images/2mpe5id.gif). He and his wife and kids all have it," said the young counselor sullenly.
"Did they work on their addictions? How did they make it?" asked the visiting counselor.
"Some of them did 'B', others watched season one, some watched season two, they all cope without us though it is hard. They will be so feisty before Sunday, it will be delicious," said the female counselor.
"I wonder how all this started," said the visiting counselor.
"Well, you know our maker, the Connection?" said the dark haired counselor, slightly aghast.
"Of course, I know our maker, but this, this little group that you have been seeing," said the lovely redhead with a toss of her perfectly styled coif.
"Ah, well, you can thank my Aslinn for that," said the dark haired counselor in his soft southern voice. "She started writing about us about two weeks before season two began. It just popped out of her head one night as she was tooling around the forum. That is when she recorded our first ever meeting. Just a handful of forum members getting together to talk about how they felt with the coming season and she just kept on, recording the episode, including more and more people into the story."
"She is very imaginative and the other forum members really get a kick out of her entries. It is one of the largest threads on the forum. So much so, she will start a new thread after this season ends," said the blond counselor.
"Tell me about these forums, I don't get on the computer that much, though some of my court does," said the visiting counselor, accepting her cards from the Big Viking as he dealt them around the table.
"Do you remember the old opium dens in the turn of the 20th century?" asked the Viking.
"Oh, do I ever," said the lovely redhead with a hungry twinkle in her eye.
"That is what the forum is like. Busy, full of discussions and comments, interviews. Did you know they are planning an award show for the hiatus?" asked the lead counselor.
"Really?" she said. "How charming."
They stopped for a moment to begin their bids. The dark haired counselor began with a modest $100 bid. hat didn't mean anything, he always started out modest, it was his conservative nature. The visiting counselor put in hers. The young counselor blew a thin strand of her red hair off her brow with a puff and threw down a limp "c" note, frustrated. The lady counselor threw down her chip. Then they began taking away cards and waiting for the hits. The dark haired counselor took two, the visiting counselor took three. The young one took a walloping four cards and the female two and the lead counselor stood on his hand. The second round of bidding began.
"I'll bid $500," he said in his slow deliberate voice.
"I'll bid $500," said the visiting counselor.
"I fold," said the young girl sullenly, tossing her cards on the table.
"I will bid $500," said the blond.
"As will I and raise you $1000," said the Viking. "And title to your female companion."
"You know I would not put her up in a card game," said the dark haired man.
"Pity..still...where the real game is played, you may not have too many choices if she decides to gamble herself to me," said the Viking. "Fine, cash only bid, in or out?"
"Oh, I am definitely in," said the dark haired man, glaring at the lead counselor's smile. The visiting counselor smiled.
"Boys, please, why don't you two kiss and make up already," she leaned a little toward the blond. "I love to watch two men together." She casually threw in her bid.
"You won't see these two men together any time soon," said the blond, rolling her eyes. She threw in her bid as well.
"Well, if you won't give me your female companion, why not something else?" asked the lead counselor.
"Will you just bid or call?" said the agitated man in front of him.
"I bid $1000 more and then I have to say good night, I have to meet Eric Lover later this evening. She has a touch of sleeplessness I am determined to cure," said the Viking.
"And I have my weekly visit with Aslinn to get to," said the dark haired counselor.
"Is God Speed coming to see me?" asked the younger counselor.
"As far as I know, why don't you call him. Or Hoyt?" suggested her guardian as he put in his bet. But she was already curled up in the owner's booth, her little flip phone open and her fingers dialing the numbers.
"So, you have private sessions with the forum members?" asked the visiting counselor. She casually tossed her bid onto the growing stack.
"Yes, at first we made a rule that we would not have private sessions, but we are as invested in them as they are in us, we do visit with them one on one. We of course glamour them before they leave, but they seem to enjoy the attention," said the soft southern voice.
"Of course they would," said the visiting counselor.
The blond threw down her bid and said, "I call,"
The Viking Vampire, sheriff of area five spread his hand. Aces and eights.
"The Vampire's Hand," he said smiling. The others threw down their cards as the handsome blond scooped up his winnings. It was always a good game when Eric won at poker.
_______________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on September 09, 2009, 09:39:05 PM
________________________________________
Nia brought the baklava and I followed her around like a puppy with two tails wagging at the same time, relishing the gooey goodness. Hoyt brought the coffee and he was excited too. Apparently he was beeped last night by his counselor. God Speed was not amused. And he really wasn't in a place to be too unamused as his wife, Only1Jen was there for her first meeting ever of the True Blood Anonymous group.
