Peace and Goddamn Harmony

Curt and Alyssa ain’t speaking. No use in keeping her name secret now. She’s real mad, and so’s he. Bit like high school, or what I saw of it – they’re too angry at each other to talk, but they’ll talk to me. Feel almost like they’re expecting something from me. No clue what.

I say, they’re pissy ‘cause they’re so compatible. They got respect for each other. Won’t admit it, though. I see the looks they give, though, when the other one’s back is turned. Think it’s ‘cause Aly’s seen the streets and knows the Fears, and that’s a one-up she’s got on Curtis. Curtis is smart, though, like book-smart. Knows the weirdest things, about everything. I could see it in her face when he deciphered her real name, from the one she gave us – knew just what she’d done to get her screen name, and knew what it meant. You don’t see that kind of smart in a guy, don’t think. Least, not often. Other day, too, when she was telling us about the Intrusion, he asked why she was wearing blue. Most attractive color to mosquitoes, he said. Checked it online, later, it’s one a list of real random facts, but he just knows ‘em off the top of his head. Since then, she’s borrowed one o’my shirts.

They’d get along like a house on fire, if they’d just talk to one another. ‘Least they ain’t hostile, or making me fight for ‘em…

My dilemma is, ain’t sure what to make of Curt, now.

If he’s one of Them, can’t trust ‘im. They ain’t human no more, are they?

Same time, though, he’s decent. Even went out of his way to help me, and you don’t forget something like that. Not from a total stranger, not from anyone. If it was to get my guard down, well, he could’ve killed me before Alyssa showed up. I’ve been dead tired and had my back turned to him, and he didn’t do a thing.

‘Sides, if he’s turned on the Archive…don’t that mean something? For him, as a person?

Anyhow, started out trying to write about my nightmare. Was putting it off. Venting, too, I guess.

Just more of the same. Dragged by the ankles by a living rope. Hauled over dirt and rock and grass by a Doll, and in the distance he looks damn close to the Hanging Man. And before I can get any closer, the Vision tries to grab and tilt my face. Fingers like razors.

Difference is, in my dream last night, she gripped real tight.

This morning, woke up with the cuts her fingers left, ‘long the sides of my face.

Who Am I?

PRE04: Classified.

“Grandfather.”

‘Martyrs’ are the soldiers of the Archive. They are rarely deployed, but their job entails hunting down rogue agents and eliminating external threats to the Archive. (source: “The Archive”, documented by Scribe Sigma, found at http://scribesigma.blogspot.ca/2011/06/seven-callings.html.)

What does Alyssa mean by ‘Gifted’?

And what does she mean by her musings that I’ve ‘gone rogue’?

Am I one of them?

Another of Those Dreams

Had trouble writing this out.

Determined to put these dreams into real words, but words just ain’t good enough. Not really. They don’t mean the same thing living it does. I didn’t live it, not really. Felt real, though. Felt more than real, felt like dying. Felt like all the horror I felt when I first had to face him down.

Dream last night, I was alone. Don’t know what happened. Why Curtis and DM weren’t around. Watched me leadin’ Windmill away, well outside a campground. Probably past midnight. Looked as awful as I feel now. No sleep, more scars. Deeper ones, on my face, didn’t even look like tattoos no more. Can’t tell if that’s just ‘cause of the dark shadows under my eyes, or if they’re honest-to-god ripped open more.

As I’m walking, I start hearing a rustling. Too loud, more than just footsteps in grass. Sounds like something else, and I couldn’t tell what. The me in the dream couldn’t tell, neither. I stop walking, keep my grip on Windmill’s reins, and look behind me.

And then my legs are pulled out from under me. I fall hard on the ground, and I’m being dragged so fast. Don’t have time to let the reins go, and they catch around my wrist. Windmill’s so strong and the pull is so strong that something’s got to give, and it’s my hand. There’s this loud snap, and I’m being pulled. Dragged by a rope around my ankles.

I get pulled further from the campsite, over rocks and then, over gravel. Scratched up so bad, and I can’t even fight. I look like a toy. A fucking doll.

And it’s a doll’s doing, and I see him in the distance. Figure wearing a Stetson and a long coat.

Then the Vision is behind me – the me watching, and whispering. Tried to get me to look at her, and I saw her beautiful face, almost met her eyes.

And then I didn’t. Jerked myself awake and that was the end of it. Couldn’t fall back asleep.

This is killing me.

Not damn near as much as it’ll kill me if that sonofabitch is still alive.

Two

I’m starting to form an opinion on these two – my opinion is that they must be freaking blessed. Or, cursed. They’re both stuck in the middle of Fear activity, and it looks as though it hasn’t let up since it started. I’ve been stuck in this life for a while now, and I don’t see action as constantly as these two. Neither of them wears red, so I know they’re not Marked, but I’d almost wonder if they’re Magnet Vessels for all the shit that seems attracted to them.

Blair’s blog, I’ve read, so I had an idea about what’s happened in hir life. Waking up in a crazy alternate dimension to fight people to the death, and being stalked by the Black Dog – turns out, that’s not even all of it. Seems like once people start Running, they’re liable to run into all kinds of crap. We got talking about it, and there was a lot of ‘Those wereNightlanders?’ and ‘I knew there was something weird about that mold!’, stuff like that. Then, it turns out that since leaving, s/he’s been having these dreams. I got a feel about that, following this blog, too, but Blair pretty much cinched it for me last night.

