"If that be the case, then do bring a bottle or two up, I could use a glass as well," I reply casually.
        "Anything to eat, gentlemen?"
        "No, the wine will be sufficient," I answer for us both - I care little if Meres takes offense at my presumption, for I am sure to offend him in a moment anyway, when I demand to know why he is here. I stretch myself back upon a faded divan... really, I feel almost embarrassed to rest upon such dingy furnishings, there is not the slightest pretense of care for them! But I remind myself that he is a work still in progress, which is showing promise enough. And he is an interesting enough prospect that I am not yet bored with watching the process of careful conversion.
        "And you, Claude?"
        The boy flashes a bright, dazzling smile, and hops off the desk. "Why, I was going to help you. I must admit I could use something to nibble on, but I won't have you waiting on me so---"
        Meres interrupts him with a disapproving cluck of the tongue. "Now, Claude, what have we discussed?"
        The boy rolls his eyes. "We have discussed many things but I shall do as I please, thank you!" He glides out the door without a backward glance.
        Mark pauses just a moment, his expression a mixture of exasperation and fondness for the child.
        "Oh do not think to apologize for the boy," I put in hurriedly, anticipating some tired excuse. "He is a child, and it is partly his impetuousness that we find so endearing."
        He smiles wryly, but with a look of understanding in his eyes - that is precisely the way he feels. At least, that is the part which he allows himself to recognize that he feels...now that I have seen them together, I have seen the hunger in both their eyes. Claude should have sense enough that Meres and I do not expect them to return to the room in any particular hurry.
        When they have gone, I look over to Meres. He is flipping idly through the ragged, yellowed pages of some antiquated volume.
        "Really, Carey, you ought to see some of the things he has here. A few are quite rare, and very old. I can't fathom where he obtained certain of these manuscripts, I almost have to suspect he has taken them from the university library, for certainly he does not have the means to---"
        "Meres. You would really expect me to believe you are here merely to peruse some old books? You have far more in your own possession, and you were present for the writing of half of them."
        He laughs lightly, a sound without mirth. "Carey... however can you be so suspicious of me? You are the one who is acting rather strangely. You have no reason at all to be here, you barely know Claude and yet you tagged along with him like a lost puppy."
        I expected him to take shots back at me, I expected him to try to anger me... but it angers me all the same, though I certainly saw it coming. I can feel my body tensing, heating with the strength of the emotion, and my jaw hardens my voice into icy stone. "Can I not chose my own amusements for an evening, without your prior approval, my darling?"
        "But when, pray tell, have you ever chosen to be apart from Sadie, especially after such a long separation? Really, my dear, it is quite ridiculous of you, to rag so on poor Mephisto for his passionate attachments, when you do no better - truly, you do worse, for at least he does not maintain them so long!"
        His cool air of placid commentary only makes my own temper burn the hotter. I know that he is aware of this, and I know he is thus doing it intentionally, but the heat of my passions warms at last this blood which runs so cold, and I cannot help but delight in the rush of vivid sensation it gives me. "Mephisto!" I spit out, snarling. "Oh do not compare me to such a pathetic thing as he, one could swear he had forgotten he was ever more than them. He shall become a thing as lowly as those he so dotes on. He is a complete slave to his body and its temporality, to the ever-shifting winds of hormones and passing thoughts. He is hardly one of us anymore, do not compare me to such as he."
        "So what of Sadie? My, but your emotions flare when I mention her!"
        "I... I did not wish to see her tonight, that is all. I had thought of doing so, but I met Claude on the street, and the opportunity of speaking in more private conversation with this fascinating priest was---"
        He grins suddenly, a bright and terrifying smile. "You forgot! Oh you staggering fool of a mortal, you forgot!"
        "I did not forget!" I scream at him, my eyes flashing. I am no longer on the divan, I do not remember rising but I stand now before his chair, my muscles trembling with rage. "I had wanted to see her and I was on my way but---"
        "...but?"
        I collapse to my knees, my head slumping downward, and my voice catches in my throat. "I... I could not remember where I was to meet her. Meres!" I look up at him with sudden terror in my eyes, I hate that I reveal such weakness to him but I cannot contain it longer. "Meres, I could not remember!"
        His eyes shift suddenly, from the coldness of derision, into curiosity... I would almost say there was a touch of compassion there, but no, it is merely interest in my story. "...you could not remember?"
        "No! I... I tried, I was on my way to see her, I knew what time she was to arrive but... but there was an emptiness. I believed I could recall the very conversation we had, what she was wearing, the sound of her voice, the scent of her perfume, but... but there was nothing in my mind where the words should have been." My voice begins trailing off, its desperation lost in my confusion. "Meres, I... this has never happened to me. What is happening to me?"
        He leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his long legs. "Carey... I had no idea, do forgive me for being so rude to you." He brushes a hand almost tenderly against my cheek, and I remember a time, so long ago, when we were not so dismissive of each other... oh, we have all been together too long! All relationships are soured by time, for we grow tired of seeing the same face day by day... Meres, I used to have such a fondness for you, there was a time... but that is gone, we are in time and what has passed does not return. There is no return for us...
        I shake my head tiredly. "It does not matter... we have slighted each other a thousand times, what is one more? But Meres... what has happened?"
        He sighs, long and heavily, and I hear all the depths of his sorrow in that slow exhalation. "Carey, dearest, I do not know... but you are not the first, and I hardly doubt the last. There are so many things we have lost..."
        There is a long silence between us. Vaguely, I notice the sound of distant low voices and hushed gasps - seemingly from downstairs. I am relieved, for we should like some time to ourselves just now, so lost in reflection. So much time has passed, time which slips from us as sand in a glass, only without the certainty of containment, so much of the sand has fallen away, blown aside or dropped or crumbled into the dust of mortality, there is so much we shall never find again...
        "...Carey?" he asks hesitantly, a strange uncertainty in his voice. "Carey, this is a terrible thing to ask, but... do you... do you remember, your Name?"
        My breath and heartbeat stop. My Name. My Name! It has been so long it has been--- I gasp and crumple to the ground, my fingers clawing at the wretched dusty floorboards. My Name, that I flung aside so long ago, I laughed as I threw it away, I swept away the last of the fallen feathers and declared myself a new being, a new self, a thing entirely remade, and in my own image, not in the one that had been so thrust upon me. And I would not answer to that Name, I laughed (too loudly, too forcefully! oh the pain of that laugh!), and made it known I was no longer that one, I was a new creation, I had made myself and my name was my own...
