Signal to Noise. [Life and Limb, Fugazi]
[When the bit pulls tight…
You know the grip - is sewn into the reins.]
“At least I did not ash him.” Sunda voice is raspy and thick, it sounds like death warmed up in a microwave oven, with the center full of ice. Its not that Eva doesn’t want to believe that, but certain moments cause her to forget, to deny the path he follows to believe that it doesn’t exist entirely.
“At least you did not ash him?” She echoes incredulously, the French-Creole hints bleeding through her mastery of words, “You know-“ Pause. Speechless. “That’s insanity.”
Eva turns to stare at the wall, willing herself to calm. Willing control of her own responses, while hands ball at her sides.
---------
[Can't breathe it out,
You know, you'll breathe it back again.]
Callahan brings a map to court, and inwardly she groans. Without looking she already knows they attract attention - this fledgling coterie, and its erstwhile leader. They all stand around the table, their huge forms dwarfing her own as she watches Callahan point out the places on the map that have burned into her psyche.
“Parkchester? Inwood? Hunt’s Point.”
Hawthorne is silent as Mssr. Cassio approaches. Stomach clenches. [As if he could reach into my mind… He can’t. No way.] Eva’s fingers press down into the map as she leans forward to greet the host.
“I’ve heard your little coterie is interested in the Bronx.” He starts eyeballing the holes Sunda’s claws have made in the map.
So cavalier.
So bloody confrontational.
A shrugged gesture, “I suppose, why do -you- ask?” Impolitic? The New York City legend, seems a bit caught off guard, but smiles in my general direction.
Patronizingly. Amused.
Chuckling.
“It seems the Invictus is also interested in the Bronx.”
[Well, it’s always something isn’t it?]
-------
“So this is my thought Charles…”
She sits catty corner to him, one leg crossed over the other massaging blood into the joint for shoes that could only be described as a torture device.
“There’s a gentleman-poacher in fair Oyster Bay, I would like to bring as a gift for our Heirophant -Prince. You join in on this little assignment, and we’ll consider this Hero’s servitude at an end.”
[You mental-pack your chambers…
Full - for no reason you can name.]
“What you need, dear..” Lorenzo leans in. “-is to look someone in the eye and -make- them ‘Back Off.”
Eva’s eyes narrow briefly, “Will you show me?”
“Of course, for a price...”
--------
A boil-in-bag blood supply,
you know it's murder on the veins.
Don’t you feel it now?
“Fine. You want control, baby?" Something of Mait [..Master…]Carrefour touches her. His hand on her shoulders and writes in her veins. We’ve come to the crossroads, Sunda. "You want to know what it feels like?"
"You think you can control me? Go for it ... I will admit, I like this change in you." Self satisfied. Amused. Rakshasa.
“Perfect.” Her hands seize on his claws dragging them up the front of his shirt, as buttons fly and material shreds. Two-toned gaze. Possession and Control. She leans in close, “Don’t forget, mi amor, love hurts.”
And pushes his claws into the blue ridged expanse of his stomach. The scent of blood filling the air between them as her fingers patterns on his flesh [Oh, Don’t you feel it now?] She licks the tips of her fingers idly smiling back up at him.
It’s a pattern he would recognize.
Viva viva viva --
[life and limb.]
But not before he feels the featherlight stirrings.
Viva viva viva --
[threatening.]
The First pangs of hunger.
Viva viva viva --
[life and limb.]
Taking root in his stomach - and spreading toward the only source of sustence.
Viva viva viva --
[threatening.]
….His chest.
You know the grip - is sewn into the reins.]
“At least I did not ash him.” Sunda voice is raspy and thick, it sounds like death warmed up in a microwave oven, with the center full of ice. Its not that Eva doesn’t want to believe that, but certain moments cause her to forget, to deny the path he follows to believe that it doesn’t exist entirely.
“At least you did not ash him?” She echoes incredulously, the French-Creole hints bleeding through her mastery of words, “You know-“ Pause. Speechless. “That’s insanity.”
Eva turns to stare at the wall, willing herself to calm. Willing control of her own responses, while hands ball at her sides.
---------
[Can't breathe it out,
You know, you'll breathe it back again.]
Callahan brings a map to court, and inwardly she groans. Without looking she already knows they attract attention - this fledgling coterie, and its erstwhile leader. They all stand around the table, their huge forms dwarfing her own as she watches Callahan point out the places on the map that have burned into her psyche.
“Parkchester? Inwood? Hunt’s Point.”
Hawthorne is silent as Mssr. Cassio approaches. Stomach clenches. [As if he could reach into my mind… He can’t. No way.] Eva’s fingers press down into the map as she leans forward to greet the host.
“I’ve heard your little coterie is interested in the Bronx.” He starts eyeballing the holes Sunda’s claws have made in the map.
So cavalier.
So bloody confrontational.
A shrugged gesture, “I suppose, why do -you- ask?” Impolitic? The New York City legend, seems a bit caught off guard, but smiles in my general direction.
Patronizingly. Amused.
Chuckling.
“It seems the Invictus is also interested in the Bronx.”
[Well, it’s always something isn’t it?]
-------
“So this is my thought Charles…”
She sits catty corner to him, one leg crossed over the other massaging blood into the joint for shoes that could only be described as a torture device.
“There’s a gentleman-poacher in fair Oyster Bay, I would like to bring as a gift for our Heirophant -Prince. You join in on this little assignment, and we’ll consider this Hero’s servitude at an end.”
[You mental-pack your chambers…
Full - for no reason you can name.]
“What you need, dear..” Lorenzo leans in. “-is to look someone in the eye and -make- them ‘Back Off.”
Eva’s eyes narrow briefly, “Will you show me?”
“Of course, for a price...”
--------
A boil-in-bag blood supply,
you know it's murder on the veins.
Don’t you feel it now?
“Fine. You want control, baby?" Something of Mait [..Master…]Carrefour touches her. His hand on her shoulders and writes in her veins. We’ve come to the crossroads, Sunda. "You want to know what it feels like?"
"You think you can control me? Go for it ... I will admit, I like this change in you." Self satisfied. Amused. Rakshasa.
“Perfect.” Her hands seize on his claws dragging them up the front of his shirt, as buttons fly and material shreds. Two-toned gaze. Possession and Control. She leans in close, “Don’t forget, mi amor, love hurts.”
And pushes his claws into the blue ridged expanse of his stomach. The scent of blood filling the air between them as her fingers patterns on his flesh [Oh, Don’t you feel it now?] She licks the tips of her fingers idly smiling back up at him.
It’s a pattern he would recognize.
Viva viva viva --
[life and limb.]
But not before he feels the featherlight stirrings.
Viva viva viva --
[threatening.]
The First pangs of hunger.
Viva viva viva --
[life and limb.]
Taking root in his stomach - and spreading toward the only source of sustence.
Viva viva viva --
[threatening.]
….His chest.