But interesting. David came over today. He disguised himself as the grocery delivery guy and got into the house helping us carry the groceries. Ro wasn't kidding in his last post, he had like no food in the house. I'm guessing he mostly lives off of delivery food.
In any event. it's not until David slipped up and used Ro's real name that I could confirm that there was something strange-though I still can't shake the oddest feeling that I'd seen him before. Ro got up and saw David, David proceeded to be charming while threatening all of us. I get the feeling he's rather good at that.
I don't have the memory to recall the exact conversation, I was too busy watching the knife he had out and pressed against Shrody's cheek at that point. That was not something I was going to let stand. I pulled my knives and made it clear that he'd have to go through me to get to her-or at least tried. Ro slammed David away before I got the chance. Unfortunately, he didn't last long in the fight afterward-David had him pinned rather quickly.
The two of them have... interesting chemistry. I almost wonder what would've happened if I hadn't stepped in. I mean. Sorry, Ro, but fuck you two were going at it with your eyes. I mean, really.
Okay, shutting up now.
Right. So. I managed to say the right thing to get David interested in fighting me, thereby allowing Ro to get Shrody the fuck out of there. It was a good fight-David really knows what he's doing. I now have a nice stab wound in my left shoulder, again, and he has a lovely gash across his torso that will probably leave a serious scar.
After that, he seemed to respect me a little more. He said he'd go if I sat down and talked to him for a minute, so I did, being careful not to bleed on Ro's furniture. Strangely, he was perfectly pleasant, didn't seem to be bothered either by the rather energetic fight or by the fact that he was bleeding pretty heavily.
While we talked, I figured out just how much of a fucking bastard David really is. Two things were readily apparent. If David cares about anything in this world, it's Ro, and everyone else doesn't matter. People aren't people to him, they're objects. Things to be used and toyed with and disposed of when convenient. I was kind of surprised he spoke to me as respectfully as he did-though upon reflection, I'm expecting it's because I injured him. He seemed rather impressed by that. He even said he'd come to see me again-and NOT try and kill me-if it left a scar. Not quite sure how I feel about that...
David wanted me to defame Ro. He wanted me to blame my injury on him, to come on this blog and talk about how he was secretly a terrible person, to make people step away and stop encouraging him to be a hero. His rationale was that Ronan's search for redemption was making him miserable, and that if everyone stopped encouraging him to go for it, he'd come back to David and be happy.
Which is kind of sick.
I told him to fuck off, that I wouldn't let him hurt people I care about. He warned me that if I wouldn't help him separate Ro from all of you that he'd do it in a bit more violent way. So be warned, any of you that spend much time talking to TMV. David's coming, and I have no doubt that he will follow through with that threat. Be careful.
David phrased it as 'pitting my love against yours.' I found that rather amusing, but more or less accurate. I won't let David get away with hurting any of you.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Visiting
Throwing up a quick post to let all of you know that Shrody and I are safe at TMV's house.
Those of you who read Shrody's blog will know about what happened. On the bright side, we have a kitten. A tiny adorable kitten named Frank who makes our lives so much more interesting and whom I've admittedly been spoiling rotten. It's... it's her story to tell, really, but I wish there was something I could've done.
Again, I think being in the company of someone other than me is doing her some good. I'm unfortunately not the cheeriest of traveling companions, but Ro's been really sweet to us both, and he seems really fond of Frank. Which is nice, because I would've hated to come all this way only to leave because his house wasn't cat friendly.
In any event, I should go. I wanted to chat with him tonight, to thank him for having us.
Those of you who read Shrody's blog will know about what happened. On the bright side, we have a kitten. A tiny adorable kitten named Frank who makes our lives so much more interesting and whom I've admittedly been spoiling rotten. It's... it's her story to tell, really, but I wish there was something I could've done.
