September: Loss
Tate

I feel stupid - but I think I been catchin' on
I feel ugly - but I know I still turn you on
You seem colder now, torn apart, angry, turned around
Till that whole mad season knock you down

Now I'm cryin' - isn't that what you want
I'm tryin' to live my life on my own
But I won't
At times - I do believe I am strong
So someone tell me why, why, why
Do I feel stupid
And I came undone
          "Mad Season," by Matchbox 20

She's gone. Oh, god. Why does it hurt so much to say that? Every night, every day, all the time.... I can't say it. In my mind, it repeats, over and over and over again, but out loud.... I can't say it out loud. It hurts too much.

I suppose it makes a kind of sick sense. Letting someone that close, somehow becoming one soul in two bodies, to have her leave would, should, and goddammit does rip me apart.

Whoever came up with that "better to have loved and lost" saying should be drawn and quartered.

How's that song go? 'Everything I do I do it for you?'

Crap. I'm quoting old love songs. Better'n new love songs, I guess. It's just that I don't know how else to try explaining it, pathetic as that is.

"If you love something, you need to let it go".

Right. And the purple pandas are gonna conga through here with some of those flying pigs.

I miss you, Jay. Come back.... Please.

October: Hunger
__entry_deleted__

'Cause you're working
Building a mystery
Holding on and holding it in
Yeah you're working
Building a mystery
And choosing so carefully

You woke up screaming aloud
A prayer from your secret god
You feed off our fears
          "Building A Mystery," by Sarah McLachlan

They didn't even notice that she was hunting. A smirk crept into existence as she politely met gazes and hellos from people, food. Foolish, idiot humans. So confident, so self assured, so... delicious. Their ignorance was as much a spice as fear. 'Top of the food chain,' hah! She was the only one at the top, and it wasn't lonely; it was exhilarating.

Mustn't get too cocky, she forcibly reminded herself. Not too obvious. This is prime hunting ground, don't want to lose it just yet. She forced back the smirk until she got to the elderly professor's door. It reappeared as she knocked, then entered to perch on the edge of his desk.

"What do you want?"

"I'm curious," she admitted, "as to just what's on your mind tonight?"

She took him before he could scream, and as one of his memories drifted by, she laughed aloud.

"Yesssss, it is good to be the king."

Amazing what such a frail looking man could do in a lifetime. He was surprisingly tasty.

November: Identity
Jay

I would swallow my pride
I would choke on the rhines
But the lack thereof would leave me empty inside
I would swallow my doubt turn it inside out find nothing but faith in nothing
Want to put my tender heart it in a blender
Watch it spin round to a beautiful oblivion
         "Inside Out," by Eve 6

My day so truly sucked. I was wandering around downtown, getting some shopping done, when I realized I needed to hit the ATM. And, freak that I am, first, I actually went to the bank, then second, when it was out of order I actually went inside to withdraw some money. Just to make my day wonderful, I came in right before some nut case decided to rob the bank. Now, don't get me wrong. I can defend myself. I can actually kick some quasi-major ass, thanks to Nicole. But it's nothing... legit, I guess. Not formal training. In fact, she was pretty heavy on the dirty tricks. But either way, I know enough that I am not likely to come out on top of a twitchy first time crook while I'm in human form (daytime, yay) and very rusty on the fighting skills. So I hung around the background waiting for a chance to make a break for it or something.

No, admit it. I just hung around the back and basically did the gawking thing. Hero of the day turned out to be a cop that was coming in to cash a check or something. It was... weird. One minute this scruffy looking nut with a gun is pacing around threatening everyone, the next this cute guy with short curly hair and gorgeous blue eyes steps up and starts talking to him.

I have to admit, with the goodwill rejects he was wearing, I pegged him as a concerned, wannabe Good Samaritan. Somehow, he managed to convince the crook to hand over the gun, and next thing I knew Curley pulled out a pair of handcuffs, had the crook down on the ground and was reading him his rights. Pretty much end of story.

I finally managed to deny my gargoyle instincts today. I was part of the gawking crowd instead of a protector. I finally managed to push it away.

So why do I feel so bad? Why... why do I feel like I've failed?

Once more, thanks go to Datafage and M.C. for their help, and many naggings/bribes to Tyr (who had bloody better gimme some fic soon! ;) and Mendon for fic. ::grins:: Not much else to say, really.

As always, questions, comments, etc. can be sent to Norcumi@aol.com. Actually, feedback is ALWAYS appreciated. No, really, it is!

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Any questions? Complaints? Screams of outrage that I actually consider myself a writer and/or dared to show this in public? Tell me! Send it all to Norcumi@backtick.net! I love mail!!!!

DISCLAIMERS: All original characters belong to me. You can't use them without my permission. But if you ask, you're most likely to get it. But you still have to ask. The gargoyle race in general and a bit of gargoyle lore are owned by Buena Vista and therefore the Great Mouse, used with great reverence, respect, and without permission. Rainier, Cascade, and an unnamed anthropologist (::drools::) are property of Pet Fly Productions (and Paramount). This isn't intended as copyright infringement. Various random brand names and music selections are not mine, you'll know 'em if you see 'em. Soundtrack is done by Matchbox 20, Sarah McLachlan, and Eve 6, all without permission, no infringement, no profit, yadda yadda.