surojas.

The taps in both rooms are running, & the sink basins are unwashed; kitchens are messy things by nature, & the laundry always needs done.

Rolling over, she listens to the sound of another life existing in the next room & momentarily laments its approaching absence.

:Yvaine speaks in parables & lives in rhetoric.

-beauty is true, love is real, & destruction is inevitable-
(they’re called universal truths)

Eurydice paints in red & relief- the bas variety.
(art snob reference for the win)
She’s damn good, too,
but hates her finished works.

‘In progress’is [her element/more her style].

The Rolling Thunder is apprehensive; Yvaine is catching.

...it’s all crazy etc etc...

trui.

In a room saturated with stolen images & found objects, she will watch her fate take the shape of a sweater, poorly knit, on the loom before her like so many of her foremothers.

‘The gift of premonition’: an oxymoron.
These days it’s more commonly known as intuition.
Largely a device of the Sisters.

Pushing her chair back, she sighs & sips her coffee.
The heat feels good on her massacred fingertips.
Twine burn sucks almost as much as burlap cuts.

She rubs her hands together & fantasizes about higher-quality material.

It’s not in the cards.
There are no cards.

Damn this.
Goddamn this.

She will curse her ancestors.
And then she will go back to work.

The daily grind.

The daily weave.

maitheas.

The Sound & The Fury are in her ear.
Extinguishing lamps like it’s their job, they walk through walls and talk down balloons with not a thought to the physics of it.


Eurydice is in her every thought.
As a result, she pays the meat slicer a little too much attention.


The Mistress battles most epically.

Dr. Physician just falls and falls and falls.


“I stole your soul, because you said I’d never be able.”

“Second time now, and you’ve done this before.”

“...But all the whole world is still on my string.”


It’s not a new conversation.


But,
Somehow, someway...okay.

She sings.

“Sometimes, I feel I gotta get away; bells chime, I know I gotta get away. And I know if I don’t, I’ll go out of my mind. But I know sometimes I must get out in the light. Better leave her behind with the kids, they’re alright. The kids are alright.“

The kids, they’re alright.
The kids are alright.