Again, I think being in the company of someone other than me is doing her some good. I'm unfortunately not the cheeriest of traveling companions, but Ro's been really sweet to us both, and he seems really fond of Frank. Which is nice, because I would've hated to come all this way only to leave because his house wasn't cat friendly.
In any event, I should go. I wanted to chat with him tonight, to thank him for having us.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Spencer
When Cam died, he left me half his bank account, a plot of land outside of Austin, his car, his laptop, and two notebooks. One of them is his, and I haven't quite had the heart to really look through it yet. The other is Spencer's notebook. It's really more a collection of files stuck together in a vague notebook shape, but the terminology doesn't matter.
To be completely honest, I hadn't so much as glanced through the pages past the first one, with the letter to Cam. As I mentioned yesterday, I've been letting myself wallow. I hadn't looked. Spencer kept talking to me, kept telling me stories, and I was putting it off because I didn't want to face the fact that this was what Cam...
Right. Enough of the touchy feely. I started reading Tuesday. There's not a whole lot in terms of volume, but everything here has wider implications that have to be measured against what he's shared with me. I've been prepping this post since I started, since he wants me to share it with everyone.
The contents of the notebook can be split into three sections.
The typewritten pages
The handwritten pages
The random bits
The typewritten pages are old and worn, burnt and smudged and wrinkled. They're journal entries from his life. The six of them range across the better part of a decade and tell a rough story of Spencer's life after he left the slendercult he grew up in. From them, as well as the stories he's told me, I have an outline of his story, though of course some bits are still sketchy. I checked with him, and he's given me the okay to put up what I know.
That story he put up a while back is true. He grew up in a slendercult, without friends or even a name. Slendy was in his head from early on, and he thought that was what life was supposed to be, up until he actually saw Slendy. He was about to hit his fifteenth birthday, where he would be given a title and work for Slendershit. Instead, he ran. Straight into the desert, of all things. There wasn't much of anywhere else to go, apparently.
Odds are high that he would've gotten himself killed there and then if he hadn't found Matt. Matt was older, and had run away before. He'd stayed long enough to pick up a few tricks, and so when Slendershit found them in the desert, Matt used the Path to get them out. They traveled together for a while until Slenderp caught up to them again. Matt got Spencer to NYC via the path but didn't make it out himself.
The first journal entry was written, so far as I can tell, on his 16th birthday. I'm not sure exactly what did such damage to it, but it's still mostly legible and reads... well, rather like you'd expect under the circumstances
After that is the second entry, written about three years later. He'd been wandering all around the country. He talks about being in pretty bad shape, but still sounds pretty stable.
Sometime after that, Writer showed up. I'm not entirely sure if Writer was the one who found him or if they just partnered Spence with him, but they worked together for Slendershit. Spence was Teller, and he tricked people into loops(or labyrinths, as a lot of us know them), and Writer went in afterward.
For a while Spence was fooled into being reasonably happy with this, as the third entry shows(though I have a suspicion that it was written by Teller and not Spence at all...).
Somewhere along the line, as seen in the fourth entry, he figured out the truth and set his mind to running. He was more worried about Writer. The only thing in this world Writer loved was Spence, and he didn't seem he'd take kindly to his partner walking away. He didn't, he shoved Spence into a stove. But the worst was yet to come.
A group of proxies ambushed Spence and did... something.
He doesn't remember exactly how he got out, but he did, albeit... changed. More on that later. Right afterward, he writes the fifth entry. He's alive, more or less, and thrilled to be free, and this entry ends with him spotting an old friend. I know from both his stories and the sixth entry that that friend is Lori, also known as Doc, one of the RtS crew. They started the delivery service you're hopefully all familiar with, and that's what he's been doing up till now.
Next, the Handwritten Section.
Spence wrote out his Page Theory, which is very interesting and which I'm going to devote another post to soon. It deserves it's own space. Expect it in a day or two.
Lastly, the other stuff.
A couple notes from Doc, part of a medical report and a microscope picture, with some information about Spence's unusual condition. I'm kind of completely uneducated in the subject of biology, but it looks like bacteria don't grow in his blood?
