Grr's blog: "Grr Muses"

                       ~Introductions, etc...~

 

~Cheveyo

 It’s early autumn. The leaves are beginning to change, and night’s chill is getting sharp. I’m staying in an old abandoned warehouse right off an old freeway. Any signs indicating what it had been used for are long gone, and the place had been stripped barer than I would have previously thought possible. The ground level is one wide open space, but the second story’s all offices and studios. The moment I first stepped foot into this building, I felt so… I don’t know. Welcomed? It’s weird to think of building like that, especially an old warehouse, but what are ya gonna do? I felt so at home in those walls that I picked up a recliner, a small end table, a blanket, & a lock to put on the upper studio door to prevent any surprises while I slept.

                I’ve been there about a month and a half.

As I approach the rear entrance, I can’t help but notice candle-light flickering from one of the office spaces.

“It’s to be expected”, I remind myself.

I had expected to see at least SOME kind of traffic considering the factory’s state, but this is actually the first time I’ve seen anyone other than myself even come near the place. I had thought it weird at first, but by now the thought never crossed my mind.

I consider going to investigate, but nix the idea in favor of my chair. I had just spent the entire day on my feet, and all I wanted to do was sit down with a shot, a blunt, and a good book.

The door to my room is ajar when I walk in, but that doesn’t surprise me.

I hold my zippo out and take a moment to glance around in case anything had been disturbed. It’s a ten by ten room with no windows. My chair sits in the corner facing the doorway, and my blanket is still draped over the chair just as I left it. My duffle tucked safely behind. The end table sits to right of my chair and I note that my book is still there, as is the wine bottle I use as a candleholder, my ashtray, and the half-full bottle of blackberry brandy that I didn’t care enough to bring with. I knew I was picking more alcohol up anyway, so I figured fuck it. Beneath the table is my box of candles, and my glass breaking tray with about an eighth of nug on it and several roaches. I could swear that I had had more candles than the twelve I see, but I had swiped more of those as well, and I figured it was a small inconvenience at best.

I set my lit zippo down on the table, pull the burned down nub from the wine bottle, work a new candle in, and light it before pocketing my zippo, depositing my bag next to my chair, and groaning in ecstasy as I finally collapse into my chair.

“Thanks for the candles.”

My eyes snap to the open doorway, and I take a moment to process before responding.  Leaning against the frame is one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen. She stands six foot even. Her hair is jet black and cut short, with fire engine red bangs that frame her face. She has enough metal in her face to make me wonder how much might be found with a bit of exploration. It’s too dark to see the color of her eyes, but I notice their stern expression and indefinably exotic shape. Her face is angular, and her features are sharp. There’s a thin, but visible scar that roughly follows her jaw-line, and her skin seems pale, but it’s hard to tell. She’s wearing a black leather jacket with short spikes that trace the seam between the arms and torso, a black tank top, baggy black Tripp pants that look big enough to double as a blanket, and black combat boots. She’s built like an amazon with wide shoulders and hips, a somewhat tapered waistline, and a very large chest. She’s not skinny by any means, but she definitely deserves the right to show some skin. I’d say she’s probably my age, but it’s hard to say.

“Look man, I was gonna wait until you got back so I could ask, but noticing your breaking tray down there I figured I could smoke you up for now and replace them later.” She says when I still haven’t responded.

“Naw. No worries. It’s just been a long fucking day, and I needed a moment to process.” She visibly relaxes as I light the cigarette that I had left in the ashtray that morning. “Match?”

“Works for me. Let me go grab a few things.” She takes off down the hallway, and though I’m loathe to stand, I figure I’d better make myself comfortable.  I get up and hang my coat on the nail I had put in next to the door for just that reason, before sitting back down to start working on my boot laces. “So, get many visitors?”

I chuckle. “Few spirits here and there. Oh, and there’s this rat that I’m rather fond of.” Laughing, she sets a milk crate down across from me and sits, already sparking a blunt. She shrugs her bag off, and drops it on the ground behind her. “One of the perks of the place.”

“I can imagine.” She passes me the blunt, and I take a nice deep pull. “That’s why I’ve decided to stick around. I assume that won’t be an issue?”

