Now We Are Sleeping
There is no time here; no day, no night, and however long you count the hours, the answer means nothing. There is no need for food, and therefore they have none. There is no need for sleep, but from time to time they close their eyes and there is a momentary blankness in the silence and the pale light. There is no quiet dusk, and no bright dawn.
This is a place of safety for the King's womenfolk.
It's very quiet here.
---
slip slide image flickers running through the corridors towards the main hall, and why weren't you there in the first place, that woman with her inviting eyes and her story that she had to tell you, that she would tell only the Prince himself, and by the time you'd ripped out of her that she had nothing to tell and had only been sent to distract you, the armies were already outside and Nataku had entered
this is the moment when you enter the hall and the child is fighting your father, YOUR FATHER, and the child is bleeding, covered with blood, long white robe stained with it, floor slick with it, and it is impossible that he could win, even if he is toushin taishi
a toushin taishi? but that kami said
time to die, child
---
this is where the darkness reaches out to infinity, and you reach one hand down to taste it, and it tastes of blood
---
Rasetsunyo says, "Brush my hair." Gyokumen does so. She is Gyumaoh's concubine. Rasetsunyo is his wife.
Rasetsunyo smiles at her. Gyokumen thinks nothing of it. Rasetsunyo has always smiled easily.
Rasetsunyo walks through the endless days of greyness, and Rasetsunyo still smiles, and still speaks gently, and does not despair.
Gyokumen rests her hands on her swollen belly, and hatred hones itself to a fine edge.
---
and if you chained image to sensation, you have the sensation of hot fresh blood spattered across your face as you see the child moving, leaping to balance upon your father's sword, and it would be laughable if it were not what it is, which is death in action
god of destruction, god of war, door god, what door do you hold open, toushin taishi
what door do you usher my father through
blood on your face, Red Child
this cannot happen and yet it is happening and it is the stuff of nightmares
he's my father
wake up
---
it is peaceful here, far from where any voices call out to you, and only sometimes do you wonder why, or know anything other than the gentle darkness and the silence and the warm taste
---
It has been . . . days, certainly. Months, possibly. Years? It is hard to be sure. There is no way to measure time. It is the mind rather than the body that needs to sleep. The marks on the wall become a pointless crosshatching of scratches.
Gyokumen's nail was broken as they were ushered to safety in the kekkai. She had thought, at the time, that she would have the responsible servant beaten later. The nail is still broken. Nothing changes here.
Gyokumen's child lies within her, and does not grow further. She sits with her hands across her womb, and dreams of her son. Her son. Her son who will displace Kougaiji, just as she herself will put down Rasetsunyo and the other woman's face will finally show hatred, show anger, show something that Gyokumen recognises . . .
Rasetsunyo is still smiling, still polite, still gentle.
Gyokumen dreams of murder.
---
or was that how it happened?
the memory shifts and drifts and slips away like everything else here, and the image of your father's eyes becomes your mother's face becomes the woman who lay beneath you two nights ago becomes Gyokumen's nails on silk becomes the kami who smiles and assures your father that certainly an attack on the humans will go unnoticed by heaven, will even please heaven
becomes Souei's face as he leads the kami in, that shuttered face, that ready smile, those shadowed eyes
becomes the child's strange eyes as he looks at you, for you are already moving forward, and he says
he says, You too, Kougaiji
those strange eyes
---
the slow rhythms of sleep
---
Gyokumen's heels rap on the floor as she paces out the small dimensions of the kekkai. Two bedrooms. One general area. She is aware that her steps grow faster. She consciously slows her pace.
She will not scream. Her mouth smiles. She will not scream.
Where is her king? Where is her lover? Where is her world? Where is everything that isn't these few rooms, these short corridors? Where is the son who will save her? Where are the servants who will kneel before her?
Rasetsunyo smiles and meditates. Rasetsunyo has finally suggested that perhaps they should find a way of leaving this place. Rasetsunyo speaks calmly, soothingly, as Gyokumen combs out the other woman's long hair. Rasetsunyo believes that they can combine their power and break free.
Gyokumen hates Rasetsunyo for suggesting that Gyumaoh could have fallen.
Gyokumen serves Rasetsunyo later, with mouth and hands, on her knees, and that lovely hair is all tangled again afterwards.
Rasetsunyo smiles as Gyokumen combs out the other woman's hair.