Didn't exactly need the report for this, but he's also running cold. Really cold.
Also, three clipped sections from what appears to be a novel or a short story. Don't know which one, maybe one of you lot will. Pretty self explanatory.
Last and most worrying, two things that weren't even a part of the actual notebook, but showed up in my suitcase with my files sometime within the past week or so. A key with a note attached and a piece of paper with an altered version of one of Shakespeare's sonnets scribbled onto it crazylike.
'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
In the loops thou art lovely and more temperate
Rough winds keep destroying mature buds of may
And Master's lease has all too short a date'
also, at the very bottom, past the word 'tell' repeated many a time, is 'tell me days of heaven shines'
They were both in a brown paper sack tucked in with the rest of the things. They are from Writer. I don't know when he got into my stuff and put this there-I've been ignoring the files as much as possible, so beyond saying it wasn't there when I packed the suitcase I'm honestly not sure.
But the key worries me the most.
It's mine. MY key.
The first key I had to our apartment. We changed the locks a while back, but I'd kept it.
Once I offered it to Spence as payment for a job. He didn't take it. I hadn't noticed it was gone. Until it showed up in my fucking suitcase with a note from Writer.
'Elaine. This is yours. Thank you for bringing our St(X)ryteller home'
Cute. Real fucking cute. Writer, if you go near Spence I'll gut you myself. Consider this your warning, you sick fuck.
In any case, the Page Theory section will be up soon. I should head out now-looks like Shrody's found someone she recognizes...
To be completely honest, I hadn't so much as glanced through the pages past the first one, with the letter to Cam. As I mentioned yesterday, I've been letting myself wallow. I hadn't looked. Spencer kept talking to me, kept telling me stories, and I was putting it off because I didn't want to face the fact that this was what Cam...
Right. Enough of the touchy feely. I started reading Tuesday. There's not a whole lot in terms of volume, but everything here has wider implications that have to be measured against what he's shared with me. I've been prepping this post since I started, since he wants me to share it with everyone.
The contents of the notebook can be split into three sections.
The typewritten pages
The handwritten pages
The random bits
The typewritten pages are old and worn, burnt and smudged and wrinkled. They're journal entries from his life. The six of them range across the better part of a decade and tell a rough story of Spencer's life after he left the slendercult he grew up in. From them, as well as the stories he's told me, I have an outline of his story, though of course some bits are still sketchy. I checked with him, and he's given me the okay to put up what I know.
That story he put up a while back is true. He grew up in a slendercult, without friends or even a name. Slendy was in his head from early on, and he thought that was what life was supposed to be, up until he actually saw Slendy. He was about to hit his fifteenth birthday, where he would be given a title and work for Slendershit. Instead, he ran. Straight into the desert, of all things. There wasn't much of anywhere else to go, apparently.
Odds are high that he would've gotten himself killed there and then if he hadn't found Matt. Matt was older, and had run away before. He'd stayed long enough to pick up a few tricks, and so when Slendershit found them in the desert, Matt used the Path to get them out. They traveled together for a while until Slenderp caught up to them again. Matt got Spencer to NYC via the path but didn't make it out himself.
The first journal entry was written, so far as I can tell, on his 16th birthday. I'm not sure exactly what did such damage to it, but it's still mostly legible and reads... well, rather like you'd expect under the circumstances
After that is the second entry, written about three years later. He'd been wandering all around the country. He talks about being in pretty bad shape, but still sounds pretty stable.
Sometime after that, Writer showed up. I'm not entirely sure if Writer was the one who found him or if they just partnered Spence with him, but they worked together for Slendershit. Spence was Teller, and he tricked people into loops(or labyrinths, as a lot of us know them), and Writer went in afterward.
For a while Spence was fooled into being reasonably happy with this, as the third entry shows(though I have a suspicion that it was written by Teller and not Spence at all...).
