Boneyard
Thoughts drift through my mind during the quiet moments between 'adventures.' When I'm stopping to resupply at a base camp, or checking on the fates of Survivors, or re-establishing the wards that surround the areas I've attempted to designate as safe zones.
'Why has it been so long since the last attack?'
'Will this Rabbit be alive the next time I visit?'
'I wish they'd stop fawning over me or reviling me. I haven't done shit to them.'
'Have we just been wasting our time attempting to fight back? So little seems to have changed..'
I try to shake it off each time, but I've been noticing a pattern.
These thoughts have only been surfacing when I have been away from the Others for too long.
Like creeping, insidious tendrils of fear inching through my mind.
Slowly darkening everything they come in contact with.
If I were left to my own devices for too long, I dread what would come of my sanity.
Reconnecting with the other Rabbits, hell, even some of the supernatural denizens we encounter on our travels seems to.. hold these thoughts at bay. Light a series of lamps along this dark path I tread.
Little sparks of flame, of hope. Of sincerity, and kindness.
So very precious to those that spend their life in the doom and gloom, the dark corners of the mind.
These people I 'save,' they gush or say thanks, or eye me distrustfully. Believing me to be some sort of spy or internal threat, or some form of savior. I suppose, depending on which part of my past you decide to examine, they are accurate.
I am, of sorts, a symbiote. A creature in the night, making minor deals or bargains to eke out a bit more of a life. Removing the larger threats and leaving smaller ones behind, that can be disassembled, defeated, and dissected in my absence. These moments in the light, these kind 'devil's bargains,' they keep me alive. Ironically, help me keep my humanity intact, by using the very skills I obtained through nefarious or underhanded means via contact with Them.
I act like a stoned fool, or a quiet shy interloper merely trying to pass through, most times I have any prolonged dealings with other humans. Even I grow tired of my dire warnings and cryptic messages. With each passing day, I want less and less to be Known, and more and more to be Understood.
The Convocation is slowly, subtly attempting to regain a foothold in my mind.
This should..quite frankly be impossible.
Between Lilith's death, and my lovely little 'initiation ceremony' earlier this summer, I would have thought myself immune to its Call. Little beady eyes watching from black, feathered bodies roosting upon power lines and the uppermost branches of trees. Small whispers from the corner of my hearing, or objects falling with a thud to the ground while I sleep.
Coincidentally, there have been a pair of felines that have been (rather lazily) watching over me as well. A poofy, dark calico Maine Coon with a rather spastic attitude that will glare at me with disdain as she bolts through the underbrush along trails I walk, or clean herself from atop high perches, eyes scanning our immediate surroundings as she does so. When I attempt to approach her, she hisses mightily and feints to bite me, though has never once actually done so. At times, it appears she is afraid of me for some reason I can't discern, if she follows me so.
I have nicknamed this one 'Palsy,' for the shakes it seems to endure when it is running.
The second feline, a sleek grey American shorthair tabby with a mostly disinterested attitude. Will mainly roam in my immediate vicinity, though I have seen it go as far as twenty feet out before coming back. On less... stressful days, he will stay underfoot, deliberately weaving in and out of my legs, batting his head against my calf for attention. On the more.. painful days, he latches on to my side as if he were imitating a grassland burr, choosing to hold himself against whatever part of my body I have managed to injure the most direly.
The only times I have seen this tomcat hiss or growl in my presence were when directly confronted with Palsy, or at odd times when I attempt to venture into a house or graveyard or other area I like to refer to as a 'dead space.' Places that seem to have a deceptive lack of life signatures inside them that I don't thoroughly scan before attempting to enter. These lifeless areas tend to shift and move, and unless I am paying attention, don't register on my radar. The tabby, for whatever reason, is direly opposed to my being in these places.
I have nicknamed this one 'Deimos,' for when he is near, I feel safe from the terrors in darkness.
