Rand stood inside the door.

Pause.

"Writer. I want a word. Now."

...Am I in trouble?

Oh, you don't even know the half of it, missy. You.

Yes. Yes, me. Who else were you expecting?

You dared to take me backthere, to the nursery? To humiliate me, to demean me, to above all open a fresh wound--

Yes. Yes, I did.

You seem guiltless. What reason could you possibly have to--

To cause pain. No, don't say it, Rand. Not because I wanted to hurt you. In my own personal experiences, the best way to get through pain has always been to deal with it head-on. This makes me a very emotional, very spontaneous person. I sent you back there to remind you of your origins, Rand. To hurt you in order to help you heal over. And, above all, to make you think.

Do you like who you are? Would you change that person, if you could change that?

Rand wished like hell he could give the disembodied voice an incredulous look.

Um, I hate who I am. And yeah, I'd give anything to change that.

He caught the impression of a sigh.

Okay. Casey, give me some time with Rand for a moment. I'm taking him on a journey. Rand, go through the door again.

Rand found himself in a small room. Except for a table and two chairs, it was empty.

Sit.

Rand sat.

There was a whirlish poof in the chair opposite him, and the outline of a girl a little older than him appeared. She was leaning on the table--he could make out shortish hair, and glasses, and a body like... well, like a writer, to be honest. She wasn't terribly ugly. She wasn't beautiful, either. Chime's features were barely visible in her stance and pose.

So rant at me. Yell, shout, scream. Punch my face. Get the anger out so I can teach you your lesson.

So stab me with your words, Rand, kill me with your lies.

Rand looked at her, this barely-a-woman, and sighed. No.

What?

Shock blushed across the image's face. You wouldn't--

If I hadn't gone through what I did, I wouldn't be myself. I wouldn't be Rand. True, I hate who I am and what has happened to me--I hate myself. But I have nobody else to be.

There is what there is, and there is not what there is not. Maybe that makes sense, maybe it doesn't, but I simply do not care about the difference at this point.

Writer nodded. Writer smiled. Writer raised her hand.

You forgot one, she said. You forgot what might have been.

Let's find out, shall we?

Rand stood up, and he was in another world.

"Where are we now?"

"Your home." The figure next to him was more solid now, less ephemeral and diaphanous--more real.

"You speak. I expected your voice to be higher."

"You know, that's the second time I've heard that? I'm not that feminine. Just female."

Rand shrugged and took a look around. They were on the steps to the City Hall, milling thorugh crowds. "This is my father's coronation."

"Wrong. Look again. That's not your father."

Rand looked.

"That's me."

"I was never City Head."

"I know."

"This what could have been?"

"Yes. If you hadn't been picked on as a kid."

"What's so bad about it? I'm obviously loved. I'm powerful."

"Let's flash forward to a year later."

Doom. Destruction. Chaos.

Rand sighed. "And even when my life is perfect, I can't do anything right."

The figure--Writer--shrugged. "You were swept up in your people. In your patriotism. In other words, my dear, you went to war with Earth. And a planet that has been at peace for thousands of years will never beat a planet with finely honed nuclear technology. You did nothing wrong."

"I always do nothing wrong."

"They loved you."

"Exactly. Me. Who I am. Who I am, Writer, is shitty. I don't deserve to be liked, much less loved. My father didn't love me, my brother used me, Chime left me for my other brother--"

Writer had an odd expression on her face.

"Your people of Apollo loved you."

"Yeah. Loved me and died because of it."

"And I love you."

"And that's a lie."

"You're my character, Rand. One of my best. You're like a son to me, a brother, even. So I love you."

"Then you're crazy," he said flatly.

"I like to think so," said Writer, smiling a bit. "Listen, Rand, stop being an emo nutcase and stop looking at the world through history's eyes. You have always done what you have thought was right. Nobody in the world would blame you if they knew the whole story. So stop it, Rand. You're a good person whether you like it or not."

