Before you stands a long collection of short stream-of-conciousness pieces I've written over the years, centered on a group on Nameccians belonging to myself and several other authors I know. Some of them are happy, most of them are not, and all of them are long and rambling and somewhat confusing.-

Why, do you ask? Well the premise of stream of conciousness, or soc, is that you have your inspiration and you just start writing without any thought of what exactly you're writing. You just let it come out uninterupted- soul to keys and when it decides it's over it's over. I correct spelling mistakes but not really anything else The other reason things may get confusing is that some 90 of these ficlets are non-cannon and revolve through RPs. They may get random, or repetitive, but the brain works in funny circles and I'm particurally strange so they will be too.-

A quick note. When reading these it is essential to be listening to music. Each piece is intially sparked by a piece of music, which I listen to on repeat while writing it and ends up as the title of the ficlet when it's over. Pluck it out of your playlist or find it on youtube- just get the song because it's not the bloody same without it.-

The first soc here is still one of my favorites, from an utterly fantastic, very long RP several years ago. The song is "Blood Roses" by Tori Amos, and I hope you enjoy the ride.

Darkness in the room, nothing around save a melody, figure in the corner of the bed, staring out at nothing. Emptiness inside her, she missed him. What else to say? The bloody rose was hollow, had lost her life. She missed him. She was no longer who she used to be

The Vivacious bold and outspoken whore-bitch was gone. she still lay out there, in the snow- but this time buried with the blood-stained earth and cloth scraps. She could never return.

Instead there stood now a quiet woman- no mouse, but not who she used to be She no longer wished to know man- because she might forget the taste of the one which she had done so much more than torment, play with- the man she'd loved.

Dagger glint in moonlight as she walked, moonbeams flickering through the silver-drenched gi that was not hers- elegance unknown to her before in her steps. It'd been... how long... gods... Wait. She knew. She always knew. It's been five years. Five years... gods. Damn the gods- who cared about them... Damn the Lady most of all... Mother, my ass... since when has she ever cared about me... she took him from me... Her fist clenched, the elegant claws chipped a bit- they somehow hadn't grown back. She didn't care. She was not so vain as she used to be, Moon flicker, dancing along the flowing cloak that smelled of him still, the scent embracing her, filling her throat like little kisses... Oh, she missed him.

Bloody Rose walks down the stairs- feet clicking softly- for they always had announced any visitor into the bedroom, no matter how soft the steps. Even Scythe could not seem to keep his perfectionist grace on them... the lightest of treads could be heard at his walking there, like a moths-wing whisper

Down the steps of the old fortress, the ruined walls letting in a bit of the cold- she didn't like the cold, but she didn't care. This place was that which was the closest to him he could get- what was left of him was buried out there, in the valley outlooked by the tiny bedroom window. She could see it... there was no way to mark the grave, but she knew. it never looked the same as the snow around. it.. she knew it by heart. She'd buried her heart there.

Softy steps in the hall, the five throne on the far side broken crumbled stone- noone ever went near them. She didn't like them, but she didn't care enough to get rid of them. One of them had been his, and as she knew not which- so she let them all crumble to dust and rocks and moss-ridden stone. Mariyonich had been intrigued by the moss when she was very small... each full moon, it'd let loose phosphorescent spores, the little dust glowing lightly and dancing on the wind which would flicker through cracks in the mortar. But now the child lay in her room, asleep- it was the late part of the night, the silence- and the moss sat dormant. Crescent moon.

She stood in her daughter's doorway for a time, looking over silently- the young face looking peaceful as she slept, the curve of her ears reminiscent of her father's. A sigh- the silver earbobs jingling as she turned her head and walked on.

It hadn't taken Rose long to re-teach her daughter on a few things... like missing. She'd been a fool before- it was silly not to miss someone so close to you. What was silly was to dwell on it and spend the rest of your life pouring over it... So Rose guessed she must be silly yet. Click of heels through room after empty decaying room- the fortress seemed to crumble into bits, but never fall, never threaten those inside. She sat for a time, staring up at one point in the middle of a dark room with the single light being a small hole in the roof- snow drifted down like spirits, flickering and shimmering until they touched her skin and melted into nothing. Ah, how temporal life was... She left the moonbeam room without a word.

It was his voice she missed the most, she thought to herself. Besides, of course, himself... but his voice. It'd been so silent, a whisper- one that grabbed your mind and pulled you toward it- a hidden strength in the words that seemed unfitting of him from his lean frame. And the eyes... dead silver, but she knew them. She knew the faint glimmers in them... So much she did not know. but that was part of her enchantment. She had loved the mystery as much as the sex in those days. But alas- all that was left was mystery, and bloody earth and bloody cloth. And a stone that glimmered deep indigo...

