Sleep Journal - Fairge Anma - 190223
Mar. 20th, 2019 09:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kimurhoSleep Journal
23 February 2019
Sarah Farris
It was a great exit line. Too bad I didn't have anywhere to exit to.
I stormed off up the hill toward the Psych building, leaving Justine to lock up her car.
She didn't catch me up until I was half-way up the hill.
"So." she said, winded and puffing from the effort. "My car; how long will it last?"
I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, wondering what she was going on about. "I'm neither a mechanic nor a seer," I said shortly.
She laughed. "No. I mean ... I saw what you did when you got in and whatever it was, it worked." I still had no clue what she was talking about. "We hit every light green on the way here."
I felt shamed; I hadn't even noticed. Stopping short, I closed my eyes, raised my face to the skies and offered a gratitude. Justine stopped a beat and waited until I finished, then asked, "And what was that?"
"What do you think it was?" I countered.
"It looked like you were praying," she said dubiously. As though she couldn't understand why.
Perhaps she couldn't.
When I first came to this the World, I was amazed by how blasé everyone was toward the many blessings they receive daily. They accept each one as if they deserved to be so blessed; as if God owed them such marks of attention as a matter of their due.
This ignorance ... This base ingratitude ... It made me uneasy. I answered shortly.
"When the gods give you a blessing, it is well to give thanks where thanks are due, or they may not be as generous when next a blessing is needed. 'Render unto God that which is God's'."
My response only seemed to confuse her further. She shook her head, frowning as if in pain.
"Do you do that just to mess with peoples' heads?" She was only half-joking.
I didn't answer because once again I had no idea what she was talking about. The silence stretched out long enough to be awkward, until she broke it, saying, "That's what set Joe off, you quoting the Bible like that. He said you would talk about magic like ... like it was commonplace, then you'd start Bible-thumping. He was convinced you were messing with them and he gets enough of that from his family."
"So it's my fault that he lost his temper and attacked me?" I didn't try to keep my personal opinion out of my voice.
"I didn't say that."
I stopped short, forcing her to turn and look at me. "Didn't you?" I asked, meeting her eyes steadily, long enough to make my judgement clear. Then I started walking again. After a moment, she fell into step beside me again.
" I suppose I did, at that, and I should know better. Sorry."
Did the saying of 'sorry' wipe the slate and set everything anew? What good was contrition if it wasn't backed up by acts? While I was pondering the question, she spoke again.
"JJ said you were going to scry for Craig? How does that work?"
I stopped short again, closing my eyes and taking several deep breaths, letting each out slowly in turn. I could hear and smell the traffic passing in the street, the murmur of voices, feel the breeze and I didn't know if it was artificial or real and what was real anyway? The earth was trapped beneath the pavement, dying. Somewhere sprinklers were on, spraying water into the air.
Justine McManus was talking, asking me if I was all right. I opened my eyes.
"Not ... exactly. Miss McManus, at the risk of being rude, I really need ..." to what? How do I describe it? "Working craft requires stillness and concentration."
"And you want me to shut up."
"I would not put it that way."
"Which isn't a no. Just answer me one question." She was going to ask it whether I said yea or nay. I gestured for her to go ahead. "Do you really believe that you can find Craig using witchcraft?"
I froze. "I will not."
"I'm sorry? Isn't that what you used this afternoon in the office? And in the library yesterday?"
"Òigeam. Rune magic. The runes are used to focus the craftwork. It's part of the discipline of eòlaiseachd. Wise-art."
"Wise-art? Do you mean wizardry? You're a wizard?" Strictly speaking, I wasn't qualified to claim that honour. I hadn't passed all the necessary trials before I'd been captured. "Not a witch?" she continued, sounding as if she couldn't believe it.
"I am not a witch." How to explain. "Witchcraft is ... " No. There should be no confusion about the terms. "The power of buitseachd, the magic of it, comes from the ... the heart. The seat of emotion. Buitseachan believe that the darker the passion, the stronger the power. They revel in emotional extremes. Indulge in hatred and anger, lust and cruelty. They sow dissension among others in order to harvest the chaos that follows. They store this power in wands or staffs."
Justine frowned, listening but shaking her head. "Wizards have staffs. Witches have brooms."
I shook my own head back, refusing to get drawn into an argument, especially not now, before a working.
"Accept, if you would, that I require calm and balance and your questions are disturbing my ability to perform a working that might locate Dr. Stevenson."
She pounced on my statement, making an argument where none was intended. "So you aren't one hundred per cent certain that you can find him?"
I sighed. "How many times have you called him on your mobile?" I asked quietly.