---
you remember moving as you leapt into action
you remember moving as you held a lover
you remember walking in the free air
this is what blood smells like, this is what sex smells like, this is what air coming down from the mountains smells like with fresh snow behind it
I will get me another son, your father says
I will find some way to protect you from your desires, your mother says
I can find some way for us to help each other, Gyokumen says
I cannot make this offer openly, but I believe we understand each other, the kami says
I bow to you, I swear my loyalty to Gyumaoh, I have brought this kami who wishes to speak to him, Souei says
and they all want you
and the only place to go now is somewhere that you aren't yourself
---
for a moment the darkness breaks, and you remember shock at the armies of Heaven outside your gates, you remember surprised amusement at the little toushin taishi, you remember fury at the kami who must have been lying to you all along, and you take your sword and go out to kill
and then it's dark again
and you sleep
---
Rasetsunyo smiles at Gyokumen. Are you sure that you are well, little sister? she asks. There is concern in her voice, in her eyes. There is sympathy. There is affection.
Of course, Gyokumen says. What could touch us here?
Does something trouble you? Rasetsunyo asks. It's sincere. It's genuine. How does your child fare? she asks. Do not worry. It will not be much longer.
Nothing, Gyokumen says. There is nothing to worry about. It will not be very much longer.
Hate me, Gyokumen wishes. Hate me and be something that I can understand. I hate you. Your voice revolts me. Your kindness makes me dwindle. Your eyes are bright and full of light and I want to tear them out of your face.
Hate me.
But the other woman doesn't hate her.
Very well. Gyokumen's hatred is enough for both of them.
She combs out the other woman's hair. It falls from her hands like silk.
---
somewhere that you are not yourself, where only fragmentary images pass through you like water through light, or light through water, and the faces are only faces, and the voices are only voices, and things that would have meant something to Kougaiji the son of Gyumaoh mean nothing to you because that is gone like a leaf on the surface of the stream
whirling away
and sometimes you even forget those strange eyes and the voice saying You too, and the coldness that seized you and thrust you down
because there's nothing of you left to remember
and perhaps some day you will wake
or maybe you won't
and you watch the dreams clear-eyed here where everything is still, at the heart of the storm, and you forget who Kougaiji is
---
darkness
blood
darkness
---
Gyokumen knows what she will do now. The knowledge sustains her. It solaces her. It lets her smile at Rasetsunyo. It lets her touch her belly and dream of the child's birth. It lets day after day after day go by in silence like the leaves from a tree in autumn, whirling by in the wind. It tastes like good warm blood in her mouth.
Rasetsunyo smiles back at her in innocence and warmth and affection.
Gyokumen smiles.
---
dreams
---
darkness
---
There is no time here; no day, no night, and however long you count the hours, the answer means nothing. There is no need for food, and therefore they have none. There is no need for sleep, but from time to time they close their eyes and there is a momentary blankness in the silence and the pale light. There is no quiet dusk, and no bright dawn.
This is a place of safety for the King's womenfolk.
It's very quiet here.
---
slip slide image flickers running through the corridors towards the main hall, and why weren't you there in the first place, that woman with her inviting eyes and her story that she had to tell you, that she would tell only the Prince himself, and by the time you'd ripped out of her that she had nothing to tell and had only been sent to distract you, the armies were already outside and Nataku had entered
this is the moment when you enter the hall and the child is fighting your father, YOUR FATHER, and the child is bleeding, covered with blood, long white robe stained with it, floor slick with it, and it is impossible that he could win, even if he is toushin taishi
a toushin taishi? but that kami said
time to die, child
---
this is where the darkness reaches out to infinity, and you reach one hand down to taste it, and it tastes of blood
---
Rasetsunyo says, "Brush my hair." Gyokumen does so. She is Gyumaoh's concubine. Rasetsunyo is his wife.
Rasetsunyo smiles at her. Gyokumen thinks nothing of it. Rasetsunyo has always smiled easily.
Rasetsunyo walks through the endless days of greyness, and Rasetsunyo still smiles, and still speaks gently, and does not despair.
Gyokumen rests her hands on her swollen belly, and hatred hones itself to a fine edge.
---
and if you chained image to sensation, you have the sensation of hot fresh blood spattered across your face as you see the child moving, leaping to balance upon your father's sword, and it would be laughable if it were not what it is, which is death in action
god of destruction, god of war, door god, what door do you hold open, toushin taishi
what door do you usher my father through
blood on your face, Red Child
this cannot happen and yet it is happening and it is the stuff of nightmares
he's my father
wake up
---
it is peaceful here, far from where any voices call out to you, and only sometimes do you wonder why, or know anything other than the gentle darkness and the silence and the warm taste
---
It has been . . . days, certainly. Months, possibly. Years? It is hard to be sure. There is no way to measure time. It is the mind rather than the body that needs to sleep. The marks on the wall become a pointless crosshatching of scratches.
Gyokumen's nail was broken as they were ushered to safety in the kekkai. She had thought, at the time, that she would have the responsible servant beaten later. The nail is still broken. Nothing changes here.