She hadn't known what to do with it. Destroy it, keep it... It was of him. But the little she knew of bloodstones made her shiver- there was no magic art darker than that. It was a twisted little pendant, made her shiver to touch it- she knew where it had come from. When the bond had snapped, when she had felt the agony all over, at the very end there had been that terrific pain searing down her chest- nothing in particular, but a searing...

Bloody Rose shook her head, pushing the thoughts away as she ventured out into the snow, pulling his cloak around her for warmth. It didn't take her long to reach the grave. The majestic mountains of death stood all around her, peaks searing into the darkest night sky, their cold ice glinting in the moonbeams through clouds- there were no stars tonight. The only light were the rare moonbeams, and the flurries of snow before they melted back into the earth below her feet. She knelt down, bushing the snow away, touching her hand to the cold earth- It was the right place, aright. She knew it more than she knew anything.

Bara's face was different now than he had known it. The hard edges had been worn away, her eyes did not glint the same, the lips no longer sneered or snarled so often. In truth, she was more beautiful now than she had been before- the never-aging , centuries-living widow sat by where she had lain down her lover's blood, thinking of what could have been if only she'd waken sooner. She'd known that... bastard. A snarl twitched in her face, a bit of the old glint in her eyes- she might have distracted him... he could have been killed... Ta-kun, you asshole, why did you push me away... How could you do this to me... A single tear touched her emerald cheek, but she shook it away. She did not speak, just watched the snow flicker down like spirits dancing on the wind of life before ending up crushed into the earth- life was temporal, oh so quick and you were gone, forgotten by all save few other snowflakes who would end up the same as you. with a hiss, she lashed out at the little flakes, screaming out damnations to her mother- You've never cared about me, why should I believe at all in you... You've never helped me, am I not your child? Was he not? Why were we the forsaken ones... Why, why why... The blackness of the night gave her no reply, the echo glistening off icy peaks that would never fall, the diamond-stone always reflecting the light that touched it, unlike those eyes she had so loved.

She would never understand. Standing from slumped knees, numbed from the cold... She stared out into nothing with saddened aged eyes. It would never be the same. Nothing would ever be the same. Ah, what she would have given just to kiss him once more...anything, for the feel on his lips brushing her face... If only he had said it. She knew the truth, in the deepness of her soul- he did love her. Maybe she had been an experiment, as to her he had first been not more than a toy... but the pits of her soul told Bara he had loved her. But he had never told her that. That, she longer for more than anything else. The loneliness of the Tsumite Tsubris tried to swallow her, but she stood tall in the snow and ice and rock and crystal and sky and earth... Nothing would ever bring her down. She was too proud to let it. She would show them all that she could survive this. Every one of those bastards who hated her- She would show them. Their daughter would grow older, become a beautiful young woman with a mind all her own, and be a free-spirit- nothing could rein her. And that is how she wanted it. What she did.. was up to her. She would not hold her child back...

Only one thing frightened her. She was so leery on the aspect of love. Should Mariyonich find a kindred spirit, as she had... she knew not what to think. It had been oh so wonderful... before he died on her. She did nor want that for her child. But she knew not what she wanted anymore. And she knew not what he would have wanted, for he had never if rarely spoken of love... He had never told her he loved her.

It was that barb which stick in her side so badly- that, and knowing she might have saved him but could not. Bara raised her hands to the sky, face empty- snowflakes dying on her hands as she stared up. Nothing. She had no mother- she was a forsaken child, as her lover had been and had died. If death like that was aloud to happen... there was no mother. It was all a lie- no mother with powers that great would allow her children to die like that. To be reduced no nothing but scraps of cloth and bloody earth and blood in the gut of a monster. She had freed his blood- had let it spill out over the floor along with the crimson of his murderer's, had burnt the whole palace to the ground, letting his trapped spirit free in the sanctification by flame... Nothing could bind him now, wherever he was. She had freed him, laid to rest the remains he left, and avenged him. There was nothing more she could do, forsaken as she was.

Harp turned away from the simple grave, walking back with soft steps to the old ruins- She was getting too cold to stay. Head down, cloak pulled around her, eyes silent-soft, she turned her back to the place where she had buried the bloody cloth and the bloody earth and her own heart, walking back- This was how it would always be now.

She would always be alone.

10:12 AM 1/9/03