Tuesday, August 14, 2018

Parallel (Keeper, Entry #22)

Oh, these fictions I write.

These ugly reflections of the truth.

Fiction to paint reality in a way those that read of my life would understand. A good awful mix of storytelling, past, present, and twisted details.

I wonder, if those that came before me would scoff at the lengths I go to to tell our story in plain sight. In the guise of darly twisted myths and fairy tales.

I wonder if they would approve.

Keeping the rules upheld by bending them until they nearly break. Protecting the innocent and the damned in the same keystrokes.

Oh, how I tread water. Eyeing the shoreline with equal parts disdain and desire. At what point does someone forego their secrets and return home?

The decision becomes skewed by the knowledge that my home is a series of cobwebs, gravemarkers, and endless severed ties. Such is the nature of the life I created through a series of good intentioned choices.

Well, you know what they say about good intentions.

So here I wade. Hoping to close my eyes and see a different landscape upon opening them.

Bear with me.

The common threads will become obvious given time.

And in a world where we escape death daily, the only currency we really have left is time.

Saturday, June 30, 2018

The Guardians (Keeper, Entry #14)

Knowing what I do can be lonely. 

Being a Keeper means keeping people at arms’ length, even the ones you love. To keep the secrets safe.

It means knowing too much about the world around you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. And forgiving the world despite that.

Forgiving people for who they are, loving them anyway. But being unable to forget. Anything. We just aren't allowed to.

Even the events we got erased from history.. still existed to me. Painful, horrible, gut wrenching heartbreak and misery. But also.. the beauty of the sunrises, the stolen moments with the featherheads, all the children I got to meet and care for. 

It's the knowledge of what was and what could have been that slowly eats you up inside. The timelines that should've existed, that did exist, but weren't meant to survive the Quiet. The depression. The pain.

We're the Guardians. The ones assigned to different roles. To remember, to fight, to protect, to keep the memories alive, to see what's coming. 

Every one of us, a different role. 

Mine is to See and to Keep.

Past, present, future. 

I keep the stories alive. 

The memories. Even of what never was.

It'll drive you insane after a while. 

Creepy or awkward or rude. 

The weight of who you are versus what your job is in life. And sometimes.. having to choose between the two. 

I know Guardians that retired of heartache. Too many lost souls crossing their desks, not enough resolutions.

The inability to save the ones that need it, because.. 

No one listens.

It's the Cassandra complex given life. 

All I can do is prepare for what's coming.Warn the ones that need it. Write the Archives. And.. 

Mourn the things and loved ones I've lost. 

Slowly counting down the days until I go Home.

Monday, June 25, 2018

Ebony (Dia, Original Journal, Third Entry from the End)

Standing at my windowsill, staring out at the moonlight covered landscape, I contemplated what had lead me to this moment in time. A thousand yard stare obscured the details of what lie before me.

A rustle. Footsteps, barely recognizable.

Movement beside me. A hand brushing aside what locks of hair remained after my hatchet job. A soft touch, a man's hand gently brushing down my cheek.

Cassiel had come to stand beside me, leaning on the wall next to the curtain to my left. Deliberately calm stance, legs crossed, putting weight on his shoulder as he leaned in to look at me.

I leaned into his touch briefly, turning my head to gaze up at him. At knocking me out of my trance, he smiled down at me, bringing his massive black wings to to encircle me.

Saturn, the ever thoughtful featherhead, sought to eliminate as much outside stimuli as he could. To soften my emotional and mental transition to the here and now. He knew in my current state, coming back from the Sight, I tended to be impossibly vulnerable to the outside world.

A crooked smile on the impossibly beautiful features of his face. "How ya hangin' in there, love? You doin' alright in that head of yours?"

He cupped my cheek gently and stared into my eyes, his, a warm gray brown, overlapping my gray blue.  The crown of feathers on his head glistened even in the darkness.

“You’ve been using the sight again, haven’t you, siren? It always makes you this tired.”