"Over time. Thousands, I guess."
"So you can be sure that you can locate him using your mobile?"
"If he answers, yeah."
"So you are not one hundred per cent certain that your mobile will make contact with him. In fact, tonight, you came to get me because your power is not working to make contact. Does that make your mobile unreliable?"
We had reached the front steps leading up to the building. Justine had slowed her steps, perhaps to consider my words, perhaps because she wanted to catch more of her breath before she mounted them. I climbed up ahead and tried the doors. They weren't yet locked down for the night; classes were still in session. The doors to the stairs, however, were locked. We were forced to use the elevator.
The hall door to the office suite was unlocked. Inside were Dr. Monaghan and two others; a tall, square-built man who immediately introduced himself as Dr. JJ Stillman and a darkly attractive woman of an age with Dr. Stillman. She looked at me askance, then addressed Dr. Monaghan.
"This is the person responsible for the psychic barrier in the library?" she demanded. "She doesn't look old enough to drive. And what do you expect her to do? Create a massive claw out of psychic energy to pick him up and bring him back here?" She huffed, shaking her head. "Craig is probably off with some of his nerdy little friends playing at dragons and wizards."
She could have been beautiful, I thought, if there were more compassion and less anger in her expression. I was pretty sure of who she was.
"Dr. Wingate, I presume?"
She gave me an impatient nod, allowing that she was but that I was not important enough to be spoken to.
I turned to Dr. Monaghan. "I don't want her here during the working."
"What?" Suddenly I had her full attention. "I beg your pardon, young woman!"
"If you wish but you've done nothing to offend me." Yet. She spluttered in response. Dr. Monaghan took a half-step forward, putting himself somewhat between us.
"Miss Farris, I think what Dr. Wingate means is, why are you making this demand?" He indicated those present with his eyes. "We are all very interested in seeing you at work."
"I am not a court magician, Dr. Monaghan. I am not here to entertain you." I also looked around at those in the room, ending with Dr. Wingate and addressing myself to her directly.
"I am here to help locate Craig Stevenson. I can do it. That doesn't mean that I will. You are a potentially powerful woman, Dr. Wingate. Your anger is in opposition to me and my purposes. If you remain ... " I shrugged. "I will not waste my time or my resources in an attempt that is being sabotaged from the very beginning."
"Douglas!" she snapped. "You aren't going to let this ... girl tell you what to do."
Dr. Monaghan was studying me, probably trying to figure out if I was serious or not. As it happened, I was. Working craft takes a lot of a person. The more practiced one gets, the easier it becomes, but it never really becomes easy. Granny always said that was for the best because if it were easy, we'd be no better than the Lords and Ladies.
Apparently he decided that I was and he turned to his colleague. "Laura, perhaps it would be better if you sit this one out." He turned her using his body as a block. Over his shoulder, he spoke to Dr. Stillman, "Please get Miss Farris set up in the break-room. I'll be right with you." With that he escorted Dr. Wingate to his office and shut the door.
Dr. Stillman smiled nervously. "I don't suppose you remember me? We didn't quite meet this afternoon."
"I remember that you were very kind. Cra ... Dr. Stevenson speaks well of you."
His smile became more real. "Craig's a good guy. Umm ... We thought you might use the room you were in this afternoon?"
I started shaking my head even before he got half-way through the statement. "Not that one. It's too ... busy."
"Busy?" Justine asked curiously. When I looked at her, she held her hands up at shoulder height, palms out. "Hey, I figured it would be all right to ask questions now that we were here."
"I ..." I started to say that I wasn't looking at her to silence her, but shook my head. "There's too much stuff in it." I took that moment to look through the window. The rune sheets had been removed, so I could easily see that there was even more in there now than there had been earlier in the day. Several tripods had been set up around the room, some with cameras of different types, some with other less easily identifiable devices, all of them set up pointing toward the table with blinking red lights indicating working status. I suppose I frowned as I looked back at Justine because she gave a weak grimace and shrugged.
I sighed and continued my explanation. "A workspace should be small and bare, containing at most a table and chair. And a chair isn't really all that necessary." I hesitated, then continued. "It should be easily cleaned, because I'm going to have to clean it out and ... sanctify it for the purpose. Dedicate the space and claim it." I nodded my head toward the conference room, without looking, and shrugged. "There's no way I could claim that room. Not after everything that happened in there."
"Is there a smaller room somewhere that I may use? Somewhere that can be easily emptied of furniture and ... stuff."
"There are the testing rooms," Justine suggested, speaking to Dr. Stillman. She faced me with reminder, "You sat in one of those during the telepathy and precog trials."
