Dream Journal: 2018-01-01

I have had the stone for a while. Esse, once called “The Svartalf” in my earlier writings, had claimed it to be a key for entering spaces he had set aside for me. But after I successfully took the doll back from him two years ago, I interacted less and less with him until by the second half of 2017, I had not interacted with him at all and I wondered if he was now relegated to the past.

Sorting through my things as I continue to settle in the new apartment, I found the stone in my collection of wooish objects. A thumb-sized piece of granite that was originally light gray when I first found it, over the years it has darkened slightly from the handling. The seemingly smooth surface is unpolished allowing light to sparkle from the mica rich stone.

As I sat in my chair, reminiscing about the shenanigans stirred up (and put down) by Esse, I held the stone securely and thought of him. How much of the past will come with me? Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2018-01-01”

Dream Journal: 2015-10-04.02

My back itched. The first sign that Esse was using the doll to call me. My mouth was filled with the taste of hot iron. He was pulling me quite hard. I closed my hand and the black iron axe became a black iron war-glaive that fit perfectly in my grip. I began to involuntarily chuckle.

My animal companion tilted its head as it recognized something was Not Quite Right with me. It wasn’t the Flaming Skeletal Pitbull ghost that I had placed to final rest, and it wasn’t some ancient mythic creature making itself small to accompany me. It was an apex predator of its realm and one I should by all rights be fleeing terrified from. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2015-10-04.02”

Going A Head

I’m shuddering uncontrollably on the hard, cold surface. I see glowing markings along the top of the walls, just under the ceiling, and I recognize where I’m at.

“Esse…”

Cold hands rest on my shoulders. He leans over my head with his usual stony expression. “Long time no see.” He strokes my face, neck, and collarbone, soothing the uncontrollable shudders into unbreakable calm. “Where is he?”, he mutters at me. Continue reading “Going A Head”

Dream Journal: 2013-12-25.01

“Are you so sure they are not dragons?”

“… No. Not now. You’re the third person to challenge my assumptions about the Undragons, and now I’m not so sure anymore. I know they are not like the dragon I encountered before. But my head wasn’t exactly screwed on straight during that instance, so I may have ignored key tells. They still strike me like the Gardenmaster. What I see of kir is so very little of what ke is. My mind can not process kir reality, just like I couldn’t process the Undragons when they first revealed themselves completely. All I know of dragons is what human myths say, and we both know how full of shit human myths are.”

Esse was examining the Black Axe closely while I rambled. He ran his thumb down the thirsty edge. “It won’t bite me. No matter how hard I press against it. You are correct in thinking the Black Axe is developing an awareness, but it does not have cognition. It is a tool, your tool, and completely dependent on you for direction. You currently would not assault me, and so, neither will the axe.”

“Currently?” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2013-12-25.01”

Dream Journal: 2013-10-08.01

Well… I trusted [Esse]. ~laughs~ ~sighs~ Anything for the pursuit of knowledge, right? Before I yielded, though, I did peruse these tomes of knowledge, physical and otherwise, that were available to me. Anatomical drawings are fascinating. I even learned a few things.

Armed with this, I came back to him. He showed me the table and the instruments. He reminded me how easily he could place me there. He looked over my notes and listened to my oral report.

He patted me on the back and told me to show him the finished project I am working on, if the commissioner of that project allows. “See. You didn’t need my help after all. Have confidence in yourself. You are more capable and resourceful than you give yourself credit for.”

He walked away laughing.

That. Little. Shit.

eom

Dream Journal: 2013-10-07.01

Esse: “You wouldn’t think me capable of that, now would you?”

Me: “Capable of what, Esse?”

Esse: “Me? Conducting an autopsy?” *

Me: “Oh, no. I couldn’t see you doing that.”

Esse: “That’s a relief.”

Me: “Not when I’ve personally been your subject for a vivisection. Five occasions that you have allowed me to remember. Heh. For a svartalf, the dead does not interest you. The living, however…”

Esse: “The dead is inert. The living isn’t. You do not come to me with accusation. That is a strange smile upon your lips.”

Me: “I seek advice.”

Esse: “Oh?”

Me: “I need to know [a certain thing].”

Esse: “Your era is one of extensive documentation of human anatomy. Surely you can find that information in one of your tomes, physical or otherwise.”