My lover swept me into his arms and carried me to our shared bed. The man I had claimed as my best friend. My Guardian.

My head hit soft pillows. I struggled to look up at him.

A soft shake of my head, eyes glazed over. A whisper. "I haven't been trying to. The visions just keep coming. It's all I can do to ride the current when they arrive."

A soft whisper fell upon the room. Time slowed. As it was just meant to be us in the moment.

"Then I shall ride them with you. All you need to do is ask."

"I’ll give us time to rest. Time to play. Time to endure."

I closed my eyes then, letting my weight sink into the cool sheets beneath my skin. A turn of my head as I buried my head into the crook of his neck, my arms coming to softly rest around him, pulling him closer to me.

The thing about angels is that they use their abilities like other creatures breathe. Easily, at will, and without thought.

One of Saturn's signatures was to slow or still time to give me a chance to recuperate or hide from the world. He did it often and unthinkingly, often wreaking havoc on the world around us. He typically regarded this chaos with amusement.

“Our world. My issues to fix later. To err on the side of caution without at least being smart enough to fix things in your favor is asinine.”

“Chaos in itself can fix issues. The world can handle itself.”

He curled up properly against me, letting me use his body as a comforting pillow. As we always did once he arrived.

"You know you're bending the rules again, love. Father'll be furious if we don't report in in the morning."

He grinned then. “I am. But I can control when the morning will come, my dear.  He’ll have us reporting in at due time.”

A slow, crawling look down my form to settle at my chest, dragging itself back up to watch my face closely.

“For now, it is just us.”

Cassiel and I had a habit for disappearing together. Sometimes carnally, sometimes not. Always one of us seeking out the other. We were the closest of friends, those that came together in an unlikely friendship amidst the coldness and cruelty of the war we fought in together.

We always sought to comfort the other, attempting to soften the blows of the horrors we saw daily. The cruelty, the savagery of those we were supposed to be allies with.

We were cut from a different cloth, and it showed.

Once upon a time, my angel had been as emotionless and lethally efficient as a surgeon's blade. At some point, though, he stumbled his way into discovering a different path. One hotly disputed by our kind:

The discovery and release of his spark, kept caged through his childhood and early teenage years.

A spark I was proud to have helped stoke until it flared under my influence and came alive behind his eyes. What resulted eventually came to be the man holding me now.

The others accused me of corrupting their kind, but I stood my ground. I was of the belief the spark was necessary to each angel's internal evolution.

Without it, I argued, they were shells. Puppets.

Not the kinds of creatures I ever wished to work beside.

He was grateful to me, as he always was. His spark had brought him to life beyond measure and compare to his brothers before him. A soul. A conscience. A deeper understanding of the world beyond his sight and views.

Not a puppet.

Not an angel either. Something different.

A tear slowly snaked its way down my face, the exhaustion getting to me. We had been doing recon missions for months, something exponentially more difficult for me as our targets had once been our friends. Our family.

In those days, I had been far more softhearted. Gentle. Loving, if you disregarded the sarcasm and dark humor.

This was, admittedly, a very long time ago.

"Can we.. can we just stay here for a while, Cass? Can we stay in this pocket of time long enough to sleep properly? It feels like months since you were allowed to just.. hold me."

A soft smile from my angel at this request.“If that is what you wish, my love. Then it shall be. It has been a long time since we could just lay together like this. I’ll keep the pocket going. You get some sleep.”

A wrinkle formed between my eyes as my brows furrowed in concern. "You need the sleep just as badly as I do. I worry for your mental state at times, pausing time as you do so I can sneak across the borders and retrieve what Dad needs."

"I know what strain it is on you. You can't expect to keep this going forever. Eventually, something is going to give, and I fear it will be your health. Or your sanity."

My ridiculously self sacrificing angel. “I’ll sleep when I need to. I’m alright, don’t you worry. Whatever goes first will come back in time. My job, and my greatest joy is keeping you safe.”

“But if you want me to sleep, then I will.”

He yawns, almost on cue, curling up comfortably against me.