Eric Lover and Westexan were already there, discussing the nominations for the first leg of our True-Blood.net award show with Liz and Mel. Raki and Minnie were in a huddle with The Dude, making his first meeting, discussing the next episode. VCat, True Blood Fan, Iluvtheviking, Burke and Armywife were there, talking to Violet who announced that she's bought stock in Kleenex and was already seeing a return on her investment.
Lina and Isabella were looking at her little phone. Isabella had a picture of her favorite Vampire on the tiny screen and Lina was ogling the view with her. I found my usual spot, in front of the main door and was busily licking the honey from my fingers as I ate the most wonderfully messy treat in the world. It was the last meeting before the finale ended and because of the Labor Day weekend and the lack of a new episode, we were hungry, I think even hungier than we had been after the fourth of July. It was so close to the end, it was a little sad and a lot exciting. We knew that the Source and the Connection loved the cliffhanger. They had done it to us last fall and we were confident they would do it to us this season.
Hoyt came over and sat down next to me.
"Aslinn, I put in my nominations," he said.
"Great, I know it is a slog, especially with these first four categories but the next four categories will be more interesting," I assured him.
"God Speed is over there steaming away at me," he whispered a little loudly. I looked at him, his legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed across his chest, sullen look on his face. Yeah, I could see steam puffing out of his ears.
"Yeah and you aren't helping matters are you?" I said.
"Well, all is fair..." he began.
"I ought to make you two sit side by side and hold hands through the whole session. You don't see me and Nia and Isabella snarking at each other over our Bill," I said. Iluvtheviking was looking over Isabella's shoulder when she pulled out her phone and showed Isabella a picture of the Big Viking. Isabella smiled but said something like:'He's okay, if you like that type,'
"Well, you girls are a bit more generous with each other," said Hoyt.
"Who is more generous with each other?" asked Eric Lover. She sat down with her cup of coffee, heavy fortified with our favorite ethnic nevermind. I handed her my crumpled pack of cigarettes and she lit one.
"We girls are generous with one another over our two boys," I said.
"Oh yeah, there's plenty to go around of those two. Especially the Big Viking," she said, blowing out a plume of smoke. "You boys need to lighten up a little about the redheaded girl, maybe diversify, try a little Royalty." she suggested. You would have thought Eric Lover had suggested some embarrassing and mildly uncomfortable invasive procedure from behind. Hoyt gave Eric Lover a dirty look and got up from the chair. Westexan promptly sat down in the chair he vacated.
Everyone began to settle into their places and I could feel the change in atmosphere. We were ready, a pack of hungry hunters wanting to run and be part of the night, but what would that night, our last night hold for us. I was contemplating the relative fun running in the dark woods in and around Bon Temps might be with just the right pursuer. Damn, I knew I shouldn't have done some Season One before I came to group tonight!!!!
Finally the lights went out except for the customary light that lit our circle. The counselors were here, except for the visiting counselor. I wondered about her for a second when the southern voice began to speak and my mind began to wonder again at those dark woods.
"The visiting counselor has been called away to New Orleans, so you have just us this evening. How did everyone fare over the short hiatus?" he asked in his soft, reassuring voice.
"I did pretty good," began Mel. "Spent time with the family, worked on the forum during the switchover, but..."
"But what dearest," said the lead counselor.
"Around nine oclock, I started singing that Jace Everette song and I fought not to go and fire up the DVR and watch a couple of episodes," she said.
"And the rest of you, did you fight the urge or did you succumb?" asked the lead counselor.
I raised my hand. Why shouldn't I? I wasn't ashamed.
"Yes, sweetheart, did you allow yourself to be corrupted?" asked the soft southern voice.
"I did," I admitted. "I watched season one and two, I admit it, and I was so totally blissed out that I didn't even care who saw me, with my eyes all glassy and my face flushed."
"I watched too," said Isabella.
"Did you?" he asked.
"Oh yeah, and I watched other product too, a little Restraint," she said.
"Very little Restraint," I muttered to Westexan.
"Yeah, like the last 15 minutes or so," she whispered.
"Then there was the alternate ending," I growled.
"Would you ladies like to share your discussion with the rest of the group?" asked the female counselor.
"Oh, we just didn't have any Restraint what so ever," I said, and Eric Lover nearly laughed out loud and Westexan put her head back and tried to maintain her composure.
"I can name someone who has no restraint what so ever," said God Speed gloomily.
"What are you going to do about it, huh?" challenged Hoyt.