I don’t tend to sleep much, as it is – four hour naps, don’t sleep too deeply, it’s the only way I can keep from burning myself out without taking a huge risk and being murdered. So, I volunteered to take the first watch while they got first shift sleeping. Like I’d do it any other way, they could be lying and this could be a really convoluted trap.

Blair woke up after about two hours, completely terrified. If I didn’t have an aversion to touching, I felt like I should have hugged hir or something – s/he was almost shaking, and said that this time, the Vision nearly managed to look straight into hir eyes. At least hir instincts are sharp… I’ve been looking into the fate-fucking bitch, and while I’m still a little unclear on the whole thing, I know eye contact is involved when she’s turning someone into one of her Scions.

After that, we just sat around quietly until Blair had calmed down, then I took my sleeping shift early. Didn’t die in the night, so I think that’s a good sign.

Aside from the Fear activity going on with Blair, there’s also Curtis. Seems pretty single-target, but it’s the frequency and the fact that seem to be sending more each time that worries me. The Archive sends Martyrs after their own, once they’ve gone rogue, and Curtis is very obviously not ‘normal’. Even putting the amnesia aside, I watched him throw two Martyrs off him like they were dust on his coat, during that fight before. If he’s not a Gifted gone rogue, I’m the Queen.

I’m still hanging around, because I haven’t gotten any concrete answers and with only two of them, they’re as good as dead. Plus, if I’m right and Curtis goes back to his Grandfather, Blair will be in a lot of danger, and s/he won’t even get a chance to fight back.

Dispute Against Madness

Developing Theories.

DM is proving to be an extremely valuable source of information regarding the PREs, as she has spent the last few years surviving encounters and even hunting down their proxies.

I’ve come across that term before, but she has been able to explain it to me more in-depth, and the amount of different types is a bit mind-boggling.

She is a tad short-spoken, but I get the impression it is out of caution rather than rudeness. Blair seems inclined to trust her somewhat, which is clearly a sentiment she does not return.

Even so, the pair of them seem to have bonded almost instantly. DM explained to us last night her theories on what’s been happening to the two of us, and since then they have been swapping stories regarding their encounters with the PREs.

I’ll begin with her theories on what’s happening to Blair:

The dreams xe has been having are a result of a ‘deceased’ PRE known by names such as The Soothsayer, the Oracle, Clotho, or simply ‘Fate’; most commonly, it is referred to as The Vision.

DM informed us that The Vision can, as it were, tweak the strings of a person’s fate, as well as show them glimpses of their future and past in dreams to drive her chosen victim to madness.

It is unclear what her intentions are with Blair, but both xe and DM agree that The Vision’s interest was probably sparked after xe was released back into our dimension.

As for myself, DM has confirmed the only theory that has yet to make any sense to me – that I have been targeted, for whatever reason, by the Grandfather and his Archivists. If she had any other information, she was reluctant to share it – when I asked if she had any ideas as to why this was happening, she found a way to quickly change the subject.

I have decided not to let it bother me, since perhaps it’s just a matter of trust, and if there is any hope of getting her to relax I think Blair is inadvertently going about that. The two of them are talking now about encounters with ‘the Hound’ and seem quite animated about it – I would almost feel envious or left out, were their conversation not so fascinating.

One

It isn’t that hard to track someone down, after they let a few key details slip. They mentioned Washington, looking for a Motel 6, and trying to follow routes that would hit campgrounds as they headed South. If you spend about five hours cross-referencing all that information after someone starts talking about seeing you die in a dream, you can find practically anyone.

We’re patching ourselves up after that fight and getting the formal introductions out of the way. I could guess who was who, after reading this blog, but I wound up underestimating them a bit. That was stupid of me, and I sure as hell know better for next time.

Curtis deciphered my name without even trying, after I introduced myself as ‘DM’ for short – he was like, “DM? The one who was commenting on my blog?” and then he got all analytical. Started breaking it down into parts, and when I asked why, he told me he was bothered by not knowing people’s real names. That, and he seemed to like the guesswork.

Blair was on the opposite end, s/he seemed to get WHY I didn’t want that information out there. I’d tracked them down with those little info slips, after all, so it stands to reason someone might be able to track me too if my name ever gets out there. Luckily Curtis agreed not to share that with the world, so…thanks for that, Curt, if you go back and read this.

The cops are gone by now, and we agreed that after that attack we should stick together long enough to determine whether or not anyone else would be coming for us. I’m not used to traveling with anyone else, so I’m visibly not comfortable with the whole ‘us’ thing, but I figure I don’t have a choice. Those dreams Blair’s been having are obviously under The Vision’s influence, and if I’m dying in them, I want to know why. Especially since I know for a fact that I haven’t done anything to piss of the Archive. Clearly, that’s all Curtis.

I just need to know why I’m involved.

That came out wrong, writing that. I’m making an honest effort not to be a heartless bitch. It’s how I’ve been for such a long time that I started to worry I was becoming numb, and I do mean that in the Cold Boy sense. That was when I started trying to reach out to other people in any way I could. I’ve just never done it face-to-face, and I’m not sure how to go about it anymore. I’ve barely even TALKED to another person for three years.

Come to think of it, I’m a miracle I haven’t heard any singing or poetry, after all this time.

And look at me. Starting to spill my guts to the Internet like it’s my own personal diary. This is exactly why I’ve fought every compulsion to start a blog, since it all started. Commenting on people’s blogs and trying to give advice is one thing, it’s a whole other thing to start blogging about my problems, myself.

I’m cutting myself off before this starts feeling natural.

Dispute Against Madness