Deimos and Palsy, as much as they seem to keep to my general vicinity, both LOATHE each other.
When I finally do stop to rest at a safehouse for a day or three at a time, by the time I leave, the floors are covered of cat fur that have been knocked off in the course of their showdowns. The closest I have seen them come within the other's presence has been about ten feet before the angry, threatening behavior begins for the duo. They do not seem to physically harm each other, though a few other Rabbits have noticed their behavior and been appalled by it. I.. have not intervened.
I am simply too grateful for their company to quibble over the small details.
The path between one destination and the next grows longer each time I set out.
What will be a week or more in my time is.. days in the places I have been.
More and more time slipping between my fingers like sand.
Outwardly, however, I seem to have actually decreased in age.
Random passerby have begun to comment on my youthful appearance, showing shock when I tell them (what should be) my age. One woman in my company for a lesser mission actually had the nerve to ask to see my identification when I told her I was pushing thirty.
'You don't look old enough to smoke.'
This would delight most women upon hearing it, but for me..
In the context of the events of this year, it makes my blood run cold.
And wonder what else has begun to change that I no longer notice in the day to day.
Clothes that once fit well, falling from my frame to the floor.
My hair, once butchered to a haphazard pixie cut, now long enough to curl.
My mannerisms slowly losing the bubbly edges they once held, similar to that of Jupiter.
Disdain for being in prolonged contact with others slowly building.
If it weren't for the dumb ass young medic Asa stumbling across me months ago..
I don't know that I would have deliberately gone back into a city or metropolitan area again.
His random act of kindness gave me that spark I was mentioning earlier, that last little gentle nudge that pulled me back from the apathetic abyss I had begun to fall into.
Thanks to his help, I was able to begin tracking down the ones I knew had a link to the Veil.
Most, thankfully, I got to in time to either warn before they got involved in matters beyond them..
Or educate and resupply them, send them out in to the (relatively) safer areas.
On my rather rude, flippant suggestion, a band of the Marked have begun travelling together.
Last I heard, they had gotten themselves into a dust-up of rather immense proportions.
That, I'll have to report on later.
Was... nice. To see people I would ordinarily have been visiting the grave markers for, walking around, smiling, laughing. Alive. Of course, they wouldn't remember the events that I do.
How could they? To them, they never happened.
For me..it has become something of a nightmare, to encounter those I knew in past lives, in this world, at least unexpectedly. When I know they are coming, or I am following them, I can brace myself. Disassociate. Repress what memories I need to in order to help my fledglings.
But caught unawares.. and it is akin to having stepped into a boneyard unannounced.
It is a vile mix of past, present, and possible future that swirls around them. Or.. me, and in contact with me or others affected, soon become drawn in. Too long arouind these reminders of other lives, and they slowly begin to morph into, emotionally speaking, animated caracatures of the dead.
To my eye, eyes gleaming too bright, their movements rough and jerky, odd periods of silence where I swear I can feel something just beyond my reach.. observing through them.
It has gotten to the point where I have begun setting time limits on these sorts of encounters.
It is a strange world in which I live, in which I can simultaneously be a vaccine and patient zero.
.....I've begun digging out old vids, pictures, and articles related to my past from cold storage.
I know what I risk each time I venture there unaccompanied, but..
No man, or woman, is an island.
In this new life of mine, loneliness can be as lethal, or more, than the worst of poisons.
Reflecting back on what was, or never could be now.
Fingertips faintly trailing across the faces of those I loved, caught forever in a moment of happiness with colored ink and paper.
Replays of my time with my husbands. Sometimes to the point I worry I will corrupt the files.
But.. those moments of relative safety, where I can rest, and remember what it was to be happy..
They are my greatest weakness, and my addiction. I can't give them up for the life of me.
I need.. I need companions again. Much as I hate to admit that.
It has over time become apparent that I am not quite the fearless, cold hearted loner some have come to see me as. I.. feel more and less human each day. I need.. to remember why I do this.
