#empty names

Desolate : deserted of people and in a state of bleak and dismal emptiness.

Hollow : having a hole or empty space inside.

Dear Fellow Traveller by Sea Wolf

Dear fellow traveler under the moon I saw you standing in the shadows and your eyes were blue You put your hand out, opened the door You said, "Come with me, boy, I want to show you something more"

You spoke my language and touched my limbs It wasn't difficult to pull me from myself again And in our travels, we found our roads You held it like a mirror, showing me the life I chose

Eternity by Mizz Fish

Friends like you are hard to find So I’ll stick with you til the end of the line We aren’t perfect but that’s alright

All your dreams, your passions, ambitions You’ve told them to me like a man on a mission And I’ve done the same to you many times

Somehow we made our way here just by lookin around Somehow we knew what was lost had somehow been found Because of you I knew I could be who I wanted to be without feelin a fool In front of those who don’t understand Because of you I knew that sometimes you may be hurtin But that cannot stop you from feelin deserving And following your dreams You come runnin when I fall even if I don’t make a call for help No one needs their eyes to see We’ll be friends for eternity

Trying times and metal struggles I know for a fact you’ll be there on the double Because you won’t want me to feel alone

And anytime you need someone beside you A shoulder to cry on, a friend to stay true You know I would never let you down

The Funnyman's Smile by Michael McCormic Jr.

Well, I had a dream I was trapped in a cave with nothing but a magic lamp I polished its side, and out you came with gold shackles around your hands You said, "Son, I think there's something people like you and me should know" Life is more than empty jokes and putting on a show 'Cause you can make the world smile, and get nothing in return And in the end you find that what you give is what they think you're worth Then you offered me three wishes, but I saw only one worth while" I said, "I want the chance to make the Funnyman smile Oh, give me a chance, a chance to show you"

Funnyman, you're not alone No, even when you're crying I'll be there to hold you close And tell you everything will be alright

Because doctors still need checkups Bartenders need a drink or two The funnyman, still needs to smile And these days, I do, too 'Cause all the times you made me laugh Now they feel a little colder To know that when life knocked you down You cried on your own shoulder 'Cause you can make the world forget its problems for a while But who was there to make you smile? Tell me, who was there to make the Funnyman smile? Oh, to make the Funnyman smile

Ship in a Bottle by fin

You can fit everything you know In a bottle for you to show Pick your brain apart and put it in And build it again with needles and pins Everything you have earned is a ship With blue waves crashing into it But nothing can touch your happy thoughts anymore With your glass ceiling, walls, and floor

Between My Teeth by Orla Gartland

And I-I-I bite my tongue 'Cause I don't know how to tell you I'm getting this urge to run And I-I-I bite my tongue 'Cause I don't know how to tell you Oh, you deserve someone else Who can treat you like I want to

Oh, ah, ah, please don't lean on me 'Cause I don't want your heart between my teeth I, I think I better leave 'Cause I don't want your heart between my teeth I can't take the pressure of it, I can barely breathe Ah, ah, please don't lean on me 'Cause I don't want your heart between my teeth, no

Turtles All The Way Down by Sammy Copely

See, I could choose for the both of us And you'd just go along because You've trusted me for no good reason Love no matter what the season

Force the last page of our story You're my favourite allegory Hope to god that you'll forgive me My mistakes will long outlive me Mine, mine is the unkind, kindest cut of all And I'll watch you fall

And I don't know if this makes it any easier Perhaps you'll find comfort when I say You and I are nothing more than meteors Never meant to live long past today

Yes, I'll choose for the both of us You'll just go along because You've trusted me against your judgement You deserve someone who doesn't

Force the last page of your story No more boring allegories Hope to god you'll rise above me Though you'll always be part of me Mine, mine is the unkind, kindest cut of all I'll watch you fall

Now watch me fall

And now a snippet:

“I see.  I’ll leave you to it then.  Just try not to rough anyone up too badly while you’re there.”

“Of course not.”  Unlike with this job, Sullivan had given his friend his word about certain aspects of his conduct ahead of time.  It had been long indeed since the last time his friend had simply explained a situation and left with no implication other than that they wouldn’t ask questions about what Sullivan chose to do with the information.  It was certainly one way to keep their conscience clean.  “Sleep tight,” he adds.

“I’ll try.  See you later.” 

The line goes silent but there’s no click of a hangup.

Sullivan moves to the kitchen, checks the freezer, and finds it surprisingly boring.  No stashed electronics, frozen potions, or preserved body parts.  He grabs a carton of ice cream, kicks another body out of the way so that its partially-crushed head won’t hold the door open anymore, and closes the freezer.  

Returning to the balcony, he leans over the railing, balances the carton on it and begins scooping out ice cream with a knife.  Much like the city vista below, it’s night black and speckled with glazed bits that reflect the glowing veins of light that run through it.  At least the penthouse’s late owner had good taste in something.

