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Wednesday, July 23rd, 2003

Subject:Do, Re, Mi
Posted by:piyaneeiyan.
Time:2:30 pm.
She has the most startling grin in the world, though she's not really pretty, and she looks up from time to time to flash an even more brilliant smile at Jacob Rearden from across the room. Like sunlight on daisies, that smile, so brilliant and happy and cheerful -- and eight year old Jake's not quite sure what to do with it. Or her.

It's his first day at Hunter Elementary, and he doesn't quite know what to do with himself. The kids here are -- scary; they're too soft and too quiet and they make Jake want to run. They're foreign, and everything about this new city that his parents have taken him to scares him. It's different, not at all like San Martin, and the boy shivers slightly as he leans into himself.

He doesn't like being in this different place. He wants to be back home. Home where it's warm -- he hates this cold climate with its wind that cuts straight through his clothes to his bones.

He pushes dark brown hair out of his face and stares anxiously about the room, biting his lip. I don't want to be here ...

There were roughly twenty other students in the room: four rows by five columns of desks, which made it twenty even. And the teacher.

He feels lonely, but that isn't anything new, so he doesn't know why it hurts so much.

And then that smile. She's grinning at him, but at least half of that humor is reserved for herself, as if there's some private joke that they both have. Jake doesn't know what the joke is, but looking at her, he wants to know. Like maybe understanding that joke's the meaning to life.

He doesn't know what it is he does the rest of the day, but when the bell rings to mark school's being out, she's suddenly there at his side. Wide brown eyes and quirky grin -- breathless "Hey." as she snags his wrist and drags him backwards out the door.

"Um --" he starts to say, and she laughs at him (There's that private joke again ...)

"Come on," she says, and now she sounds a little exasperated. "We're going to be late."

"For -- what?"


Monday, July 21st, 2003

Subject:Electric Moon -- (Prologue) Doom of a Dream
Posted by:piyaneeiyan.
Time:5:49 pm.
"So why don't you just say it?" Reed snaps, and her eyes somehow manage to be a mix of golden fear-anger-defiance-contempt all at once as she leans across the restaurant table to face Jordan. She is seventeen and beautiful, lips curled back in a predator's snarl, and the chaos that is her hair spills over her shoulders as she cocks her head to one side. "If it matters so much to you, that is? Say it."

"I didn't say anything," Jordan Avery responds, and Reed laughs in his face.

...Collapse )

Subject:As the Waters Fail
Posted by:piyaneeiyan.
Time:5:40 pm.
I see you sometimes at night, pale and ephemeral, when I let my eyes unfocus and drift slightly. You're there, just at my elbow, and the smile you give me is sweet and half-sad as you shake your hair back from your face. I love you, you mouth, as I try to avoid your gaze, broken moonlight that it is.

You're dead, after all, just as surely and as certainly as any broken bird upon the highway, any withered rose on yesterday's trash heap, any carelessly crushed butterfly . . . you're dead, a bullet through your brain, sister mine, and nothing will change that, not any amount of money our parents can come up with, nor any platitudes I could give.


Subject:Sanctis Ejus -- Prologue
Posted by:piyaneeiyan.
Time:5:37 pm.
Sanctis ejus, sanctis ejus, holy things in sacred places, in laudate dominum ...

They say that when I was fifteen, I went for a walk all by myself onto a street filled with traffic and got run over by a sixteen-wheeler truck.

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Friday, July 18th, 2003

Subject:Stone Walls
Posted by:piyaneeiyan.
Time:2:08 pm.
A/N: Funny little poetic blurb that I wrote spontaneously. Set after Electric Moon but before Sanctis Ejus. For some reason, it reminds me absurdly of Dreaming Demons, but ... ehh.

She moves nervously and explosively, when she moves at all -- sharp angry motions like she's got nowhere to go.