"Are you picking a fight?" asked God Speed. Then he remembered his wife sitting there and settled down, scowling at Hoyt.
"God Speed, who is that lovely creature sitting with you?" asked the lead counselor.
"She is mine...I mean, she is MY wife, Only1Jen," he muttered.
"Welcome to our group, dearest," said the lead counselor. I rubbed my forehead and felt the certain premonition that there may be a few hard words between the God Speeds tonight.
"Are you ready for Sunday night?" asked the southern voice.
"Oh hell yes!" said Iluvtheviking.
"What are you waiting for?" asked the lead counselor.
"I wanna see what the queen does with Eric," said Iluvtheviking.
"I want to see what will happen with Tara and Eggs," said VCat.
"I want to see what happens with Sam and Bill. Do you think Bill is really going to offer up Sam to the Maenad for real?" asked Burke.
"I don't think so," said Dude. "I think Bill is going to save Sam at the last critical moment."
"Me neither, our Bill wouldn't let anything happen to Sam," said Nia solemnly.
"I wonder how next season will be," said Hoyt. "Who will live and who will dies, who will be together and who will be apart, what new alliances will be made and old ones broken."
We all sighed. It was the moment we all dreamed of and dreaded.
"Do you still wish to meet, after Sunday night?" asked the young counselor in her sweet voice. "I mean, when there are no more new episodes until next summer."
"I do," I said, "I need the group to get me through it."
"Yeah, we need each other when the new books come out and the new teasers and promos come out," said Eric Lover.
"And we have so much planned," said Liz. "The award show, the interviews, the goodies we know we will be getting, we still have so much to do."
"Will you counselors still be here to guide us?" I asked.
"Of course sweetheart, we will always be a part of you," said the voice of my counselor.
"Well, let's call it a night, we'll see you again Wednesday," said the female voice behind me.
We all stood up and walked toward the door. I heard my name called. I stopped but did not turn around. I felt hands on my shoulders.
"Trust me," said a voice behind me and then he was gone.
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on September 10, 2009, 07:49:16 PM
________________________________________
This is for VikingLover, who claimed a night with the Big Viking.
A Stitch in Time
Marianna, also known as VikingLover on the forum, noticed a small hole in the seam of the jeans that the man sitting beside her was wearing. Though she liked to knit and sew, the last thing she wanted to do was close this intriguing little flaw in the otherwise impeccably dressed man with her this evening.
She sat back in the red tuxedo couch and felt her heart pounding in her chest.
"Would you like something to drink?" he asked, smiling his lovely lopsided grin.
"That would be lovely," she said. He got up and opened a bottle of burgundy he'd had breathing on the large ebony wood dining table that matched the floors and other wood furniture in his house. He poured the wine carefully, so as not to shake the sediment and brought the chilled wine to her, his large hand cupping the bowl of the glass. She took it from his hand and looked into his lovely eyes. She was sort of hypnotized by their clearness but could not for the life of her figure out what color his eyes were. Sometimes they seemed blue as the deep blue seas and sometimes they were a strange grey green. Whatever their color, they penetrated her soul.
She sipped the wine. She savored the sweetly tart taste in her mouth.
"Shall I tell you about the cellar?" he asked.
"Please," she said. "Wouldn't you like a glass as well?"
"I never drink, but I enjoy the fragrance and taste in other ways," he said. "This wine, lover, was put aside in 1800 in Poitou-Charentes, in western France, made when the French Revolution was just a plot."
"Do you know much about history?" she asked.
"Oh yes, but I am more interested in the history we will make tonight," he said, confidently.
Marianna did not know how to respond to the beautiful blond sitting next to her. Or what history she might or might not allow to be made with this man. Unbidden, the phrase "mad, bad and dangerous to know" came to her mind. She knew this man was dangerous, but somehow that did not frighten her. In fact, she felt as safe as a kitten with him. It was ironic that she would think of the phrase used to describe the notorious Lord Byron, who scandalized English society by his lusty escapades. Was this man as lusty? He certainly seemed that way.
There was something inscrutably male about him, something so fraught with male tension and sensuality that she could taste it and it was a headier taste than the wine she was drinking. He took up space but had the elegance of a panther. He could growl, but there was something that told her that in the right situation, this beast might be made to purr. He was alert to her as she spoke to him, telling him about herself, her family and her home and his eyes never left her, his smile was warm and friendly, she could tell he wasn't just hearing her, he was listening to her and in this day and age, being listened to by another person was a cherished feeling, indeed. His eyes looked into her face, he asked her questions and he listened to her answers.