        I feel a warmth beside me, and lean helplessly into his embrace, clutching at his shirt. "Meres... Meres do you remember?" I gasp desperately, my voice choking. "Meres, do you remember! Do you remember my Name?"
        I feel his chest shuddering beneath me, and his hair falls softly over mine. "No..." he whispers, his voice faint. "I cannot remember... Careth, dearest, that is why I am here tonight. This man... this man is looking for us. Oh not us, he does not realize the connections before his very eyes, but that is his research, is us, is us by way of our children..."
        My body grows still, frozen by the raptness of my attention on his words.
        "Care, you know as do I, that we were stricken out from their canon long ago. We stood beside the scribes as they copied and miscopied, we coaxed and cajoled and persuaded those who propounded the validity of one ancient, unprovable letter over another ancient, unprovable letter. We laughed, you must remember, how we laughed at the incongruities they produced! But Carey, darling, I am sure you remember too, that we could not... we could not quite bear to have all left out, I..." His voice chokes, and I do not dare look up, for fear of the tears upon his face. I feel ashamed to see him as this, to share such a wretched moment with him! I should not be here we should not be like this I---
        I pull roughly away, biting my lip hard, fighting through the fog of emotion which surrounds me. "Meres! Meres stop, I remember of course I remember how could I not!" ...my voice does not sound so strong as I wished it to, I fight harder. "Of course I remember, but why mention this now?"
        "Carey--- Carey we let them keep some glimpse into our world and our sin and our punishment. And Carey, more remained than we had thought! Oh it was cast aside and relegated to myth and legend, which was fine for so long, but Carey this one believes it! This one has found some of the old letters, the old writings, which his forefathers in the church cast aside and so cast out of their knowledge. He has read of us, he has searched for us. He has read of... of our children, Careth, you know we could not entirely strike them from knowledge. And from them he has learned of us, and hunted for us, and..." Here he runs short of choking breath, and takes my chin in his hand, forcing me to look into his damp eyes. They are haunted and terrified, yet lit with a lurid... oh but we have not had hope in so long, that all we can reach is desperation, and he is bound entirely in it. "Carey... there is a list of our names."
        My eyes widen and my heart suddenly restarts, pounding so hard it shakes my chest.
        "Carey... I have not yet found it, but I know it is here. He makes mention of it in some of his notes, there is a list. Do help me find it, do... I know they are not far, I know... I know that, among ourselves, our names did not change so very much. But Care there is such power in those names, such power we were terrified of! You know as well as I the ramifications if - not so much this man, but others, others with less ties to the cold commandments of the Church - if they learn of our names, what could thus be done. Oh but I am not truly concerned, we have dealt with such before, and man has forgotten so much since those times but Carey, oh Carey! To know again something which we have lost, oh do you not see! If we can find our Names, perhaps... perhaps---!"
        I clench the fabric of his shirt in my fists, and I grip so tightly that my nails dig through the fabric and into my palms, and I feel the heat as blood seeps out from this fragile flesh. "Meres... could we... no, but there, there cannot be a return of all that we... Meres?"
        He grips my shoulders tightly, looking as steadily as he can into my face - we are both shaking, terrified and desperate. "I do not know... but I will not rest until I have searched all possible sources, and seen if there is any hint of some... some hope. A hope, for us, ah! Darling I hardly dare think it! I have told no-one else yet, I am so afraid it shall be an empty hope, and come to nothing, as so many pursuits have in these long years..."
        "You have not told Veri?"
        "No! Oh, I do not think he could bear it, something so tantilizingly near, and then being torn mockingly away. He has grown so weak, you know, so weak... I am truly afraid for him, some days, I... oh do not tell him, do not tell anyone! I fear not their cold mockery, I fear only that there are some among us who should hope too much, and... and I do not wish to think what might happen, were such final hope then destroyed. We have suffered so much and for so long..."
        "Of course, dear, of course... oh I almost wish that I could forget myself! But no, no, it... you have no idea how terrified I was, that I had forgotten some little thing this evening. It was a thing of no consequence, excuses are so easy to come by, but the very fact of having forgotten, oh Meres I was so afraid! And you come to me with this and..."
        He smiles, almost tenderly, and cups my cheek in his hand, which is cold but gentle. "...and one could almost think that we were not entirely cursed after all."
        I laugh dryly, shaking my head - but letting his hand remain against my skin, for there is a comfort in the simple gesture, and a sweetness of memory from centuries ago. "Oh, but we are, for I am certain even this shall be taken from us... but for the moment, it is a soothing balm."
        He kisses my forehead lightly, and moves his hand to run once lightly over my hair. "All that is real is the moment, my dear, anything beyond it is memory or imagination. We are in time now, we are held in its crushing embrace. There is no reality beyond this moment, so its relief is an eternal one."
        I cannot hold back a soft chuckle. "You have been going through the man's notes, you are borrowing from his sermons."
        He laughs and sits back, leaning against the chair and taking a long, slow breath. "Ah, you have caught me! Such a blind view, is it not? I find it terribly hard to believe that even he believes it, however can he if he holds a belief in the saintly life to come? Oh how far these creatures of dust stray, their thoughts lost in labyrniths of their own construction..."
        "Meres, do you think he has the list here? In this very room?"
        He nods soberly. "Or, at least, he has held it in his hands before. So it is here, or not far, it would be no more trouble than this to find some way into the seminary library."
        "He has not minded you rifling through his things?"
        "Oh, not at all, he has paid me no mind in the least. I led him into a tangled path to persue, some nonsense about the incantations we are supposed to have used when we taught them the summoning arts long ago. Complete rubbish, of course, the words have been lost for a millenia at least, the languages dead and gone. I doubt if even Azal has thought it worth the trouble of keeping them in mind, though he had the most hand in creating them."
        I do not answer this, as I am not at all certain he is correct. For I have heard Azal muttering things in a low voice, when he believed himself to be alone, and I once caught a young boy, some child flitting about someone's garden as a young butterfly, chanting in a sing-song voice jumbled words in a language he could never have been taught. Someone remembers the words, not all has been entirely lost.
        "In any event, it does seem those two have found some means of occupying themselves down below," he finishes, with a sly chuckle. "I suppose it is not nearly so delicious a sight as we might hope for, but I have faith in the boy's abilities, the priest shall have come along quite nicely before a month is out, I believe."
        I laugh lightly in response, only because it is expected. I care little now for this petty drama, everyone seems to have forgotten that it is hardly the first time we have carried such a lovely coup.