No matter the heartbreak caring about others will bring me..
The alternative is worse beyond compare.
'Why has it been so long since the last attack?'
'Will this Rabbit be alive the next time I visit?'
'I wish they'd stop fawning over me or reviling me. I haven't done shit to them.'
'Have we just been wasting our time attempting to fight back? So little seems to have changed..'
I try to shake it off each time, but I've been noticing a pattern.
These thoughts have only been surfacing when I have been away from the Others for too long.
Like creeping, insidious tendrils of fear inching through my mind.
Slowly darkening everything they come in contact with.
If I were left to my own devices for too long, I dread what would come of my sanity.
Reconnecting with the other Rabbits, hell, even some of the supernatural denizens we encounter on our travels seems to.. hold these thoughts at bay. Light a series of lamps along this dark path I tread.
Little sparks of flame, of hope. Of sincerity, and kindness.
So very precious to those that spend their life in the doom and gloom, the dark corners of the mind.
These people I 'save,' they gush or say thanks, or eye me distrustfully. Believing me to be some sort of spy or internal threat, or some form of savior. I suppose, depending on which part of my past you decide to examine, they are accurate.
I am, of sorts, a symbiote. A creature in the night, making minor deals or bargains to eke out a bit more of a life. Removing the larger threats and leaving smaller ones behind, that can be disassembled, defeated, and dissected in my absence. These moments in the light, these kind 'devil's bargains,' they keep me alive. Ironically, help me keep my humanity intact, by using the very skills I obtained through nefarious or underhanded means via contact with Them.
I act like a stoned fool, or a quiet shy interloper merely trying to pass through, most times I have any prolonged dealings with other humans. Even I grow tired of my dire warnings and cryptic messages. With each passing day, I want less and less to be Known, and more and more to be Understood.
The Convocation is slowly, subtly attempting to regain a foothold in my mind.
This should..quite frankly be impossible.
Between Lilith's death, and my lovely little 'initiation ceremony' earlier this summer, I would have thought myself immune to its Call. Little beady eyes watching from black, feathered bodies roosting upon power lines and the uppermost branches of trees. Small whispers from the corner of my hearing, or objects falling with a thud to the ground while I sleep.
Coincidentally, there have been a pair of felines that have been (rather lazily) watching over me as well. A poofy, dark calico Maine Coon with a rather spastic attitude that will glare at me with disdain as she bolts through the underbrush along trails I walk, or clean herself from atop high perches, eyes scanning our immediate surroundings as she does so. When I attempt to approach her, she hisses mightily and feints to bite me, though has never once actually done so. At times, it appears she is afraid of me for some reason I can't discern, if she follows me so.
I have nicknamed this one 'Palsy,' for the shakes it seems to endure when it is running.
The second feline, a sleek grey American shorthair tabby with a mostly disinterested attitude. Will mainly roam in my immediate vicinity, though I have seen it go as far as twenty feet out before coming back. On less... stressful days, he will stay underfoot, deliberately weaving in and out of my legs, batting his head against my calf for attention. On the more.. painful days, he latches on to my side as if he were imitating a grassland burr, choosing to hold himself against whatever part of my body I have managed to injure the most direly.
The only times I have seen this tomcat hiss or growl in my presence were when directly confronted with Palsy, or at odd times when I attempt to venture into a house or graveyard or other area I like to refer to as a 'dead space.' Places that seem to have a deceptive lack of life signatures inside them that I don't thoroughly scan before attempting to enter. These lifeless areas tend to shift and move, and unless I am paying attention, don't register on my radar. The tabby, for whatever reason, is direly opposed to my being in these places.
I have nicknamed this one 'Deimos,' for when he is near, I feel safe from the terrors in darkness.
Deimos and Palsy, as much as they seem to keep to my general vicinity, both LOATHE each other.