What would he do if she moved a little closer? What would she do if his arm came around her. Would she be concerned bout the hard coolness of his body, beautiful as it is? It was a mark of his difference. Would he allow her to touch his hand? What would the wine on her lips taste like to him? She took another drink of the wine and sat the glass on the coffee table. Without a thought, she reached out with her hand and lightly laid her palm on his face. His eyes closed of their own accord. She could feel the muscles of his face, smooth and hard under her palm, and cool, very cool to the touch. His lips parted but he did not breath. She could feel the texture of his skin and the slight stubble on his face. Her fingers smoothed his eye brows and followed down the strong line of his nose.
He could smell her hands, the smell of her skin, the soap she'd used, the lotion she'd smoothed on. They did not know this but their kind were most intrigued by scents and their physical warmth. He felt her fingertips out line his lips, down his chin. He opened his eyes and looked at her. He took her hand in his and pressed his lips on the back of of her hand and leaned forward.
"Now, let me taste your wine," he whispered softly.
Good Night Viking Lover...sweet dreams
________________________________________
Title: Re: The Countdown
Post by: aslinn dhan on September 12, 2009, 08:39:23 PM
________________________________________
I paced restlessly through my house tonight. I could not rest, I could not write, I could not concentrate on anything. I smoked too many cigarettes and drank too much wine but I still could not get the feeling out of me.
Watching the clock as time stands still, I will the hands to move but they mock me, sitting there. I can hear old man Time chuckling under his breath: "Foolish daughter of man, willing time to speed to know what happens next," and I curse old Cronos, the god of time and his selfish evil ways, and light a fresh cigarette from the burning butt of the one I burned seconds ago.
I am sweating, and not from the heat, and I know you are out there as well, my brothers and sisters in True Blood, sweating it out, tasting the anticipation, dreaming your hot, bloody dreams, speculating and desiring, lost in your lust, your addictions. How many of you have raised your head and listened hard today, thinking you have heard some stranger speak of the thing that is driving you now?
I closed my eyes today and felt the night winds on my face and the cool hand of someone in mine and I could swear I could smell them on the air, that faint dry scent, not unpleasant but full of the past and the promise of the future. How many of you resorted to self pleasure, the solitary pleasures of the forum, the encores, the printed page, or your own dark fantasies. I did. Confess my brothers and sisters in The Blood, it will be good for your soul and make you blood that much purer and sweeter.
Join me in the chapel and hold my hand and we will sing Will this Circle be Unbroken. Will it? Will we drift away, nothing new, everything old, what could we really explore after Sunday? I tell you brethren and sisteren, that there are still secrets to plumb, things to contemplate, textures, nuances, threads to explore and know anew.
Come, we will cut the Gordian knot, and really get down to the work of exploring what we have seen and what we know and what we think we know. Do not break our circle. Let us bare our souls and tell each other what we really think of all we have seen. Let us see it all with new eyes.Let us whisper together like frightened children in a haunted house full of ghosts. Let us really know the dark and all it's secrets. Or are you one of those whose wisdom lies in not knowing, the bliss of being unspoiled, unsullied. Ah, virgins of the hiatus...so delicious. The counselors will love you if you join us.
We have a whole calendar to get through. We have the turning of the seasons, the change of nature, the reds and golds of the trees and the dry smell of fall and the scent of burning leaves, the metallic smells of winter and the shorter days and the longer nights. Oh God, help me get through the longer nights, send me an angel to whisper to me that everything will be fine, that no harm will come to me, that heaven in is in a pair of cobalt blue eyes or a pair of eyes that seem to change with the quality of the light.
Will Samhain and it's dark celebration of the goddess in her gloaming bring me specters that I will gladly take into my arms. Can I be one of those children of the night and howl at the moon, cackle over my cauldron or hunt in the night? And will I have companionship?
While the snows fall on a dark night, will I see a beautiful blond man who loves and misses the snows he knew in his time? Or will the diamond dust of winter fall on the chestnut hair of a man with a slow southern accent. Or will a cute redhead with dimples invite me to make angels in the snow with her? And when I have packed away the last of the holly and the last Santa is wrapped up in his own little coffin for one more year, who will I salute the New Year with? Will he raise a cup of kindness yet? Or will he bend his head and drink other wine?
Ah Time, you cruel bastard, taunting me and teasing me, pretending to pass quietly when what you do is slow to a crawl and brutalize me. I feel the last of the summer sweat on my skin and I feel the fever. And time has not been merciful and still stands...still
No comments:
Post a Comment