I battle my exhaustion, still worried. Dashing the tears from my eyes wearily, yawning in response to his.

"Will you wake me when the spell starts to falter? I don't want us to be late for the debriefing. They're expecting me to Speak. Again."

The higher ups had a vicious habit of forcing me to explain the enemy camps in detail, scrutinizing my face as I struggled with myself to avoid revealing too many details. As I omitted the details that would lead to the incarceration and death of those I still loved.

I couldn't betray either side. So, I relayed what information I safely could to both sides. Enlightening them just enough to save lives, casting into shadow the personal details that, if relayed, would be seen as a betrayal.

“I will, now. Get some rest, my sweet Dia. You need your strength for the meeting. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

“I hate that they keep making you speak, though. Don’t they have others?”

My tone grew cold at this.

"You know why they choose me. They hope to get me to formally choose a side with their manipulations."

"I won't do it. They can go fuck themselves."

Cassiel held me tighter at this admission, his tone growing wistful. “They really can. I’m tired of the politics. And forcing you into them.”

“And well, no one else gets to fuck you. But me.”

Another yawn at this. "If I weren't so fucking tired all the time, that'd happen more."

"Goodnight, babe. Good luck in the morning."

I furrowed into his body and the covers he had slid over our forms, delighted to not be passing out alone over endless stacks of paperwork as I had been for months.

“I’d like that. But yes. Goodnight love. We’re going to need that luck in general.”

As I closed my eyes and fell into sleep, I neglected to tell my lover what I had Seen.

What was coming next.

Why I wanted a stolen night with him so strongly.



....It was one of the last we would ever have together.

Saturday, June 23, 2018

A Broken Fairytale (Dia of questionable origin, requesting verification)

Sinister.

An ominous name, right? The kind of thing or description that might warn you to steer clear?

Yeah, I tried that.

Fell in love despite myself.

With the one man I was forbidden to be with.

An angel that broke the rules and Fell for love.

Became a Reaper alongside me, to better serve the ones that had no abilities or enchantments to protect them like the other races do.

When I split myself into so many pieces.. he followed me.

Followed me through time and space, to watch over us all.

Saved us from an entrapment by the Unseelie.

Warned many a husband to watch their step.

Because he was watching.

I've known him by so many names. Gabriel, Jor, Sinister, Syn, and a few.. I can't even repeat.

I'd get in so much trouble.

What follows is an account from one of my selves. Decipher it as you will. I simply know it has to be written:



Years ago, I met a lanky motherfucker with a demon's smile, running around like the Tazmanian devil and captivating everyone around him. I, like the rest, couldn't help but laugh at his antics. 

He introduced himself with a flourish, bowing and dipping. "Hello there, pretty lady. My name is Syn. And yours is...?" I flushed then, unused to such theatrics from anyone outside of the demons and the insane.

"Dia. My name is Dia."

He straightened with a smug look on his face, bouncing a bit in place as he did so. "I thought that might be it."

Confused, I shyed back behind Taishan, peaking out around his shoulder. My wolf demon was rather amused, telling me to either sit quietly while he met with his brother, or to go back inside. With a reluctant nod, I did as he bade and quietly retreated.

Of course, even then I wasn't the perfectly meek little mouse i presented to be. I creeped to the door separating me from them, and pressed my ear to it.

T: "....I see you've finally met her. What do you think?"

S: "I like her just fine, but.. does she know?"

T: "Of course not. She wouldn't be here if she did."

S: "Maybe now would be a good time to explain what you're doing with my wife."

T: "Ah ah ah, brother. She isn't your wife this time around. She's just a pretty young thing that got drawn to Us. I just so happened to be the first one she found."

" Can you blame me for taking the opportunity? She's beautiful, kind, and completely oblivious. Utterly unlike she used to be towards the demon clans. Quite frankly, I think I prefer her this way."

I pressed my ear harder to the door at this point, desperately wishing my hearing wasn't so poor.