I choke on my smoke, and it takes me a moment to respond. “Yeah. I’m real pissed.” We both laugh, and I take another pull off the blunt before reaching for my blackberry brandy. I take a nice deep pull off the bottle and lean back stretching my spine as best as I could. “FUCK, I’m sore. Want some?”

“Naw, I don’t want to drink all your booze up on you.”

“Seriously, doll. Go ahead. I grabbed a few more bottles while I was out.”

“A few? My kind of guy.” She grabs the bottle and takes a swig with a lungful of smoke.

“Cannonball? My kind of girl.” I take the blunt and bottle back to do the same. “Name’s Cheveyo, by the way.”

“Chev? Hell of a name. I’m Oriel.”

“Yeah, yours ain’t bad either. As far as names go.” I take another pull off the blunt before passing it back and reaching for my bag to dig out my stash. “Kudos on the wrap job, by the way. Mind twisting another?”

“Not at all.” She grabs my stash and starts breaking with the blunt poking from the corner of her mouth.

“So, what brings you to my little corner of the world?”

“Happenstance, really. I’ve been riding the rails for a few years, and was just wandering through town when I saw this place. I only meant to come in and get some shut-eye, but I feel so at home here I kinda just want to enjoy it.”

“You ain’t kiddin’. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about this place.”

“Wrap?”

“Oh, my bad. I’m really out of it right now.” I dig a Swisher Wine ‘rillo out of the pocket on the side of my chair and hand it over.

“No worries man, I can tell. So how long ya been staying here?”

“Oh, ‘bout a month and a half or so. I never really meant to stay, but I can’t imagine leaving anymore either.”

 “What’s there to do around here?”

“You’re looking at it.” I laugh and choke on my smoke while putting out the roach. “Naw. I write and read a lot, so I spend a lot of time here, but it’s a small town and you have to go pretty far for any of the normal attractions. Bowling alleys, movie theaters, pool halls, etc. There’s a pretty big forest nearby that I like to wander through though.”

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna like it here. I’m gonna need some supplies and shit, but that can wait.” She licks the blunt seam shut and sets in the ash tray. “It’s gonna suck sleeping on the ground, but it ain’t the first time, and it won’t be the last.”

“I actually have an air mattress you can use until you find something better. I picked it up when I got here, but once I got the recliner it seemed like overkill.”

“Thanks man, but I’d feel better about using your bed if you were in it with me.”

“Your reasoning confuses me, but you don’t have to ask me twice.”

“I just don’t like feeling like I’m taking advantage of a person. If I were to join you in your bed that’d be one thing, but I’d feel like a bitch if I just took it.”

“Look, if we’re gonna be spending any kind of time around each other, you might as well drop that shit now. I can appreciate it since I’m the same way, but I wouldn’t offer if it were any kind of a thing. I’ll join you if you want, you could even move in here, but not if it’s just to make you feel better about using my mattress.”

She picks up the blunt and sparks it while I’m talking, and passes it before responding. “Point taken, but I’m no skeaze. If I didn’t want to sleep with you I would have said ‘no thanks’, and left it at that.”

“Works for me.” I take a few pulls off the blunt before passing it back and killing the last four shots of brandy. She takes the empty bottle from me and sets in next to the door before climbing into my lap. I take the blunt from her and put it out for later.

 

                                                                ~              ~              ~

 

~Oriel

                I’ve been riding this car for about eighteen hours when I notice an abandoned warehouse off in the distance. The train slows to take a curve, so I grab my backpack and duffle before jumping out. I figure at the very least I can crash for the night before dredging up some supplies and heading back out. I’ve learned over the years that if you have a chance to get a good night’s sleep, you take it. Besides, I’m starting to run low on jerky and booze. As my feet hit the ground, the grass ignites beneath me. I snap my fingers and the flames vanish, leaving a perfect circle charred into the earth. With the relentless vibration thrumming deep within my bones and the constant clacking beating a chorus into my skull, I’m having trouble maintaining focus and it’s beginning to show. Reaching into my inner coat pocket I pull out my flask and pull deeply from it. The whiskey sears my dry throat, but the effects are immediate. The inner connection to my gift is severed, and my sense of the Greater world around me is dulled. Pot works better since it seems to isolate my gift and dampen its strength without making me lose complete touch with the fire that I love so much, but alcohol is a great supressant to have in a pinch. With any luck, that’ll keep the flames at bay until I get a chance to smoke. It shouldn’t be long now.

