I was at the library again yesterday, buried in piles of books that were mostly useless and mooching the free wifi. The library in the town I'm currently staying in has great little study rooms, fantastic for privacy (and not half bad for taking a nap in relative safety). I'd taken a break to check on my email and the blogs when I got an email from Picasso asking where I've been staying. I told her, and a couple minutes later there was a knock on the fire door at the back of my study room. I grabbed my staff, just in case, and opened the door.
I don't know what I expected to find, but it certainly wasn't Picasso, looking pale and beat up but grinning at me. I helped her inside and fussed over her injuries, but they really weren't anything more than scrapes and bruises, which she was more than happy to point out to me. She played with Jill, who was admittedly glad for the attention considering I've been inside libraries a lot lately so she's been feeling a bit neglected.
It wasn't until after dinner that she got to the real reason she'd come to see me.
"Have you figured out what makes you dream of Sam?" She asked shyly, looking... almost nervous
I shook my head regretfully. "Not yet, no. I'm going in after him soon, though."
"You found a way?" Her eyes went wide.
"Not really. I'm knocking myself out and hoping really hard that that takes me to him and that I find something that either confirms it's real or that it's fake."
"Well I was thinking... If it is real... maybe I can rip a hole into it..." She looked excited to be able to help, but I was confused.
"What do you mean, rip a hole into it?"
"Like I rip a hole open when I use the path right...?"
"Do you think you could do that to other places?" I was just stunned at the idea.
"Maybe... I never tried."
"I don't want to put you in danger."
"Fuck that! I got super powers! LETS SMASH SOME DOORS!"
"Let me at least try and confirm it's real before we put you in danger."
"I'm not a hapless child." She glared, looking away.
"I know that. I don't mean to imply you are. But I hate seeing you get hurt, and I want to avoid that if I can."
She groaned. "Fine! Jerk." Picasso pouted at me, but I stood firm.
"I'm sorry. I'm just scared. I don't want to lose anyone else."
We spent the rest of the night goofing off and playing with Jill, and this morning Moth showed up and took Picasso back to wherever they were staying. For the first time in a long time I have some hope I might actually be able to make this work. I'm going to go looking for Sam as soon as I can.
Interesting.
ReplyDeleteIt's *theorectically* possible... theoretically.
ReplyDeleteTheoretically possible is better than not possible at all.
DeleteIt's like the world is falling apart everywhere.
ReplyDelete- Mr. Incognito.
Good luck, dear.
ReplyDeleteJust found your blog. Fortunately I had a long enough period of safety to read it. Hopefully I'll have a long enough safe period to update my own blog soon.
ReplyDeleteIf your boyfriend really is trapped within a dream it probably isn't the doing of Tall Dark and Faceless.
http://scribesigma.blogspot.com/2012/07/pre21-grotesque.html
Also, be as wary in the libraries as you would in the woods.
http://channelfear.blogspot.com/2011/10/them-5-blind-man.html
One last thing. I've always understood the Path to be under tremendous pressure. The wind that rushed out the one time I witnessed someone using it seemed to back up what I had heard. Now Proxies, even ex-Proxies (and in one known instance the child of an ex-Proxy), have I understand been made immune to this pressure.
How did a puppy like Jill survive that? I suppose that dimensional bleeding being what it is it's possible the path isn't as highly pressurized where you are as it is where I am, but it makes one wonder.
What color is Jill anyway?
Jill is brown and white. Is that important? There was no rush of air any of the times I've seen Picasso coming out, so it's probably not a big deal.
DeleteAs for the rest, I'll look into it.