wispofathing: (Fae)
Curnen was fairly certain that if it weren't for the connection she and Berklee had forged that night at the Pair-A-Dice or the fact that her baby cousin Page was only fifteen and needed someone to panic at, she would never have heard anything else about Bo-Kate's spread of terror in the valley. Bliss was too busy to talk to her, and had been since Rockhouse died. It was Page who told her Monday morning that they'd laid Rockhouse to rest on Emania Knob--blood drained, sins eaten, full funeral and sung goodbye to make sure the fucker would not come back--and that...

Well, that Bo-Kate had burned down the Overbay house while everyone was at the funeral.

That had floored everyone. The night wind had been entirely silent on the matter. Bliss was fine, Page assured her, but the house was beyond saving by the time anybody realized. So, there went Curnen's childhood home, which had stood in one form or another since the Tufa had arrived in the valley.

She would have thought that that would be the worst of the news. Rockhouse was dead, clearly Bo-Kate was gunning to take up his role and everyone was too scared to do anything to get in her way. Why Bronwyn hadn't killed her by now, well. That was probably First Daughter business.

The news only got worse. It was happening all over again. There was a reason Bo-Kate and Jefferson had been exiled, and the swath of death, destruction, and violence now was just picking up where they'd left off all those years ago.

Bo-Kate had attempted to murder Mandalay.

Bo-Kate had tried to take out Miss Peggy.

Bo-Kate had plans, and worse, people liked them.

Jeff was coming home. Curnen had no idea how the fuck Jeff was supposed to fix this given what he'd done before, but she wasn't there.

Junior Damo was gunning for Rockhouse's place. Bo-Kate would probably eat him alive.

More rumors.

More stories.

More fear.

And then Marshall Goins was dead.

It looked like a heart attack, but it could only have been murder and everyone knew it. That one... that one got Curnen right between the eyes. Marshall had been an upstanding member of the community as long as she could remember. More than the fact that he'd been saddled with the mayoral office of Needsville for too long because no one else wanted a job that depressing. Marshall was decent, honest, hardworking, and he and his wife Peggy were voices of experience and wisdom, Peggy's busybody nature aside. Oh God, Peggy. This would shred her.

And through all of this, Curnen had worried and fretted and even cried some, but... there was a dam inside. A dam that she kept a lot behind. She had never really dealt with her past so much as pushed it all back there so that she could focus on not dying in the woods. And then it had stayed back there, because she lost all but the most basic form of conscious thought. And then it had stayed back there because she had not known what else to do with it. It had built, festered, but it had stayed separate.

And then Peggy had called. Curnen had not been sure why at first, not until that one question.

"How do you bear it?"


Feb. 1st, 2017 03:58 pm
wispofathing: (Black Eyes)
Bo-Kate Wisby’s back, and she’s done cut off your father’s extra fingers.

Curnen had passed through the rest of Berklee’s phone call in a daze, but that one sentence had stuck fast, and it circled round and round in her head. Bo-Kate Wisby. Bo-Kate Fucking Wisby. The bitch shouldn’t even have been able to get back to Cloud County, let alone done something that caused so much damage. But then… the writing had been on the wall for a year. Ever since Rob had sung Rockhouse’s dying dirge. Ever since Curnen herself had torn Rockhouse’s throat out with her teeth. It had been only a matter of time.

And she couldn’t even say she hadn’t felt it coming. Every time she played or sang, she had had to fight harder and harder to keep from singing or playing “Edward” yet again. Even now, the song was pressing against her mind. It was the only thing she could hear, it was the only song that would come out. The night wind had been crescendoing from a whisper to a roar at her for the better part of a week.

It would happen tonight. She knew it. But she wasn’t fully ready to admit what it was. Only that she couldn’t go home tonight. Her roommates were humans, they wouldn’t understand.

Winter and Phouka? She couldn’t bring this kind of darkness to their home. Fin and Willy? Her throat closed just thinking about it. Fin, maybe, if they were still separated, but… she couldn’t show this to Willy. She couldn’t.

And so her feet and the rising howl of the night wind directed her to a certain bookshop around closing time.
wispofathing: (Default)
When these hills were sharp as claws
Raked slow across the sky
We rode the wind that wore them smooth
And came to this place to die

We thought our time had ended
As it does for all true things
But here we found a new green home
And room to spread our wings

Oh time makes men grow sad
And rivers change their ways
But the night wind and her riders
Will ever stay the same

We sailed the slopes and valleys
Played in the hollers and hills
Our songs filled the nights with wonder
Our tears the storms fulfilled

Till men came over the mountains
And brought their changing ways
We loved them back when they loved us
And loved the children that we made

And now we are the same as you
Our blood no longer tells
'Scept on nights when we spread our wings
And ride moonbeams cross the hills

Now you, dear stranger, know our tale
Even though you don't believe
So eat our bread and drink our wine
And you may never leave
wispofathing: (Default)
A tyrant fae crossed the valley
His list of pains he could not tally
To his cause no one would rally
And so he left to lead no more

His old and feeble feet did fail him
His eyes grew dim and ears betrayed him
The error of his ways assailed him
As he came to a stranger's door

With weakness spreading, he called aloud
"I have no place to spread my shroud
My folk are all beyond me now
May I stay with you until I die?"

The lord inside would not be fooled
"You are that fae, once vain and cruel
There is no comfort here for you
Thoughts of rest you must deny."

The night's cold wind blew round him there
As truth and fortune both despaired
He went away with all his cares
To die beneath the moon's cold breast

He walked through hills, he walked through dells
To himself he told old tales
Until at last his body failed
And he found the spot to wait for Death

He faded into darkness, sighing
Though he called, no one replying
One last feeble effort trying
Faint he sank no more to rise

Through his wings the sharp breeze ringing
Wild his dying dirge was singing
While his soul to earth was springing
Body lifeless for the flies

With wings too weak for soul's last flight
The dying tyrant perceived a sight
Death would take him not this night
Instead a wonder did appear

Around him stood the myriad fae
Whose love had grown to hate's decay
They bound him to the spot he lay
"You can do no harm while you be here"


wispofathing: (Default)

February 2017

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