                I hike my backpack and duffel back over my shoulders and head for the factory, elated at the thought of a full night’s sleep. It’s been at least a month since I last had a decent squat to lay low in. Sleeping outdoors has it’s appeal, and I’ve long since reached a point where I don’t even notice, but I could sense a great storm rolling in. Most folk I’ve met would have kept on rolling in the hopes of skating past it, but I knew better. Besides, I’ve always loved a good storm.

                About a hundred or so yards along the track I found a trail through the woods leading in the direction of the factory. It was roughly two feet wide, and had clearly been the product of frequent traffic. Everything around it was starting to grow in however, and I could tell that it had seen busier days. As I picked my way through I noticed that there were spider nesting places everywhere. I pushed on about another twenty feet or so, and they were gone. I looked back at what appeared to be a spherical portion of the woods in which every tree, leaf, and branch was coated in webs. I shivered involuntarily, turned back to the trail, and pressed on.

                As I neared the warehouse, I began to feel a trill of energy coursing through my veins. It was a sensation both pleasant and familiar. One that told me I was nearing a place of power. I hastily jerk my flask from my jacket and kill the last three or four shots before continuing. Places of true power ended to boost one’s gifts, and it wouldn’t do to lose control in the only shelter around. Especially when you consider that the coming storm couldn’t be more than a few hours off.

                Just to the right of the rear entrance I notice a relatively fresh tag signed by St. Paul Bernie. I can remember seeing a similar tag the last time I was in Minnesota, but I had sworn I hopped a southbound when I jumped out from Seattle. Even if the train I was camped in had veered east, it wouldn’t have made it all the way to Minnesota in just eighteen hours. Two and two were making five, but it wasn’t the first time. Unexplainable shit was par for the course as far as I was concerned. I take a moment to fish my flashlight out of my duffel bag. Fortunately, I keep it accessible for just such an occasion. The small LED light shines bright in the gloom, and as I step through the doorway a sense of utter contentment fills my spirit. Being an orphan I’ve never had a home, but I’ve always imagined this is what it would feel like.

                I take a moment to survey my surroundings before venturing farther inside. The floor is concrete, laid many years ago, and cracking in many places. A thin layer of dirt and dust covered the place, but a trail of footsteps leading both in and out cut through. Following the prints with the light, I notice that they lead to a recessed portion of the western wall to my right, which I would assume to be the opening to a staircase. There were eight support beams spaced out in rows of four, but other than that it appeared bare as could be.

I head for the staircase, noting that the most recent set of prints in the dirt are leading out. Whoever stays here must be out. Perhaps it would be a good time to take a look at where they sleep so that I know what to expect when they return. I turn right when I reach the top of the stairs to find a hallway leading to the other end of the factory with five doors on each side. I checked the first several doors and found nothing but empty space, but in the third room down on the right, I was shocked to discover that the roof was essentially nonexistant. There had clearly been a roof at some point, but it had either caved in and been cleared out, or ripped clean off. Remembering the coming storm I dropped my bags in the bare room across the hall from my new favorite place, and continued exploring. The rest of the rooms were bare as well, until I reached the last door on the left.

                Words couldn’t possibly express the shock that I experience when I enter this last room. I had expected many things, but order was not one of them. In the corner to the left sat a very large black leather La-Z-Boy, with a black silk-like comforter draped over and a duffle bag stashed behind. Sitting next to it was a small end table with a wine bottle turned candle holder, a small medium sized ash tray, a battered copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and a nearly finished bottle of blackberry brandy on top of it, and a medium box of white taper candles beneath just barely concealing what appeared to be a breaking tray. Whoever it was that was living here knew what they liked, and maintained it well.