"I remember."
Dr. Stillman frowned. "Will it be big enough?" he asked Justine. To me, he added, "We plan to watch while you do ... whatever you plan to do." He paused before saying, "And video record it. With your permission, of course."
That was pretty obvious, given the arrangment of equipment in the conference room.
We went to look at the two rooms. The one I'd used before still held the echo of the caim I'd set there during my visit the previous week and I agreed that it was acceptable. While Dr. Stillman moved the gear used for the precog studies, Justine and I went in search of cleaning equipment, a broom and dustpan, some rags. It wasn't strictly necessary for me to be the only one cleaning out the room for use, but I felt the need to claim undisputed ownership of the room.
Dr. Monaghan returned during the middle of the cleaning spree. He seemed displeased with the activity before him. "Is this really necessary?"
"Apparently so," Dr. Stillman replied, sparing me the need to respond. I took down the cobwebs from the ceiling, swept the dust and dirt from the floor. Using the rags, I wiped down each wall, using only water even though Justine had offered some sort of cleaning liquid. I wasn't sure of the interactions so I stuck with what I knew.
The simple act of cleaning calmed me. It was undemanding and familiar; we cleaned Granny's workroom in a similar fashion before every major working. The last thing I did was draw runes on the walls.
Dr. Monaghan spoke out as I began. "Wait! Is this going to lock us out of the room?" he asked.
"No. These protect against malign influences. Non-corporeal. At worst, if you're fo geasaibh, under the influence of depression or ill-wishing, stepping through the threshold might make you feel calmer and happier." I finished up the four sides and then faced the three of them.
"You said you had some personal items belonging to Craig?"
They did. Five hairs, about four inches long each, curly and dark brown contained within an envelope along with a couple of nail clippings. They also had, unexpectedly, a ring. A gold ring, deeply carved, with a green stone. My eyes lit up at the sight of it.
"Is that ... That belongs to Craig ... to Dr. Stevenson?"
"It's his class ring," Dr. Stillman confirmed. "I found it in his desk drawer and I used a pencil to pick it up."
I smiled and sighed, nodding my head. "Perfect," I assured him.
The space was as ready as I could make it. The focus samples were present. There was no reason to put it off any longer. For the first time since I crossed over into this the World, I was about to work craft.
And I could feel the tide of panic rising at the thought.
23 February 2019
Sarah Farris
It was a great exit line. Too bad I didn't have anywhere to exit to.
I stormed off up the hill toward the Psych building, leaving Justine to lock up her car.
She didn't catch me up until I was half-way up the hill.
"So." she said, winded and puffing from the effort. "My car; how long will it last?"
I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, wondering what she was going on about. "I'm neither a mechanic nor a seer," I said shortly.
She laughed. "No. I mean ... I saw what you did when you got in and whatever it was, it worked." I still had no clue what she was talking about. "We hit every light green on the way here."
I felt shamed; I hadn't even noticed. Stopping short, I closed my eyes, raised my face to the skies and offered a gratitude. Justine stopped a beat and waited until I finished, then asked, "And what was that?"
"What do you think it was?" I countered.
"It looked like you were praying," she said dubiously. As though she couldn't understand why.
Perhaps she couldn't.
When I first came to this the World, I was amazed by how blasé everyone was toward the many blessings they receive daily. They accept each one as if they deserved to be so blessed; as if God owed them such marks of attention as a matter of their due.
This ignorance ... This base ingratitude ... It made me uneasy. I answered shortly.
"When the gods give you a blessing, it is well to give thanks where thanks are due, or they may not be as generous when next a blessing is needed. 'Render unto God that which is God's'."
My response only seemed to confuse her further. She shook her head, frowning as if in pain.
"Do you do that just to mess with peoples' heads?" She was only half-joking.
I didn't answer because once again I had no idea what she was talking about. The silence stretched out long enough to be awkward, until she broke it, saying, "That's what set Joe off, you quoting the Bible like that. He said you would talk about magic like ... like it was commonplace, then you'd start Bible-thumping. He was convinced you were messing with them and he gets enough of that from his family."
"So it's my fault that he lost his temper and attacked me?" I didn't try to keep my personal opinion out of my voice.
"I didn't say that."
I stopped short, forcing her to turn and look at me. "Didn't you?" I asked, meeting her eyes steadily, long enough to make my judgement clear. Then I started walking again. After a moment, she fell into step beside me again.
" I suppose I did, at that, and I should know better. Sorry."
Did the saying of 'sorry' wipe the slate and set everything anew? What good was contrition if it wasn't backed up by acts? While I was pondering the question, she spoke again.
