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:: 2004 14 February :: 9.22 pm

i don't know how it is so either, but when her eyes get like that.... fucking... stay away.
zvekh didn't, and look at him now.

enigma, enigma, enigma... demon virus inside.

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:: 2004 14 February :: 2.28 am
:: Music: chembros - let forever be

...my only hope is the pervasion of dreams. pleaseplease please pleaseplease.
give me something.
.beyond recognition.
[if beyond recg, then how do i know it's not already there? {many philsy books toread.} or recognize it when occurence?]
wake up in[side] the sun
wake up in the sun[light]

bea, bea. what are you? rose, rose, you are what? this isn't a recording, it's just questions.
if i hold earth, who am i reflecting? if i hold snow, blood, candy; whose ideals are embodying me? i know because i am nothing without them...
without constance.....
without constance....
my happiness, the closest to content, my keesha, would be dead. my dear, my dear... i am sorry rek scorned you so...
she hates..... but not death wishes....
not like horace.
oh god, him...
if it were up to him... keesha, rosewen, suzy, rek, anyone who would ever stand up to him or be anything other than completely adverse to society would be dead. [this gives beatrice a kind of loophole, doesn't it?]

my dears.... my dears.. please give me dreams tonight.

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:: 2004 13 February :: 11.25 am

rosewen... such an enigma. i can't get her. can't figure her out. i'd be fine without her.. why can't she just leave?? only if i knew her workings, i'd like her.
rek hates her.
so much.
fucking whore.

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possibility of genetic degenerate control? by conscious manipulation of the release of iron into bloodstream... seems a long shot, though.

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:: 2004 11 February :: 3.37 pm
:: Music: dream of evan and chan

though older, still the same. gone full circle, i suppose.
'more pink' 'means happy'

---------------------------------
thinking perhaps in certain 'specimens' [for lack of better word] re-assimilation of iron into body not only changes color back to white, but such that in certain lights, the possibility for reflection of light itself is negated? --in essence, invisibility; lack of reflection merits the sinking in of light, i suppose, something like a black hole but not in the scale that light is actually drawn in, it just... doesn't reflect. perhaps goes around. anyway, it's not something that's 'perfect' invisibility, it's just harder to see, especially in dim light. grew to rumors about theories of invisibility, and when paired with the erratic nature of cataleptic iron-deficient subjects, begat the legend of cheshire cat species. [at least in this world.]

with the notion of spring, comes that which we have all waited for.

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:: 2004 10 February :: 2.51 pm

i look back, and they've come to life. first and foremost, aligned, where is chaos? i take it in stride.

steps out, but moves to; music. takes a hold and muscles. rythm. keesha's gliding step is one somewhat new, she flows with sound instead of bouncing with beat; but dance is still dance.
the truest form of happiness.

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:: 2004 9 February :: 11.10 am

'cheshire cat'; technically not its own species in itself, but more like a defective gene not uncommonly occuring in felidae-resembling anthro bipedals. usually a pinkish color, as a result of a lack of certain chemicals which allows for some of the hemoglobin of the bloodstream to 'leak' into the fur as it grows. this results in the subject to constantly be in need of a large amount of iron in their diet. if this is not possible, sensitivity to sunlight, receding gums, and the 'whiting out' of eyes may occur. if mixed with drugs when this happens, subject may experience or even permanently acquire the symptoms for catalepsy; when said person is not in a deathlike state, they may become often disoriented and in an odd state of mind. it is possible, however, for one to 'recover' from this, although it may call for such drastic guidelines as the avoidance of sunlight and sleep. the eyes rarely and usually never fully recover, always being ultrasensitive to light with pale irises and a thin white film over the cornea. if enough iron is registered in the diet, it is also possible for one's fur color to change back into the original white color, with any markings also changing into grey [the original color].

so thus is keesha.

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:: 2004 7 February :: 11.30 pm
:: Music: sleep (1)

in every frame, takes so long, but

you know she's more such real[it{ies}y].
shunned. like a concrete twostory door.

she emerges like a butterfly from cocoon.. a moth finished with metamorphosis. and yet she doesn't change. quite pale, the girl stays the same; and her dominance... it's challenging rek's.
i still see them in their anthro forms, even when human... i keep their features as true as i can. constance's slender forehead... rek's messy hair, half-closed eyes... horace's crooked smile and broken nosebridge. his eyes had to be so perfect... but his demeanor is no different. this outlet for them? i should make more... there's so much behind. closed book, i haven't read past a few chapters. haven't written, is more like it, but... you know how it is. it so much seems like it's already been done.

