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| {{WIP}}
| | #REDIRECT [[Revan Saga]] |
| {{Universe|Xanadu}}
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| {{title
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| |name=Revan Saga Part 10
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| |author=Joysweeper
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| |user=Joysweeper}}
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| ...''huh?'' I found myself sitting on the edge of the narrow bed. It felt like I had dozed off for a few hours - maybe more than that, since there was an ache in my muscles. ''Man, why would I take a nap on a day like today? I should... I should probably see about getting back to the dorm, if nothing else... or maybe I should try and find my friends...''
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| I stood up quickly and winced as, for a moment, the room faded almost entirely into blackness. Head spinning, I waited for it to pass, counting to five before I could see again. ''Low blood pressure. Got up too fast.'' I recalled some stuff I'd memorized for an anatomy class back in high school. To a point, it was a good sign - for me, at least, it meant that my arteries were clear and my heart was strong enough that the resting rate was easy to maintain. This had happened before, and often - athletes usually have low blood pressure, and although I wasn't an athlete I prided myself on being at least somewhat active. Particularly last year, when I'd been trying to get my mile time down.
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| I remembered that. Treadmills or laps and weight machines three times a week at the gym, forty-five minute workouts. The way my spit thickened into slime, the way a dry patch appeared in the back of my throat, the way my skin flushed and my feet hurt and I could never get enough air when I was running. The way I ''felt'' when running - a combination of physical misery and thoughtless euphoria, because I was ''alive'' in a way that I only was when running, a way I barely brushed up against when writing. The way, when I ran, I noticed nothing, felt nothing, thought nothing until I slowed down, and then the world seemed bright and quick. The rest of the time, I had only felt a difference when I stood up quickly and had to wait out a moment of blindness.
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| But I didn't remember it ever taking more than about three seconds before clearing. This meant that either I'd recently lost blood or heart function or else Xanadu had made me into some kind of monster athlete. I knew which was preferable.
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| Experimentally, I made a fist with hands that were bigger than I was used to. There was hair on my knuckles, I saw, to my slight displeasure. I bent my arm, bringing my fist up near my shoulder and feeling the oddly satisfying tightness of muscle against muscle.
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| Then I made a few exploratory jabs into the air, trying to tell if it was any easier or faster. But I hadn't exactly made a habit of doing that before, so I couldn't tell. My arms did feel lighter, even though I could clearly see that they weren't. For a moment I considered trying to punch the wall, just to see what would happen. Common sense prevailed, luckily.
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| ''So... it was costumes that changed people, right? And I was wearing... I was wearing... '' Damn.
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| I couldn't remember. This was more than a little bit disturbing. It hadn't been something that I'd just thrown together or bought for a post-Halloween discount. It had been ''important'' to me.
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| It had been... it had been... It had been yet another aspect of something that had totally taken over my life. For a few months, I had been practically monomaniacal about exercise, and I had been similarly crazy about many other things before and after. But there had been one thing. One thing that had stayed strong and interesting for years and years.
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| But I couldn't quite remember what it was. Probably... no, not a TV show. A video game? A game for the Xbox, I recalled, a role-playing game. I had played it again and again, and I had gone on the Internet and found others who had felt the same, and I had written stories, dozens of stories...
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| And yet, I couldn't remember what it was. I could remember thinking about some detail I had gone into and laughing about it. I remembered the satisfaction of a good job and thoughtful comments, remembered off-topic discussions on forums, I remembered liking the stories some members wrote... but not ''what''. It was disturbing. Jarring. Like an important part of myself had seceded.
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| I stole a glance at my laptop, closed next to the clock atop the [I don't remember what the damn thing is called!]. Maybe...?
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| There were a pair of little gold hoop earrings next to it. With a little shock, I remembered that I'd taken them off before putting on my costume. I'd left my glasses and my class ring on, and of course they were now missing, but these, these were still here. I was pretty sure that they had been a present when I was ten or eleven, and I'd had a habit of only taking them off when I thought they would get snagged on something.
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| The hoops had never been the right size to slide over my fingers like real rings, but I used to be able to put my fingertips through them. Now, the earrings sat over my blunt, rough fingertips like tiaras over bald royalty.
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| ''Can I put them back on now?''
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| I pinched the soft, fleshy earlobe of one ear, then the other. The left ear was undifferentiated, completely intact. The right ear had a hard spot. When I pinched it gently and moved my fingers it was like holding a tiny rod.