Somewhere along the line, as seen in the fourth entry, he figured out the truth and set his mind to running. He was more worried about Writer. The only thing in this world Writer loved was Spence, and he didn't seem he'd take kindly to his partner walking away. He didn't, he shoved Spence into a stove. But the worst was yet to come.
A group of proxies ambushed Spence and did... something.
He doesn't remember exactly how he got out, but he did, albeit... changed. More on that later. Right afterward, he writes the fifth entry. He's alive, more or less, and thrilled to be free, and this entry ends with him spotting an old friend. I know from both his stories and the sixth entry that that friend is Lori, also known as Doc, one of the RtS crew. They started the delivery service you're hopefully all familiar with, and that's what he's been doing up till now.
Next, the Handwritten Section.
Spence wrote out his Page Theory, which is very interesting and which I'm going to devote another post to soon. It deserves it's own space. Expect it in a day or two.
Lastly, the other stuff.
A couple notes from Doc, part of a medical report and a microscope picture, with some information about Spence's unusual condition. I'm kind of completely uneducated in the subject of biology, but it looks like bacteria don't grow in his blood?
Didn't exactly need the report for this, but he's also running cold. Really cold.
Also, three clipped sections from what appears to be a novel or a short story. Don't know which one, maybe one of you lot will. Pretty self explanatory.
Last and most worrying, two things that weren't even a part of the actual notebook, but showed up in my suitcase with my files sometime within the past week or so. A key with a note attached and a piece of paper with an altered version of one of Shakespeare's sonnets scribbled onto it crazylike.
'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
In the loops thou art lovely and more temperate
Rough winds keep destroying mature buds of may
And Master's lease has all too short a date'
also, at the very bottom, past the word 'tell' repeated many a time, is 'tell me days of heaven shines'
They were both in a brown paper sack tucked in with the rest of the things. They are from Writer. I don't know when he got into my stuff and put this there-I've been ignoring the files as much as possible, so beyond saying it wasn't there when I packed the suitcase I'm honestly not sure.
But the key worries me the most.
It's mine. MY key.
The first key I had to our apartment. We changed the locks a while back, but I'd kept it.
Once I offered it to Spence as payment for a job. He didn't take it. I hadn't noticed it was gone. Until it showed up in my fucking suitcase with a note from Writer.
'Elaine. This is yours. Thank you for bringing our St(X)ryteller home'
Cute. Real fucking cute. Writer, if you go near Spence I'll gut you myself. Consider this your warning, you sick fuck.
In any case, the Page Theory section will be up soon. I should head out now-looks like Shrody's found someone she recognizes...
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Keep Moving
That's the plan, anyway. We left NYC yesterday,after saying a fond farewell to Rachael. It was nice, staying with her, rather peaceful, but the longer we stayed there the more danger we were all in, from her and from all the things chasing me.
So we're off, to visit another friend. Again, not telling you lot where I'm headed, I don't want an unpleasant surprise when I get there, and the person I'm visiting would definitely not thank me for bringing down a storm of proxies on their home. Suffice it to say that I am going to see a friend who's got more information that could be useful.
I'm starting my work back again. I'd been slacking, hadn't really done any research and I've only read one or two new blogs in the past several weeks. Fuck that shit. I've been wallowing too damn long. It's time to start fighting properly again, instead of just getting by.
I have a goal, one that is hard but definitely possible, and I'm doing everything in my fucking power to make sure I achieve it.
In the meantime, I have something Spencer gave Cam that I have the permission to post and discuss. Expect to see that within the next couple days, as soon as we stay someplace with a scanner. I have a couple of other topics that I'm planning research posts on within the next week or so as well.
I'm not going to roll over and fucking die because of all of this. Cam made it pretty clear he wanted me to live.
So we're off, to visit another friend. Again, not telling you lot where I'm headed, I don't want an unpleasant surprise when I get there, and the person I'm visiting would definitely not thank me for bringing down a storm of proxies on their home. Suffice it to say that I am going to see a friend who's got more information that could be useful.
