Entry 588; Day 1415

[misterblackbird]

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It seems the tourists are back again today--this really is becoming something of a tradition. How amusing that it would fall so close to the halfway point of my 'anniversary' of coming into the City. Five and a half years and perhaps the only constants have been the Clock, the Carousel, and these periodic invasions.

It's rather like bad weather or any of the curses: it's going to happen, sooner or later.

But I'm in no humour for this ordeal this time.

Nor am I especially holding out hope that anyone I should like to see will appear. I'd almost rather they didn't anymore.

If you think you need me, you really don't. Send a message if matters are pressing. If the cafe is desperate for my help, send for me, but I'd like to avoid being trampled for as long as I can. I may be going out, but only in desperation.

Why anyone would visit the City, I shall never understand.

~C.

[ooc: Cain is still moping after the circus ordeal. But hit him. Hit him hard. Anything that really unsettles him will either be written off as the ravings of a lunatic or fade from memory after the curse. (And, just as a side note, so everyone knows what I mean by that, Cain is from Volume 5 [North American numbering] of Godchild.) I'd prefer it if he not get spoiled on his own ending, but he can also just forget what anyone tells him.]

Comments

[misterblackbird]

She is not gone.

[fauxfawkes]

I know what death is here. Don't patronize me.

[misterblackbird]

You don't know what death was this time. She died, yes, but she was revived--and not in the cold, half-alive way that most are. She's truly alive. Go and find her yourself on the Network if you doubt me. I told you the City had a hand in these things.

[fauxfawkes]

Did you bargain for her?

[misterblackbird]

I did not. But I would have, if it had come to that.

[fauxfawkes]

But you still say she's...

Then nothing's changed, except that she's died and you've sinned.

[misterblackbird]

And she endured it. So nothing has changed and yet everything has changed.

[fauxfawkes]

I don't know whether to hate you or not, now.

[misterblackbird]

It wouldn't be a new thing for me to endure at all, to be hated.

[fauxfawkes]

I wonder if it'd make things more equal. You enduring my hate while she endures her death.

[misterblackbird]

If it would please you to hate me, then, by all means: hate me.

[fauxfawkes]

It's not about what would please me. If it were, I'd simply tear this entire damned place from its very foundations and watch it crumble as its penance for ever giving you the power at all.

My hate means nothing to you, anyway.

[misterblackbird]

She's alive, though. Go and see her if you don't believe me.

[fauxfawkes]

I can't visit her the way I can with you.

[misterblackbird]

I wonder what she'd say to you about all this anyway.

[fauxfawkes]

...

She'd say, "it always gets better."

[misterblackbird]

Perhaps it will, then.

[fauxfawkes]

Before I go, there's one last thing. A riddle for you.

[misterblackbird]

A riddle?

[fauxfawkes]

"If I hate him, I become him."

What am I?

[misterblackbird]

The person you hate, I would think. Or your own enemy.

[fauxfawkes]

Or something I once thought I wanted. But I was wrong.

[misterblackbird]

You're still angry with me.

I could apologise for what happened. I am sorry for what happened, but saying so won't undo what happened nor do I think it will be any comfort to you.

She and I--and you as well, I suppose--will have to continue forward.

[fauxfawkes]

No. I'm just at an impasse. I don't want you to say you're sorry, I just want...

I just.

Some things just aren't supposed to happen.

[misterblackbird]

Yes. I know.