We had time to clean up, and to fall into bed together; I didn't sleep as much as I wanted, because I was worried about Rollin, but I think he slept, and having him nearby was consolation, if not relaxation. It was a hard ride, a harder quest, and I don't know if I should be happy it was an all-around success. Amber will have guns. But...
Damn. DAMN DAMN DAMN! FUCK! SHITFUCKERS! DAMMIT! GODDAMMIT! DAAAAAMN.
I think I'm done.
MOTHERFUCKING DAMMIT! Backwards and upside-down, everything is backwards and upside-down, and everything really is about to be revealed. It's like I'm narrowing down the stories of my family, because there are so many lying versions, and I'm down to two, perhaps three that work as the truth anymore. And it's BAIT. I'm being BAITED, but as Annys says, the only thing to do with baited traps is either to pretend they're not there, or to walk into them with eyes open and head held high, triggering them intentionally. It's one I cannot possibly walk away from.
Oh, shit. It's one I cannot possibly walk away from. It could have a little tag on it reading 'For Julia" and it wouldn't be any more for me. Arrogant? No. No, no, no. Look at the timing.
I hate being baited. Hate hate hate. And 'forgive me'...Oh, sonofaBITCH, perfectly accurate.
And Cianna is having dinner. With the Duke. Because he's a kindly old uncle. He was a friend of Oberon, that can't possibly be bad, right?
FRIEND OF OBERON. His buddy! Back in the day! When Oberon's pastime was coming to your house, kicking your dog, fucking everything female including your wife, sister, daughter, and favorite serving-wench, slapping your face, setting your house on fire, then taking the land it was on and making himself a summerhouse while he laughed at you and Dworkin did a little dance!
Oh, yes, let's do trust Oberon's friend who's attacked half the family but has good reasons, he swears. Whaaaaaaat the fuuuuuuck? Either he's on the up and up, in which case he ought to understand good faith efforts, or he's fucking with us, or he's just got his own agenda which might not be Amber's.
And Unicorn only knows what most of the family's doing now. If they'll come when I call, even if I weasel - or even if I tell the truth.
Hanging from manacles, so close I could smell and sense it, blood and filth and desperation. They're fucking well going to listen to me.
I only wish I knew if I were doing the right thing, and wish I didn't feel so sick for even doubting those words. How suspicious am I, that I doubt someone trapped and tortured?
But I think I have it mostly scoped.
When I was walking on the stair, I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today.
I'm gonna kick his ASS and make him go away. And break his violin. And then decimate his fingers one by one. His tongue. His eyes. And destroy everything he ever created, piece by piece, one by one. And hold out hope that I will have mercy.
And then jerk that mercy away from him as cruelly as I possibly, possibly can. And if he's got a puppy, I'm gonna kick it and make him watch. Drastic times...