Farther and

Words slide past her, not sinking in somehow
It was here once, that magic that's gone now
What does it take, she asks to be someone
What is still left after everything's done?

One, two, three, four
Somebody worth waiting for
Five, six, seven, eight
Then the waiter waits no more

Where did it go, that happiness she had?
Minutes ago, but it's transformed to

No

One, two, three, four
Somebody worth waiting for
Five, six, seven, eight
Then the waiter waits no more

It will be fine, she promises her friends
But the pot of gold where the rainbow ends
The more you run, the farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and farther and

One, two, three, four
Now the waiter waits no more

Drawing lines

I never wanted anything
More than the knowledge of who I am
And I wish I could tell you, but there are
Lines between me, myself and I
It's so easy, drawing lines...
And if they're broken, I will crumble
Running in circles, not saying a word
So many lines...
On and on...
Really don't want to be like this
Really don't want you to see me like this
You know I'm not enough

Rainbow is for all of you (also hi Lucy, I wanted to mention you here, but this poem is for everyone, so I didn't want to put it in the title, but it needs to go by the rainbow, so....yeah)

Red is for all the blood, that's for sure...
Orange is for the worldwide sunset
Yellow is for bananas
Green is for Charlie, the blade of grass
Blue is for mustaches
Purple is for carrots, and also Trip's hair

Black is for shadows
White is for light
There's been plenty of both here, plenty of both

I miss you

But all in all, I think I'm happy with my decision

Well, not happy so much as I think it was the right thing to do under the given circumstances

Much love,

Fabi

Not sure why I've taken the time to find all these dresses, but...

Me

Fabi

Liz, Aevil, Siren, Sheena, Sadie, Effie
Cas, Sophia, Mira, Everly, Raeza, Maeve

I haven't found any for J.A., Faeris, Adamantha, Ami, Spectrum, Avalyn, Cal, Moss(character) or anyone else who isn't there... Not sure if I will. On the one hand, it's fun. On the other, there's really not much point.

I wish I could find as much happiness in planning for the ball as you do, but there's so much that feels...wrong, and I can't look past it all. I didn't want to say anything, because I don't want to make any of you feel like you're not good enough for me. It's not that, not at all. It's all these...details.

I mean, I could go into them. I want to say something somewhere... I just think it'd be better if I posted it where all you people who've put time and thought into making this ball happen won't read it. It's not any of you personally, but, well, I'd rather not offend anyone just now.

My SP Story (as best as I can remember)

*Vague LSODM spoilers. Nothing about specific characters, though*

The summer of 2011, my priority list went like this.

1. Get better.
2. Get SP books 4-6.

There were other things on that list, too, but they're not really relevant to this...

I'm not sure when I first read the series. Sometime in late 2010, I think.

I'd looked at the blog a few times, but didn't want to comment until I was caught up on all the main books, if not the short stories/novellas.

I got Dark Days through Death Bringer right about when Kingdom of the Wicked came out. I remember seeing the spoiler post when I went back to reading the blog regularly. I got to borrow KOTW from a friend, and I sort of quick-read it, which was basically as bad as reading spoilers, since I couldn't enjoy it and had to give it back. I have my own copy now, though. :-)

I got TMS right about when people were getting LSODM, and LSODM a couple weeks later. I was reading it between dance classes, and my friend Emily had to take the book out of my hand and put it back in my dance bag.

I finished it the next day, though, and cried a lot.

A couple weeks later, I went to Val's party. It was awesome. Derek attended for a little while via Skype.

I actually started writing a song about it...

Surrounded by the weirdos as we gather round the screen
My head's packed with ideas, and I don't know what they mean
I sort through thoughts and try to think of something cool to say
When all of my idea bubbles drift and blow away
[Guitar riff/chorus of some sort]

I'd imagined it a million times, but when I tried to speak
It came out as a death threat, then it came out as a speak
The folks behind me laughed, so I don't know if he replied
I got really embarrassed, time to run away and hide

[More guitar riff/chorus of some sort]

Everyone has had a turn; we gather around Val
Who's read Last Stand of Dead Men and demands your rationale
We all request to know why all these characters must die
You grin that evil grin of yours, look glad to see us cry

[more guitar riff/chorus of some sort]

And that's as far as I got. I do, however, plan to include the strange, strange people who ate pictures of your face.

That, however, would probably be going on and on too much, which might annoy people who weren't there. (I wish you had been there, though. That'd have been even cooler!)

Anyway, I'm excited/nervous for TDOTL, which I'll get in...a few weeks. I don't know. Hopefully soon enough that I'll be able to avoid spoilers. I'm getting AOH and TEOTW at the same time...! Eeeeeeek!