"JJ said you were going to scry for Craig? How does that work?"
I stopped short again, closing my eyes and taking several deep breaths, letting each out slowly in turn. I could hear and smell the traffic passing in the street, the murmur of voices, feel the breeze and I didn't know if it was artificial or real and what was real anyway? The earth was trapped beneath the pavement, dying. Somewhere sprinklers were on, spraying water into the air.
Justine McManus was talking, asking me if I was all right. I opened my eyes.
"Not ... exactly. Miss McManus, at the risk of being rude, I really need ..." to what? How do I describe it? "Working craft requires stillness and concentration."
"And you want me to shut up."
"I would not put it that way."
"Which isn't a no. Just answer me one question." She was going to ask it whether I said yea or nay. I gestured for her to go ahead. "Do you really believe that you can find Craig using witchcraft?"
I froze. "I will not."
"I'm sorry? Isn't that what you used this afternoon in the office? And in the library yesterday?"
"Òigeam. Rune magic. The runes are used to focus the craftwork. It's part of the discipline of eòlaiseachd. Wise-art."
"Wise-art? Do you mean wizardry? You're a wizard?" Strictly speaking, I wasn't qualified to claim that honour. I hadn't passed all the necessary trials before I'd been captured. "Not a witch?" she continued, sounding as if she couldn't believe it.
"I am not a witch." How to explain. "Witchcraft is ... " No. There should be no confusion about the terms. "The power of buitseachd, the magic of it, comes from the ... the heart. The seat of emotion. Buitseachan believe that the darker the passion, the stronger the power. They revel in emotional extremes. Indulge in hatred and anger, lust and cruelty. They sow dissension among others in order to harvest the chaos that follows. They store this power in wands or staffs."
Justine frowned, listening but shaking her head. "Wizards have staffs. Witches have brooms."
I shook my own head back, refusing to get drawn into an argument, especially not now, before a working.
"Accept, if you would, that I require calm and balance and your questions are disturbing my ability to perform a working that might locate Dr. Stevenson."
She pounced on my statement, making an argument where none was intended. "So you aren't one hundred per cent certain that you can find him?"
I sighed. "How many times have you called him on your mobile?" I asked quietly.
"Over time. Thousands, I guess."
"So you can be sure that you can locate him using your mobile?"
"If he answers, yeah."
"So you are not one hundred per cent certain that your mobile will make contact with him. In fact, tonight, you came to get me because your power is not working to make contact. Does that make your mobile unreliable?"
We had reached the front steps leading up to the building. Justine had slowed her steps, perhaps to consider my words, perhaps because she wanted to catch more of her breath before she mounted them. I climbed up ahead and tried the doors. They weren't yet locked down for the night; classes were still in session. The doors to the stairs, however, were locked. We were forced to use the elevator.
The hall door to the office suite was unlocked. Inside were Dr. Monaghan and two others; a tall, square-built man who immediately introduced himself as Dr. JJ Stillman and a darkly attractive woman of an age with Dr. Stillman. She looked at me askance, then addressed Dr. Monaghan.
"This is the person responsible for the psychic barrier in the library?" she demanded. "She doesn't look old enough to drive. And what do you expect her to do? Create a massive claw out of psychic energy to pick him up and bring him back here?" She huffed, shaking her head. "Craig is probably off with some of his nerdy little friends playing at dragons and wizards."
She could have been beautiful, I thought, if there were more compassion and less anger in her expression. I was pretty sure of who she was.
"Dr. Wingate, I presume?"
She gave me an impatient nod, allowing that she was but that I was not important enough to be spoken to.
I turned to Dr. Monaghan. "I don't want her here during the working."
"What?" Suddenly I had her full attention. "I beg your pardon, young woman!"
"If you wish but you've done nothing to offend me." Yet. She spluttered in response. Dr. Monaghan took a half-step forward, putting himself somewhat between us.
"Miss Farris, I think what Dr. Wingate means is, why are you making this demand?" He indicated those present with his eyes. "We are all very interested in seeing you at work."
"I am not a court magician, Dr. Monaghan. I am not here to entertain you." I also looked around at those in the room, ending with Dr. Wingate and addressing myself to her directly.
"I am here to help locate Craig Stevenson. I can do it. That doesn't mean that I will. You are a potentially powerful woman, Dr. Wingate. Your anger is in opposition to me and my purposes. If you remain ... " I shrugged. "I will not waste my time or my resources in an attempt that is being sabotaged from the very beginning."
"Douglas!" she snapped. "You aren't going to let this ... girl tell you what to do."