"Send me back."

"If you insist."

"Don't ever do that again."

"I don't use the same gimmick twice."

Rand slipped into the room, biting the inside of his lip to hide the burning in the back of his eyes.

(He wouldn't let me type "tears".)

The sounds of tiny bells escaped from Daria's mouth in bubbles of soft laughter. "You flatter me, my dear," she purred, pantherlike. "I am a sweeper of the streets, you know. That's all. A sweeper, a reader, and occasionally--"

A ruler and destroyer of worlds? Yes, Daemonicus.

Daria sighed. "Although yes, I do seem to rule planets in my spare time."

"I do not flatter, Daria," Kresthan smiled wryly. "As I was just reminding my... writer." He leaned forward to place a hand on hers. "You fascinate me. As a ruler of... planets, however did you manage to avoid the curse?"

Daria placed her other hand over his, but her brows tilted inwards.

"What curse?"

Kresthan arched his own brows. "The curse of damane, of course."

She knows not of it, Kresthan.

"I beg pardon. I suppose, having borne it myself, it seems as though all should know of it. To be damane is to be immortal, though with certain limitations. As well, it is only bestowed on those who have committed... certain sins. Well, sins as far as the gods are concerned. The effects are painful and immediate. Damanen must wander--to remain still causes intense pain. They cannot enter where those who follow the gods are. They cannot die, and cannot age, until certain conditions are met."

Kresthan thought back to his great and shining dreams of a future nation united under the gentle rule of magic. He'd only taken the first few steps when he'd been cursed.

Kresthan. You murdered your wife, daughter and sister-in-law in a quest for increased power through blood magic, and chose those targets because Juran didn't share your dreams. And yet you are still confused about why you were marked damane?

:It was necessary, to reach the Goal.:

Daria shook her head. "We don't have that where I come from. My author never uses curses that cannot also be seen as blessings. I'm immortal too, you know. I don't know if this is a good thing or not, and I've been immortal for millennia."

Kresthan smiled. "You can sit still. It is a blessing indeed."

"Perhaps," said Daria. "Although I think it would be a far greater hindrance to lose the ability to move."

That happens to a lot of people, Daria. You caused it to happen to a lot of people. And they didn't do anything wrong.

That was not me. That was another Daria.

"Perhaps. I'm inclined to think they're equal. In both, your body is beyond your control. It can be quite distracting."

Your fingers are drumming. Let's see, three hundred some years to make a habit, how many years to break it?

Kresthan's right hand stilled. "I beg pardon."

"Tapping your fingers? Old habits die hard, do they?"

"I beg pardon, but yes. With enough time on one's hands, one discovers loopholes in the curse. Loopholes that allow one to rest or sleep, for instance."

"That does sound problematic," Daria admitted. "Every time you go to sleep, intense pain."

You two are sitting kind of close.

"Are you still cursed?" Daria asked, ignoring that.

"Indeed. I probably shaved many years off my curse the first five years or so." Then the second question registered. He looked up from his stilled hand. "No, Daria. I met the conditions, and was killed."

"Oh." Daria shrugged. Her dress strap slid down again in a way that would have made Rand run off looking for a hot shower. "Happens to the best of us, I suppose. May I ask what the conditions were? Or is that too personal?"

Was it? No, not truly.

"There are two ways to break the curse. One, the cursed must feel every scrap of pain he caused before and during the cursed time. Two, the cursed must admit and truly feel remorse for whatever he had done." Kresthan smiled bitterly. "My research states that most who took the first route did so by constant suicide. I did not, and I felt that what I had done was necessary. So I lived on, until... the first person I ever hurt caught up with me."

"You... felt that pain?" Daria winced. She couldn't imagine the pain she'd put one person through, much less--

"I am sorry for you," she whispered. "I can't imagine."

You people are so screwed up sometimes.

Shut up.

