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April 2011



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Apr. 1st, 2011

poetry indictment

The Hubris of Love

I gaze at the sun,
Knowing I will be blinded
For audacity.

I will bear the punishment,
Glad to remember the glory.

Mar. 16th, 2011

centered, flying

(there will be no puns, jokes, or Freudian psychanalization of flight in this post)

Even in the wide-open horizons of the Nexus sky, where Ali knew she wouldn't be badly hurt by a fall, she didn't relish the thought of landing solo. Normally, being so helpless and entirely at another's mercy would not sit well with her independent spirit, and she certainly would have protested being picked up without a by-your-leave. But with Namor, she didn't mind.

Part of her wanted to ask if they could stay up there forever, free and weightless, but she knew that duty would force them to land even before the end of Namor's stamina, and there was a point past which it was ridiculous to pretend otherwise. So when she spies a sheltered cove along the Nexus shore, she would point it out and remark, "That might be a good place to talk."

One should never speak of weighty matters while trying to defy gravity.

Nov. 29th, 2010



Alison spared another glance to the invitation--an ill-timed action, as it gave Donovan a chance to kick off his shoes and squeal his disapproval. With a sigh, Ali rubbed his hair until he calmed again before retrieving the shoes. "You aren't the king of anything yet, little man, and even when you are I'll still be your mother," she reminds him in a calm tone. Cateline chimes in something like agreement, or perhaps it's only delight in her pretty dress, which Donovan doesn't like at all--but it does goad him into wearing his shoes.

One battle in Ali's favor. And then, to accept an invitation that might cost her the war.

Nov. 12th, 2010

book interrupted, attentive

Friday 5

1. Do you really make wishes when you blow out the candles on your cake?
No, not anymore. What would I wish for?

2. Have any of the wishes ever come true, if yes?
No. Well, yes, sort of--for a little while.

3. How do you feel about birthdays? (e.g. love the attention, just another day, don't want anyone to know my real age, etc.)
I like other people's birthdays a great deal. I appreciate the excuse to celebrate the people I love. But for my own, I'm happy to have a little cake and time with my family.

4. Tell us a favorite gift you've received, or something you'd really like for your next birthday.
As I said, time with my family. The goslings are growing up too fast.

5. What flavor cake?
Black Forest.

Nov. 2nd, 2010

giggle, delighted

Totes not about anyone specific...

He's a suicidal native American waffle chef haunted by an iconic dead American confidante. She's a mentally unstable bisexual bounty hunter in the wrong place at the wrong time. They fight crime!

I'm just going to leave this here. Make of it what you will. (Or make me waffles. That would be good too.)

Oct. 31st, 2010


The Last of the Harvest

All in all, it was shaping up to be a splendid Halloween. The whole family had dressed up as various famous works of art--even the babies, although they were forced to be cherubs. The day had been full and busy, starting with a last trip out to the orchards for apples and pears and a glorious day in the sun. The braver souls partook of a haunted house, while the rest enjoyed a hayride. After a picnic lunch, they hurried home to don costumes and prepare for the festivities. The house was full of laughing children consuming far too much sugar by mid-afternoon, though after supper the crowds thinned as groups were rounded up for trick-or-treating (heavy on the treats). The evening was filled with the traditional excitements, and ended with exhausted children all in bed by nine o'clock.

Ali had managed to hold on to her own wilder urges until after the children were abed, although she did indulge in a nip of brandy before worrying about cleaning up from the party. If she's lucky, she'll get to bed and be asleep before things get out of hand. What a splendid Halloween that would be.

Oct. 24th, 2010

quiet moments, everything's roses

A Chill in the Air

The past month, in Ali's opinion, had been glorious. The turn of summer into fall was a mostly gentle and fulfilling time, and many things came to harvest. The children settled into school with fewer difficulties, a sign they were finally beginning to acclimate, while the farms and orchards they visited on weekends bustled with the business of harvesting and preparing for the winter. Comfortable and comforting clothes were brought out of storage, the soft knits and weaves warming both skin and soul. There were many good things to be had, all close at hand. Ali had taken every opportunity to enjoy it all.

As the month progressed, she eased back into her social life as well, somewhat reluctant to spend long away from home. But whatever her past ordeals, Ali's wandering feet wouldn't let her remain at home for too long. Short walks became longer ones, which became the occasional visit to once-familiar worlds, which even managed to turn into a weekend's sabbatical in space toward the end. But one place she couldn't quite bring herself to go was to the Labyrinth.

The years had mellowed her anger, but the uncertain way in which they had last parted had left a jagged break in her heart that did not heal well. She found herself full of a bittersweet melancholy that lent itself neither to word or action, but hoarded both in a most miserly fashion. However much she might tell herself that Jareth deserved better than the treatment she had so often suffered from others, any attempt she made to go and see him was aborted.

Today, she'd managed to get as far as the door--but she couldn't bring herself to knock. She stared at it for long while, as if some sort of answer might be forthcoming (and really, that wouldn't be unheard-of). Then she raised a hand, perhaps intending to knock, but managing only to lay that hand against the door as if one of them needed the comfort.

Defeat, admitted with a sigh. She turns away, her fingers trailing down the rough wood as her hand falls.

Oct. 20th, 2010

tense, aww, wondering, awe

Where the Heart Is

Home. At last. Ali touched the doorknob hesitantly, almost afraid it wasn't real. After everything she had been through...

She was determined to not worry anyone. To her precious family, it would seem as if she'd only stepped out for the afternoon. It wouldn't be the first time she came home in a different outfit than that in which she left, after all; any questions from the children would probably be forgotten in the face of presents. Maybe presents would even silence the adults. She doubted it, but...

...but now she's just stalling. She would face whatever there was to face, as she had faced everything else these last six years.

One last deep breath, and she pushed the door open.
so sorry

Past Imperfect

And so, the day is will have been saved, thanks to... Well, Ali's not actually sure yet. She knows it will happen, because it has to have happened someday. But it's all very quantum at this point.

After Camelot has had its fill of feasts and life began to return to normal, two of its guests made their way--not home, but close enough thereto. Jareth might have preferred returning directly to the Labyrinth, but as Ali explained, she couldn't risk a certain someone following. So until she was certain that her enemy was well and truly dead, she couldn't go home, or anywhere else she cared about.

It would be, for her, a long and lonely road. But when did heroes ever get to shirk such duty?

Six years is a long time to be away without anyone missing you.

Oct. 13th, 2010

a proposition, very interesting..., medieval

Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny

A triumphant return. That's Ali's favorite kind. Well, really, that's probably everyone's favorite kind. Some people might prefer the ticker-tape parade sort, but Ali found herself quite enjoying the ride back to Camelot at Gawain's side. There were pleasures to be found in the company of a good man she'd been trying to force herself to forget, and they all came so readily with her knightly companion... The day found her in such a good mood, she'd even sing. And of her own free will!
"...Living short but merry lives,
Going where the devil drives,
Having sweethearts, but no wives,
Live the rakes of Mallow.

Racking tenants stewards teasing,
Swiftly spending, slowly raising,
Wishing to spend all their days in
Raking as at Mallow.

Then to end this raking life,
They get sober, take a wife,
Ever after live in strife,
And wish again for Mallow."
And how resplendent they look, each in their new armor. Ali had spared no effort in making certain Gawain's was the loveliest full plate ever seen, the bright-polished adamantine edged in gold, with flourishes at central points. Her own new silver edged in gold chain was so supple and fine it appeared more cloth than armor.

With Camelot in view, the mythical shining castle on the hill, Ali leaned over to Gawain with a mischievous smile. "Good to be home?"

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