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| I flicked one earring open and began the delicate operation of finding the opening and inserting it. It seemed to get stuck, so I stretched the lobe down and wriggled, pressing insistently. A mirror might have helped, but I didn't feel up to looking into one right now. It hurt, a hot little spark, but I felt it as it punched through, pushing a little earwax with it. Closing the clasp, I smiled in triumph, then sank back down onto the bed, yawning as a wave of lethargy engulfed me. There was barely time to wonder why I was suddenly sleepy before I was out.
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| ----
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| As soon as my eyes fluttered closed, I opened them again and was on my feet, probing my ear and the foreign object impaling it with my fingers. ''What in the hells?''
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| I paced restlessly, pulling and prodding, until I remembered the mirrored glass in the refresher. From there I could see the metal hoop transfixing my earlobe, which had gone bright red from all this handling.
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| Remembering the motions my fingers had gone through to get it in, I fumbled through a reversal of the process, eventually pulling the thing off.
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| Now I could see the tiny dot in the lobe. Force-given insight showed me what it was, not contradicting my observations. It was the remnant of a puncture that had not healed completely, leaving a tunnel of scar tissue that reached all the way through to the other side. It had constricted somewhat, filling in slightly, but the reinsertion of the jewelry had opened that up again.
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| I hadn't really expected anything else. There hadn't been the kind of effort and pain that would have come from puncturing a solid earlobe. If it had been, I could have focused my will on the injury and closed it. But there was pretty much nothing I could do about old scar tissue. Shrink it a little, maybe, but ''the other'' would just repeat the process and I would waste the effort.
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| Fractured personas did ''not'' come with old scar tissue! I didn't know what to make of this. One thing was for sure - I was ''not'' going to reveal myself to whoever or whatever ''the other'' was until I had some grasp of the situation. An accommodating hominid had patiently explained to me something about where I was, as well as what a "furry" was, but I needed more information to proceed.
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| ''And now I have been mutilated.'' Not only was ritually pierced flesh a barbaric, uncivilized custom - no matter how small the hole, ''someone'' was bound to see it - but it meant one more feature that might cause me to stand out. I needed as much anonymity as I could get, damn it!
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| ''I'm getting a little too emotional here.'' Performing a calming breath exercise, I watched my reflection shed the slight signs of anger and frustration. It was important, I knew, to maintain at least a facade of composure and competence. People are easier to handle if they see me in that way - they can see that while I can't do everything, I know how much I can do, and when to stop.
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| It was also important because I knew where passion led. The Dark Side had claimed me at least twice before, and I knew my own nature as well as anyone could. ''Bogan'' and ''Ashla'', Dark and Light, hero and villain. As of now, I was redeemed of the Dark and once again walking in the Light. I might fall yet again, I might not, but redemption was more than the flick of a switch. Safer to suppress emotion; backsliding was ''not'' an option.
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| ''And here I am, wasting time that could be spent in so many more productive ways.'' All around was a dizzying panorama of the life around me and the possible ways I could affect it, a vast and abstract ever-changing tapestry of light and shadow and darkness. There was much to be done, differences to make.
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| ----
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| "Hold on. I'm not sure how much I understand here. You say that you are a, ah-"
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| "A vampire, yes." The way he pronounced the word was odd - the ''vam'' was said very quickly, with emphasis on the ''pi'' of the next syllable.
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| "Thank you. And you need blood?"
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| "''Warm'' blood, yes. Arrangements were made, for my kind - the Red Cross, it has been most accommodating."
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| "'Red cross?'"
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| "You have not heard of it? A medical organization. Many of my kind has been able to subside on the blood they have donated - vampires care not if it is not good enough for transfusion, you see."
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| "Explain to me exactly what a 'vampire' is."
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| "You do not know?" He was clearly taken aback, just as the equine humanoid earlier today had been surprised to hear of my ignorance about what a "furry" was. Frankly I found it a bit irritating - they had both seen my robes and known me to be Jedi.
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| Just like the equine, he was shortly over his surprise. "A vampire is a creature of the night, yes? We are many of us different. Some cannot bear the touch of the sun. To most of us, holy symbols and garlic
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| {{series bar
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| |series=Revan in Xanadu
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| |previous=[[Revan in Xanadu (Part 9)]]
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| |next=[[Revan in Xanadu (Part 11)]]}}
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| [[Category:Story]] [[Category:Joysweeper]] [[Category:Xanadu]] [[Category:Alien]]
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