Most days, she just sits still, though. That was the first thing he noticed about her -- the first time he ever met her -- she has the most indescribable ability to sit still and watch the world. Watch and wait and analyze.

It's scary when she moves, but it's scarier when she sits still. So Jordan's glad when she moves, even if it's horrible ...

Watching her is like watching the sky right before a tornado; something horrible and inevitable and totally and completely unavoidable. It makes him feel hot and cold at once; fire and ice and total utter emptiness all wrapped up in one beautiful package ... It's scary and it's twisted and it's impossible for Jordan to draw his eyes away from her.

Like a car wreck in motion, only this is Reed. And she has never believed in accidents. He has seen her silently pour out a glass of water -- exactly a third of a liter, without even having to measure -- he has seen her walk out of a room and casually throw a paper ball behind her, and he has seen the crumpled wad land in the trash can every single time.

Reed does not believe in wrecks.

Not unless they are deliberate.

And on ...Collapse )

Monday, July 21st, 2003

Subject:Open the Cast
Posted by:piyaneeiyan.
Time:12:00 pm.
Angela -- Eighteen and young. Not particularly interested in the medial/genie conflict, as all she really wants to do is sing, and she has one of the most incredible sopranos for which she earned the nickname "Angel". Quite pretty but extremely naive; ultimately she ends up dying for a cause she never knew existed.

Bryan Cohen -- Stuart's little brother (15), somewhat more self-absorbed than Stuart is. Most of the other genies find him annoying; he has a crush on Toria, who spends a great deal of time trying to shoot him down.

Clarke (James Clarke) -- At sixteen, very much in the shadow of his best friend Reed and his half-sister Toria. Brilliant, smarter even than Reed, but nervous and rather afraid. Something of the hacker boy, and he's lucky he has the girls to watch out for him.

Jordan Avery -- Named for the basketball player, almost every aspect of seventeen year old Jordan's life reflects his father's devotion to sports. Like Reed, Jordan's entire life is built around an idea of insecurity - he feels like he has to live and excel for his father, especially since his mother died when he was fourteen. Personality-wise, many people find Jordan a bit tiring. He debates a lot; he has very strong views on what is right and what is not, which usually leads him to clash with Reed and Toria. Unlike those two, Jordan believes that there is no difference between the genetically enhanced and the normals, and the conflict will be able to be overcome in time.

Karyn -- Seventeen. Brown hair in curls, incredibly and startlingly charismatic. Really, she's the one who holds the rest of the group together -- she's the actress and writer, but she's also horribly naive. Not as bad as Angel, much to Toria's relief, but bad enough. As almost all the artist/writer genies are, extremely sensitive.

Reed (Marilyn Ellen Reid-Jacobs) -- Seventeen year old girl; all golden eyes and strikingly beautiful face. Intellectually brilliant, but terribly angry at the world for various reasons of her own. Estranged from her parents, bitter about the medials, and is ultimately the one who takes up the gun to kill Jacob.

Stuart Cohen -- Karyn's boyfriend. Seventeen, blonde and green-eyed and not very intelligent; many of the genies view him as shallow. He's not insincere, though, just ... not particularly intelligent. Genemod for appearance, he has acting aspirations, but has a bubbly personality that would be considered preppy if he were a girl, and manages to drive almost everyone crazy except for Karyn herself. To sum up the group attitude on Stuart . . . Karyn adores him, Jordan finds him immature, Clarke ignores him, Reed mocks him, and Toria can't stand him.

Toria (Victoria Clarke) -- Half-sister to Clarke, not quite as genemod as the others are. Like Reed, extremely angry about what she is, yet unable to do anything about it. Because she's the oldest at eighteen, she tends to watch over the rest of the group and make sure they stay out of trouble, but she can also be completely unyielding at times. Shoulder length red-brown hair, bright green eyes.

Lisa (Elisabeth)

Thursday, July 17th, 2003

Subject:II. City
Posted by:piyaneeiyan.
Time:10:36 am.
I'm sitting in my room right now, looking out over the city -- my room's way up high at the top of our house, so it's real nice when I can look down from it. Real pretty.

