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November 2019 #1

(Trying to speak to H for the first time in 6 months.)

Me: H? – H? Are you – please – I’m sorry – please… Just talk to me one last time, so I can try to make amends? Then you can hate me if you want. Oh gods please… just… speak to me one last time – please – I’m so sorry – please… please…

(There’s snow, at least I think it’s snow, I can see it cascading all around me like a soft mosaic against a greater darkness that hadn’t been there before. I’m cold – bone cold – and I don’t care – I can see a light and I turn to it.)

Me: (staggering) Please, will you … would you… I’m sorry… I don’t deserve – I know – I… I… H…?

(A door opens with a thump and I’m not sure which way is up and then H is there, grabbing hold of me like I’m a wayward parcel and almost shaking me for good measure.)

H: Girl? Dear god!

Me: (awkward, blinking) Are – are you okay?

H: Am I?! Christ!

Me: …W-what?

H: (muttering) Fucking Christ, your lips are blue… (He drags me into the Stormhouse and finds quilts to stifle me under on the sofa by the stove.)

Me: How – h-how are you?

H: (furious) Don’t you do that…

Me: What?

H: Turn up half fucking dead and inquire after my health!

Me: I… I – I – i….

H: Girl… GIRL!

Me: Wh..? …. I’m here.

H: Don’t you dare fucking go!

Me: Go where? (I meant to get up to make coffee but he pulls me down and I don’t go anywhere)

H: (desperate) Please darlin’…

Me: Wherever you like… (I catch on to the fact that whilst I think I’m here, sitting on the sofa, talking sense, I mostly seem to be elsewhere half-passed out in a different place and talking utter insanity.) I’m still sorry…

H: Girl! Goddamn it! You can be sorry when you’re well.

Me: I am well?

H: Like hell!

Me: But… I’m fine? (And I am, physically, in the real world. Yet in the Stormlands I seem to be on my knees and unable to rise despite the fact H is hauling on my arm.)

H: You’re on the godamn floor!

Me: (swaying) Eh, can’t fall any further at least?

H: Jesus!

Me: I know you must hate me and I’m sorry – I am. I just – left. I… No one deserves that sort of desertion – you least of all. I didn’t mean to abandon you – I just… couldn’t hold on to anything. I’m so sorry…

H: (kneeling beside me) You needed to mourn.

Me: It wasn’t mourning – it was – it was just horrible. A void. Everything stopped including me and I couldn’t figure out how to start it again. It’s still a mess… such a mess…

H: (scooping me up and putting me back on the sofa then coughing) aaa – The Classics give us the form of catharsis but it isn’t always a balm…

Me: I – what did you? – ngh – I get that – never mind the bloody Classics right now – I’m just so sorry about so many things and…

H: Darln’?

Me: Hm?

H: Please sleep.

Me: …Why?

H: (wry look) I’d be happier.

Me: …Why?

H: You – darlin’, you…

Me: (I see an especially strong picture of the Storm House, of me half lying on the sofa and H sitting on the edge of the cushions, trying to tidy me under a quilt. I hadn’t realized how ill I looked in the Stormlands, all I’d noticed -idiot- was the fact my hair was black and curled and I was wearing my linen shift with the mother of pearl buttons…) Huh… that’s a thing… (I poke at the buttons. I  seem to be very solidly in the Stormlands, possibly more so than I’ve ever been.) Will – will you stay with me?

H: Always. … No – no – no – girl! Dear fuck no…

(Between one moment and the next I seem to have been dunked in swamp water and left to drown and then pulled out at the last second and my lungs are somewhere between tar and obsidian and I want to cough up my stupid soul if only that would make breathing easier.)

Me: I – I – ah – I’m … ergh… I’m alright… (I choke and splutter against his waistcoat, scrabbling against his bony shoulders whilst he holds me too tight, far tighter than he ever has.)

H: Christ! You had no breath!

Me: (I don’t like anger, but I understand it. I understand it when it’s protective, when it’s scared , when it’s justified, when all it needs is a calming look or the smallest touch. H is angry because he can’t allow himself to be terrified.) Think I’m out of practice… An’ I might be a bit more… death touched than usual… what with… y’know… it’s… It’s gonna leave a mark…

H: (looks supremely unhappy) Will… do you want to stay?

Me: (unable to focus on anything) …Please?

H: Come along darlin…

Me: Will… would you… curl up with me? Just – stay…?

H: Yes.

Source: Tales of Necromancy

by cnkguy
November 2019 #1

Posted in Tales of Necromancy and tagged by with no comments yet.

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