To Never Forget

(Part of 'Eventualities Cordon', a collaborative work of fiction) 

It woke on a generally unremarkable day without a splitting headache for once, and that was a welcome relief.

It lay in bed for a long while without opening its eyes, considering the lingering impression of an oddly transformative and vibrant seeming dream. One of those dreams which is so beautiful in some difficult to define way that it is painful to wake up from it and find that reality remains the same. The same as it was yesterday that is, and very different than the dream.

Once upon a time, those dreams were of love, of adventure, of fun fantastical places, of finding a potential sexual partner whose interest was mutual and fun and safe.

Today, it was a dream of the occasional directional glow of mysteriously confident psychic relevance and things it ought not to have had any way to know and yet thought it did, seeming to ignite in a slow, bleeding eruption, out into a web of context and comprehension and nuance that reached out without an end to its light. Subtle, yes, but at once vibrant and clear.

Ah, those dreams, those longing, beautiful dreams. For as long as it kept its eyelids closed, it seemed that perhaps it could keep the thought coherent a little longer, hold the memory a little longer before it would begin to decay into meaningless confusion and be forgotten.

The something considered this, watching itself watching itself, and reflected passively that this level of meta-awareness was uncharacteristic of still being asleep. It could feel its bed and its eyelids. It was conscious. How then was it remembering so well as to not only picture and retain the sense of the vague shape of its dream, but to still see the web, in that sight which was not sight but could still be "light"...

Once upon a time, long ago, it had blinked its open eyes and in a moment destroyed or banished the welcome image of a spirit whose eyes shone a compassion it had never known from its human kin. It had regretted that moment for years even after it had reluctantly conformed to the insistence of the society around it that no such thing could be anything other than an illusion, and must have been a dream. It did not forget that now, and kept its eyes closed, lest opening them now do the same. And why not? Keeping eyes closed was easier than keeping them open.

It found that it was calm. Also a welcome change, but not altogether surprising. The medications had really been helping. It thought that on another day, this thought in this context would have made it cry. It seemed not to be doing so now. Was its determination to hold its eyes steady so great as to forbid them from watering? An amusing thought.

It followed its idle curiosity along the threads of intuition it had in this strangely persistent dream, into its own mind. Strands upon strands, lattice upon lattice.

`I don't think I can imagine in this much detail.`

Confusion. A bit of emotional nuance where it seemed like perhaps there should have been a sense of alarm, but there was not. It noticed both.

`Follow them.`

It dove into the representational shifting lattice of its own mind.

`Meta upon meta! Talk about going beyond the layers dream usually permits...`

A mental chuckle. The confusion and not-alarm growing and becoming rather insistent about something.

The something sought out the parts of the web which conveyed a vivid representation of the parts of its own brain capable of sensing and imagining, processing vision and visualizing.

It was not certain until it saw certainty in the structure of its brain. No. It couldn't imagine in this much detail. Nor did it have the medical background to generate this kind of a detailed model of how its own brain worked.

The cutting edge of medical science probably didn't have the capacity yet to generate this kind of a detailed model of how its own brain worked.

Something opened its eyes. The lattice receded slightly from prominence in its sensorium, competing in a moment with the more familiar illusions of visible light, but it did not disappear. It never would.

The something had long since lost the ability to have that kind of certitude about anything, much less anything in the future. Yet it had it now. This sense was a part of it. It was being processed as a sense taking in information from the outside world, not iterating imaginatively on models.

This was sensorium, not imagination.

I wondered if I could still cry, and willed myself to do so. My eyes watered.

I willed myself to commit this experience to memory, to remember and hope always to be able to remember what it was like waking up from this dream and finding that the world was the same - the same as the dream, that is, and very different from the way it was yesterday.

Tabletop Story: Rogesh the Spy

The last time I played D&D was a cameo in a Pathfinder game while I was visiting an old friend in Northern Ireland. He suggested I make a character to join the party in his game for the short time I was there, so I asked about their current situation in order to make a character who could arise out of it. They were a party at around level 10, I think, and they were on a mission to find various pieces of the true name of a demon who'd been established as a nemesis of theirs. This had taken them most recently to a city of vampires, where they had been tested in battle by the vampire god Malkav (Vampire the Masquerade reference, there) and defeated his avatar, thereby earning his blessing on their quest.