S: "You know she'll wake up eventually, right? You can't expect her to forget forever. When she does come back to herself, she's going to hate you for this."

T: "I've made contingency plans for just about every occasion that could arise. Trust me, she isn't going anywhere."

S: "You know I can't stay to fight you on this. She's too young, and my assignments will keep me too far away to be of any use to her once they begin."

"Just.. do me a favor and treat her right. If you don't, you know I will return and take her from you. By force if necessary."

T: "Of course. But, you know as well as I do that once you leave, there won't be much you'll be able to do about it. Infrequent visits at best. I will do what I can to keep her safe from the rest of the world until she wakes."

S: "And what about from you?"

T: "Me? Why, I'll treat her like she deserves to be treated."

At this, there was a period of silence punctuated by the sounds of scuffling, and faint cursing.

S: "Don't forget my promise to you, Taishan. You can rest assured I won't. No matter how long it takes."

The sounds of soft footfalls retreated, and I backed away from the door as quickly as I could to avoid detection.

I failed.

The door opened and in stepped my lover, his eyes searching me out the moment he did. Eyes narrowing, he strode forward and yanked me up by my hair from my hiding position, backhanding me as he did so.

"Oh, darlin'. I wish you wouldn't have heard that. It isn't nearly time for you to know these things."

With that, Taishan grinned maliciously at me and covered my eyes with a long, taloned hand. When he removed his hand, it was as if I was drifting through a fog once more, my memory of what happened spotty at best.

"Baby, why didn't you stay outside while my friend visited? That was very rude of you. Next time a friend of ours comes over, please be more friendly to them."

I smiled vacantly at him then, pupils blown out from what he'd done to me, a vapid expression on my face. 

"Of course, baby. I'll do better next time."

With a nod and a smile, my wolf took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom to 'punish' me as he was wont to do, making me his broken little toy a little more at a time.

It was not until many years later that I was able to wake up enough to remember what had happened, and question what imagined sins he had been forcing me to atone for.

It took years more for me to recover from the memory wipes so many had subjected me to in the last ten years.

Sometimes, I wonder if I would have simply been stronger if I could have withstood what happened to me better. The Elders insist there is no possible way a slumbering Original teenager could have fought back in those circumstances, but still.. the guilt remains. The anger at how much I lost.

I have to go. One of the envoys is here and wishes to discuss the peace treaty. Oh, how I loathe speaking to the panther clan.. ugh. I'll have to finish this later.



And So It Begins (Keeper, Entry #1)

In spite of the pain, we cling to the memory. -Anon

Where do you begin transcribing an Archive of thousands of entries? How do you choose which story to tell first?

I have been staring at the oceans of paperwork, jumbled relics, and miscellaneous personal items that make up what remains of the Archive after.. the last few months.

The ones no one remembers.

The Quiet was fed an entire timeline's worth of.. everything.

People. Places. Items. Memories. Events.

Do you know what it's like to remember things that now never existed? What it's like to carry love and hate in your heart for phantoms?

The higher-ups told me this was a new assignment.

To cope. To process. To heal.

By transcribing what I can of this mess, and when I can handle it, writing what I remember.

It's difficult to keep a grasp on reality when you have contact with so many parallels.

What would save one world, would have you locked in an asylum in the next. A fate I can vouch for as being hell, thanks to Amanda and her nightmarish life.

The one of us that was tortured the most.

How do you decide who you are when you've been so many people? I keep being told "Start over. Be someone new. Live a good, happy retired life. You deserve it."

I don't want to retire.

I don't want to dishonor what we've all been fighting for for so long. Just because one timeline found it's conclusion.. does not mean the others are safe.

So... Reluctantly.. I begin typing the old stories.

The ones that would get me killed if I transcribed them perfectly.

I'll be changing names, omitting dates, and rearranging the details. Same pieces, different image.

Maybe you can figure out what you're looking at.

Maybe you'll just enjoy the entertaining stories.

I suppose it's all up for interpretation.

But.. remember. Nothing is what it seems.