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 Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2008 8:14 pm
two. solo [cabbage]
three. solo [cabbage]
four. (prp) a matter of watching [cabbage]
five. solo [baby]
six. solo [baby]
seven. solo [baby]
eight. solo [baby]
nine. (prp) just can't keep it together [baby]
ten. (prp) we're better 'cause we're different [baby]
eleven. solo [baby]
twelve. solo [baby]
thirteen. solo [child]
fourteen. solo [child]
fifteen. (prp) no pink puffballs here [child]
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Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2008 8:14 pm
He toed the door to his apartment open quietly, his hands empty but for a large, leafy cabbage. One of his friends (who happened to be the only other person in the world to have a key to this place) had telephoned ahead to tell Luka that he would be visiting. Well, that was well and good- he still kept the appointment he had made at some Liberty Center lab place, knowing that said friend would disapprove. After all, cloning your dead sister... Well, it didn't go over well with priests. Perhaps if he was stealthy enough...
"Hello, Luka," said the man in the armchair. "Sorry. I let myself in."
No such luck. Black-haired Luka ran a hand over his head to smooth the errant hairs, a sheepish grin covering his features, but quickly snapped it back when he noticed the bewildering tilt to the cabbage's pot. After all, he didn't want it breaking. The thing had been expensive.
Asmadai leaned forward, planting his hands on his knees. "What is that?" The priest had a slightly confused expression on his face. It normally graced his Italian features when confronted with his adopted daughter, Asimov. She regularly did crazy and stupid things- like graffiti art on the sidewalks. The most recent thing that either man could remember was the time she had written a paper on the cultural significance of the Earth lunar landing instead of whether ping-pong was a gender-neutral sport.
(Luka did not think ping-pong had gender, nor did he understand how Asimov's hair grew in three different colors.)
"It's a cabbage," he said intelligently, carrying it over to the coffee table where he set it down with a cacophonous thump. "A girl cabbage."
He could almost hear the stupid comment in the priest's overly gentle tone. Being close friends with a guy tends to destroy said guy's ability to be sarcastic around you, and Asmadai had never been too good at the whole catty comments deal. "It's clearly a cabbage, Luka, my prescription for contacts is quite up to date."
"You wear contacts," Luka echoed stupidly.
A sigh, then: "No. I do not wear contacts. I just want to know what you're doing with a very large, and apparently female, cabbage. Should I have you committed?"
The moment of truth! Luka settled onto the couch for a long talk, because it didn't even occur to him to just lie to his friend. "It's going to become Marian," he said firmly.
"Your sister?"
"Yeah," said Luka.
"The one you had sex with?"
Defensive now, Luka said, "Well it's tradition at home to, you know, marry your soul mate. And marriage-"
Asmadai waved both hands in the air. "Stop. Stop. No. Down, Luka."
(Marriage was implied through sex. You ******** someone, you're married. Polygamy was allowed on Melise.)
The priest leaned forward again. "I don't have to tell you that whatever child comes out of there will be unable to recieve God's blessing," he said, still in that slow gentle tone like he was talking to a retard. "And that this is extraordinarily unhealthy to your grieving process."
(Asmadai knew a lot about grieving over dead little sisters, but not much about grieving for live ones.)
"So," said Luka, wanting him to get to the point.
Asmadai shrugged. "I can't stop you," he said. Clearly.
"Awesome," said Luka (totally not getting it). "So you'll be godfather, right?"
"No."
"Come on, Dai!-"
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Posted: Tue Dec 09, 2008 11:43 am
Luka could read a whole damn book, or at least a good portion of it. His photographic memory was very good. Or he could paint a wall in a nursery room, pale pink because that had been Marian's favorite color. Magdelen, he reckoned, could not be that different from Marian, even if the name had been changed.
("You can't name the girl Marian," Asmadai had said, quite firmly. "One, it sounds far too much like Maria." Maria had been Asmadai's sister. She had died. Luka hoped Asmadai never found out how he had corrected the loss of a small portion of Marian's DNA due to decay. "Two, it's inauspicious. Isn't Meliz tradition to never repeat names within a family?" Luka hated it when someone else was right. "Why don't you name her Magdelen?" So Magdelen the cabbage, and child sleeping inside it, had become.)