My character was a half-breed (dhampir) called Rogesh who'd grown up in the city and made a name for himself as a thief, spy and assassin. He was a casual worshiper of Malkav and identified with the vampires of the city, but knew he was street trash. He lived a hedonistic lifestyle funded by selling his skills to the nobles in their petty power struggles. He was a rogue/shadow dancer and pretty much all of his powers had to do with shadows. He could step between them, hide well in them, bend them into illusions, and (fun fun flavour) the shadow companion he relied on to scout and sometimes flank for him was his own shadow - as a half-vampire, his human half did cast one, but his studies and powers gave it sentience and independence. When he wanted to stay subtle, he kept it near him, walking with him footstep to footstep as mortals' do, but he would whisper to it sometimes while stalking the seedier streets of the city.

Anyway, he'd been hired to spy on the arrivals to the city who had crashed through the gates a few days earlier, and see what they were up to. He tracked the party to where they were entering the sewers (vampire city sewers, full of blood and viscera), but his stealth was matched by the intuition of their drug-addled seer, who sensed that someone was watching them. This led to an awkward confrontation. Rogesh surrendered immediately (his advantage is stealth - once that's broken, he doesn't have much) and admitted he'd been sent to spy on them, but was somewhat awed when he saw the mark of Malkav's favour which showed magically behind their eyes and was eager to join them when they explained they were on a quest approved of by the vampire god. After all, he could still report back to his employer, and give even better details if he was observing their work from the inside.

In their trek through the sewers, Rogesh helped them fight, earning some trust and respect from the others, and his shadow was destroyed by an unknown danger after he sent it out scouting down a side path. He snuck past a gigantic otyugh embedded in the sewers, and when the rest of the party attracted its attention, he shouted threats at it and shot it in the inside of the mouth until it was convinced it would be better not to eat them, and let them go by.

Finally, they found a fleshy spire covered in writing, which they were sure somehow held the piece of the name they were looking for, but it was trapped, and the demon showed up in an avatar form built of blood from the sewers and fought them. The demon had prepared a strategy for fighting them, but was not expecting Rogesh. It was wearing the shape of a humanoid whose body it had taken over. Apparently she was a relative of one of the party members as well, and was known as a vampire hunter who had once posed enough of a threat to the city's undead population that Malkav rose up and claimed, or proved, his divinity in order to drive her off.

Before the fight, she offered Rogesh that since he was a half-breed, and had no part as yet in their fight, he could join her and serve her forces - or, he could stand against her with the party and be tormented horribly after she won. Rogesh stood uncertain for a moment, then realized he recognized the shape, and made up his mind. He fell to his knees, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he prayed aloud to Malkav. He had never been particularly devout, but he lived his life for life's pleasures, as was Malkav's way, and had always belonged to the city and the vampires. He prayed to Malkav to give him the strength to fight for the love of life and the joy of going down fighting. It seemed his prayer was heard, somehow. As a response to his passionate plea, his shadow returned. Normally it would take a month to grow back after being destroyed, but it came back immediately, visible against the chamber floor, and it looked subtly different, with long, flowing hair as would often be seen in depictions of Malkav in his role as the handsome prince-god of vampires.

The shadow wasn't any more powerful, but it was back to help him fight anyway, and Rogesh dug into the fray, leaping at the demon along with his new companions and digging blades into its back. In the end, they won, and Rogesh survived, falling to the floor of the sewers and laughing manically at how his life had suddenly become entwined in the affairs of gods and demons.

Denouement:
As the adventuring party left the city for their next destination, Rogesh returned to report to all the important vampire nobles (though his client first), and the church of Malkav, what had been happening, and that the demon had sought to usurp Malkav through the religious uprisings of the city's mortals. The uprisings were quashed in a bloody slaughter, Malkav himself taking the form of a gigantic ugly beast to rampage through the streets, supported by priests and warriors.

Rogesh watched the fighting from hidden alcoves in towers, in awe, and later asked a priest at one of the temples why Malkav took the form of an ugly monster when he was fighting. The answer given was that slaughter was an ugly thing, and Malkav did not think it fitting to offer it any of his beauty. Rogesh, who had never been beautiful and had always been a mercenary, found this to be a somewhat validating explanation.

His shadow retained its handsome new shape, although its personality and knowledge remained the same as ever. He was honored as a hero for warning the city of the danger; his reputation was greatly improved, earning him more prestigious contracts; and he told stories of the adventure in the city's bars and brothels while showing off the image of Malkav in his shadow to attract ladies.

A Series of Surprisingly Positive Events

Well. I guess it's been a while. I've been preoccupied.