Me: “If I was only interested in blood and bone, I could. But I come as under contract for [someone else]. I need to know [a certain thing] so I may map it to [another thing]. And I need to know it [under a certain paradigm]. Now the paradigm is the easy part. Knowing where to put the esoteric probe, that I do not know and don’t have the means of discovering first hand.”

Esse: “Yes, you do. If you are willing to pay the price. I suggest you look elsewhere for your information first. If you still wish to learn it from me, you must commit to my fee.”

Me: “And what is your fee, Esse?”

Esse: “Your trust.”

I haven’t decided yet.

*: Why could I not see him performing an autopsy? Because autopsies are performed on the dead. Vivisections are performed on the living. Esse is a sadist. Any other questions?

A Game of War

“You have a bunny rabbit on your shoulder.” Berber Snake sat at the table with a bowl. I could not recognize what it contained, but I did see that it was not watermelon. I was surprised and amused.

“Why yes. Yes, I do. Do you recognize it?” The black bunny was indistinct, as if made from smoke. But under my hand, it felt solid. The bunny’s black eyes gave Snake stink-eye and was rewarded for its insolence with an unkind cheek-pinch from me. It squeaked an apology (for being caught) and compressed itself against my shoulder. Continue reading “A Game of War”

Dream Journal: 2013-04-20.01

“I want you to remember what you said about Black And White thinking.”

“That the absolutes I grew up with were wrong and there are no Pure Evils and no Pure Goods?”

“Yes. That too.”

“Which aspect did you have in mind?”

Snake kissed me on the forehead and gripped my body tightly in a naga embrace. “Esse and I are not that different where it concerns you. Your perspective is skewed by the trauma you have endured in this life. And sometimes, the cure is worse than the ill.”

I felt the scales on my back harden into metal. Esse was using the doll again. But I did not need eyes to see the metal had rainbow hues shifting across them. Snake wasn’t fighting Esse for dominance, he was working with him! I forced my rising panic to stand aside. I was frightened but I do trust Snake. I was confused, so very confused.

Snake adjusted his grip so I was mostly horizontal, facing up, held rigidly immobile with my chest exposed. “I can not sedate you for this.” He sounded apologetic. My body shuddered and I felt in two places at once. I felt Snake’s naga body wrapped around me. I saw the runewards of Esse’s chambers. Flashing mica eyes looked down at me. A granite cold hand laid on my chest.

“Enough.” Esse’s voice was cold and harsh. “This ends.” A flash of light from a swiftly moving blade. His strike cuts through skin, muscle, and bone. Quickly he opens my chest cavity and cuts out my mostly smothered heart. Holding it up, I see him inspecting it closely. “What you broke off grew back, [Snake]. Another week and it will be completely encased again. Hold her. No sedation. And she must remain in her body. Do not divert the pain.”

Snake held. The pain… I had forgotten… I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t breathe. The body that Snake held was intact, but the pain… My instinct was to bloom fire around me. Burning fire. Burn away the pain. Burn away what was causing the pain. Like my first days in the Boneyard, when Ravenwoman threw me into the pyres nearly every time she saw me. Burn. Burn it all.

The small portion of uncovered heart threw a fierce jet of plasma. Esse smiled. “I am going to remove this… substance from your heart, Weaver. Your fire can’t hurt me. No matter how you try.” He took a thin probe, wedged it between heart and hardened casing, and flecked off a piece of what caged me. He collected what came off and dropped it in a jar.

Esse was not soft with my heart. When the substance thickened and could not be flaked off, he took a wedged hammer and sharply struck the covering. I felt each blow down to my bones. My body shuddered in Snake’s grip. There was only the pain and the desire to burn everything. I did not have cognition anymore. I did not remember why I was restrained or who it was. I did not remember that chamber is warded against fire or Esse’s mastery of the forge. All I knew was pain, fire, and the singular focus to devour all eternity with flame.

Then nothing.

“Where were you when this happened?”

“I don’t know. I fell in the Pit again. I don’t remember that week. I don’t remember leaving it. I only know suddenly I was out of it, and I was so cold inside, and I felt dead inside, and I thought my heart had ceased.”

Darkness.

I’m shuddering in violent spasms under the pelts in the lair. Snake is holding me loosely, keeping me from hitting my head against anything hard. My chest is hot and my heart glows through the layers of muscle, bone, and skin. He says nothing. I say nothing.

I am getting what I wanted. I know the pain is only beginning.