He could assemble a crib in fifteen minutes, lay out the bedding in another fifteen, water the cabbage and move it into a sunnier patch, eat dinner in fifteen minutes, and fall asleep in fifteen minutes...
The cabbage could create a skeleton in fifteen minutes, following exactly the code it had been given. It could lay out muscles, create organs from nothing, form up blood to fill brand-new veins and arteries and capillaries, and it could begin to cover the human form with skin in fifteen minutes...
This is where things began to go wrong.
A hiccup in the programming, and the biological computer continued to work. It did not pause, because there was nothing wrong with the way it worked. The fault lay in the code it had been given, and this fault... Cells died, shading down to blacks, purples, greens: the disgusting colors of a bruise. They appeared across the rib cage, over the forearms, but like poisonous fungus the taint would spread.
Technology does not know misery. It cannot sense the pain it inflicts as it carries out its orders, mindlessly doing as it is told. Computers follow their programming, just like people do.
This one, though, would have far-reaching effects. The little girl it had created had a Destiny- a goal in life, as the saying goes. Even the shallowest pool has an effect on the world- if that's so, Magdelen Wesley was an entire ocean.
So what can you accomplish in fifteen minutes?
A hell of a lot. A hell of a lot.
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Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 11:58 am
prp. A Matter of Watching
with. Luka and Dr. Calgori; Isabella-cabbage
link. here
A family heirloom gets broken and Luka doesn't dare leave his future sister-daughter alone.
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Posted: Tue Dec 16, 2008 1:59 pm
She took a deep breath, tears leaking from pale eyes. Then she wailed, loud and long.
Luka's response was immediate. Firstly, he woke up and ran into the main room; he scooped up his girl, parental response immediately instructing him to coo at her scrunched-up little face. "Hey there," he crooned, wiping away tears and snot from her face with his sleeve. (This he would later regret, but hey, everything came out in the wash, right?... right? He didn't notice the pink tinge to either fluid.) "Hey, what's wrong, it's all right, hush now..." The litany continued as she bawled, but the whole-hearted sobs turned into little whimpers and soon enough she had fallen asleep, tired by the whole effort. It had only been five or ten minutes, but it had seemed like an eternity for both participants.
He sat down on the couch then, examining her tiny face. True, it was nothing like Maria or Marian; she was clearly her own self. But, looking at her, Luka could see his sister, much more apparent than Asmadai's (who had only been added to the mix so as to ensure nothing really vital was not programmed into the biotech cabbage). It was in the cute little nose, her long eyelashes, even the shape of her eyes and ears. Magdelen was a white-haired replica of Six Marian Wesley.
Leaning into the plush, well-used couch, he considered again his choice of name. Surely no one would protest if he gave her a Melizse name, even if he'd been banished. Even if she was no natural Melizse. Even if she didn't have the halo--
She didn't have the halo. He shifted over her. One of the things that had made the people of his homeworld so reluctant to banish him was his ability to see the halo that made the People, the Meliz, visibly different from all the other species across their dimensions. It was a rare talent, and important, because without seeing the halo there was no way to discern what Order a person was.
Magdelen, who was by all rights one of the People, lacked the halo. Even half-Meliz often manifested a halo, and he had been assured that the vast majority of her DNA would be Melizse in origin.
But there was nothing. He couldn't see it. Looking in the mirror, his halo glowed back, pale red and near invisible since he was so distant from any other of the People, but still there... Yet she had nothing.
He sighed and shifted his daughter up to rest on the flat planes of his chest. It wasn't the halo that had made Marian his Marian, but it had meant something to him. Luka would never have a child of his own- not a full Meliz with full rights under the laws of his homeworld, not unless he found another Meliz here. This was not impossible, but hard to believe in it happening. This child had been his chance for that- a chance to begin again, in essence, and not make that stupid mistake.
"Oh, Magdelen," he sighed, gently stroking the fine white hair on her head. He still would love her, he decided, without even realizing that the decision didn't even have to be made because there was no problem to address. Magdelen was his daughter- his priorities had realigned to reflect that almost without him noticing the moment he saw the ivory locks.
The two of them fell asleep there, quite comfortable in the half-light of the quarter moon.
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Posted: Wed Dec 17, 2008 7:23 pm
Curious, he thought, and he found the location of the thing holding the fabric tight to her skin (what was it called?...) and popped it. The bruising extended up her leg for a little way, then it got worse around her chest- then over her shoulders and down almost to her elbows. Magdelen cooed, reaching for his black hair; gently, he brushed her hand away. Could that have been the reason for the wailing last night?