...i'd sincerely love to make a life-story or somesuch about beatrice. about all of them, really, and then have it all tie in somehow.. like magnolia, except it'd have more plot and less coincidence. oh, them all... i see more of suzy every day...

on an unrelated note:
i realized rek is my tyler durden. [my only hope is that i don't eventually shoot myself in the jaw and also kill her at the same time. i don't think that would be fun.]

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:: 2004 6 February :: 9.41 pm
:: Music: oceanic/ /the 1812

so much, and yet so little.

two on two is a rivalry, but two on three makes a bond. they may fight, but in 'reality' they're more akin than any other.

page 5. onward.

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:: 2004 5 February :: 11.18 am

in the ruins of the south wherefore come about forsooth she knows. past is come and the crumbling memories echo. it's been a thousand years and back, a thousand years and back, and back she is, here at a dead temple. land of the forgotten. only those who were tortured remain, and even they..? their scars have healed over and over, over their memories and stories, life is just legend now.

snensenoemakeing.

fur sur.

and ever and anon, she returns. this is... i grin. nothing to be forgotten; strength can only be gained. when you are the weakest, you either grow or die.
and you, the wanderer,
one who floats the land not by choice;
thou shalt return to thy home, and
the land's embrace
revive thy life in thy heart
sacrifice among many.

beatrice... when i leave, will you go home...?

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:: 2004 4 February :: 11.52 am
:: Music: shell

it matters now.
this is it.

the actors are ready to set stage.

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:: 2004 2 February :: 11.11 am

because i swore on those tears i would do it. and in that, i may bring you to the closest to life, and the closest to this world, that you'll ever be.
you should be honored to be part of the first goal i ever took seriously.

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:: 2004 18 January :: 11.06 am
:: Music: haruka kanata

....i know you're not very nice, but i wish i could be more like you sometimes.
at least you're strong.

why can't you come out more...?

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:: 2004 30 January :: 11.19 am
:: Music: and all that could have been

...only those who have failed succeed? succession of the masses? what is change of form, whose form, the light, it's here? meaning, of whom?
daishou grips her sword... soul of her anscestors. there is no danger here, and yet all that exists is danger; she does not truly know who she is.
her mission... perhaps it's protection... but she.. oh, not from who she served, no, not her. she can't die. there is no death here; her hands fall. keesha must stay alive; the days without her were far too bleak.

rek stays behind herself. she keeps the mask on, over her face her real face, seeing through the cracks. the strike kept her in check, the check of one above; constance is power, power is naught, but there's no such thing as a coup d'etat in this reality. she's stopped. she's had to have understood... sometimes it seems there is no other way.

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:: 2004 29 January :: 11.11 am

forced exile?!

'...destruction will be imminent..!'
'you think i care?!'
they pull her back, she is needed; silent and unimportant, she seems; but necessary for balance.

'you don't know what you will do...' constance is deliberate... glaring... doesn't let go. claws digging into rek's arm.
'niether... neither do you... you don't know what will happen...'
her eyes narrow, and constance growls; a rare event. she strikes the girl in front of her on the cheek.
'do NOT fuck with the system...!'

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:: 2004 27 January :: 10.34 am
:: Music: i am - hamasaki ayumi

quiet absolution... for a moment, days lasted not a thousand years, but only the hours of which they were assigned. the return of keesha, or in the least her grins and laughter, is an uplifting sign.

'the one thing that beatrice needs most is hope. she also needs to understand... she needs to understand that some things can't be changed.' suzy writes, alone among a thousand. 'her trust has been torn asunder, her faith in [noardish] society... and i don't blame her.'

the faithless, constance says, is what we are. not the fey, the faithless. there is no fate here.

and arron sleeps, unawares. he is nothing.