                I turn to head back to the room I had left my bags in when I realize that I failed to aquire any candles during my last supply run. After a few moments consideration I decide to swipe a few from the stranger’s box. I still have a few ounces of the homegrown kush that I picked up in Portland, so I can smoke with them for now until I get a chance to replace them.

                Back in ‘my room’ I unpack my sleeping bag, pillow, and candle holder from my duffel. The candle holder had been a gift from my ex-fiance a few years back. It was a simple wrought iron piece with a flat triangular base and three slim rods that started form each point and twisted around each other until they tapered together into one thin sharp spike. He made it himself, and I’ve never been able to part with it. I stab the candle holder into the bottom of one of the candles and light it before setting it in the far corner. I turn off my flash light, tuck it into my bag, and grab my pouch out before rolling out my sleeping bag, grabbing my pillow, and laying down to smoke then sleep.

                About an hour or so later I wake to the sound of footsteps just outside my door. I look down at myself and realize that I had fallen asleep with my jacket still on and a half smoked bowl in my hand. I sit up quickly and rip my bowl a few times to calm myself before getting up to introduce myself.

I step into the open doorway and out of shock I just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, “Thanks for the candles.”

The man before me is anything other than what I expected. When standing, he was 5’9”. He had long pitch black hair pulled back in a single braid, a mysteriously clean-shaven face with strong cheek bones and a slightly clefted chin, a labret piercing, and a slim slender body. He's wearing a pair of blue Levi's, a pair of brown steel toed work boots, a black pocket t-shirt, and a black pea coat. What actually shocks me though, is the amount of power that radiates from his entire being. Given a few wires, he could probably generate enough power to run the entire east coast. What I felt though was purely subconcious. He clearly had the capacity for great things, but was drowning his gifts more thouroughly than I.

“Look man, I was gonna wait until you got back so I could ask, but noticing your breaking tray down there I figured I could smoke you up for now and replace them later.” When I’m nervous I get snarky.

                “Naw. No worries. It’s just been a long fucking day, and I needed a moment to process.” I exhale the breath that I hadn’t actually known I was holding.

              “Match?”

                “Works for me. Let me go grab a few things.”

                I take off down the hallway and stumble over a milk crate that I hadn’t seen in either of my previous trips down this hallway. I pick myself up, dust myself off, and return to my room to grab my backpack before picking up the milk crate and returning to the stranger’s room.

 

                                                                ~              ~              ~

 

~Gaothaire & Teranika

       Tera and I have been traveling together for quite some time now. If I had any concept of time, I’d tell you how long. I don’t. Truth be told, I would have to say that our relationship had been one of convenience more than anything else. Lately though, I’ve been beginning to feel more attached.

                The farmer stops his battered red pickup truck on the side of a random battered back road, and we take the hint. We both grab our bags and jump out the back. As he pulls away, I take a moment to look her up and down. She’s a fucking amazon, at six foot three. Her bright curly red hair stands tall and proud, if not a bit kinked and travel-worn. She’s wearing a dark green form-fitting t-shirt, with a long green and black skirt, and black thigh-high boots. She tugs her black duffel bag back over her shoulder, gives me a smile, and starts off down the road.

                There are corn fields running off to the right, and a thick deep forest to the left. As we go I notice movement in the foliage, but I don’t really think to mention it. As I pass Tera on the right, I pinch her ass and keep moving. She yelps and chases after me. We fool around a bit more, then fall back into the rhythmic beating of feet.

                While we’re walking, I hear footsteps on the wind. Judging by the wind speed and direction, I’d put it at about 300-400 yards ahead and to the left, heading in the same direction as us. I poke Tera with my mind and slow my pace down to match hers.

                “What is it?”

                “We have company just ahead, can you feel them?” I give her a minute to do her thing, and continue. “Whoever they are, we have no reason to believe they’re hostile, but I am curious to find out why they’re traveling through the brush as opposed to the road.”

                “Whoever they are, they’re steps feel steady. So, I doubt they’ve realized we’re here.” She hikes her bag up as I hike up my own. “I don’t see any reason to investigate further. Unless our paths should cross, that is.”

