Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: Lily White: Interlude - "Come As You Are" Message-ID:<1992Sep14.185907.10716@data-io.com> Sender: news@data-io.com (The News) Organization: Data I/O Corporation Date: Mon, 14 Sep 1992 18:59:07 GMT Lines: 138 Darkness. the sound of rain on the roof... the low drumming of the tears of the gods, giving the World Life. no wonder living is such a Pain. - Saraquael A soft giggle of a girl well pleased with her new toy, her new boy, or perhaps it's a new shade of lipstick? And there is the girl seated in the silver spotlight of the moon's eye peeking through her skylight. Black haired, eyes mismatched light and dark, black lipped, with skin bleached white by the darkness and the light. Before her float half a dozen shimmering pads of rainbow lights, at various heights, of various sizes and thicknesses and shapes. Rounds, hexes, squares, the triangular ones and the bar ones stands on one point, slowly twirling through the air. The low thrumming of the rain is joined by a bass. The bass plays up and down two simple chords, monotony, simplicity, clarity.... The girl raises a hand, and brings a stick down on a nearby pad. No explosions of light, no magical affects. Only a three-beat on a drum, the tick of a cymbal, and the drums give the same monotonous/simplistic/clear beat as the bass. Her voice, when it enters, is low, monotone, and harsh with longing... "Come, as you are as you were as I want you to be." Eyes watch from the darkness. Cats' eyes reflecting back the light from the moon, or is that the light reflected from clouds over a city? The slow hiss of a passing car on wet pavement. The low cry of someone in another room.... "as a friend as a friend as I've known them to be." The girl is singing to someone, something. And her mood is written all over her face, the plea, gentle mockery and the warning. "take your time hurry up choice is yours don't be late" The door won't be open for long. "take a rest as a friend as I've a memory, yeah" The beat bursts open with a riff from the bass, energy given in hopes of it being received. The muscles on the girl's arms glow with a sheen of sweat. A pair of silver eyes the color of the moonlight shine from the darkness. There is a low gasp from another point within the darkness. It is from a male human. "memory, yeah memory, yeah memory, yeah" The girl turns at the gasp to see the eyes. She smiles, and her voice and the music soften, cajoling... "come dust from muck swept in bleach as I want you to be.." A cat steps from the shadows, a cat that even in the moonlight shines the colors of fire. A flame contained within the warm furriness of a homey, comfortably chubby cat with eyes the color of the moon and a collar the unfathomable color of fear. "as a trend as a friend as I've a m e m o r y , y e a h m e m o r y , y e a h m e m o r y , y e a h memory, yeah..." Four more measures and the music dies peacefully on the same chords it has two-stepped over for the entire song. The girl giggles the same pleased giggle and the cat looks up at her. Saraquael slips off her drummer's bench. In a sinewy curve she crawls up to the cat and rolls onto her back before the creature. The cat blinks at the girl's antics, and then carefully, comfortably, climbs up on the slender girl and lies on Saraquael's stomach, eye to eye with the shaman. Silver claws gleam beneath velvet paws; Saraquael hisses softly as they enter her skin. The voice is as velvet soft as the fur, "What memory will you give me?" The mismatched eyes hold silver ones unflinching, and the claws work a little deeper, tensioning the slender girl beneath them. Darkness blooms on the light shirt the young shaman wears. A sigh, nearly a moan, and the claws withdraw. That soft voice says, "Very good. I will do as you desire." "May... may I turn on a light?" Both creatures on the floor look up in surprise at the uncertain male voice. The voice seems to be fumbling more with the language it uses than the situation. The cat blinks and a fire blooms within the fireplace in the wall. The light reveals an austere but tasteful room that is Gabriel's within the walls of the establishment that he founded two years ago. "Flash..." Gabriel blinks in the sudden light, but his pleasure at the small magic is obvious. Saraquael blinks up at the young Angel and laughs softly, not unkindly, but he blushes anyway. "Sit here," she says and pats the floor by them, "and be quiet. You're using up my wishes..." "No," says the velvet voice of the cat, "that comes free to the Master of my house." Gabriel grins and gracefully folds himself into a lotus by them, and quietly watches the hours of negotiations between Saraquael and the Spirit of the Hearth of Sauron's Castle. - --------------- Copyright 1992 by Phyllis Rostykus The idea for the conjuring was from Hubert Bartels. Lyrics are the closest approximation I could figure out of Nirvana's "Come As You Are" from the album _Nevermind_, and Sara did a little creative interpretation as well. Sauron's Castle and personnel used with full permission from Quarterhorse. ------- End of Forwarded Message