Mostly, it's that my distant online primary relationship takes up a lot of my time. My young pup would honestly be very happy if he could play D&D 12 hours a day, and while I will admit, I'm getting back into playing and actually having fun with it (despite having gotten really really jaded with weaknesses due to, effectively, group cohesion and social stuff in my first campaign and subsequent attempts), I nevertheless cannot play that much - D&D is awesome (or can be, as is being proven again), but it wears me out if I overexpose myself to it. My mind needs to rest after being blown too hard. I might get dragged into playing for two to three hours almost every day anyway, though, more for his benefit because he's short on other people to play with than mine. To be fair, Pup does have some really neat and shiny campaign ideas. We are currently preparing a two-character-party Inquisitor game fashioned in the style of Van Helsing, or Brothers Grim... or the default setting of a more obscure role-playing system called Dogs of the Vineyard... in which we will take turns DMing adventures, but have both our characters work together all the time... sometimes I get to be the player without much OOC knowledge, and he gets to play as a DMPC, and sometimes the other way around.

Also, I just got a job! Yay! I just got back from a two hour orientation to get acquainted with things... the job is selling cellphone cases and accessories at a mall island shop booth called Speaking Phones. At first I felt kind of disgusting for putting myself so close to anything quite as covered in rhinestones and cheap as the merchandise seemed to be... but having taken a closer look and gotten acquainted with the prices... erm... it doesn't seem to be overpriced cheap glittery garbage after all. The prices are actually pretty damn good compared to other places I've seen, and there's a lot of really swanky gear, including a pair of shades with 2 gigabytes of built in data storage and earphones, for $50... though I'm not sure whether that does something independently or is to be used with a phone or MP3 player or what. The nature of the business even seems to be fairly low on paper or plastic wastage, my supervisor is a pleasant young lady who laughs at my jokes, used up every inch of the notebook that notes for the staff are written in, and is transferring inventory management to a fully electronic format... in this case meaning "write it down and save it in a notepad file if we're running low on anything". The whole thing seems sensibly run and down to earth, and while I keep being told the focus is on selling and up-selling, from watching my supervisor work, it is quite clear I'm not being asked to pressure sell.

I make a distinction between sales and customer service along the following lines: if the customer already knows they want something from me, and I help them find what they were looking for, show options, and happily lead them to make whatever choice they find preferable, it's customer service. If I have to tell the customer they want something, or tell them what to buy, it's sales. By that definition, this falls squarely in the realm of customer service, despite the fact that my title is "sales associate". And that is absolutely fine with me. I may find myself enjoying this job enough to want to stay at it rather than switching to something else, after all. It was... a lot easier than I expected it to be. All that procrastination and fear regarding a job search, and I actually get a job before I considered myself to have started doing it properly... Well. Um. Well. ...Okay? I guess life is easier when you play by the rules people expect you to. Or something.

Family Androgyne

So, I've been a bit idle for a while, my dear readers. Not too long, though, I think. Were you wondering how things turned out with the subby fur boy? He's still around, and swiftly became the love of my life. He's been one of the most important things in my mind for about six weeks now, for better or worse.

I've found myself feeling... an odd impulse. I really, really want to go out and get work, not just to fund my Secret Plan, but... to feed and support my family.

Now, I don't have blood children, obviously, and I don't plan on having any. But my subby boy has swiftly become close as kin to me. Damon already is, though he's been keeping more distant of late. And a quiet reunion with friends I haven't been able to talk to in far too long reminds me I have others as well... And I would love, so much, to be able to earn them shelter and food, at least in part. I really want to make them a home to live in. I fantasize about my loved ones supporting me to search for work, and being there to thank and congratulate me when I bring the spoils home to them.

And I find myself wondering... is this some weird, filtered version of the impulse I keep hearing hits the young once they reach the right age, to settle down and start a family? Maybe it is. I am very proud, personally, that my version doesn't involve unnecessary production of additional population. Why should it? Not only am I VHEMT, I already have a family, and I love them dearly and want to support them in all of the ways I can... as well as helping them to support each other.

It helps, of course, that I recently introduced the new subby boy to one of my older, more long-term, less obsessively full-time loves... and their first impressions seem to be that they agree abjectly, each of the other, that this person is just as awesome as I thought they were, and it is amazing and wonderful to have another such awesome person to know and like. They want to adopt each other. The thought got me thinking about the whole household issue, and sighing wistfully over it. Mind... if I call in help and support from all of my supports who are most likely to be able to give it... and turn over some responsibility for care of the intense, attention needing sub to another truly awesome person I trust not to let him down... it should help me immensely with mounting an effective search.

I guess I really am just a home maker. I feel like such a family-oriented androgyne. ^.^

In other news, said subby sweetheart just showed me a rap song I enjoy. It feels really weird for me to type that sentence. I usually hate rap with a passion - when it's not derogatory, it still doesn't stop being self-congratulatory posing. Except... except in this case, the congratulatory posing is not directed toward the self, at least not entirely. It's interesting hearing rap arraying out in street verse and rhythm the praises of someone else, besides the singer, for once. And it reminds me, in my heart of hearts and my mind of minds, that any language can speak truth and things worth hearing, even if they often don't. Yes, even rap.