                “True enough” When you travel as much as we do, you learn that you don’t go out of your way to meet people in out of the way places like this. You never know who they could be. At the same time though, some of the best friends I’ve ever had I’ve met out in the wild.

                The discussion becomes moot when I hear the steps falter and stop. One glance shows that she felt the same. A few hundred yards down the road, the woods break to reveal an old beaten path. Crouched in the middle of the path is a younger looking blond woman, with an aura that was flaring out, analyzing the area. We come to a halt, and stand watching before I cast my aura out towards hers.

                The moment our auras touched, she leapt out of her crouch to a fighting stance drawing a small white blade in the process. She was only five foot six or so, with a small compact body, long, curly, dirty blond hair, and fiercely intelligent and calculating blue eyes. She’s wearing a pair of tight blue jeans, and a large, battered, blue poncho, concealing everything from her neck to her knees and who-knows-what else in between.

                We take a moment to size each other up before she relaxes and puts her knife away. “Earth and Wind, right?”

                Words can’t express the shock I feel at hearing that. Tera is clutching at my shoulder. “How could you possibly know that?”

                “Spirit and Fire are already inside. It stood to reason.”

                “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” I ask quietly.

                “Inside where?” Tera interjects.

                “The warehouse, of course.” She remarks nonchalantly. “The only shelter we’ll find for the coming storm.”

                I’ve come across my share of people in the past that knew things they’ve had no real right to know, so I wasn’t THAT shocked, but I could tell that Tera was taken completely aback. “So you’ve clearly had some time to assess the situation. We’ve known there was a storm coming for some time now, but it’s just a storm right?”

                “I can’t answer that, exactly.” She shifts about with evident uncertainty. “The only real signs I’ve had have pointed to nothing more than a particularly powerful bit of weather. But the warehouse just ahead here shouldn’t exist where it is. It seems to exist out of both time and space. My gift is with Water, so I can’t really do much more than sense it’s nature, but it’s a place of power, and it is very well protected.”

                “But what is it then?” Tera asks.

                “I don’t know.” She pulls a flask from inside her poncho, and takes a quick pull before continuing. “I’ve been camping out nearby studying the place for a few days now, and all I can tell is that it’s some sort of sanctuary. But that begs to question, if this is just your average everyday storm, why would we need sanctuary?”

                “I get what you mean.” I reach for her flask to take a pull when she offers it. “You said something about Spirit and Fire, what did you mean?”

                “I felt another presence when I first got here, and he seems to have been around for a while. I’ve seen him come and go, and he often talks to himself or to the world around him. I never got close enough to listen, but I assume he’s communicating with spirits. Then just this morning I noticed a young woman coming in from the back, and I could see the air sizzling around her.” She motions for us to follow, and we start down the path toward the warehouse. “When I looked up and saw the both of you, I just made an educated guess.”

                “Educated in what way, exactly? Does this happen often?” I inquire sarcastically.

                “Don’t be an ass, you knew what I meant.” She looks back to give me the eye. Something big is going on here. If Fire, Water, and Spirit are already here… You see where I’m going with this.”

                “Yeah, I do” Tera hits me on the shoulder, then speeds up to follow alongside the gorgeous newcomer. She always had a thing for blonds.

 

                                                                ~              ~              ~

 

~Katyin

            I’ve been camped out on the perimeter of the warehouse for a few weeks now studying both it and it’s inhabitant(s). Until today it was just the spirit walking native inside, but a fire starter had just showed up this morning and my mind was reeling. I could tell upon arrival that this site was one of Great Importance, however I hadn’t expected it to still be drawing people in. Perhaps it was my ego, but I actually believed that I was the only one, and that the strange native guy was just a random squatter. He may be a spirit walker, but his abilities are clearly severely hindered. Judging by the frequency with which I had seen him drunk and stumbling, I assume that he’s drowning them. If he was intentionally drowning his gifts, then why would he follow a trail of power straight to a natural conduit? Unless he was unaware of what he was doing, which is equally plausible of course. In fact, the fire starter looked as if she was doing the same. The troubling fact though, is that so far we’re all elementals. If earth and air show up, I think I’ll actually shit myself.