Perhaps it only came from the way he'd held her so close, perhaps her humanity made her more fragile than a Meliz child, perhaps... But why would there be a dressing on the bruises unless she was born like this? Why should there be a covering at all? Luka gingerly re-wrapped the dressing and tucked the trailing end underneath the last loop.
The white fabric, he noticed, was gray in some places, and damp. He pursed his lips, shuddering and feeling terrible about it. This was his baby; why should his skin crawl, looking at her skin? It was probably nothing at all, but... Letting it go, he decided, would not be the best action. He bundled her into his arms gently, pulled up the neat little hood over her cap of white hair.
"C'mon, Del," he murmured, allowing her to take hold of one of his gloved fingers. It automatically went to her mouth, of course. The little girl was still a normal baby. He ignored the light, almost tickle-like sensation of being gummed for a moment as he thought. Then he decided thinking was overrated and pulled his hand out of the glove and trotted over to the house phone. Without even glancing at the number pads, he rang up Asmadai's number.
"Hello," said the other man.
"Asmadai," Luka said, "I was wondering if you could come with me to the hospital."
A tone of worry entered the priest's voice. "What did you do?"
"I did nothing," said Luka, "but Magdelen is sick, and I've never been to a hospital before on this world. I don't want to mess anything up."
A sigh. "I'll meet you at the hospital," crackled the response. "In ten minutes."
Only after he had hung up did the dark-haired man realize that he didn't know where the local hospital was.
He met the blond-haired priest at the sliding doors that shone under an eye-catching set of glowing letters spelling out "Emergency". Asmadai cast blue eyes down at the girl, tilted his head a little. A tiny quirk of his lips slid into a small smile. For some weird reason, the priest was gratified that she looked nothing like her original self. Luka hoped he never wondered why, and was enchanted when the man gathered Magdelen into his arms.
"Now, we walk in," said Asmadai as he handed the white-haired child (who had begun to quietly fuss) to her father, "and tell them that your daughter appears to be ill, and you don't know what's wrong."
"Um, all right," said Luka, leading the way into the comfortably-appointed waiting room. The floor was hard white tiles, and the walls an inoffensive sea-green. Stiff-looking chairs were scattered liberally about the room. Asmadai detached himself from the pair and settled into the nearest open spot. To the woman on duty, he said, "Ah, my daughter is sick, and I don't know what's wrong."
She looked up, brown hair falling into her eyes. A few clicks, a few seconds of type, and she asked, "What's her name?"
Clearing his throat, he said, "Magdelen Christine Wesley. M-a-g-d-e-l-e-n. W-e-s-l-e-y."
"How old is she?" This gave him pause. Evidently the uncomfortable look he gave the receptionist was clue enough that she was one of the strange, magical children Gaia seemed plagued with. "Physically she looks about two," said the woman dryly, entering that number in.
"And your name, sir?"
"Four Luka Wesley." An odd look, and he added quickly, "F-o-u-r, but everyone calls me Luka. L-u-k-a."
Soon enough he found himself sitting in a tiny examining room off the side of the lobby. He cradled Magdelen gently in his arms and sat in the uncomfortable chair as an ER nurse named Kim asked him questions like 'is there is a history of abuse in your home' and 'has she ever been here before' and 'any allergies'. How was he supposed to know any of this? She had been born not twenty-four hours before...
"Unwrap the dressing, please," said Kim, and he obeyed, gently untying it so the woman could see. "Well," she said, clearly stumped. She walked them to a small examining room out of the way of the main lobby, where they sat and waited until a dermatologist could meet with them.
The examination was brief. Luka managed to remain calm- public persona differing from private persona and all, he didn't really have a choice. The only time the facade broke was when the doctor took out a curette and quickly- painlessly, hoped Luka- took a sample of the discolored skin. Magdelen wailed, and while he took the sample off to be tested, he cradled his daughter close and pressed the small square of gauze he'd been given to the gash on her leg.
"How is it going," asked Asmadai, joining the two. He held a fluffy white rabbit plush with a large red bow tied around its neck out to the baby girl; she took it and her sobs became hiccups as she cradled the soft thing close.
