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Tuesday, November 10th, 2015

You’d think growin’ up on the streets would mean gettin’ used to this kind of cold. But I don’t think ye ever really get used to it.

I’m sittin’ here at “home” in me room, just starin’ oot the window. I can see the condensation freezin’ on the glass. Maybe it rained. Or maybe the glass froze over, melted, and will freeze again.

I can hear the wind whippin’ through the trees. It’s whisperin’ to me of winter in that quiet, lonely way all winter breezes have. It’s different than summer winds. Summer breezes make me think of lakeside parties an’ bonfires. Winter makes me think of lonely walks in the forest, standin’ outside lit houses in the snow and watchin’ the lives within, not quite believein’ they could be real. Like readin’ a story, but … not. Like watchin’ a performance, only those people bein’ watched had no idea they were actors in me own personal play.

In an odd way, winter’s loneliness is … gentle. Not really lonely in a way that makes ye wanna cry, but lonely in a way that makes ye wanna sit quietly and just … be. Just listen. Just enjoy the silence of a sleepin’ world. I may not be makin’ much sense, cuz how could loneliness be a good thing? But I ent got no other way of describin’ it.

And yet, it’s still sad in its own way. Abandoned. even when ye know it’ll all be spring again soon enough, winter is the season when people get forgotten. It’s a complicated season, and it’s all born of the cold.

There’s no cold like winter cold. It can be so cold it’s painful, workin’ its way into yer body like blades and eatin’ away at yer bones. Or it can be a snowy cold. Crisp and fresh, not icy, not warm, but bearable. Refreshin’, almost, with that snowy scent in the air. Cuz snow does have its own scent, and don’t let nobody tell ye different.

Why am I thinkin’ aboot all this tonight? I guess I’m just in a mood. I ent feelin’ very good. Got a headache, and my heart is sad. I can’t say why. Maybe I’m just watchin’ the cold too much.

I’m glad I got one spark to cling to, though. I, the Southside urchin, am loved.

I know, I don’t quite believe it either.

But it’s true. And knowin’ that makes the cold just a pretty thing to reflect on, rather than a constant companion this winter.

Look into my eyes.

Tuesday, November 10th, 2015

“One look into my eyes, friend, and you will know the meaning of terror–The unconquerable, tortured fear of one who has sold their soul to the highest bidder.”

This was spoken by some prisoner of the Vandagan Reeves, a witch by the name of Nicolette Morel. I ‘member this quote, cuz when Ellie told it to me, I stopped dead in me tracks. I just hung there, half over a scrub bucket and stared at her.

I find it both terrifyin’, such weighty words, and also sad. She musta been sellin’ her soul to demons if she was talkin’ aboot the highest bidder. I mean, apparently she was killed by tryin’ to escape, and that don’t make much sense to me. If ye are so scared, why run? Ent she know that the pyre, so they say, though I really don’t know nothin’ aboot faith, cuz I never been taught, but ent the pyre supposed to be all cleansin’ like? So, if’n she was scared of bein’ claimed by the highest bidder, wouldn’t it have been better if’n she let them burn her?

Too complicated for me brain. I do best with simple shite.

Mouth To Ear

Tuesday, November 10th, 2015

“Hey, I realize it’s far from my mouth to your ear, but try to pay attention, would you?”

I ent sure who spoke this, but rumor has it it was some real small Count to some real tall templar. I like this Count already, an’ I ent even know him! When I heard this, I aboot fell over laughin’.

Love is like a barbed arrow.

Tuesday, November 10th, 2015

“Love is a barbed arrow. If you are speared in the heart with it, it will not come out. However, if you try to rip it out yourself… Or if someone rips it out of your heart, the wound will be greater than the one left when it first entered. Yet, after it is gone, you feel hollow, and so you seek for the barbed arrow to fill the wound, even if it would hurt you again.”

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