As You Were

Due to circumstances beyond my personal control, because people do not understand the concept of my journal and thus my thoughts regardless of how they may be taken by others, this journal is friends only.

It's "for the greater good" you know.

There are things known and there are things unknown and in between are the doors of perception
Aldous Huxley

LJ's Weekly Writer's Prompt: If you could rename yourself in real life, what would you choose, and why?

Aslera.

In my first novel, Caesura, there's a young woman who's as common as the next peasant but she's best friends with the most powerful young man in the story (the Falcon). She is smart and ambitious, but understands and accepts that she would never be able to hold the power that the Falcon has. Perhaps in a different place and a different time, she would be in his position and he in hers but the dice fell this way. I call her Fiddle, mostly because it matches her personality but also because the fiddle is the common, lower and base name for the instrument by any other name would be the violin. In the second book, the reader learns that Fiddle's real name is Aslera. And the only time the reader truly really understands the depth of the relationship between Fiddle and the Falcon, how she would do anything for him, how she'd lay down her life for him, is when he uses her true name.

I ended up not writing the chapter from Fiddle's point of view...but this is a piece from that scrapped chapter.

"The fallen empire, Falor's own descent into poisoned madness led by treachery, deceit and destiny, was hidden behind his scarred eyes. The once golden halls replaced by local white stone stolen from the cliffside surrounded him, and the dark green blankets under which he shivered stood out against the blankness. Everything which Falor had once been was lost when they had been but children, everything they heard only through legend and now he was dying from his attempt to restore Falor to a greatness he did not remember. Perhaps that fame, the power that Falor once held throughout the Eastern Seas, was false and exaggerated. They could never know and yet, without thinking twice, Fiddle knew she had followed the Falcon blindly into his cause. Would she regret it?  Would she be sitting next to her friend watching him die had she refused his offer? She'd still be a maid in the royal household of Ellion, washing laundry and dishes throughout her day. The sword that hung at her hip would have been enough to convict her of crimes she did not commit and the fierce dedication in her eyes would have convicted them both for suspected treason. the Falcon knew this. He knew she would not sit in a kitchen to be idly accused and abused. No, even as a child, he had understood her more than anyone else. They were, after all, of the same blood.

He stirred in his fever sleep, reaching out and grasping her wrist with a slippery hand. "Aslera!"

She shuddered, swearing that the fabric of air around her shifted as he cried her true name. Her free hand reached up to cover his mouth, glancing around and wondering who had heard him speak to her. She had given up her true name twenty years past, and it remained a secret between the two of them. the Falcon knew the names of every operative in his network, but even when they were alone, he used her codename. Fiddle preferred it: She earned her codename, it was a name that meant something near and dear to her, rather than a name that was given to her before anyone understood who she would be. Of course, he didn't know either, she thought, lifting her hand off his face. His single eye opened and she gulped. Even after nearly three years of seeing his destroyed and mangled face, the Falcon still shocked her with his gray and scarred eye.

"Aslera, they took him. My sister---she..." His voice was clear and strong for a moment and then he released her wrist and began to babble again, making no sense to Fiddle. "The mountains, and the sea, they mix all together when Analei sings...don't you know that? Why didn't you listen to me?"

"Shhh," she murmured softly and then added softly, "Alex. Shhhhh."

I took out this chapter because I decided I wanted it constantly insinuated that the Falcon had a sister (in fact, she becomes quite important in the Eighth Sea) but I don't want him to ever admit to anyone he knows Amee is his sister. I like Fiddle, and I wish I knew her better but I rarely if ever write from her point of view.

But then again, she's always been like that. She's an enigma (Amanda--word check?) and I love her for that. I'm almost afraid to find out what she isn't like. Because I loved my Falcon until I wrote something and then I realized that's what he's been like the entire time. Before, I had been lying to myself and my character but...

“No!” The scream. Alex shuddered and Hallie said quietly after a moment. “Does it bother you to be down here, Falcon? Do the memories haunt you? Does it hurt to remember that she’s gone and there’s nothing left to fight for?”

 
“What?” Alex took a step backwards.