"Don't know," said Luka, his free hand occupied with stroking Magdelen's hair. "They took a skin sample. Something about necro-something." This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen. The grave faces weren't meant to be looking at his Magdelen- a day and he was already attached. Merely thinking about having a time limit set on this girl who was so much his Marian and yet so much herself made his chest seize up.
Asmadai sat down on the bed with his friend, wrapped one arm around his shoulders. "I'm sure it will be fine. God will look after her."
A bitter tone infused Luka's voice. He didn't believe in God, not the same god as Asmadai anyway, and that thought was clear on his face as he murmured, "This is the girl who can't receive His blessing because of the way she was born, remember?"
"Even God makes exceptions," said the priest. Together, the two men waited for the return of the doctor and whatever news he or she would bring.
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Posted: Mon Dec 22, 2008 5:35 pm
Her name was Dr. Odessa Lilim-Rose Vladescu and she could not be called an emergency-room physician. To be truthful, her true occupation was as a pediatric oncologist, and that was why she had been sent to deal with Magdelen's case. It told a lot about her that her first words to the pair of men were not news as to the condition, but a question about them: "You two look kinda haggard. How long have they kept you waiting?"
"Too long," said Luka, but he said it as polite as he could. "A really long time." She fiddled with a page of the chart. "I'm going to go get some coffee," said Asmadai tactfully, and he passed Magdelen to his friend and slid out of the waiting room. Luka cradled his daughter close and watched Dr. Vladescu from suspicious eyes.
"Well," said she, taking a seat on the stool nearby. "It looks like an extremely specialized, possibly unique, form of necrosis or skin cancer." Which is why they sent me, seemed to be the emotion on her face. "Normally it'd be treatable- no one enjoys necrosis or the treatment of it, but, it's treatable and certainly not fatal." He felt relieved, taking a couple of deep, calming breaths. Treatable...
"But we don't think it is in this case. It's not in the normal place, for one thing, instead of being on the top few layers it's buried beneath several. So we can't apply the normal therapies- maggots-"
"Oh hell no," said Luka, a Gaian aphorism he was quite fond of.
She nodded. "Exactly. We're not putting maggots beneath a little girl's skin. Above all, we do no harm. Another option would be amputation, but this is obviously a no go because of the location of some of the infection. Cutting off her ribs-" Recognizing her faux pas, she fell silent for a moment. "Sorry. Morgue humor, you know." Fanning herself with the clipboard, she continued, "Well, it's just not an option. Perhaps when she's older we could attempt to just remove the layers of infected, which is to say dead, skin. For now, we wouldn't be able to do that, not without risking killing her."
Then Luka said, "Couldn't magical methods be pursued? They can do-"
"I don't recommend it," said Dr. Vladescu gingerly. "It's a delicate situation... You may, of course, pursue your avenues of action as you see fit. But I wouldn't."
"You already tried," said Luka in amazement.
With a sigh, she picked up a pen and scribbled a note on the sheet on the clipboard. "That's true. Sometimes it works. It didn't with Magdelen." She tore a piece of paper off of a prescription pad. "Take this down to the pharmacy and get it filled. It's just a painkiller, a very mild one. Generally I wouldn't, but it looks like she's aging pretty fast. Until about noon tomorrow I wouldn't give her any, and then after-" She continued to talk, writing down notes on the prescription paper.
"Thank you," said Luka halfheartedly. "I appreciate it."
"I wish I could do more, Mr. Wesley. I really do," she said.
He stood up and took the piece of paper between his fingers. "Good day," he said.
"Make an appointment with a dermatologist on the way out."
Nodding, he left the emergency room. He was taking his girl home.
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Posted: Mon Dec 22, 2008 6:25 pm
No matter how far away he was from Melise, it was always home.
This time, he wrote a letter to his sister in their native tongue, a fluid language built purposely to faciliate poets and artists to converse in clear words. Slowly, with a measured pace, he said, "Dear Marian-
"Just checking in again. It's been pretty quiet here- I appreciated the helua candies you sent- the Gaians are having some kind of crazy rally to collect toys for their pagan idol "Santa". I can hear people yelling about crazy elves and such outside my window. I did purchase a gift for Asmadai. You remember the priest, right? Well. Yes. It's a new coat. His was getting rather threadbare. His daughter, Asimov, she's just fine, though. I got her a new set of headphones for her iPod.
