August Dalamar and Bara created a corn field today. I went along at August's request with one stipulation; I had to wear a pair of large sunglasses to protect my eyes. I have the unfortunate luck of getting sunburns on my eyes because I cannot see the sun; I can only feel the warmth of it against my cheeks.

In but a single day, I've heard two magi and one sorcerer create a field, a system of irrigation, and finish a full planting. Dalamar doesn't give himself enough credit for his ability to paint pictures with words. He stood by my side on two occasions and carefully described what was happening, what was (hopefully) going to happen, and the anticipated results. A few brief hangups occurred, but the overall venture was a success. August told me he'd leave the field in the hands of myself and Dalamar, with the implication that the younger sorts would be expected to lend us a hand if and when we should need it.

Spending a day outside and away from the tower felt very nice. I hadn't realised how long I'd been cooped up inside the place! The last time I left was to go out and help Evan. For those of you who are new or may not remember, that was the day people wanted to touch Dalamar's ears because of how realistic they appeared. :) Ah, non-magical society. Quirky quirky. I do miss you so, at times. Curiosity lives and breathes in the world yet!

Regardless of what post I make, if you reply with something along the lines of "I can relate because", I will not make a snack of your head. Reading between the text to find questions of do you really understand, though? is not something I'm going to worry myself over. Perhaps I give people too much benefit of the doubt, though something tells me this isn't so. Believe me, if you say you understand? I'll believe you unless given ample reason to think otherwise. I'm not going to psychoanalyse you for my own personal glory.

Now turn that coin over.

I enjoy being able to relate to people. My imagination is in working order, for all I know it's on overdrive. Making connections is something I do all day, every day. I group things, I list things, I maintain categories of families and measures. Call this a side effect of being a musician and a herbalist, if you will. Give me a stanza and I'll be able to improvise upon it, re: this does not mean I physically understand whatever you throw at me but it does mean I'll be able to draw a line between myself and what you're talking about. It means I will try to understand. I do this because I care, I enjoy thinking, and people are capable of being lovely beings when I'm not terrified to talk to them.

Honestly, stop reading so far into things that you come across nonsense that isn't there, nor intended.

Sadly, those whom I address may never have a chance to read this. I've sequestered myself over in this little niche to avoid it!

Oh my, I've been had the better of. Anxiety came creeping out of nowhere to set my fingers tapping and my mind to fuzz. Will I ever meet the day where little things cease to worry me? It was not the conversation, hardly that. I have no obvious memories of brainwashing, nothing beyond what you subconsciously get from simply living in human society. My mother had me of the belief that rules were set to stone until I entered school, that is all. Rules indeed. What then, if those rules are unjust, and who decides? Ah well, too much for this cookie on this night. I'm going to bed!

Last night was brilliant. Lexi and Jack were laughing so much; it's a pity I drifted off or I would have taken part. My own past was tragic enough, and I'm not so serious that I can't laugh at it. I'll admit it's sometimes painful laughter, laughter that comes in the middle of the night... At least daylight washes that away. It's a comfort that each day is a new one, a step away from the one before.

A foot of new snow is on the ground. I may slide into August's skis and go take pictures when it's a little brighter outside. August and I might be the only people lurking around with Lexi for a few days; Remus never wants to see snow again. He's a summer person when you get down to it. I don't mind the winter half so much as I used to, there was a time when it'd make me ache. Now I can look and see how beautiful it is without worrying about a long walk down to a village followed by a longer walk back up. It's outside the window, and I'm warm indoors. I like being awake before the plow comes along and turns the road brown and muddy.

Faintly, I remember waking up long enough to hear hail. Hail! Spring's on the way. :)

A whim took me over to DeviantArt. Originally I thought to try and find more artwork by a specific artist, instead I found a work that looks as though I stood there and let myself be a painter's subject. I always had an odd curiosity about that; what it might be like to be painted. The Girl With A Pearl Earring captured my fascination for weeks. It's a little too late for that now, unless Lexi's grandparents want to go out of their way to have her painted. I could try to hang around in her eyes, perhaps. No one would be able to tell, but I don't mind. I'm happy enough, living with August and Crysania with my gardening and my music. I've lived twice, which I see as plenty.

Speaking of music and past lives, I uploaded Yağmurlar, by Şebnem Ferah. I never learned Turkish during either of my lives, and now I want to. My heart aches to know what she's saying, to understand how someone can sound so beautifully sad. She reminds me of the melancholy that settles on grey rainy days. Have you ever had one of those days? I've watched the water trickle down the pane and sent my mind thousands of miles from home. Gray skies, gray streets, the clipping of hooves on cobbled streets. Hello again, Louisiana, I miss your radiant springs but not your miasma of yellow fever.

Wales, I miss you too.

I'm not truly homesick. One day Lexi will be in England and we might be able to go look around Wales. I'd enjoy that. Louisiana will not look like it did a century ago; I don't want to go there. I'd miss the lanterns and the plantation homes for their familiarity. January wouldn't be there waiting for me. He wouldn't recognize me now, even if he were there. I don't miss the tuberculosis, oh no, and only on rare occasions do I miss the laudanum. Yesterday morning could have used a respite, at least. (I'm wistful, forgive me. I would not again take laudanum, I know how addictive it is. Pain has no hold on me here.) In sum, I miss familiarity. I knew my way around New Orleans, I played the violin and made enough to support my rent and keep laudanum in fairly decent supply. Living a second time with lycanthropy ruined what feelings I ever had of truly belonging anywhere for any great length of time. Remus changed that, for which I'm ever grateful.

It is enough to have a home now. I know my "who'swhat" and how to live peacefully with one of the most argumentative people yet alive. :)

p.s. yes I refer to August there.