Dr. Monaghan was studying me, probably trying to figure out if I was serious or not. As it happened, I was. Working craft takes a lot of a person. The more practiced one gets, the easier it becomes, but it never really becomes easy. Granny always said that was for the best because if it were easy, we'd be no better than the Lords and Ladies.
Apparently he decided that I was and he turned to his colleague. "Laura, perhaps it would be better if you sit this one out." He turned her using his body as a block. Over his shoulder, he spoke to Dr. Stillman, "Please get Miss Farris set up in the break-room. I'll be right with you." With that he escorted Dr. Wingate to his office and shut the door.
Dr. Stillman smiled nervously. "I don't suppose you remember me? We didn't quite meet this afternoon."
"I remember that you were very kind. Cra ... Dr. Stevenson speaks well of you."
His smile became more real. "Craig's a good guy. Umm ... We thought you might use the room you were in this afternoon?"
I started shaking my head even before he got half-way through the statement. "Not that one. It's too ... busy."
"Busy?" Justine asked curiously. When I looked at her, she held her hands up at shoulder height, palms out. "Hey, I figured it would be all right to ask questions now that we were here."
"I ..." I started to say that I wasn't looking at her to silence her, but shook my head. "There's too much stuff in it." I took that moment to look through the window. The rune sheets had been removed, so I could easily see that there was even more in there now than there had been earlier in the day. Several tripods had been set up around the room, some with cameras of different types, some with other less easily identifiable devices, all of them set up pointing toward the table with blinking red lights indicating working status. I suppose I frowned as I looked back at Justine because she gave a weak grimace and shrugged.
I sighed and continued my explanation. "A workspace should be small and bare, containing at most a table and chair. And a chair isn't really all that necessary." I hesitated, then continued. "It should be easily cleaned, because I'm going to have to clean it out and ... sanctify it for the purpose. Dedicate the space and claim it." I nodded my head toward the conference room, without looking, and shrugged. "There's no way I could claim that room. Not after everything that happened in there."
"Is there a smaller room somewhere that I may use? Somewhere that can be easily emptied of furniture and ... stuff."
"There are the testing rooms," Justine suggested, speaking to Dr. Stillman. She faced me with reminder, "You sat in one of those during the telepathy and precog trials."
"I remember."
Dr. Stillman frowned. "Will it be big enough?" he asked Justine. To me, he added, "We plan to watch while you do ... whatever you plan to do." He paused before saying, "And video record it. With your permission, of course."
That was pretty obvious, given the arrangment of equipment in the conference room.
We went to look at the two rooms. The one I'd used before still held the echo of the caim I'd set there during my visit the previous week and I agreed that it was acceptable. While Dr. Stillman moved the gear used for the precog studies, Justine and I went in search of cleaning equipment, a broom and dustpan, some rags. It wasn't strictly necessary for me to be the only one cleaning out the room for use, but I felt the need to claim undisputed ownership of the room.
Dr. Monaghan returned during the middle of the cleaning spree. He seemed displeased with the activity before him. "Is this really necessary?"
"Apparently so," Dr. Stillman replied, sparing me the need to respond. I took down the cobwebs from the ceiling, swept the dust and dirt from the floor. Using the rags, I wiped down each wall, using only water even though Justine had offered some sort of cleaning liquid. I wasn't sure of the interactions so I stuck with what I knew.
The simple act of cleaning calmed me. It was undemanding and familiar; we cleaned Granny's workroom in a similar fashion before every major working. The last thing I did was draw runes on the walls.
Dr. Monaghan spoke out as I began. "Wait! Is this going to lock us out of the room?" he asked.
"No. These protect against malign influences. Non-corporeal. At worst, if you're fo geasaibh, under the influence of depression or ill-wishing, stepping through the threshold might make you feel calmer and happier." I finished up the four sides and then faced the three of them.
"You said you had some personal items belonging to Craig?"
They did. Five hairs, about four inches long each, curly and dark brown contained within an envelope along with a couple of nail clippings. They also had, unexpectedly, a ring. A gold ring, deeply carved, with a green stone. My eyes lit up at the sight of it.
"Is that ... That belongs to Craig ... to Dr. Stevenson?"
"It's his class ring," Dr. Stillman confirmed. "I found it in his desk drawer and I used a pencil to pick it up."
I smiled and sighed, nodding my head. "Perfect," I assured him.
The space was as ready as I could make it. The focus samples were present. There was no reason to put it off any longer. For the first time since I crossed over into this the World, I was about to work craft.
And I could feel the tide of panic rising at the thought.