Y'know, I really hadn't quite figured out Carey. I still have no idea what he looks like. But he's getting an awful lot of screentime..uh, partly due to Meres showing up. It's really annoying though, I'm writing through this wonderful angsty emotional backstory-revealing scene, and... I'm really not sure I want these two to be the ones going through it. I really don't know if it makes sense coming from them at all. Certainly not Carey..oh though I suppose he ought to have history-angst as well, everyone else does.

I'm wondering if it's not feeling rather repetative, having each one's section start out as just a day in the life sort of thing, and then building up to ANGSTFEST!!1!!1! and them breaking down and crying their eyes out about their past. I suppose it's not the best sort of pacing. At the same time, I really can't keep away from the angst, because *they* can't keep away from it. They try like anything but it *always*, always comes back, they can't keep it at bay for very long, it haunts them constantly.

Also it serves them right, they're so mean to my poor Mackie! It's really no wonder that he ran away from the novel last night, not that he was involved anyway but tonight they're berating him terribly and it's making me so sad.

I really ought to be sleeping but I'm on a roll with this scene, I was hoping it would take off on its own and it really has - in a completely different way than I had expected it to! but it took off and it's actually probably more interesting this way. My pre-planned plots are usually pretty bad. I'll run this all by Tom - AFTER November is over - and have him re-tell it all back to me in a nice Aristotelean structure, and thus fix things.

By the way - I am officially blind. I only realized like a week ago that the paragraph indentations were insanely wonky on this thing. Which was odd, because I paste in exactly eight spaces with good ol' ampersand-n-b-s-p-semicolon, at the beginning of each. It was a good couple of days more until I realized why it was doing this - HELLO the text is all justified! So while I adore how sleek and old-fashioned that makes everything look, I decided that it was hard for *me* to read it with the paragraph indents all over the place. So, I poked the code, and there is no longer any justification at all for my novel.

Pun intended, it's almost 2am and I just churned out like 3k words in one go.