I'm starting my work back again. I'd been slacking, hadn't really done any research and I've only read one or two new blogs in the past several weeks. Fuck that shit. I've been wallowing too damn long. It's time to start fighting properly again, instead of just getting by.
I have a goal, one that is hard but definitely possible, and I'm doing everything in my fucking power to make sure I achieve it.
In the meantime, I have something Spencer gave Cam that I have the permission to post and discuss. Expect to see that within the next couple days, as soon as we stay someplace with a scanner. I have a couple of other topics that I'm planning research posts on within the next week or so as well.
I'm not going to roll over and fucking die because of all of this. Cam made it pretty clear he wanted me to live.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Back in Town
I'm in NYC, and it's beautiful and huge and bustling, just like I remember. The drive from Texas was hell, but I got here a day early and ended up able to spend yesterday with Spence, taking in the city almost like just another tourist. There was some craziness the previous night, and he came by to check on me, then ended up sticking for a while. He's a good friend. The two of us spent the day talking and remembering. It was... it was nice. I needed that. It felt like I was finally getting a chance to say goodbye.
This was Cam's home, every time I've been here was with him. There's too much of him everywhere, he loved this city, loved showing it off to me in the hopes of making me smile for real. He's always been very good at that-I guess that's what happens when you've known someone for twenty years. Sure, he wasn't actually able to be physically with me for a lot of it, but he never let me fall out of touch, never let me ditch him. I think most of you thought that I met him when we started rooming together, we tended to encourage that belief, but that was not quite the truth. I never... I never bothered setting the record straight because I didn't think it mattered, but we were kids together, before he moved here. After shit hit the fan with me, he consistently wrecked his own life to be there when I needed him. No matter where I was or what trouble I'd gotten into, he was always there wanting to help. He deserves for you to know that.
The only reason I came here, to this city with all it's pain and memories and beauty, was two people I needed to see. The first, Shrodinger, I picked up rather early this morning. She really is that sweet, even desperate, looking like death, and missing a hand. She put up the request for a rescue a week ago and I got in touch, because like HELL was I leaving her to deal with this Cheshire bastard alone anymore. Didn't want to linger long there, so I just picked her and her stuff up and got the fuck out of there before something could show up and try to stop us.
We then proceeded to Rachael's house. Normally I would not go into the home of a proxy when seeking someplace vaguely resembling safe to rest and plan my next move, but she's a bit of a special case these days, and as much as I feel like a bitch saying so, physically she's not exactly a threat, so if it comes to that, I'm not too worried. She says she's pretty good at dealing with the 'itch' as she calls it and can give us warning if we need to get out, so I'm hoping that I'm just worrying too much.
I don't know what exactly I expected, really, but it wasn't her, in this cheerful, if a little dark and dusty, home. She looks to be in her thirties and absolutely beautiful, though everything about her is sad enough to break your heart. She swooped in and started mothering Shrodinger from the moment we arrived, and I've admittedly done a lot of awkward hovering and trying to help. She is so infinitely kind to us both, it kind of throws any expectations out the window. It's nice, really. I'm hoping our stop here will help Kat a little, and maybe I'll get lucky and it'll help me as well.
This was Cam's home, every time I've been here was with him. There's too much of him everywhere, he loved this city, loved showing it off to me in the hopes of making me smile for real. He's always been very good at that-I guess that's what happens when you've known someone for twenty years. Sure, he wasn't actually able to be physically with me for a lot of it, but he never let me fall out of touch, never let me ditch him. I think most of you thought that I met him when we started rooming together, we tended to encourage that belief, but that was not quite the truth. I never... I never bothered setting the record straight because I didn't think it mattered, but we were kids together, before he moved here. After shit hit the fan with me, he consistently wrecked his own life to be there when I needed him. No matter where I was or what trouble I'd gotten into, he was always there wanting to help. He deserves for you to know that.
