A New World in My View

I’ve got a New World in My View

I got the new world in my view
On my journey I pursue
I said I’m running, running for the city
I got the new world in my view

Britt King

I had to hand it to Eric Northman. He really knew how to get things done. I had called Fangtasia on Friday afternoon, angry and betrayed, and I spoke to Ginger. I could have kicked myself. Of course he would not be there; he was in his daytime rest. But I told the sweet but slightly dizzy blond to get a piece of paper and a pencil and write down what I had to tell her.

Eric,
We are adrift. We need a safe place to be. Please contact me at your earliest.
Aslinn.

I also called my counselor, Bill Compton. I shivered at the sound of his soft voice on the voice mail of his cell phone. I left him pretty much the same message, though I was a bit more upset. I was packing up everything, all the best things, all the things that best represented our work at the other place and I packed them up, sadly, and then sat down to write the final tale. Well, in that place.

Later that evening as I was online with the others who had left with us, us being God Speed and me, I got a call from the Sheriff of Area Five.

“Aslinn, what has happened,” he said. To say that the Viking is direct is an understatement. I explained everything. He muttered something in his native tongue and said, “Aslinn, don’t worry about anything. I will call God Speed now and talk to him.” He clicked off. A few minutes later my counselor called, his soft voice soothed me. It had been a tough day.

We had refugeed before, but now, GS and I had a purpose. On Saturday, we began the process of contacting our friends and fellow junkies. We were astonished at the support we were given. There were sometimes I actually prayed in the chat room with Renee and Scarlett Harlot. We began to build our site and we held our first board meeting and went to work on rules and the basic philosophy about our home. Anyone coming to live here would be given room to have free expression and creative outlet while fostering the notion that respectful conversation and debate and fun would be our foundation. There was a lot of laughing, but that was good too.

They say Sunday is the day of miracles and God Speed performed several. With me at his side in IM, we began the tedious process of building our home. I know nothing of technology, but I do know other things, details, like choosing fabrics and furnishings, and together we worked. I was excited. I could not wait to show the house to the others. And we were collecting them at a phenomenal rate. Fairy and Burke, Lina and Linzy, Vi and Westexan, Scarlett Harlot and Butter, Renee and KaraLee, Jen and Tiff, Minnie and Night Rose, Sweet and Wild and Nicky, Imagine and Pandora , Dude and Aolani, and of course, GS, Mrs. GS and me. Kid would be join us a little later but her mom was already posting her art and I told her to join us in the meetings. Others would join us soon.

So, through a series of those miracles and God Speed, our site was up and running and Monday, we unveiled it to the rest. Mondays no longer gave me the blues, unless, of course, you wanted to count the lovely cobalt blue of our forum, the color of my counselor’s eyes as the end of a “blue Monday”. Posts and threads appeared as if by magik. News, season episodes, essays, creative writing efforts, announcements and a live chat created a wonderful atmosphere.

And finally, it was time to have our first True Blood Anonymous meeting. This was the one place Eric Northman demanded absolute control over. “Allow me dearest to design this place,” he said in his reasonable voice. I agreed.

So, 16 ½ weeks into the hiatus, three days after the opening of the forum, we stepped into the new meeting room and were astonished. God Speed, Jen and I were the first to walk in. The room was huge. It looked like the main room of a great house. The same ebony wood floors Eric had in his house graced the room and there were huge reindeer hide floor coverings interspersed with rich wool rugs. The room was dominated by a large fire place, a merry fire burning there. A huge hammer was hanging on the stone façade. The walls were papered in the same cobalt blue of our forum, embellished with gold fleur de lis imprint, much like the once elegant wall paper in Bill’s bed room. There were four sofas and chairs in warm prints with throw pillows and large stacks of four floor pillows in strategic places. There was a huge wooden coffee table in the center. On one side of the room was a large dining table with chairs. A small galley kitchen with a bar graced a corner and the owner of Fangtasia had provided us with fine wines and whiskies and in the fridge was something we had never provided for the counselors: True Blood, in different types, waiting to be opened and warmed for any of the counseling group.

We looked around, drinking in the luxurious room. We then went to work, setting up the food we had brought and Jen was making the coffee.

It did not take long for the rest of us to begin arriving. Westexan and Scarlett Harlot, Lina, Linzy and Fairy came in, Renee, Kara and the Kid, Tiff Tiff, oh just the whole gang of us, began filing in, bringing some covered plate. I loved the sounds of their exclamations over the beautiful room.

“My Lord,” said Minnie reverently. “Did you guys do that?”
“Eric did,” said GS. “He said ‘Leave the meeting room to me’ and so I did.”
Soon we were comfortably seated and awaited the entrance of the counselors. We knew we would no longer be separated by the shadows of anonymity with the counselors anymore. But would they sit by the doors and be physically apart from them?

We would know that answer very soon because in walked the Sheriff of Area Five, Eric Northman. He leaned over and kissed my cheek, shook hands with God Speed, kissed the Mrs briefly on the lips, walked behind Westexan and squeezed her shoulder and motioned for Lina and Linzy to make a space, and sat down between them to their delight. Pam Ravenscroft came in behind him, speaking and nodding at us and sat on one of the many ottomans around the space. Bill Compton, came in, sliding out of his leather jacket, and came and sat on the end one couch with Vi, kissing her on the cheek. I was sitting by the couch, on a stack of cushions. He reached out and grabbed my hand and kissed it. Renee, sitting by me, was graced with his sweet shy smile.

The last counselor, and the youngest of the group, Jessica Hamby, came in and sat down on the ottoman Scarlett was sitting on. Impulsively she hugged Scarlett. “Isn’t this exciting,” she said. Scarlett nodded at her and smiled.

“It is so wonderful to see all our friends,” said the Viking.
“And so nice to see you, now, out in the open,” said Burke, dazzled by the presence of the blond Vampire in her view.
“Yes,” said Bill. “We felt we should show our solidarity with you by being more open, without the glamours we have been forced to use and the solace of Aslinn’s shadows. This way we can be more open, speak face to face.”
“Do you like the room?” asked Pam.
“We do,” said Butter. “It is so beautiful.”

“Should you wish anything, you need only ask. And use the room at will, there is computer access, as you can see there is an extensive library, it is yours. You deserve this place for being so loyal, such good friends,” said Eric. “And we will stop in from time to time, just to visit.”

“Aslinn once observed that we need each other. The Source creates one world, the Connection another, and you create the third, where we live til the summer,” said Bill Compton.

We talked together for a long time. Violet, source of all things Kleenex, often passed tissues around. Even Jessica held her hand out for tissues to blot her crimson tears. They discussed our hopes and dreams and ideas for the new forum. We were in no hurry now, we could settle in for the little more than four month wait.
Finally, we took a break. I was pouring a cup of coffee with a gracious plenty measure of Irish Nevermind when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned. It was Eric.

“Would you warm me a bottle of True Blood dearest?” he asked.
“Sure, which type?” I asked.
“A positive I think,” he said. I got the bottle out of the fridge and took off the cap and popped it in the microwave. “So, I asked you a question once dearest.”
“Yes,” I said.
“And do you trust me now Aslinn?” he asked. I turned to look at the Viking.
“Yes, Eric, I do trust you,” I said.

16 ½ weeks and counting.