Gyokumen's child lies within her, and does not grow further. She sits with her hands across her womb, and dreams of her son. Her son. Her son who will displace Kougaiji, just as she herself will put down Rasetsunyo and the other woman's face will finally show hatred, show anger, show something that Gyokumen recognises . . .
Rasetsunyo is still smiling, still polite, still gentle.
Gyokumen dreams of murder.
---
or was that how it happened?
the memory shifts and drifts and slips away like everything else here, and the image of your father's eyes becomes your mother's face becomes the woman who lay beneath you two nights ago becomes Gyokumen's nails on silk becomes the kami who smiles and assures your father that certainly an attack on the humans will go unnoticed by heaven, will even please heaven
becomes Souei's face as he leads the kami in, that shuttered face, that ready smile, those shadowed eyes
becomes the child's strange eyes as he looks at you, for you are already moving forward, and he says
he says, You too, Kougaiji
those strange eyes
---
the slow rhythms of sleep
---
Gyokumen's heels rap on the floor as she paces out the small dimensions of the kekkai. Two bedrooms. One general area. She is aware that her steps grow faster. She consciously slows her pace.
She will not scream. Her mouth smiles. She will not scream.
Where is her king? Where is her lover? Where is her world? Where is everything that isn't these few rooms, these short corridors? Where is the son who will save her? Where are the servants who will kneel before her?
Rasetsunyo smiles and meditates. Rasetsunyo has finally suggested that perhaps they should find a way of leaving this place. Rasetsunyo speaks calmly, soothingly, as Gyokumen combs out the other woman's long hair. Rasetsunyo believes that they can combine their power and break free.
Gyokumen hates Rasetsunyo for suggesting that Gyumaoh could have fallen.
Gyokumen serves Rasetsunyo later, with mouth and hands, on her knees, and that lovely hair is all tangled again afterwards.
Rasetsunyo smiles as Gyokumen combs out the other woman's hair.
---
you remember moving as you leapt into action
you remember moving as you held a lover
you remember walking in the free air
this is what blood smells like, this is what sex smells like, this is what air coming down from the mountains smells like with fresh snow behind it
I will get me another son, your father says
I will find some way to protect you from your desires, your mother says
I can find some way for us to help each other, Gyokumen says
I cannot make this offer openly, but I believe we understand each other, the kami says
I bow to you, I swear my loyalty to Gyumaoh, I have brought this kami who wishes to speak to him, Souei says
and they all want you
and the only place to go now is somewhere that you aren't yourself
---
for a moment the darkness breaks, and you remember shock at the armies of Heaven outside your gates, you remember surprised amusement at the little toushin taishi, you remember fury at the kami who must have been lying to you all along, and you take your sword and go out to kill
and then it's dark again
and you sleep
---
Rasetsunyo smiles at Gyokumen. Are you sure that you are well, little sister? she asks. There is concern in her voice, in her eyes. There is sympathy. There is affection.
Of course, Gyokumen says. What could touch us here?
Does something trouble you? Rasetsunyo asks. It's sincere. It's genuine. How does your child fare? she asks. Do not worry. It will not be much longer.
Nothing, Gyokumen says. There is nothing to worry about. It will not be very much longer.
Hate me, Gyokumen wishes. Hate me and be something that I can understand. I hate you. Your voice revolts me. Your kindness makes me dwindle. Your eyes are bright and full of light and I want to tear them out of your face.
Hate me.
But the other woman doesn't hate her.
Very well. Gyokumen's hatred is enough for both of them.
She combs out the other woman's hair. It falls from her hands like silk.
---
somewhere that you are not yourself, where only fragmentary images pass through you like water through light, or light through water, and the faces are only faces, and the voices are only voices, and things that would have meant something to Kougaiji the son of Gyumaoh mean nothing to you because that is gone like a leaf on the surface of the stream
whirling away
and sometimes you even forget those strange eyes and the voice saying You too, and the coldness that seized you and thrust you down
because there's nothing of you left to remember
and perhaps some day you will wake
or maybe you won't
and you watch the dreams clear-eyed here where everything is still, at the heart of the storm, and you forget who Kougaiji is
---
darkness
blood
darkness
---
Gyokumen knows what she will do now. The knowledge sustains her. It solaces her. It lets her smile at Rasetsunyo. It lets her touch her belly and dream of the child's birth. It lets day after day after day go by in silence like the leaves from a tree in autumn, whirling by in the wind. It tastes like good warm blood in her mouth.
Rasetsunyo smiles back at her in innocence and warmth and affection.
Gyokumen smiles.
---
dreams
---
darkness
---
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