labingi: (Ghanior)
Chapter 1, Notes, and Acknowledgements
Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Learning English

Ghanior did not like to admit, even to himself, how afraid he was. What frightened him was nothing more than physical pain, the banal intruder into his higher consciousness. An Ash'torian soldier should not operate in that domain, like an animal. A man who had nothing but duty left had no right to balk at performing his duty. But he was tired of hurting. He had hurt from the moment his ship had Walked through, and even though the ship had been programmed to follow the current and Ghanior's own Jana band had been minimally active, Jana had kicked him in the gut as always. And since he'd Walked to Ishan's house, he hadn't thrown off the pain behind his eyes. And now he had to hook his head into this damn machine.

In the waning afternoon, he sat in the dust and ate half a sandwich, torn between hunger and the virtual certainty he'd throw up when this language printer stuck into his nervous system. He welcomed the wilted leaves and soggy bread and overprocessed meat-like product. Good food would only have made him remember the possibility of relaxation.

Ishan and Mei paced up and down like spiders weaving a web from the central axis of the ship, testing the range of his makeshift diffractor. He kept pulling his eyes forcibly off Ishan. He looked so young, so not very different from the boy who'd fallen into Jana all those years ago. A decade ago he'd returned (like a dream), like a ghost... like the long-fleeing brother. Even the cut of the long, black hair he let fall around his shoulders was the same. Ghanior planted his eyes on the ship.Read more... )
labingi: (Default)
I've been putting off posting this for way too long, waiting to get it fully polished, but it's as polished as it will be for a while. Doubtless I'll go back and re-edit in times to come. For those who've been primarily reading my X-Men posts, no relation between Eriks.

Summary/Teaser: Erik had no memory of his life before awaking five years ago in a dream called America. Now a man from another planet, who claims to be from his past, is telling him it isn't a dream at all. (M/M here and there.) Also on AO3

The Dying Cycle

Chapter 1 plus notes

Chapter 2: Three Walkers

Erik stayed out till midnight. Matt wasn't at home, wasn't at the Domino, wasn't out in the woods behind Kingsley School. It went without saying he wasn't answering his phone. Erik made the rounds three times, then waited up by his apartment another hour. Finally, he bummed a piece of paper off a SmartMart clerk and left a note telling him Asoiya was alive. The fact that Matt had never told Erik her name, even in his dreams, should sell the authenticity of it, if Matt remembered her name... which he would.

Erik pushed the note through his mail slot and went home. The idea that Asoiya had survived depressed him. He recognized envy as an old pattern with his life, even in the absence of all but five years of memory. Or was "jealousy" a better word? He'd just lost Matt, and it made him bitter. Was that so reprehensible?

At home, he found Ghanior asleep on the couch. He didn't stir as Erik came in, which seemed a bad sign. Ghanior ought to be a light sleeper, especially in a strange place. A memory stirred, no, not a concrete memory, more a realization.

I know this because we used to be roommates. No, we had other roommates. We were never roommates.

It was all made up anyway; it had to be. That thought alone made it manageable.

Erik sat on the coffee table and watched the night-lit outline of Ghanior's face. The low light softened the years and resurrected his beauty. And that was bad too. Erik went to bed.Read more... )
labingi: (Default)
This is an original science-fantasy novel, set in the same universe as my novel, Perdita, and my in-process film, The Hour before Morning. I do hope someone will take a chance and read a bit despite its not being fic.

Summary/Teaser: Erik had no memory of his life before awaking five years ago in a dream called America. Now a man from another planet, who claims to be from his past, is telling him it isn't a dream at all. (M/M here and there.) Also on AO3

Many thanks to [livejournal.com profile] louderandlouder for massive, massive beta work. Thanks, too, to [personal profile] sixish for giving me a fresh reader's insights, and thanks to my in-person writer's group for more fresh (and men's!) insights.

There is/will be quoting of copyrighted texts in this work. This chapter references Dune, Babylon 5, and the 1985 Star Trek novel, The Final Frontier. I disclaim ownership, give credit, and do not profit.


The Dying Cycle

Chapter 1: The Man from Another Dream

Again, he awoke or became aware of himself awake. Again, he'd lost his name. He'd had many once, when there had been ones to name him, but long ago he'd shed those names behind the misty veil.

The same scentless wind blew off the ocean; the same gray clouds swept high. Long ago, the air had been filled with creatures, black wings and claws and bulk; he couldn't remember their shape. Long ago, he had subdued them, or they had slipped into hibernation. Behind him, he knew, lay skeletons, and so he faced the wind. Behind him, a ghost passed, like a moth's white flapping just beyond his feet.

Talya? His depths disgorged the name and an after-glimpse of black-reed hair and bloodless skin.

A hand almost touched his shoulder, then was gone, and Matt said (again), "I hope you realize it's your fault that I've lost her."

I'm so tired of this, he thought.

Then he woke to the other dream.

Read more... )

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