Kresthan smiled slightly at the memory. "I made him fight for every bit of it. Him, and the child he'd possessed."

"You got defeated by a child, too? Mine was twelve." She made a face--it seemed strange on the perfect features. "So was I, at the time, but that was due to a badly-made potion, not age."

Kresthan laughed. "I suppose at near four hundred years old, a seventeen-year-old seems a child. And I suppose the one who defeated you had hidden aid, as mine."

Daria had the grace to let a blush diffuse across her cheeks. "She had friends, but... no, not really. Allie defeated me on her own. She wasn't a normal kid, I'll admit. Still not normal."

Daria closed her eyes and smiled slightly, letting the memories of the past few millennia rush in. "She's my closest friend now. Odd. I think only Allie could really pull that off."

Kresthan nodded. "Hidden aid is hidden aid, whether it is the personality of the person, or one's brother possessing a teenage girl."

"Perhaps." Daria glanced at Rand coming back in.

"He's in love with me, just so you know," she decided to tell him. "I don't love him back, but if he acts oddly, that's probably why."

Lareth inspected the room, turning his head as necessary to cover the dark half of his vision.

Two pairs were in conversation with each other. Rand seemed to be in conversation with his... his writer.

I know. Trust me, the 'little man' is having his own troubles dealing with the notion.

"You deceived him as I?"

Not really. He chose to believe something, and I let him. As with you. You'll find, as you get to know me, that it hurts me to cause pain. I also have a nasty habit of making the wrong choice as to what will and will not cause pain. I thought it would help for you two to come to it gradually. I see I was wrong.

"Shai," Lareth growled, "You are a little girl, aren't you?"

...Lareth... you are extremely lucky. Please don't push it. And to answer your question? No. I'm your son's age, or thereabouts. Time's wonky between dimensions.

Ah, there he went.

His writer wished to take him someplace. If I had the courage, I'd do the same, but I don't. Instead, let's talk. Or rather, you talk, I listen. I seem to be good at that.

"Ne."

Lareth caught the impression of a nod. Very well. I will not force you. But remember... if you change your mind, I'm always here to listen.

He ignored the woman in his mind. He swept the room again, and again, watching the others. He ignored her some more.

Then... "You called me lucky. Did you intend mockery or truth?"

Truth. Lareth, I have seen that arrow fly from several perspectives, including yours. You could very easily have died, if the archer had been any closer to the front, if you hadn't turned or jerked back. Lareth, that final charge would have happened one way or another. And you know that that leg of yours was near fracture after that hit from the club, though you hid it well. With a broken leg, you'd be dead. And though you didn't know it... Auroth deliberately challenged the Valei to hit him hard. You know he was a hothead in battle, even as an adult. You could not have changed him.

"You talk a great deal."

My abiding sin. I take it you're not listening then.

"I listen. I do not believe."

And I can't make you. I could show you, but... I don't think you're ready for that. I don't think I'm ready for that.

Lareth reflected that at least the woman was honest--when she wasn't deliberately aiming to deceive.

What I don't understand is why? You have a son who loves you, you have an entire company of Black Guard who would do anything for you. Why dwell on it? Keran has told you that there are those who cannot walk, who cannot fly. Your king himself walks with a limp.

Lareth ignored her.

You think about that for a bit.

...Lareth?

"Kre."

Is it me that you blame?

"Ne."

So it's yourself.

"Sa."

Did you fire the arrow?

"I didn't avoid it."

You couldn't have.

Lareth ignored her again, and also ignored the red-haired woman and the gray man and their courting ritual. He closed his eye, and let the world be black for a while. He heard the door open, and it had to be Rand who entered. But the world was black right now, and he didn't want to change that.

I did something wrong? She seems irate.

Hell if I know. She's forceful. Let Aphrodite make the first move.

Di, please listen to me. He. Isn't. Human. He doesn't even know WHAT he is. We call him an Enigma. He's beyond your control, Di. Isn't that fascinating?

