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Entry 491; Day 863
May. 1st, 2011 04:54 pmMay has its reputation here in the City--or it did once, and and deservedly so with all the madness that I've seen take place in May in particular and all the madness that I've heard went on before I arrived here.
No time of the year is really 'safe' here, so to speak, but May and October may be the worst of it.
Last May, we endured a flock of mad sheep and their equally mad shepherdess descending upon us, meaning, I feel certain, to kill us. But the sheep came down from the mountains slowly, attacking from the shadows. The herds of them only came later. I remember that in particular because Riff and I were defending the opera house from the very staircase of the place. And nothing went quite as planned thereafter. But the sheep were seen to, herded down into a hole within the Carousel--and one must wonder what became of them thereafter, given the wool that poured from the mountaintops thereafter.
The year before, Adrastus made one of his periodic appearances in the City, not that we knew it at first. As I recall, that was the time the 'deities' made demands on us, ordered us to make sacrifices or to perform tasks to their specification. We were to fetch sugar from an enemy, I remember, because my father was in prison at the time, and threw a sack of sugar at him and demanded that he give me a cup of it. He did, but I won't soon forget the look on his face. But in all this, we were also ordered to each sacrifice a lock of hair to the 'deities'. I'll never entirely understand why we were so willing to do all these things, especially for them, but we did them, all the same. Little did we know that our own hair would start rising up in matted coils from every drain and sewer and pipe to seek us out and strangle us--and we were told thereafter that it was Adrastus's attempt to return it, as it was needlessly taken. So there is some sense of balance and order in this place after all, though of its own sort. But that was hardly the greatest ordeal, really. I think the worst of it was the creature that crawled up from the depths of the sea and into the City, seeking for her son--seeking for Adrastus, really, since he was her son. And he was the one to which all these coils of hair were tied. And all of that was resolved only after we'd undone the tangles of hair and they were reunited.
And the year before that, the City had an invisible twin, a mirror-image of the real City, and we were forever slipping in and out of it. I recall standing in the same doorway as my sister ought to have been standing in, and we could only hear one another across the Network. She, herself, was nowhere to be seen. And, as I recall, the only way to enter or to leave the City was to commit some sin--and a Deadly Sin, at that--or to undo a sin. It certainly took us all long enough to unravel that mystery and to set things back to rights again.
And I suppose it cannot go without saying how often I heard the stories told of what transpired just before I arrived. Admittedly, I arrived early in May--May the 3rd--but the stories were still spreading across the Network, of three animals, a dog, a cat, and a harpy. These were the so-called 'Animal Trinity'. The dog we have seen since, as he was Adrastus. The harpy we may have seen since, or at least some of her sisters, as once a flock of harpies descended on the City to rid it of invaders and to bring the 'deities' back from what they insisted was a vacation, but we've seen too recently that they seem to hover just outside the City's walls and may not be so kindly to us all. The cat I've not ever seen or heard of again, which I find quite curious.
These three, according to all the stories I've ever heard, demanded sacrifices be made for the sake of the worlds of all those in the City. The City was tormented with plagues and disease, as though it were truly the end of all worlds, and the life of a representative from each world was demanded in sacrifice or else that world would end. I was among the first to come into the City again after that ordeal was over, but the scars and the stories were still very present, and I think those must have been very dark days in the City.
I wonder if we've seen anything quite so bad since. Or perhaps it only seems so bad because I didn't see it for myself, but only heard it. Anything can sound worse when it's heard secondhand. And all of this is to say nothing of the madness that goes on at every other time of the year, and I don't simply mean the curses.
Still, I have to wonder if we may not be in for something again. After all, it's been more than a little while since the famous ticking of the Clock faded from earshot. Has anyone set out to try and unravel that? It sounded when the City's walls fell and again when they were restored, but it's made no sound otherwise. But the City still stands, and people are still coming into the City, the Carousel is still spinning, and it seems that our worlds are not destroyed.
But the Clock itself is silent, or its ticking is hidden.
It is a relief not to hear it, I will admit, after having endured it for nearly four years, but at the same time, it's unsettling not to hear it. If the Clock doesn't tick, what does it mean? If the ticking is merely hidden somehow, what does that mean?
I think I've ignored it for long enough. It suggests something is amiss. And, as I've said before, as little as I like thinking of actually defending the City, I would rather not suffer here, if it can be helped. I won't think of it as 'helping' the City, but I would rather preserve my own world, if I can, even while here.
Especially now that we're here again, with May just dawning on us all, I'm very close on four years kept in this City, and perhaps very close on madness with it all.
~C.
[ooc: For the record: 2007, the "animal trinity" was about in the City; 2008, the "Mirror City" was shimmering about; 2009, Adrastus and his Mother came to visit; 2010, the flocks of mad sheep came through; 2011--? Dun dun duuuuuun!! With the Clock still silenced and everything seeming to point towards something happening, Cain would like to investigate. Anyone up for that?]