                I crouch down low as I scurry across a field that has little to no cover. How I’d lasted this long without having been noticed I don’t know, but that’s no reason to grow lax. As I edge around the western quadrant toward the front of the warehouse I happen to glance up toward the sky and notice a flock of gulls flying overhead that I had failed to see til now. I’m just about to put the thought out of my mind because, fuck who cares about some damn gulls, when they simply vanish. It was as if there was an invisible line in the sky and each one vanished the moment they reached it. Having seen some of the things that I’ve seen in my day, this is really nothing more than a bit peculiar, but the fact that weird shit seems to be a constant in this place has me walking on egg shells. As I draw nearer the path leading to the front I hear the rough and battered engine of a truck speed off down the road. I cast my spirit out in the direction of the road and pick up on a pair of auras heading in my direction.  It’s hard to judge from a distance whether or not an individual is Other, but there are ways. Reading an aura isn’t reliable without being within visual proximity, so you have to pay attention to the little things. You read their surroundings and look for signs of magickal influence. Peculiar  floral or faunal behavior, for example.

                I slow my pace to a speed that could be considered leisurely just in case, let my mind empty itself, and widen my focus to include the entire vicinity. A few yards further, and I begin to hear snatches of their conversation, which renders my focus useless. When I hear the man mention feeling and hearing things that no normal person could, I realize that my answer was right in front of me. My steps falter as I do the math and realize that odds are these are the two I was hoping I wouldn’t meet.

                Most Light Others are accustomed to moments like this. You’re compelled in a certain direction, so you give in and see it through, and it’s almost always something relatively simple to deal with. Maybe a medium or a necromancer is ‘pushed’ towards a grieving widow so that he can help ease her sorrow by giving her some closure, or perhaps a water worker is ‘pulled’ toward a town with a failing water supply so that he can help find a hidden underground source or even move an existing one. When the Elementals are all called together however, the implications are ALWAYS global in scale.

                I press on, still maintaining a steady, leisurely pace. Just up ahead, I see the trail leading to the front of the warehouse, and I start to wonder whether or not I’ll be able to make it across before being spotted. I don’t dare change my pace, for fear of alerting them to the fact that I’d noted their presence. As I step out onto the path though, my attention is immediately pulled to the warehouse. The front entryway is bathed in a bright orange light. I can feel it calling to me within every fiber of my being. I lose all sense of the practical world around me, and drop into defense stance out of pure instinct. I’m not used to things having such power over me. I am Water. Nothing can stop me, only divert my flow. But this is a compulsion that I can no longer fight, and it has brought out the feral beast hidden deep within.

                Out of nowhere, I feel a flash of energy across my back, and I flare my aura out in response; slide my knife from the sheath I keep hidden under my arm, and swing around to an offensive stance. Standing before me is a man and woman similar in age to myself. The woman is an absolute vision.  She’s a bright, and fiery Irish lass, with long, thick, curly red hair, a breath-taking chest that I would estimate at D or double, very wide hips and thick thighs. She’s about 6’2-6’3”, with a slight muffin top. Standing next to her is a man that is just as hot. He’s about 5’11”, with long, flowing, thick auburn/brown hair, that stretches about as far as his ass. His eyes are deep and kind. His nose is short and snub-like, but it fits him well. His mouth is large, with thick, full lips. His cheeks are lightly dimpled. His expression is calculating, but you can tell that he has spent more time laughing than anything else. He is built large, but clearly works out on at least a semi-daily basis. He’s wearing a baby blue pocketed t, with a shoulder-length lamb-skin jacket, tight-fitting blue Levi’s, and a pair of black, ankle length, Air-force One ‘87’s.

                After exchanging pleasantries and information, I happen to notice that the glow from the entryway has begun to fade, and hear thunder strike far off in the distance. If we don’t get inside now, things will get very dicey. I turn toward the warehouse, and assure myself that this is what I was meant to do. Though I’m not at all re-assured, I press on. Katyin falls into step alongside me, and I chance a glance in her direction. She smiles wide, and winks, as we walk straight into the hands of Fate.