Sili's always been a pretty city, even if it isn't the happiest place in the world to live. It's not as bad as Toria likes to describe it, though -- if I asked her right now, she'd mumble something vaguely obscene about fucked up angels and hollow idiots ... which is why I'm not asking her right now.

Toria's only seventeen, but she likes to act so much older sometimes ...

I guess we all do that, though, so I'm not really being fair. I mean, I'm sixteen, but I can pass for eighteen a lot of days. We're all teenagers, but people're always asking us how old we are. Real confusing.

So yeah, the Trikes wanted me to write this.

Wednesday, July 16th, 2003

Subject:I. Regret
Posted by:piyaneeiyan.
Time:12:06 pm.
My mother wanted me to be a dancer; my father wanted me to be a writer.

They couldn't have both, though; it was far too much money. My father was no businessman with millions of dollars to spend; only a doctor, nor did my mother have the fine breeding nor money that five generations of semi-aristocrats way back to the Pilgrims could promise.

They had what they had saved from my father's work, certainly, but he was not a surgeon, only a cardiologist. They had to make do with what they had.

But my mother was stubborn.

And my father was just as stubborn as my mother.

They thought of having two children for a while, but they were dissuaded from this by the knowledge of the sheer expense of it all. Children had become something precious and expensive; I was very likely going to be their only legacy, and it was far better to have one bright glory than a hundred dull mediocrities.

There are girls who have planned their own lives out by the time they are seven; my mother was such a girl. She knew, I think, before she ever met my father what their wedding would be like, so it is hardly any surprise that she knew what she wanted me to be.

But my father, too, had his ideals. He had wanted a son, with the same unwavering intensity as my mother wanted her daughter ..

Neither one would cave in, so they settled for their daughter being a singer. It was an art, of kinds, that they could both agree on, and as it was, a far more predictable career than that of the writer or the dancer. The dancer modifications were expensive, involving full body work; the writer ones just as bad with their personality alterations. And singers were cheap enough that they could create a really good voice.

I told Reed and Toria this once.

Toria turned away. Reed told me coolly that it explained a great deal.

I remember asking Reed what she meant by that.

And I remember how she shrugged and just laughed at me before she told me gently that it didn't matter at all, because at least I wasn't that cheap and easy.

I've never been quite sure if it was meant as an insult or as a compliment.

I took it as a compliment anyway. Reed was that kind of person.

I used to believe in fairies when I was a kid. You know. Fairies. Like, little creations with wings and gauzy clothes and all that stuff. I mean, I used to believe in all that stuff -- that's how I met the Trikes.


Monday, July 14th, 2003

Subject:Interlude -- Angela -- Yesterday
Posted by:piyaneeiyan.
Time:3:33 pm.
We speak about it in the past tense, though it was never really that -- we speak of everything these days in the past tense. You, me, Toria, Reed, Clarke ... there were so many of us once and so few of us left now.

Maybe this is why we speak of everything in the past. It makes it easier for us to bear what we have lost.

We speak about it in the past tense, though we know that we will never leave the past behind -- we have the sharp nervousness of Toria's hands to attest to that, the cold brightness in Reed's golden eyes. We have Jordan's silent fury in the way he runs, and oh, Gods, there is so much to it that only we can read ...

We do not forgive, none of us, and there are a thousand crimes and far too many words for us to ever really be able to bear.

This is why Reed took up the gun, I like to think.

And it was there in the beginning; we was never that stupid. There were many things that applied to us, but stupidity was never one of them -- no, not even for Karyn or for Stuart. Because we could never have been stupid, not after what we lived through.

These are the things we think of, I think, when we close our eyes at night, though I have never asked any of the others ... We were young, then, way back before any of this happened. Gods, we were young.

And all this was long before I ever died.

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