"I'm pursuing a new job. The last one, well, I didn't want to deal with those children a moment longer. It was terrible. But I applied at the Liberty Center, which is attached to this lab, it makes children out of cabbages, and I know it's at odds with what I just said but... Life on Gaia is lonely. It's strange to be among so many others when I'm used to always being close to the Myriad. To not know the thoughts of others... It's discomfiting. Well, I'll get used to it. It's only been seven years, after all. And exile is for punishment, right?
"Well, I got a daughter from this Liberty Center lab thing. I told you I was going to have kids, even though I don't think you imagined it this way, huh. She's got hair as white as the rujholla you used to collect (do you still collect that?) and her eyes are just the same. That's kind of the reason I'm writing so soon, actually. Her name is Magdelen. And, well, she's sick. Could you... ask around? The doctors say it's some kind of necrotic... cancer thingie. Ask around the Water orders, maybe they'll know something?
"I'd ask myself, but I'm not allowed to send to any more than two or three people a month.
"I'm lucky they let me talk to you.
"How are you? I really miss you. And, of course, Three Octa. And Seventeen, I guess... Do you know where they sent Eight de Cartier? I heard she got sent out as a Facilitator. Was she stationed on Gaia? No real reason, it's just, you know. Anything to see another member of the People.
"I hate Eight."
He paused. "Do you... No. Well, if... Do you know if Octa... You know what I want to ask. About... Five...
"Never mind.
"I miss you, a lot. Please send back soon, Marian."
Luka set the jewel on the table, felt the abrupt and keen sense of loss at the end of his connection to the Myriad hive-mind. "Well, that's how it goes, Magdelen," he sighed, picking up his daughter and snuggling her close.
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Posted: Tue Dec 23, 2008 12:17 pm
prp. Just Can't Keep It Together
with. Luka and Dr. Calgori; Isabella
link. here
It's still broken...
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Posted: Tue Dec 23, 2008 12:18 pm
prp. We're Better 'Cause We're Different
with. Iselda
link. here
Boring Xmas party is boring... But Magdelen makes a new friend!
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Posted: Wed Dec 24, 2008 7:30 pm
"Merry ******** Christmas," said Asimov, flipping her hair out of the way of her eyes. Not like any eye other than just the one (the darker green) was in danger of occlusion. She just didn't have enough hair on her head to cover more than one eyeball at once. It didn't seem to bother her much. Tilting her head back for a minute to regard Luka and Magdelen, she let go of the doorknob and moved aside to let them through. "Nice kid," she added, jerking her chin at the girl. "No wonder Dad wanted me to pick something out for her the other day."
It puzzled him how she could be so rude and yet so complimentary. He went with the common greeting of "Happy holidays". Magdelen half-heartedly echoed him as they followed the elder girl through the hallways of Asmadai's apartment. The room they sat down in was the living room, with a modest tree in the middle of it that was clearly the doing of the eyesore teen in front of them. Asimov flashed a meaningless smile and tossed her mohawk again as she waltzed past the lighted tree. It blinked spastic patterns and was decorated with what appeared to be a black-and-green striped scarf and thousands of bits of confetti, with eyesearingly bright-colored and obviously homemade ornaments dangling precariously on the branches. (Luka quite pitied his poor friend.)
The priest, though, did not look harried at all and seemed to feel quite in control as he passed Luka a cup of coffee. "Merry Christmas," said Asmadai, "And you, too, Magdelen." He smiled at the little girl, who smiled back. Luka found himself feeling quite left out of the smiling circle, but seeing his little girl just being happy pleased him. So he really didn't mind.
"Mer-i-mas," mumbled the little girl, holding out both hands to Asmadai. Only with great reluctance did Luka relinquish his girl to his friend; he watched with a hawk-like stare as Asmadai spoke to Magdelen in a low, humming voice. Doubtless, decided Luka, the priest was indoctrinating the baby in his religion. Well, that was one thing that no proper Melizse could stand; what little religion they had all focused around the Orders. He'd explain to his daughter later about how people were created different, and there really wasn't an overarching deity, just the Orders and the psychic storms of Melise. Then she could make her own choice, an educated one.