Besides, it's an amazing track to get pumped up and prepared to do and be awesome to. Remember the Name. I have one word, and only one, to voice to the artists who made this: Respect.

Which brings me to a final thing. Sub boy has got me playing a Dragonball Z based roleplaying game with him online, and it rocks all our socks clean off, it's so much damn fun. Maybe because I didn't know all that much about the series, but already had some degree of respect for it. Maybe because it's a fresh new system that hasn't gotten stale in my head. He runs it fast and loose, which fits DBZ perfectly, and he's teaching me the lore with references and inside jokes, and the fact that we're effectively playing a slightly altered timeline of the show's plot, just as non-canon characters. He is an amazing DM. And I approve. Also, props to whoever made the above Anime Music Video, because the way it uses the song's lyrics to talk about the characters and make completely valid points about who they are and what they're about is fucking brilliant.

Dungeon Crawl

The snooty upper-class born conman stands at the end of his trial. He is charged guilty of murder and high robbery, asked if he has any final words, but says no, and steps onto the platform which is lowered (with two guards and himself) slowly into the darkness of underground until it settles on cavern floor. With some confusion, and a lot of terrified hesitancy, and the guards' quiet, if not entirely polite, patience, steps gingerly off again, and lights the first of his torches off the guard's own, walking away as the platform starts to raise again, mind racing with the completely unfamiliar and terrifying challenges before him. Realizing dimly that he's going to have to find his way around, and find some semblance of food and shelter, he chooses a direction (they all look the same as far as his torchlight goes - packed earth, occasional stagnant puddles, and rocks) and walks it until the only way to continue would be to splash through a long area of surface water and wet mud, which he turns to avoid, turning again to avoid having to climb over rocky ground when he reaches an area that the ground gives way to piles of rocks - because he wants to be able to run if something threatening appears...


Fast forward - Alestir the conman's feet are blistered and somewhat raw from running in cheap, useless footwear while wet, his left shoulder is aching and sore from the outcast's brand he was given at the trial, and his cheek is scraped from where he tripped and fell running away from an unholy abomination of both goodness and common sense - bones aren't supposed to move on their own! On the upside, he's finally found something of some use - a rat-eaten corpse fresh enough to have proper boots, rather than the roped together foot sacks they gave him to wear... with three coins in them! Hallelujah! This hellhole has something in it that could, conceivably, be made shiny... With new boots bothering his blisters, and one coin nestled in each of them, the third in the patchy cloth sack that contains his other supplies, he keeps walking... and after another fruitless age of trudging in one direction hoping to come across something of use... the silence of the caverns is suddenly broken by the echoes of mad, cackling laughter. Alestir groans inside, his most coherent thought that the gods are laughing at him, and he doesn't want to know what else is.
Fade Out End Session.


Next time... similar scenario, different criminal. Are they destined to meet? Will they survive long enough?


I got to start a dungeon crawl game with my girlfriend yesterday. I was pretty scattered, but I'd say it went well. It was good to get away from the oppressive atmosphere of our current living quarters.


There is a living place in town that we should be able to rent... in things go well, we should be out of this hateful place and back in a home where we don't have to live under an aggressive roommate's rule next month. Here's to hoping. It would be good to be in our own space again, and the place we are looking at is actually very beautiful, with nice floors, a compact but not cramped kitchen corner, and a classy bathroom. Everything looks new and well built. I hear it used to be a shopfront, and there are big windows in the living room. Blinds to regulate the balance between privacy and daylight.


I hope, dearly, that we can live there.


Happiness has been strange recently, and strangely easy to come by. I think it's partly because I face the adversity of an adversary at home, so just living with it and surviving the passing days feels like something of an achievement, but better, being reminded of what I don't want to be, and the things I hate, contributes, I think, to focusing more on who I do want to be and the things I love, particularly when I go for walkies late at night.


While I'm not working out reliably, still, I have not completely stopped. I did a plank on Monday and held a couple of seconds longer again, even though I didn't do any other workout for workout's sake. We did walk across town to our friend's house, as well, though.


I have made contact with someone that my friends have been suggesting I should, who is part of a community oriented around ideas of magic and energy healing and things like that. I find the viewpoint he talks from to be alienatingly light and silly... but on the flip side, I'm sure he sees mine as needlessly dark and cynical. Still, apparently I have made a good enough impression that he'd like to talk political ideals with me sometime, and I think I'd like that.


To top of the weekend, my mate and I went to the local bar for some of their famous wings. They were delicious, and the atmosphere was relaxing and comfortably human, even though it was loud and included some bad music. There were drunk men playing pool.