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:: 2004 26 January :: 11.17 am
:: Music: exile - enya

she feels as if no one will ever know her despair.
gazing back at her home, set adrift. wrapped in the old sail, mark of the banished; the rain beats down, ocean roars around her.
and she can never go home.
and she can never go home.
lightning strikes up thunder; it chants over and over
'never go home, you can never go home.'
her regrets surround her; and the only thing that keeps her from screaming is knowing she did this to herself. knowing she could have stayed her hand and stayed here.

she drifts away from her only land.
'..perhaps i may find a way home.....'

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:: 2004 25 January :: 1.57 am
:: Music: la mer

sicksick fUCKing betrayal!

heirarchy:
mitsene [all-encompassing; rarely seen]
constance/rek [concious & subconscious]
suzy/beatrice/horace/keesha [emotions/ideals]
arron/daishou [other; desires-to-be]
kenni/mantra/enck/sehale/etc. [unrelated 'creations']

of course these are not set definitions; nor do any stay within boundaries- there really are none. but a general outline gives more understanding, i suppose...

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:: 2004 24 January :: 2.02 am

and who is that strange boy who means nothing...? does his worthlessness imbue death? it certainly warrants lack of attention.
because every time i use my mind, she is there. most of the fey don't understand.

the difference is that when i take it, i fall, and when i fall the fey's fate has come due. every eye is turned. ours are the same. we all see with the same eyes... for this reality there are but two windows to anything else. and there is only one outlet. without us... she is but a machine, what suzy hates, [constance smiles] a shell a thirsty fiend.
the Mitsene has No Skin.
not like this dirt.
if she looks in the mirror, she sees rek. if she illustrates she is there. she is her teeth and her claws and the fur that can't change. i present you with nothing, for there are no answers here. there is only simple understanding.
as long as i, we, the fey realize that She is a collection and a control... in fact more like upon realization... then we are free. we give our minds as we give thanks to the Lord Constance All-Knowing, and the Lord God Mitsene All-seeing All-encompassing. Names are nothing. names are nothing.
you tried to make me so separate from you, but what you can't run from is that i am you. you feel hate more than you fucking think. every time you smile at something unhappy... i live on inside of you. every time you break... that wasn't keesha. that wasn't suzy. that wasn't anyone... clambering for attention....
ther are so many of us, how, how how how how do you keep alive in there? how do you keep yourself separate?
you can't.

what is the gem without facets?

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:: 2004 23 January :: 5.31 pm

again.

and then repressed.
constance is more than she is given credit for; she is all and nothing. not god incarnate-- perhaps time incarnate, in a way; yet not exactly. her existance negates god's. she is flawed, he is perfect... and yet she is the origin of all reason.
what has been, what will be, what is; as one.

and the highest reason is beginning to look at beatrice in scorn. 'this is not for the good.' she mutters, though quite loud enough to hear.
beatrice answers, not understanding why she is being questioned. 'they... it is better to avoid and stay clean than to enter in it and become--'
'but this avoidance is not key! there is enough to give sway so one does not take the wrong route.' constance closes her eyes, calming. 'things are becoming unstable.'
beatrice does not falter. 'then there shall be lenience... but nothing will be as much as it had been before.' she turns to leave.
'beatrice! once it is had, it cannot be alone again....' the voice of constance shows kindness, something that happens rarely. there is pity in her. the fey matter, for the whole matter.
'and it has been had. we don't know how long we can hold out. something is coming soon...'
the other pauses, feeling for a moment a slight releif, like hearing of the filling of water before one leaves for travels once again. '...yes, you're right. we don't know what is beyond that. might as well...'


might as well.
you mean finally. it only took pleading... it only took the tearing of what holds her back.

and keesha fades from memory of time; something necessary that is being forgotten.

2 nones | --


:: 2004 22 January :: 5.56 pm
:: Music: where i end and you begin

it is a retaliatory movement in the chest. more as, she is. killmaim. vengeance. this is beatrice's reason for solitude. there are enough intelligent people to defy it...

glow red? my dear, but what would that show? oh, what does symbolism matter if the object being hidden is shown up front?
if one pleads, another leaps. this time... many times rek's held in check. or she speaks first, but mutely; and then erased, replaced.

[youko nakajima has suggested things i didn't think were possible... if only i would listen before. if only i would hear instead of merely waiting for my turn to speak.]

take it in stride, let it pass you by.

2 nones | --

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