Of course it wasn't... dammit, it was. It was extremely fascinating.

Di dropped the magic and watched him under half-lidded eyes. With no instincts to guide him, oh, of course he was confused! It was up to her to teach him.

You are without a doubt the weirdest of all my characters.

She slid out her hand from beneath his, and drew it up along his arm until it rested on his shoulder, at the nape of his neck. "Orion," she murmured, "I know so little about you. Tell me about yourself."

Yup. Stranger than cats on wheels, that's you.

What am I supposed to do now?

What she said. Tell her about yourself.

Orion looked blankly at Aphrodite's hand. "My writer has dubbed me an Enigma," he said, "And that is what I am. I am young and strong, and I will always be young and strong, but I have lived a very long time. I have killed many people, and a few people even killed me. I was married once, and I had a daughter, but she was not my real daughter, someone else's from my wife. Long story. I was a king, and a rule of kings. And your hand feels very strange on my skin."

He was fascinating, and intriguing in his perfect honesty. "And I am a goddess," she said. "One of the higher ones, the goddess of lust, to be frank. I, too, have sent many to their deaths, began and finished many a war. It seems we have that much in common."

I can't believe you live in my head somewhere. You freak me out.

She is very close to my epidermis.

That's one way of putting it.

She is very powerful.

Yes, I am attracted to her.

I was wise in becoming attracted to her.

"A goddess?" he asked, making direct eye contact. "Of what creed?"

Say Olympian.

"Olympian," Di replied, not because she was told to, but because she could not think of any other way to say all that she was.

You just tell yourself that.

"Ah," said Orion. "Then if I recall my mythology, you're married."

And that's stopped you before? Jade was engaged.

A matter of completely different boundaries. If I am to become a god, I would like to have the weaponsmith on my side.

Devious.

Let's watch you try.

Di was somewhat surprised he knew it, but had a reply ready. "Then if you recall your mythology, it's not stopped me before and never has."

Orion smiled like a snake.

"I do recall that," he said, feigning an admission.

You can't fake admitting you were wrong.

But he'd remembered.

She is flirting with me. This is a good sign, is it?

I suppose. But I know your plans here, Orion. You can't make her fall genuinely in love with you. She's like Daria--she doesn't fall in love. Ever. Lust, perhaps, but not--

Orion didn't care.

It really is scary how well you're suited for each other. Even though I STILL think you're a weird couple.

The goddess of love and the God of Odd. Well, best of luck to you both. Weirdoes. And this is coming from me.

What should I say to her?

Hell if I know.

"What's stopping you now, then?" Orion asked.

Was that too forward?

Hell. If. I. Know. Why do you keep asking the one who can't even get one lousy guy to fall for her for advice on romance? I know as much as you do, bub.

She thought he'd never ask. "Absolutely nothing." She leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth.

Ohewewewewewewew....

She is kissing me.

Ewewewewewew--

I should kiss her back. Yes. I will kiss her back.

He kissed her back. Her lips were warm.

Oh EW.

And his were cold.

I don't get you two at ALL.

Orion leaned in farther, wrapping an arm around Aphrodite's back and smiling into the kiss.

...Ewewewewew EW.

...Oh my God. You don't even have to stop to breathe, do you? Just don't start tearing off clothes, please. Let's keep this T-rated.

Orion.

Orion.

Orion.

Orion, I know you don't need to breathe, but.

Orion.

Orion, really.

Orion.

OKAY, do you two want a room or something? I do not need to SEE this.

...In the interest of keeping this T-rated...

A wall appeared around a corner of the room, with opaque windows and soundproofing up the wazoo. There was a door that led from that area to the player's lounge.

Orion and Aphrodite stood--Still closer than should be humanly comfortable, Orion, why-oh, never mind.

He grabbed her by the wrist, probably rougher than he should have, and they slipped off into the side door.

Mea Librum.

Most disturbing couple ever.