Losing electricity changes nothing in my life. I need no sheet music to find my way over the keys of a piano. The violin knows my fingers, and I daresay my fingers know the precision it takes to play. August's shelves of braille books have not packed themselves away to await the return of power. I'm not afraid to keep the fire burning; it's not hard to find more wood if it runs low.

The electricity to the house went out. I wouldn't have known if Mike hadn't made a noise. The things I do feel are linked to my life, my affections. Someone I was once close to asked Lexi if she wanted to keep contact. She planned on making a new name on the messengers. I ache for when I knew her closely. Losing contact would be holding my hands aloft over the keys mid-stanza. It hurts, I need a resolution. I want to finish this song, know I'll never play it exactly the same way again, and go on to a new one. What was is not what is.

No matter how well I learn my way around new places with no sight, these matters remain beyond my skill.

Remus and August made spaghetti last night. I'm eating it cold for breakfast. It's no small challenge to get Remus to eat, and I fear I was horrible about it years ago. Getting me to eat was a task not for the faint of heart. I rarely felt hunger or the desire to eat while I was lived. Remus shared that with me, and I won't have any of the assumptions people usually generate on learning that we're both werewolves. I've seen many of my kind dig in with every intent of returning for seconds.

Mf. I'm rambling here. My mind doesn't wake up until noon! Have mercy!

August and I spoke of day to day events. I told him I was worried about his skiing hobby. He reminded me that, while he may very well be a daredevil, that he's not unintelligent about it. Lexi's not either; I just worry about standing on two slats of wood and flying down a mountain at forty miles per hour. August puts the snow machines behind him when he skis.

I wasn't gutsy enough to try such sports when I was alive. I'm a musician, a healer, and meddle in language studies. That's all I do am.

...through all that, I don't know why anyone would take my advice seriously.

One fantasy series will always hold my affection: Narnia. My mother gave them to me when I had a chest cold and was confined to bed. I've adored them and C. S. Lewis from that point on.

"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: What! You too? I thought I was the only one!"
~C. S. Lewis

I didn't make lasting friendships when I attended school. They whispered that I was too absent-minded, too this, too that, too something. I didn't make friends until I left secondary school; lost those friends in the matter of a week...

I'm finding friends again. They're online, of course. I wouldn't know what to talk about with Lexi's friends, if I did manage to talk to them. Toby likes cars; I know nothing on the subject. Cruts likes to make movies with Chris, Freeman. I suppose I could talk to Freeman. He keeps animals; that's a topic I wouldn't get lost on. Overall, however; my prospects of finding people to talk to are slim when confined to Lexi's social life. Toby's the only one in the light (per say) about the soulbonding/plurality...

Wait. I'm fiction now. Does that make me fictionkin? Good Lord, all of these definitions! I don't know who or what I am without adding all of this complication to it!

Dancing has taken over my life. I feel like I'm taking soft steps through the morning without ever brushing to a barre. The scent of coffee wafts out from the kitchen and caffeine gives me my frappé work for the day. Sunlight runs in through the windows, shafts of brightness in the opaque. I can't see, and I never needed sight to feel.

August has no routine he follows. I do my best to avoid him in the morning, lest I inadvertently upset him with my presence. He is not the most agreeable person prior to having coffee. That too changes. I never can truly predict him, same as I fail to foresee what the day will bring. Obstacles find me, or others, and I step silently for fear of upsetting them with unnecessary sound. Too often I think my presence is not a welcome thing here.

My presence is a complication. I walk on ropes not for fear of falling, no. What I fear is more than that. I fear that I'll tip a balance and ruin something beautiful. I feel that if I do not step carefully, do not watch what I say with utmost care, I'll break something that has no right to be broken.

Not by me.

Not now.

A flying Beanie-shaped object woke me up at midnight to hug me and wish me a happy New Year. I wished her one as well.

So, Happy New Year to all of you also!

A certain mage I live with has problems spinning around on his plate. I can't get into that, it's not my business to talk about. He's been worrying me with all of it. The only way to get anywhere with him is to keep after him with questions. If people don't ask, he doesn't answer. That's a logical way of dealing with people, but it makes for a lot of things he's not saying.

Ah, what do I know of it? Juhani (we all call him Ju, Jacqui even) solved the problem by suggesting we go watch House M.D. for an hour. He calmed down because he likes the show. I do too.

It's a doctor thing. I wonder if I ever truly left the profession? Just the other night I found myself dreaming about a patient I had in the early 90's... Never growing out of it, never leaving it behind.

Oh, I also wanted to give out a thanks to rhymer_713 for the music. I love it, it's a blend of the Celtic and Spanish. Good ears! I'll wear this music out before long.

...good Merlin, why am I so chirpy tonight?

Last night was chaotic. I won't say I didn't like it, that would be a lie. The marked difference was how comfortable it was. Normally I'm the last person willing to be involved in a party atmosphere.

I am shy.
I don't know how to dance.

Neither affliction mattered last night. August was in a good mood (admittedly, an intoxicated good mood), and people were happy. I was happy too.

Hello, pointless post. I feel ridiculous for having this typed. I was happy, I still am happy, and last night no one was sad. August had an interval of loneliness that he got rid of. He surprised me in the process of getting there, which I don't mind now. Surprises are not always bad things.

The surprise didn't involve me.

What should I do with the rest of my day? It's raining outside. I'm tired; I might curl up with a blanket on one of the window seats and sleep with the rain tapping away at the pane behind me. It's light enough that the rain casts shadows on the light the window brings down to the floor. I remember what that looks like. Remus doesn't think it's as beautiful as I do, and he can see it. My imagination might be running away with me here. Or Remus doesn't like rain. I'd choose the latter, he never liked rain.

I like rain. The rain helps life to grow, and makes the sunlight all the more beautiful when it returns.