Then Asimov walked back through and dumped a few more presents into the pile under the tree. Some of them, of course, were from Luka to the various attendees of their little party, and then others were likely from Asmadai who was more of a part of the consumerist machine than he'd ever admit to, and of course he'd gotten things for Magdelen to 'give'. It was never too early to teach children how to not only recieve gracefully, but to give with a smile. "Hey Dad," she said, organizing all the packages into piles. "Y'got more than one gift this year." All the piles, actually, looked about equal. "Damn."
"Asimov," warned Asmadai, turning his attention to the girl. This he quickly regretted as Magdelen decided to nibble delicately at his fingers. He yelped and yanked his finger free, shook his hand and laughed at his own stupidity. "No biting," he chided, "or Santa won't visit next year."
It was such a stupidly paternal thing to say that Luka was practically burning green with envy. "Shouldn't we have dinner first," he suggested, since he didn't want to be annoyed with his friend over something so silly as who his daughter liked more. And he couldn't begrudge Asmadai time with a child that was basically the daughter of his most beloved sister. It would be cruel (wasn't it cruel to have done it in the first place?) and Luka was not a cruel person.
The priest smiled. "All right, if that's what you want to do," he said, with more understanding than Luka was prepared to deal with.
Dinner actually did not take very long; it was simple, as everything Asmadai served. The most out-there thing was the dessert, which Asimov had obviously had a hand in. It was a marzipan nativity scene that everyone was very loathe to eat save Magdelen, who found herself wedged between Asmadai and Luka, chewing on the arm of Saint Joseph while Asimov dug through the pile of gifts.
"'Kay. For the midget, we have... This!" A small box from Asmadai, book-sized, and then a shoebox-sized thing from Asimov. Magdelen's gift from Luka sat in a box on her dresser- her own focus gem. He hoped so dearly she might one day be able to access the Myriad, even if she had no halo.
The white-haired baby seemed more entranced with her marzipan than with her gifts, so the rest of the group proceeded to open their gifts... then clean up... then Luka gently relocated her attention to the shiny, well-wrapped gifts. From Asmadai, she recieved a bible- "Predictable", said Luka- which she played with for a few minutes, opening and closing it and attempting to chew on it- "No," said Asmadai- before putting it down.
Asimov's gift was the one that fascinated her. It was a pair of huge headphones, much too large for a baby but just the right size for a child or a teen, perhaps. "They were mine," she said, "The iPod, too." Magdelen rolled the black iPod Nano between her pudgy hands. "Don't chew on it, kid," reprimanded the teen, "Lemme show you what you do with a 'pod."
She put one side of the headphones to Magdelen's ear and plugged them back into the iPod; then she turned down the sound and flicked it on.
There is nothing on earth that we share!
It is either Valjean- or Javert!
Magdelen's little jaw dropped, exposing perfect white teeth. "Ouuuuoh," she said, grabbing the headphones from Asimov and pressing them tight to her ears.
"Start 'em young," said Asimov with satisfaction, mismatched green eyes narrow and a little pinched at the edges with her smile. "Les Mis is the best ********' musical ever. And it's never too early to get 'em going, am I right? Don't go messin' with it, Luka, that thing's an antique."
Asmadai sighed.
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Posted: Fri Jan 02, 2009 9:06 pm
When Luka next used his focus crystal, he found a letter waiting for him- from Marian, his sister. He set down the crystal gently on his lap, just touching Magdelen's hand so she could hear. The girl deserved to know her aunt... elder self... well, something of the world that should have been her inheritance. Marian's voice, though, that was all he could give her for now. Maybe someday she'd go home.
The sending was slow, Marian's familiar cadence breaking over the two in waves.
"Luka," said the voice, warm and mellifluous and caring. "How are you? You haven't sent to me in so long, I was getting worried.
"I'm glad you liked the candies. That news about the pagan idol reached us here, too. Didn't he start as a cow or something? Moooo-rry Christmas, then. Ha-ha.
"Winsol passed quickly here. Rebecca's getting worried about the lack of Time order acolytes, but we're hoping that soon a new one will be born. It's not like we can't survive without one, but no one really wants to. You know? I hope your friend likes the coat- it sounds like a good gift. Is this the same Asimov that pulled your hair and grows so fast? Hm. I don't like her."
Marian had always been rather possessive.
"Well, it's good that you finally got out of that job. I wouldn't have kept at it as long as you did. I'll hope that you get the job there, okay? It sounds like fun. You're strong, Luka, to be able to be away for the Myriad so long! Seven years now, right? Lots of the People go insane a long time before that, but you know it. I guess it must help that there are other People there.