<3
Fabi

Darquesse

Because it's too small as a profile pic.

Canvas, Day Two, part one.

((That awkward moment when it stops but isn't enough for a whole chapter.))

The howling wind had quieted by morning. Ania rose early, and started off for the market, her boots crunching in the newly-fallen snow.

She passed the place where the man had stopped her the night before, pausing to glance around now that the rosy glow of sunrise better illuminated the buildings around her. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a closed ironworks and a former hotel that was now home to practically anyone who walked in.

Ania frowned slightly. Maybe it had been the next block over, where there was a police station, and the man had been a constable from the night watch. That was more likely, though you'd think he would've had some sort of uniform. Then again, it had been dark...

She put the thought from her mind as she reached the market plaza. Many of the vendors were still setting up their stands, but there were several food carts and a few stores open for business. Ania stepped into a bakery and purchased a large loaf of bread.

The baker nodded. "Would you like some mustard with that, Miss Britta?"

Ania blinked. What an odd thing to ask. "It's Ania, Britta's sister. And, um, no thank you. Just the bread."

The baker frowned, then felt about for his spectacles. He located them dangling from a chain around his neck, and put them on, squinting at her. "Why so you are. I apologize, my eyes are getting old."

He put the bread in a sack and handed it to her, then went upstairs to find change for the gold coin. Ania waited patiently. When the baker returned, she took the coins and went next door to see if the apothecary was open. It wasn't. Nor was it open when she'd bought all the food she would need for the day. She looked away from the closed door, an expression of hopelessness appearing in her eyes as her gaze fell on the face of the nearby clock tower. Karina would be awake soon.

She hurried home, stopping several times to make sure she didn't lose any of her precious purchases. Each time she stopped, so did the man several meters behind her. She didn't see him in the crowd.

Canvas, Day One

Ania hunched her shoulders, clutching a small brown parcel to her chest. The wind whipped at her wispy dark hair, pulling strands out of her braid. She shivered, and wished her coat fit properly instead of flapping loosely.

If Britta were there, she'd have said to stop complaining and focus on the task at hand, then during the night, she'd adjust the coat so it would fit and say nothing more of it. The thought made Ania smile for a moment, but her face darkened again, akin to the sky.

Somehow she felt...vulnerable without her older sister to guide her. She was alone on the streets, and the sun was setting. Few others dared stay on the roads this late in fair weather, much less a winter storm.

She wasn't surprised when a tall figure stepped out of a dark alley, blocking her path. "State your name and your business."

"Ania Calloway. I'm going home."

The man relaxed slightly. "A Calloway, eh? Any relation of Miss Britta?"

Ania nodded, feeling a bit better. Britta worked washing and mending clothes for a number of the merchant class. If this man knew who she was, he couldn't be someone too terrible. Unless he was somehow responsible for her disappearance. Ania swallowed. "S-she was my sister."

"Was?" Ania got the feeling the man was raising an eyebrow, but she most of the light came from somewhere behind him, so she couldn't see his face.

"Aye. She's been missing for almost a week."

"Well, you have my sincere condolences." He stepped aside. "You should hurry home...before the storm gets any worse."

Something about the way he said 'hurry home' felt like a warning or a threat. Ania couldn't decide which. Still, though, she took his advice, practically running the rest of the way as snowflakes began churning through the air. There were steady footsteps behind her the whole way, but she didn't dare look back.

After several more minutes, Ania drew to a halt and glanced around. Her eye found no living being and her ear only the light whisper of falling snow. She opened the door of the cellar and darted inside, making sure it latched behind her.

"Ania...?" Twelve-year-old Karina sat up on her pallet in the corner, pulling her blanket over her shoulders.

"Stay under your covers, Kari," Ania said softly. "I have to take the canvas to , and then I'll come down and tell you a story."

The door at the top of the stairs creaked open, and Ania tiptoed through the first floor. She avoided the parlor with smashed in windows, instead skirting through the hall. Portraits of the family who'd once lived her lined the walls. She didn't focus on the fact that they were now dead. She didn't focus on the fact that their empty eyes were staring at her.

She reached the kitchen and started up the second staircase. On the middle step, she froze. Was that the sound of a door creaking below her? No, it couldn't be. Lise seldom left the attic. Her bad leg made stairs hard on her.

Ania went up the second staircase, then the third as quietly as she could, then pushed open the attic door.