 
“What does it feel like to devote your life to someone and to an idea? Do you know anymore? We did, Jeo and I. We didn’t go out there to find Zair because he’s the prince. We went to find your son because you gave us life. You saved us and it is only right that we save you. Jeo’s gone for your cause.  There’s no Curtus to fight against and no Analei to protect. Do you know what it feels like to go through life without a cause? Do you know what it feels like not to be sure whether what you’re doing is the right thing or not? Do you know what it feels like to be hunted? Jeo is gone to protect the one thing you have left to fight for. He died so you can continue bumbling along to protect a single entity? When are you going to protect the country, Falcon?”

 
Alex was shaking violently and he felt Mirami take a hold of his elbow, thinking she could keep him on his feet.  Mirami, you know better, don’t you? Tell Hallie that I believe in more than my dead princess. But the words didn’t come out and wouldn’t come at all.

 
Hallie’s breath was short and rapid, her words hissed through teeth and full of venom.  “When are you going to find something greater than this to believe in? When are you going to stop dreaming about her and dream about Falor? Do you realize how many people are out there dying for a cause you no longer believe in? I know that your dream for Falor died with Analei. I know it did. But how could you do that to us? We gave our lives for you!”

 
“How dare you speak to him like that!” cried Fiddle, stepping away from Alex’s elbow.

 
“Fiddle!” cried Alex sharply as Hallie yelled at the top of her lungs, “Because I can!”

 
And then later in this scene....

 

Hallie was crying now, her voice choked up. “They chase you down, and tie you up, like an animal. All my life I’ve been treated as lesser. You don’t understand. No one has ever treated me as someone. None of you ever lost your sense of self. You are heroes in this place, gods among mortals. We are the dregs, the crossed out words and the dust under the rug. We exist, but only when you need us to exist. We are heroes when you need heroes. We are beautiful, when you need faces. But we are never people. We have never been people, and there is nothing more frightening than knowing what you should be and failing to be that no matter how hard you try.”

 

.....

“You were lucky.” Alex said after a moment of silence. “You and Jeo were among the lucky ones. There’s something different in you that kept you alive. You refused to die, and you refused to be broken, and that was the difference between life and life-in-death. There were others, Hallie.”

 

“There are always others.” Her voice was soft, cracking at the edges until Alex was sure it would shatter in the air.

 

“They will look for Jeo, Hallie, but if they don’t find him…” Fiddle murmured uneasily. Alex squeezed her hand.

 

“He gave up himself for the Crown Prince. You owe him--,” Hallie objected, voice rising again in panic.

 

“We owe him nothing!” roared Alex abruptly, spinning around. “We owe him nothing, Hallie. I do not owe him anything. I do not owe you anything. No one in here owes anyone else anything, especially not their lives. You cannot owe someone what you are expected to give. There is something greater than us standing here, you said it yourself. We cannot search for gratification or validation when there’s a world full of hurt surrounding us. The world owes us nothing, and we owe it nothing, for there is no debt in life. We owe you nothing, and you owe us nothing. We are even. Jeo understood that, or he never would have parted from your side. He did not owe you that. It was simply what was expected of him.”

 

“Will you stand here and tell me what glory and satisfaction feels like, Alexander Sarjio?” Hallie’s voice was shrill, piercing like a falcon’s cry striking a crisp fall afternoon.

 

Alex shuddered at her words. “Glory is not tangible. You cannot wrap your hands around a moment and lift it to the sky and say this is what I was searching for. No, things that can be understood are not what we desire in life. You and I are more alike than you think…we desire things that cannot be understood nor held nor contemplated even in the darkest nights.”

 

“I want to live without fear.”

 

“And I want to live without regret. Neither can happen if we want to truly live. We will look for Jeo. But perhaps he is the freest of us all. Snow, Mirami, come see me when you’re done. I assume she will be moved?”

 

“To the West Bedroom, I suppose.” Mirami sounded afraid. “Arkia’s in the Gold Room.”

 

“Alex, I will tell Hudson. Do you want to see Zair again?” Fiddle walked again towards the stairs.

 

            Alex reached forward to touch her elbow and as he began to walk up the stairs, he paused and said quietly, “Thank you, Hallie Ziro.”

 

            “Just doing my job, Alexander Sarjio,” she answered tiredly and then she laughed softly. “I see things falling out of the sky, golden feathers and black arrows bleeding ink and paper covering the city. Zair in the ocean, a terrible storm, and a fire that consumes everyone. It’s the downfall of seeing things most people don’t see: I can’t stop myself from dreaming and seeing. For once, I want to see something worth seeing again.”