"I'm so glad to hear you have someone with you! What's she like? Is she... one of us? You know, the People? I guess not, white hair's pretty rare and they only have your DNA, right? So you'd give them black hair. Huh. Well, say hi to Magdelen from her aunt Marian! I hope I get to meet her one day.
"But she's sick, you say? I asked around, and everyone was all estastic- hoping it was you, I guess. Anyway, here's the info I gathered- if it shows as bruising with blackish discharge, and they say it's necrotic, then it's probably a Melizse disease. So they musta used half the DNA you gave them! They called it "vayil" or something. I don't remember the exact word. It sounded too harsh to be part of our language, you know? Anyway. They say it's fatal except in rare circumstances. It occurs when the skin cells begin to decay too early. It's, like, genetic or something. So they're testing Five for it now and they sent out a notice to the Liberty Center so they'll know to test your progeny.
"I'm just fine. Nothing much has happened, even though I miss you too. I thought it'd get better but really it hasn't. Eight de Cartier got sent to Gaia, yeah, as a Facilitator. She got a cabbage-kid, too. You should look her up. She's gotten a lot better since she outed you- no one was happy about that, actually! I mean, you were wrong, but still. We're supposed to allow people to keep their secrets. But that's the price of the Myriad...
"Five is just fine. She's almost sixteen now- hardly remembers you, which is weird. She was nine when you left. Anyway. She's getting up to that age where she can pick her adult name. I'm trying to convince her to choose Lucivar- sort of a homage to her dad, right?
"Love you, Luka. Try to keep yourself safe, okay?"
The sending wound down, and for once, he didn't choose to send back immediately. What was there to say?
Magdelen was going to die.
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Posted: Tue Jan 06, 2009 7:56 pm
 After a night of troubled dreams, Magdelen awakened to find herself much too large for her crib. Her toes- bare, uncovered by any blankets or socks- tangled with the cold wooden bars, and her hair was caught in the plastic grips of a mobile. She found that out when she tried to sit up.
Letting out a tiny cry, she reached up and tried to negotiate the knot of ivory strands free. Coordination, though, failed her; she didn't know how to work around this new size and frowned, a frustrated blush suffusing her face. Finally, she gave up and just yanked the hair free. It hurt, but it let her scramble over the bars and out of the crib. This newfound mobility was just the first hint of the changes she had undergone at some point, recently- it was still dark out, the moon just barely peeking in through the top right corner of her window.
She looked down first, raising one hand- how insubstantial and translucent it seemed!- to trace the lines of her ribs, just barely visible when she didn't suck in her stomach. Lifting up both arms over her head, ignoring the stretching feeling of her skin, she observed the changing landscape of her torso. Her legs looked longer, too, this eminent solipsist noted.
Then she saw that she was completely, utterly naked save for the bandages. But why should she be shy about that? There was nothing to see. The dressings covered anything important.
Magdelen lowered her arms, stared at her pale, wavering reflection in the window. She even looked older. Maybe she was older. This was surely the sort of thing to bring to her father, she decided, and she turned on her tiptoes to go find him. The house was small. She found him (and Asmadai) quite easily, but something told her to wait. Listen. There was a mystery here, that something said, in the way their voices stayed low and harried.
"-being unreasonable," Asmadai was saying softly.
From her place behind the lintel, she could see her father. He looked unhappy, even angry and despairing. Still she hid behind the doorframe, letting the midnight hour shroud her from sight. She observed her father as he set the mug he held down on the kitchen counter. "I don't want her to know, even if she grows. No one deserves to have that kind of knowledge laid on them."
Who was her? Magdelen? Magdelen didn't want to be sheltered; her mouth gaped open, though, just the tiniest bit. Why would Daddy hide anything from her?
The priest moved out of her line of sight. "If she doesn't grow, she won't understand the implications. If she does, she'll get to decide what she wants to do with her life, what time she has."
"Asmadai! I can't tell her-" Luka's voice broke and his shoulders slumped as he ran one hand down his face, then back through his hair. "How am I supposed to tell a child, or a toddler, or however old she'll be in the morning, that she's going to die?"
She couldn't stop the gasping sound that tore out of her. Die? The word was familiar- the same knowledge that had pushed her to stay behind the door, in the hallway, shoved the held breath out of her. Her father's head whipped around to search out the cause of the sound, found Magdelen, and then...
