Journal entries of a Plumed Serpent Shaman I am disturbed on a very deep level by my current situation. Mayhap creating this diary of a sorts will keep my mind centered and give an outlet to these most disturbing developments. I find myself caring for this seemingly ragtag group far more than I feel I have the luxury. My leave-taking of the team at home should have taught me the drawbacks of caring, even the smallest bit for those I work with. It was intended that I work with this team to make money. This money is important I know. It's slated for important things. Things that take precedence over any love these men foster. Maybe if I keep telling myself this I will come to believe it. This I doubt. Cazador has already bulled his way into my heart as well as my bed. This is a double drawback as he's not eminently trustworthy. Serpent is correct in his observation that the man is broken. Something inside him is angry, and terrified. Angry at what? Frightened of what? I do not know. I have avoided asking him, believing that the less I know the better for the inevitable separation. I am deluding myself but not Serpent. He knows that love is growing within me. He sees how I ache when these people work against their own spirits. Pariah is a hero awaiting birth, yet he denies this. I do not presume to know what nightmares torture him but I am comfortable in saying that his demons are inner ones. Only he can defeat them but I yearn to try and aide him in his quest. He will kill himself with a mishmash of courage and cowardice. This cowardice drives him to the bottle, as the same self loathing destroyed mi padre. Simon... Simon already is a hero in a way. He sees his own weaknesses and does not fear them. His is a Warrior's soul. Unafraid to go where his convictions lead him I would protect his back in the deepest pits of hell and know that his cause is just. I worry about obsession harboring itself within his heart. He feels the obligations of his family in a way that is beyond me but that I almost understand. I would most like to guide him along the path of forgiveness. Something eats at him from inside and this beast's name is Guilt. Jake. Jake harbors something within his mortal shell and the deepest recess of his mind that terrifies him so deeply I don't think he acknowledges its existence. A good man at heart he nonetheless is also seeking to prove something to either himself or those he respects. I haven't dedicated as much thought to Jake as he seems stable enough that my worry would be unnecessary at this point. I will keep an eye on him anyway. He may need a strong shoulder soon. Rip is one that constantly mystifies me. I do not know which him is the real one. The fierce fighter who takes no prisoners, the gentle man who takes my arm when we walk alone, the tragic figure I occasionally see transposed over his real image in my sight.... Perhaps he is all of these and more. I feel a dissatisfaction just beneath his surface. He finds himself cnstantly trying to make up for... I don't know what. Whatever it is, it still nibbles at his esteem. I would like to help him more, but I fear I may only further wound him. He wants me. I can feel it in the weight of his gaze in those moments when he thinks I am unaware of him. Perhaps I am arrogant as Serpent constantly tells me, but this I know for fact. Were I to fall in with Rip, I would end up breaking his fine but not terribly strong spirit. Cazador can take it...I think. Pennywise is a completely different kettle of fish from the others. Confident, near arrogance himself, he is the one I find myself looking to when a dose of common sense is needed. Not something I ordinarily expect from a decker with his reputation but I find myself amazed most times by his simple grasp of things. He's not afraid to admit his shortcomings either... but I cannot shake from my mind the image described to me of Pennywise destroying the skull of the woman who would have taken Cazador's life as easily as..... words desert me. I feel an ever growing debt to Pennywise for bearing with the
inevitable bickering that the team is going through as we
all slowly adjust to each other. For one who is so strong on the outside Cazador has now shown me the deep vulnerability of his soul. In earlier times he would have been a Knight of the Sun, battling at the front line of tribal wars, honoring his vow to stay in one spot after he'd been engaged and not lifting his foot from that place. These times make him an assasin, a killer of men from a safe distance. He almost died tonight. He was covered in his own blood by the time I got to him. Lying there bleeding in the back of Jake's truck his breath was only the merest rattle within his ravaged chest. I cannot begin to explain the sudden... terror and grief that took hold of me in that moment. I don't think I've ever felt its like before. In the jungle it was different. I feared for the loss of my soul and sanity as we performed our job there. In this instant I felt my heart ripped from my body. I honestly almost couldn't pull myself together enough to heal him substantially. I blamed the amount of cyber and bioware in his flesh for my inability to do more than bring him a few inches from the brink of death. In my heart I know it was fear. I can rage at the fates for making these people so easy to care about until my throat bleeds and it will not change it. I can only continue doing my job and hope I do not get someone killed by losing my control as I did tonight. No one has told me what happened. I have a large chunk of my memory missing from the time right after Simon placed the charge to get us out of the Dominion complex until we were outside. Those few moments may not seem like much to most people, but I left my teammates unprotected to magical attack in those moments. Simon himself suffered from a spell that never should have reached him. It's my job to take care of these things. It's what I'm paid to do. My own guilt lies there. Same Night, I cannot sleep. Images are bombarding me and our job here in Dallas isn't close to done yet. I sit here and every few words my eyes are drawn to the uncommonly pale face of Cazador asleep not five feet from my seat. His color will be back in the morning, but I have doubts about his insufferable confidence. This may have served the purpose of making him more aware of his own mortality. Or not. I do not know his mind, I can't even lay claim to knowing his heart. I've got to try and rest before we're back on the job tomorrow.
The lights on the westway go on I had forgotten about this ballad... it's an oldie. I wonder
why he remembers it.
March 1, I feel completely hollow, as if Bonds had her pet mage suck my soul out while he was sifting through my mind. He ravaged me from the inside. He tried to steal my knowledge and left me with nothing when he couldn't get what he wanted. For the first time I feel the bite of vengeance inside myself instead of others. I want that pointy eared hermetic to suffer what he and his boss put me through. She got off easily when Simon blew her to chunks. The stench of gasoline still clings to me. I can't get it from my nostrils. I guess being doused in preparation for being immolated would do that. Bitch. The shock glove was nothing compared to the suffering she could have caused with one scratch of a match. The only things keeping me sane right now are the presence of Serpent and the comfort and consideration that Cazador offers me. The hours I spent in the mage hood will haunt me for years to come. The shriek of the white noise rings in my head even now. I have never felt as alone as that time when Serpent was blocked from my thoughts. Isolated. Lost and alone. Sleep is far from my reach. He watches me now, carefully, when he thinks I'm not looking. The football game on the trid is a smokescreen for him to sit up with me and touch me occasionally. I wonder if he realizes the extent of the comfort this gives me all by itself... he's treated me with the utmost care since the rendezvous at which they recaptured me from Bonds. I will heal. But I know it won't be alone. To heal you must
reach out, touch others and allow them to touch you. I only
hope I have the courage to do so. |