 

So, I fell out of love with my Falcon. He's the pessimism in the world, whereas I suppose when I wrote Hallie's vision I was thinking of myself (and the plot in Book 3). I see so many terrible things, I want to see something worth seeing again.

What was the question again?

That's right. I would change my name to Aslera because I like Fiddle. Because I love Fiddle. And I'm happily in love with that name. It has a lovely ring to it. Az-lair-ah or Ahs (Ass with a british accent) lair ah.

Anyways, long rambling rant. Going back to writing book 3 again.

 

The hottest movie of the entire year. I can't even EXPLAIN how amazing that movie was. They took a lot of liberties with it, in terms of needing to shorten it and etc but SO FUCKING AMAZING. Helena Bonner Carter was hotter and creepier than Hades as Bellatrix. Lucious was freaky. Umbridge was creepier than anything I've seen before in my life. And we're instituting House Points in the office tomorrow. Holy fucking crap. I'm seeing it again tomorrow with Amanda.

http://grahamwatson.com/gw/imagedocs.nsf/PhotosTest/07tdfSt2-011000 is a fantastic photo of the Tour, and teammates, and what it's all about. Vatkus shattered his thumb in the Gigantic Crash. Alberto is brand new to Team Discovery...until now, he and Thomas had never ridden together. But Alberto's first doing his job as the novice teammate, and second doing his job as his teammate. Vatkus retired from the Tour because of his thumb fracture.

Off to see the pony...anniversary party...and then Harry Potter. Hopefully between exciting events one and two, I can upload pictures and post. If not...wait until tomorrow afternoon so that I can upload those pictures and pictures of me and coworkers waiting for Harry Potter.

I hate my work. Enough said.

Other than that...

A wrecking ball might as well gone through the Tour de France today when a crash took out 170 of the 187 starting riders today. Some riders were injured (one taken to the hospital for a hip xray and another out with unstable thumb fractures) enough not to start tomorrow and others managed to get out. George Hincapie (Jorge Grande, as Carrie and I call him) fell down but got back up. Robbie McEwen hurt his wrist yesterday. A lot of the bigger names went down today though I suppose in that big of a crash you'd assume that. Steegman won, which was great because well....it was his home town. Boonen was supposed to pass him but couldn't and Steegman said even if Boonen had let him win, he appreciated it. Ah, cycling.

Other than that, I was going to ride my horse but it's 95 and he's not a happy camper. I'm going to go out and see him briefly, give him carrots, you know. Tomorrow it will be officially one year since I cajoled Carrie into driving over 800 round trip miles for a scrawny, infested, scared and neurotic chestnut thoroughbred. He's hardly scrawny, infested or scared anymore, but the neurotic is here to stay. Expect a lot of photos tomorrow night. JC's taking photos with his fancy camera, and Erin's taking digitals. I can't wait. I should go out now and bath him in this heat so he looks good. Yeah? He's my angel. I adore that horse, even though he keeps me stressed over money.

Finishing my HP shirts and letting them dry while I head out to the barn. I have been a slacker about seeing my horse. Honestly. I really need to get on that but there's something delicious in the knowledge that I can go...and don't have to go out every night. It's odd, I know, and I should be living this up that I have every night with him but...I don't know. He's mine, and he'll be mine regardless of whether I'll make it out. For so many years, my 'crazy ones' weren't mine. They were someone elses and if I didn't fight for every spare moment with them, I lost the ride. But I'm never going to lose this ride. He's my horse. My lovely lovely horse.

Shit. Board's due. Haha...

Anyways. I suppose that's all for today. Short story: "Hello" has gotten a lot of interesting comments lately. I'll work on that some more tomorrow, I think.

A wrecking ball, 3,000 pounds and all, got loose from the library today...and rolled down North Main Street...played ping pong on some cars...and then rolled into the back seat of a car stopped at the stop sign by the Pampered Palette. The guy was in the car...at a stop sign...and a wrecking ball rolled into his car. He's fine. But it's like the big news of the day...police, state and city, and physical plant and construction and Allegheny Security and spectators all running around like chickens with our heads cut off. Trust me, I was one of them. Curt got a photo of it...maybe he'll email it to me and I can post it. Fucking hilarious, I tell you. Front page news. Everyone's retelling the story. "Where were you when that wrecking ball rolled down North Main?"