No time of the year is really 'safe' here, so to speak, but May and October may be the worst of it.
Last May, we endured a flock of mad sheep and their equally mad shepherdess descending upon us, meaning, I feel certain, to kill us. But the sheep came down from the mountains slowly, attacking from the shadows. The herds of them only came later. I remember that in particular because Riff and I were defending the opera house from the very staircase of the place. And nothing went quite as planned thereafter. But the sheep were seen to, herded down into a hole within the Carousel--and one must wonder what became of them thereafter, given the wool that poured from the mountaintops thereafter.
The year before, Adrastus made one of his periodic appearances in the City, not that we knew it at first. As I recall, that was the time the 'deities' made demands on us, ordered us to make sacrifices or to perform tasks to their specification. We were to fetch sugar from an enemy, I remember, because my father was in prison at the time, and threw a sack of sugar at him and demanded that he give me a cup of it. He did, but I won't soon forget the look on his face. But in all this, we were also ordered to each sacrifice a lock of hair to the 'deities'. I'll never entirely understand why we were so willing to do all these things, especially for them, but we did them, all the same. Little did we know that our own hair would start rising up in matted coils from every drain and sewer and pipe to seek us out and strangle us--and we were told thereafter that it was Adrastus's attempt to return it, as it was needlessly taken. So there is some sense of balance and order in this place after all, though of its own sort. But that was hardly the greatest ordeal, really. I think the worst of it was the creature that crawled up from the depths of the sea and into the City, seeking for her son--seeking for Adrastus, really, since he was her son. And he was the one to which all these coils of hair were tied. And all of that was resolved only after we'd undone the tangles of hair and they were reunited.
And the year before that, the City had an invisible twin, a mirror-image of the real City, and we were forever slipping in and out of it. I recall standing in the same doorway as my sister ought to have been standing in, and we could only hear one another across the Network. She, herself, was nowhere to be seen. And, as I recall, the only way to enter or to leave the City was to commit some sin--and a Deadly Sin, at that--or to undo a sin. It certainly took us all long enough to unravel that mystery and to set things back to rights again.
And I suppose it cannot go without saying how often I heard the stories told of what transpired just before I arrived. Admittedly, I arrived early in May--May the 3rd--but the stories were still spreading across the Network, of three animals, a dog, a cat, and a harpy. These were the so-called 'Animal Trinity'. The dog we have seen since, as he was Adrastus. The harpy we may have seen since, or at least some of her sisters, as once a flock of harpies descended on the City to rid it of invaders and to bring the 'deities' back from what they insisted was a vacation, but we've seen too recently that they seem to hover just outside the City's walls and may not be so kindly to us all. The cat I've not ever seen or heard of again, which I find quite curious.
These three, according to all the stories I've ever heard, demanded sacrifices be made for the sake of the worlds of all those in the City. The City was tormented with plagues and disease, as though it were truly the end of all worlds, and the life of a representative from each world was demanded in sacrifice or else that world would end. I was among the first to come into the City again after that ordeal was over, but the scars and the stories were still very present, and I think those must have been very dark days in the City.
I wonder if we've seen anything quite so bad since. Or perhaps it only seems so bad because I didn't see it for myself, but only heard it. Anything can sound worse when it's heard secondhand. And all of this is to say nothing of the madness that goes on at every other time of the year, and I don't simply mean the curses.
Still, I have to wonder if we may not be in for something again. After all, it's been more than a little while since the famous ticking of the Clock faded from earshot. Has anyone set out to try and unravel that? It sounded when the City's walls fell and again when they were restored, but it's made no sound otherwise. But the City still stands, and people are still coming into the City, the Carousel is still spinning, and it seems that our worlds are not destroyed.
But the Clock itself is silent, or its ticking is hidden.
It is a relief not to hear it, I will admit, after having endured it for nearly four years, but at the same time, it's unsettling not to hear it. If the Clock doesn't tick, what does it mean? If the ticking is merely hidden somehow, what does that mean?
I think I've ignored it for long enough. It suggests something is amiss. And, as I've said before, as little as I like thinking of actually defending the City, I would rather not suffer here, if it can be helped. I won't think of it as 'helping' the City, but I would rather preserve my own world, if I can, even while here.
Especially now that we're here again, with May just dawning on us all, I'm very close on four years kept in this City, and perhaps very close on madness with it all.
~C.
[ooc: For the record: 2007, the "animal trinity" was about in the City; 2008, the "Mirror City" was shimmering about; 2009, Adrastus and his Mother came to visit; 2010, the flocks of mad sheep came through; 2011--? Dun dun duuuuuun!! With the Clock still silenced and everything seeming to point towards something happening, Cain would like to investigate. Anyone up for that?]