The only reason I came here, to this city with all it's pain and memories and beauty, was two people I needed to see. The first, Shrodinger, I picked up rather early this morning. She really is that sweet, even desperate, looking like death, and missing a hand. She put up the request for a rescue a week ago and I got in touch, because like HELL was I leaving her to deal with this Cheshire bastard alone anymore. Didn't want to linger long there, so I just picked her and her stuff up and got the fuck out of there before something could show up and try to stop us.
We then proceeded to Rachael's house. Normally I would not go into the home of a proxy when seeking someplace vaguely resembling safe to rest and plan my next move, but she's a bit of a special case these days, and as much as I feel like a bitch saying so, physically she's not exactly a threat, so if it comes to that, I'm not too worried. She says she's pretty good at dealing with the 'itch' as she calls it and can give us warning if we need to get out, so I'm hoping that I'm just worrying too much.
I don't know what exactly I expected, really, but it wasn't her, in this cheerful, if a little dark and dusty, home. She looks to be in her thirties and absolutely beautiful, though everything about her is sad enough to break your heart. She swooped in and started mothering Shrodinger from the moment we arrived, and I've admittedly done a lot of awkward hovering and trying to help. She is so infinitely kind to us both, it kind of throws any expectations out the window. It's nice, really. I'm hoping our stop here will help Kat a little, and maybe I'll get lucky and it'll help me as well.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
On the Road Again
So I'm traveling again, this time with a specific location and purpose in mind, though I won't put it up here for the proxy douches to see and interfere with. It's kind of a long trip, but I don't mind the drive. I've got plenty of good music to blast and time to enjoy the view of so many places I have never been.
Stopped at a rest stop to type this out because... well, I'm alone again. When I left the hotel this morning I also left Nick. I'm really just not built for this dating stuff, apparently. It throws me off, makes me weak and stupid and distracted. Nick, I'm sorry, but I don't want to get myself or one of you killed because I was too distracted to do what I need to do.
I've got a lot to do while I'm on the run. Some of you are already expecting me, and there are a lot of things I need to read up on. It's more important than ever to keep up on my research now, I'm just getting a little more hands on about how I do it.
And on that note, I need to get going again. I've got a long way to go.
Nick, I'm sorry.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Supernatural Weirdness
So, I've been with Nick, traveling around more or less aimlessly, since all of the bullshit on Friday. I didn't... I feel like an asshole for not noticing before, though Nick assures me that it was some kind of mindwhammy that kept me from noticing until it is over. He's been missing. Not in the physical sense, he was still here to move and eat and occasionally say something, but in the mental/spiritual/whatever sense. He was a little busy fighting a hoard of knights riding unicorns, and fuck if that isn't the weirdest thing I've ever had to accept as reality, even with fucking shared dreams and faceless stalkers and teleporting murderers.
Okay, sometimes having a lover that half exists on a plane of existence that makes no damn sense to you is a little frustrating. Here, though, it's mostly just terrifying. That's six days. Six days, he was gone, and I didn't fucking notice because a UNICORN was screwing with my head? What the crap is that? I've been functionally alone for six days. I almost lost him, and I didn't even fucking know about it till it was over because he was still there and breathing and seeming fine. Still curling up with me at night. Still...
Well, fuck. Anyway, he's here now. And I... I'm going to go enjoy his company while I have it.
Okay, sometimes having a lover that half exists on a plane of existence that makes no damn sense to you is a little frustrating. Here, though, it's mostly just terrifying. That's six days. Six days, he was gone, and I didn't fucking notice because a UNICORN was screwing with my head? What the crap is that? I've been functionally alone for six days. I almost lost him, and I didn't even fucking know about it till it was over because he was still there and breathing and seeming fine. Still curling up with me at night. Still...
Well, fuck. Anyway, he's here now. And I... I'm going to go enjoy his company while I have it.
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