Another knife in my hands. A stain that never comes off the sheets…clean me off. I'm so dirty babe. It ain't the money and it sure as hell ain't just for the fame. It's for the bodies I claim and worse. ---I Never Told You What I Do For A Living by My Chemical Romance
Dear Malchior (November 19th),
Never thought I'd be staring at this again, wondering if this would be the time that I cave. I never have before, but the temptation has been so strong, to let myself bleed of my own volition. I've bled from beatings, from fights, from bruises and scrapes and bloody knees. But the metal in my hands---
Robin slid open the door to Raven's room, at first finding no one. He stepped farther into the room. Their darkest team member had been acting strange lately, distant. Finally he saw her, scribbling in some notebook, with something glimmering in the pale lamplight before her hands, her fingertips lightly resting on it. The object was obscured by the bed sheets.
"Raven?" He stepped forward as her head jerked up and she shoved the foreign object under the covers and slammed the book shut, also putting it out of sight. Her eyes at first had spoken startled realization of another presence, and then mistrust.
"What?"
He sat next to her on the bed. "I just wanted to check up on you…see if you had gotten any rest." His eyes examined her through his lenses. "Obviously not."
"I'll get rest when I need it, Boy Blunder."
"You need it now." He smirked a little, and her eyes narrowed a little.
"Well, I obviously can't get rest when you're here."
His eyebrow lifted subtly, questioningly, and he started to stand, but then just sat looking at her for a moment. "Are you sure there's nothing you need to talk about?"
"Nothing I want to discuss with you."
The hurt showed on his expression for just a second, and then he leaned forward for a second, just to see what she would do. She didn't back away. She looked puzzled…almost terrified, and their faces were just inches apart…but the awkwardness of the moment allowed him to press his glove against her fingers for just a second and leave the skin patch that had a sleeping aid on it. While her eyes widened for a seconds, not realizing what he'd done, he smirked and stood, walking toward the door.
"Well, good luck with your rest, Raven."
Dear Malchior (November 20th),
That bastard…what did he do? I woke up with such a drunken headache this morning, knowing that he had to have had something to do with the overpowering waves of exhaustion that poured over me. He interrupted me when I was writing before, so I had to put away my things, and by the time I tried to get back to it, I felt my head hitting the sheets.
I'm sure he had something to do with it, but as usual, I cannot prove it.
Robin is a meddlesome fool, and thinks he knows best in situations he knows nothing about. He doesn't know that it's not aggravation over you that keeps me awake, and it's not dragon's fire that charcoals my dreams. The deep, demonic voice of my father continues to haunt my newest nightmares, and I know that his contacting me cannot be far away. My recent development in loss of control over my powers, and the arrival of my birthday in just a few short weeks…five to be exact…he's making me ragged and more hurt just in preparation for such an occasion.
I won't let it happen. Prophecies are only predictions. The future is unclear.
I cannot focus while I meditate. I cannot seem to find anything worth concentrating on, not even my own heartbeat, which is the simplest of concentration objects, normally used by beginners in meditation, and for a light trance by experts.
This is my beginning of a fight to delay the beginning of the end.
--Raven
Dear Malchior (November 21st),
Somehow (don't ask me how), Koriand'r managed to convince me to go shopping. Of all the earth habits Starfire could have picked up on, she had to go for one so…trivial and pointless.
I managed to maintain my dignity, and avoid the bright stores filled with tight fitting and male—appeasing clothes. I went to the local gothic/book café, telling her to find me when she was finished. She gave the café quite an odd look when she left…perhaps she was afraid of it. It was quiet enough to comfort me.
I flipped through the books available, stopping for a long moment to examine some pieces of art and a book of illustrations by Amy Brown, depicting pale and eerie creatures of fantasy, and some of terror. They had gotten some new candles…one with a skull holder, which was actually quite creative…and one that mixed incense and filled the air with a sweet, musky smell. The girl working at the counter looked quite bored, mesh sleeves tapered to a long length flowing down from her wrists, purple and black corset showing off her trim figure as she watched the few costumers in a lazy manner through heavily lined eyes. She looked as surprised as I felt when several teenagers and a couple of adults in dark red cloaks walked into the store, going past the heavy metal CDs (including Christian, mainstream, local, and Luciferian, oddly enough), the clothing, the books, the sign up sheet for the poetry reading, the coffee, and straight to the Occult section, which was rarely occupied. I hardly even went there. All the spell books I own are enough, and spells are dangerous…I rarely use them.
I returned to looking the pictures, but listened as the girl left her stand and went to join the cloaked figures. "Can I help you?" Her voice was listless. I shuddered as I looked at the leader, recognizing a dark magic sign that I could not quite make out…wait…
That was the sign of Scath! My hood automatically raised to cover my face and I backed further into shadow, wanting to leave, but not daring as I feared they knew I was here. Worshippers of my father…what could they want here?
They ordered odd ingredients…normal to the average Occultist, as far as I could tell, but they book they ordered the girl seemed hesitant to give over. The conversation was interesting.
"I mean, I don't mind that you have it. I don't go for the Occult…Catholic, you know? But my employer says that he needs to give permission for this book to be sold. Apparently it's supposed to have some pretty dark stuff, goes against God."
"Not against our god." A male under a cloak answered. "When can we see the manager of this store?"
"He's not back from vacation yet. I can give you a card, if you like." She seemed like she'd just rather they leave all together. I didn't blame her. Even if they hadn't almost insulted her religion, they had given off bad enough vibes to drive out every other customer but me. I was hoping that with my cloak, I would blend with the others…but mine not being red, it was a little bit trivial to hope such a thing.
"That would be helpful." There was a card handed to him, and they filed past both me and the girl. She was left staring at me for a minute.
"You're not with them?"
"No…how much is this?"
"$19.95."
I payed her and left, looking for Starfire as I made my way out, even braving those idiotic clothing stores just to find her. The followers of Scath had obviously left, but I wasn't taking any chances. The book was just an impulse buy, something to do before I got out of there, with my heart pounding and grateful my skin had not exploded into the demonic symbols that had always been visible during times of my emotions when I was a child.
The others let me go to my room in peace. Robin pulled Starfire aside to talk to her after he had asked me what was wrong and I had told him nothing…
I've looked through the Book of Azar. I'm sure they were trying to find a locator or resurrection spell. My father is trying to make his way back. I must find why they need that book.
--Raven