Lise was at her easel, as always, squinting to see in the dim light of the lantern. The painting she was currently working on seemed at first glance to be an ordinary enough scene, a view from the attic window as people returned home from the market, bags and bundles tucked under their arms. Ania's eyes were drawn to the far right, where a little girl in pink rainboots huddled under an umbrella. She hugged her knees, and her tear-streaked face made her look so alone. The other townsfolk walked past her, as if no one was there.

Ania cleared her throat, and the artist turned around. "How many sold today?"

"All of them," Ania replied, "Only one sold in the morning, but a foreign merchant came at the end of the day, and bought the rest."

Lise snorted. "It would be a foreigner. Another one from the south? They always did like to look at our pain and laugh."

"Aye."

"Well, their money's good enough, so I can't complain, can I?"

Ania shrugged slightly, and set her parcel on a table. "Here are the canvases you asked for, and the rest is in here." She brought a cloth bag out from the pocket of her coat.

Lise took it and spilled the six gold coins into her palm, running her fingers over each. "Did you already take your share?"

"No. My portion would be a silver and three coppers, and the man paid in all gold. I was hoping perhaps you'd have some change."

"Oh, just take it all." Lise poured the coins back into the bag and thrust it at Ania, holding up a hand when she started to protest. "It's well nigh time someone gave you a lucky break. Now get out."

There was an unsettling look in the artist's eyes now, a fire that was blazing out of control. She started painting the outline of someone else huddled near the little girl, ignoring Ania's presence.

Ania murmured a quiet "Thank you," and hurried down the stairs, still slightly in shock.

When she reached the basement, Karina was waiting for her.

"What are you doing out of bed?" she asked in concern, rushing to her sister's side.

"Somebody knocked while you were upstairs. I peeked through the crack, and it wasn't Britta, so I didn't answer it."

Ania blinked. "At this hour? Who was it?"

"A man with a dirty brown coat. He wasn't carrying anything, and he didn't have a mustache like Papa did."

"Did he say anything?"

"Nope, he just knocked, and then walked away after I didn't answer."

"I wouldn't worry about it, then," Ania said, smiling for the younger girl's benefit. "If he'd wanted something, good or bad, he'd have at least called out a hello.

"On a brighter, note, guess what?"

Karina's eyes widened. "Is Britta back?"

Ania shook her head sadly. "No, but the paintings sold well today, well enough that we can have three meals tomorrow, and I'll be able to get you some medicine, if the merchant doesn't try to cheat me."

Karina grinned. "Can we have cheese?"

"If there's any at the market."

Karina started to squeal with excitement, but it turned into a cough.

"You need to get back to bed." Ania guided her to her pallet and tucked her in. "Has there been any more blood?"

"No. Can you tell me a story now?"

"Of course. What would you like a story about?"

Karina considered. "Something happy. I like happy."

"Okay." Ania thought for a moment, then began. "Once upon a time, there was a ten-year-old girl."

"What was her name?"

Ania hesitated for a moment. "Britta."

"This is a story about Britta?"

"Yes, and a funny one at that."

"Are you in it?"

"A little."

"Is Mama? Papa?"

Ania laughed. "Yes, Mama and Papa are in it. You weren't born yet, though. Now are you going to let me tell the story?"

"Oh. Right." Karina curled up in a ball, pulling the blanket up so only her eyes and forehead stuck out.

Ania continued. "The Christmas Britta was ten, we still had the big house with the rowan tree in front, but it wasn't the best year for money. Britta only got a copper pocket money, but she wanted to buy everyone nice Christmas presents. She first tried to sell her Christmas dress, she hated it with a passion, but Papa caught her and sent her to her room. Of course, that wasn't enough to stop Britta. She always was so determined and rebellious..." Ania trailed off, wondering if Britta had joined in one of the riots the night she hadn't come back. It would, unfortunately, make sense. What if she'd been trampled, or shot, or burnt in the chaos? Ania swallowed. She pushed those thoughts from her mind, and started to continue the story, but Karina was already asleep.

Little One

I wish I could say
That you're safe, that I'll stay
By your side every step of the way

I wish I could know
That you're safe when you go
From storm-winds that scream as they blow

I wish I could sleep

While you're safe, but I keep

In my mind, finding words buried deep

I wish I could dream

That you're safe, but tears steam

From my face, and you can't hear my scream

I wish I could tell
That you're safe, cast a spell
That would make it all somehow end well

Computer Poem

This poem is based off the earlier discussions about reality.

It's written in Python, which in this case is a computer code, not a snake. In case that wasn't clear. :-P

Thanks to Nelnah-Fish, my amazing sister, for helping me write in a language I don't speak. :-)

Hopefully the image works. If not, let me know.

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