When I finally do stop to rest at a safehouse for a day or three at a time, by the time I leave, the floors are covered of cat fur that have been knocked off in the course of their showdowns. The closest I have seen them come within the other's presence has been about ten feet before the angry, threatening behavior begins for the duo. They do not seem to physically harm each other, though a few other Rabbits have noticed their behavior and been appalled by it. I.. have not intervened.
I am simply too grateful for their company to quibble over the small details.
The path between one destination and the next grows longer each time I set out.
What will be a week or more in my time is.. days in the places I have been.
More and more time slipping between my fingers like sand.
Outwardly, however, I seem to have actually decreased in age.
Random passerby have begun to comment on my youthful appearance, showing shock when I tell them (what should be) my age. One woman in my company for a lesser mission actually had the nerve to ask to see my identification when I told her I was pushing thirty.
'You don't look old enough to smoke.'
This would delight most women upon hearing it, but for me..
In the context of the events of this year, it makes my blood run cold.
And wonder what else has begun to change that I no longer notice in the day to day.
Clothes that once fit well, falling from my frame to the floor.
My hair, once butchered to a haphazard pixie cut, now long enough to curl.
My mannerisms slowly losing the bubbly edges they once held, similar to that of Jupiter.
Disdain for being in prolonged contact with others slowly building.
If it weren't for the dumb ass young medic Asa stumbling across me months ago..
I don't know that I would have deliberately gone back into a city or metropolitan area again.
His random act of kindness gave me that spark I was mentioning earlier, that last little gentle nudge that pulled me back from the apathetic abyss I had begun to fall into.
Thanks to his help, I was able to begin tracking down the ones I knew had a link to the Veil.
Most, thankfully, I got to in time to either warn before they got involved in matters beyond them..
Or educate and resupply them, send them out in to the (relatively) safer areas.
On my rather rude, flippant suggestion, a band of the Marked have begun travelling together.
Last I heard, they had gotten themselves into a dust-up of rather immense proportions.
That, I'll have to report on later.
Was... nice. To see people I would ordinarily have been visiting the grave markers for, walking around, smiling, laughing. Alive. Of course, they wouldn't remember the events that I do.
How could they? To them, they never happened.
For me..it has become something of a nightmare, to encounter those I knew in past lives, in this world, at least unexpectedly. When I know they are coming, or I am following them, I can brace myself. Disassociate. Repress what memories I need to in order to help my fledglings.
But caught unawares.. and it is akin to having stepped into a boneyard unannounced.
It is a vile mix of past, present, and possible future that swirls around them. Or.. me, and in contact with me or others affected, soon become drawn in. Too long arouind these reminders of other lives, and they slowly begin to morph into, emotionally speaking, animated caracatures of the dead.
To my eye, eyes gleaming too bright, their movements rough and jerky, odd periods of silence where I swear I can feel something just beyond my reach.. observing through them.
It has gotten to the point where I have begun setting time limits on these sorts of encounters.
It is a strange world in which I live, in which I can simultaneously be a vaccine and patient zero.
.....I've begun digging out old vids, pictures, and articles related to my past from cold storage.
I know what I risk each time I venture there unaccompanied, but..
No man, or woman, is an island.
In this new life of mine, loneliness can be as lethal, or more, than the worst of poisons.
Reflecting back on what was, or never could be now.
Fingertips faintly trailing across the faces of those I loved, caught forever in a moment of happiness with colored ink and paper.
Replays of my time with my husbands. Sometimes to the point I worry I will corrupt the files.
But.. those moments of relative safety, where I can rest, and remember what it was to be happy..
They are my greatest weakness, and my addiction. I can't give them up for the life of me.
I need.. I need companions again. Much as I hate to admit that.
It has over time become apparent that I am not quite the fearless, cold hearted loner some have come to see me as. I.. feel more and less human each day. I need.. to remember why I do this.
No matter the heartbreak caring about others will bring me..
The alternative is worse beyond compare.
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