And then...
Magdelen stepped around the door, watched her father's best friend flinch away upon seeing the spread of her decay. Her hands balled up into fists, but she didn't yell as she wanted to. In fact, she simply... retreated, fell back a couple of steps. What was wrong? Why were they staring at her like that. "Oh, Magdelen," sighed her father. He crossed the room and she observed the defeated set of his shoulders, even before he swept her up into his arms. "Guess--"
There just wasn't anything to say.
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Posted: Wed Jan 07, 2009 7:58 pm
Magdelen startled at the painfully loud 'crash' of something falling in her room and hitting the floor with a crunch. She shuddered and rubbed her arm- it ached lately, all the time. Her thighs, too, but less than they would have if she were to be in motion. Sitting still, keeping quiet, it was just like the ache of a well-used muscle. A vaguely unpleasant, but still ignorable, twinge of pain under her skin.
Belatedly she half-rose from the couch, balanced herself precariously on one knee; her fingertips grazed the surface of a nearby table. "Dad," she called with difficulty, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he answered. Magdelen fell back onto the cushions and rested her cheek on the side of the couch. It was leather, black, and she didn't much like the gesture. The smooth material felt better on her face than her arm would, so she ignored it and crossed her ankles. "Feet off the couch while you have shoes on," trilled Luka as he passed by, part of a dissembled crib in his arms. It was big, and awkward, but she didn't move to help. She already had, and been rebuffed. Twice.
Somewhat resentful, she considered her room, rotating a mental image of it in her mind. Her new bed had been picked out because it was the style Luka expected, a great heavy thing made of a strange, dark wood: He said it was 'heartwood', that the sap still flowed and created the lovely red patterns in the posts at the corners of the bed. He said the tree wasn't yet dead, even though it had been shaped into a four-poster bed.
(Silent, she thought: "But I'll be dead.")
"Feet," said Luka as he waltzed past, back to her room. He was trying very hard to be cheerful and upbeat, she saw.
Singsong, she responded, "No."
She didn't like her bed. It was too big, and when she was in it, she felt alone. Most of the time she snuck into Luka's room to curl up under his arm and sleep, because she couldn't bear to feel so pathetic and alone. It was ridiculous, to be afraid of sitting alone in the dark. Someone, the trusted someone who was her father, was one door over, and the walls were thin: She could hear him rolling sometimes, when he was having a particularly interactive dream.
Sometimes, when Magdelen crept in, he would wake up. She knew because of some subconscious knowledge, a tiny change no one else would notice in the way he breathed. She always knew. And when he did wake up, he would never ask why she had suddenly appeared. His arm, warm and generally bare, would tighten around her, and he would sing. The language was one she felt she should know, beautiful and sweet and soft. Meanings in the words seemed to hover at the edge of her mind like gentle, silver mist, the kind you can see hands in, reaching up from the ground.
Then she would always fall asleep, never hearing the end of the song, but lulled into a deep slumber by the voice and his heartbeat against her ear.
Those were the good times.
Much more often than she would like were the bad times. Sometimes, she flew into towering rages that terrified even herself. She didn't know, or didn't want to acknowledge, why some things made her so mad. When she was like that, she smashed things, screamed and wailed and cried. It wasn't that she didn't love Luka, didn't want him to be happy. She did. With all her heart, she did! After all, he was trying to hard to let her be normal, he even put off doctor's appointments so she could have uninterrupted school days, and then...
She didn't know how else to deal with it. And Luka would just let her rage, save the things he could save, but he'd just wait it out, leaving her with the impression that he didn't know how to handle someone as fiercely, achingly angry as she.
Then the bile would just desert her, leaving her empty and slumping and tired and it would hurt so badly that she would start to cry. And he was there too- for everything. Even when the new medicine, the one prescribed at the first appointment, made her so ill she could hardly leave the bathroom, he didn't go to work and instead stayed home to hold her hair out of her eyes.
It seemed like Luka was completely devoted to her. Magdelen felt like the smallest, most spiteful creature on earth because she couldn't be so loving to him.
She doubted she knew how.
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Posted: Wed Jan 07, 2009 8:01 pm
prp. No Pink Puffballs Here
with. Manuela
link. here
Going shopping is just an exercise in pain, isn't it?
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