The Country

 Last post, I remarked about how much I liked NYC. Seems no one else shares that sentiment. Let me remind all of you little mortals, 900 years of nothing-but-country cures you pretty quickly, particularly when you're still under the impression that light is a fatal entity.

But prior to the 900 years in god-forsaken Alaska, I did live in the country. I don't have to tell you about Taberleigh. It's history. Find it in a textbook, not here. I lived on the outskirts. I usually lived on the outskirts of every town -- just far enough that they didn't come bothering me, just close enough that I could go get the supplies I couldn't provide for myself.

Everyone thinks that the DH business is a glam-fest with immortality thrown in as a bonus. They teach you to fight, wear leather, look like a nasty son-of-a-bitch and then give you wealth to do whatever the hell you want, just kill the daimons in exchange. Sounds like a bargain, right?

What Ash didn't tell me was that after he taught me to fight and manage with all those other inconveniences like fangs and sunlight deprivation, I was going to be tossed back out into the great wide world to fend for myself. And I had to learn or I was Shade-fucked. No squires for me. Even with my single-minded devotion to those who had done their part to make me whole (and I *was* devoted -- Ash had been the single-most important, respected, loved person in my life at that time) I still wasn't good enough to be given aid. And no amount of daimon-killing, offered-assistance or show of dedicated admiration was enough to prove that I was worthy of a goddamn assistant. Olympians are ever the elitists.

So, I grew my own vegetables and raised my own chickens and geese and managed my own small farm for years, centuries. It was thoroughly 'country.' A donkey for the cart, self-made furniture, a shed that I was constantly repairing -- they were the happiest years of my DH life. I did hard work -- we all did. But my limbs were straight and my back was strong, and I had both eyes to see with and both hands to use.

In the summers, when the nights were warm enough and the daimon-counts were low, I would swim in the pond, feeling the silt between my toes when I stood, feeling clean and happy, for I was happy in those days. And the first place I lived, in Gaul, had this great pond where everything around it was quiet, and no one lived within an hour's cart-ride of my shack. From there, you could see the whole sky reflected on the surface of the water, as if both sky and ground were composed of nothing but celestial bodies. I was just learning how to read and write and I remember wishing so earnestly that I could put it into words to share with someone else.

But that was a long time ago, when I still felt like an injured pup licking my wounds and before one of my greatest betrayers was still like a brother to me. Now that great little pond is probably dried up and turned into a shopping plaza.