He glances back over his shoulder and blinks through his filters.  No significant signatures other than the already-ransacked saferoom.  He returns his gaze to the view, eats his looted ice cream and waits with his phone still up to his ear.

“Su?” his friend’s expected voice finally whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Am I a bad leader?”

“Of course not, everyone loves you.  They’d follow you anywhere.”

“But should they?”

“Hey, what brought this on?”

“This is twice now that Eris and Ashan have come back in bad shape, and every quest so far we all wind up separated.”

“That’s just a new team going through the growing pains of getting used to working together.  The point is they came back and it’s not been anything they couldn’t recover from, and you’ve been able to help everyone you’ve tried to help.  That sounds like a resounding success to me, especially for the early stages.”

Silence.

Consideration.

Waiting.

“Has this happened before?”

“Do you want me to answer that?”

“No.  I don’t think I do.  It’s just…”

Sullivan’s grip on his phone tightens.

“Just what?”

“I’ve been thinking about the gaps more than I should lately.”

“And?”  They should barely be able to think about them at all.

“The list of reasons I’d want to leave them empty is pretty short, isn’t it?”

The ice cream carton tumbles down to the streets far enough below to be another world.

“You trust me?”

“For happily ever after.”

How bitter the old joke between them is.

“This isn’t going to be another gap.  I would have tried harder to talk you out of it if I thought there was a chance of that.”

“Thanks.  I needed to hear that.”

“That’s what I’m here for.  Now get some sleep.  You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Effort: Empty Names - 10 - Cleanup

“Please, let me help you.  You’re safe here,” she says as she takes his hand.  Or at least, she thinks that’s what she says.  She never actually got to practice speaking the language with anyone else before now.

There’s a moment of horrendous silence as Dis!ma*s’s feet touch the ground.  He makes one slow blink with horizontally closing eyelids and then doubles over.  Laughing.  He says something but it's fast enough and interrupted by gasps of laughter that Lacuna can’t follow.

“I’m sorry?” she says on reflex before remembering the language barrier. “I mean, I apologize.”  The latter sentence sends Dis!ma*s into a renewed fit of what Lacuna really hopes is amusement as the rainwater shakes off of him.

“Your pronunciation is so garbage it was half gibberish and half propositioning him,” Bridgewood says from the other side of the carriage.  He’s not literally laughing at her, but he may as well be with the face he’s making.  “And then you -”

“Okay, okay, I think I get it!” Lacuna’s voice cracks as her face grows hot with embarrassment and frustration.  She tries to remember gestures that she’d read up on for some culturally appropriate sign of contrition but draws a blank.

Recovering, Dis!ma*s stands up straight and speaks again, slow and loud this time.  “I apologize,” he starts and Lacuna immediately sees where she went wrong with the pronunciation but has no idea how to make her mouth form the right phoneme.  “You surprised me.  It has been a difficult day.  Thank you for trying.”

Or at least, the parts Lacuna can parse are something along those lines.

“He says getting hit on at the end of the worst couple days of his life was too absurd to deal with, but A for effort on the welcoming attempt,” Bridgewood offers by way of translation.

Entry: Empty Names - 3 - Dance Partners

The girl was surprised at how steady her hands were as she punched in the keyless entry code for the pickup.  She was the most scared she’d ever been in her life and yet there was something else.  Relief at having gotten away?  Excitement?  Thrill?  A feeling of power after having stared death in the eye then punched it in the face?  She smirked as she opened the door and climbed inside.  That last one had a nice ring to it.

Fish out the keys, start the engine, buckle her seatbelt, change the radio to something less sad, and she was off.  Or so she thought until she felt a bump backing out of the parking spot.  The girl looked in the rearview mirror and saw her pursuer once more, now holding onto the back of the truck.  She changed gears and pressed the gas, speeding forward and bouncing over the parking blocks between the spaces.  

Ear: Empty Names - 20 - Changeling Child

It surprises Ashan just how light Lacuna is when she falls forward into his arms.  He is barely even eye level with her shoulder on the rare occasions she stands up straight, but he realizes now just how much she is skin and bones beneath the loose-fitting clothing she always seems to favor.

“Don’t tell Eris,” Lacuna breathes into his ear before passing out.

Error: Empty Names - 16 - Mall Rats

Echo Plaza, a place that becomes more aptly named with each passing year.  

A mere three decades ago this place would have been teaming wall to wall with shoppers from Backstage and beyond.  Wide-eyed newbies who mistakenly thought it would be a good place to ease themselves into things.  Paratech hobbyists looking for the newest offworld imports to reverse engineer.  Teenage witch covens staking out corners of spellbookstores and food courts.  Offworld travelers taking advantage of their multi-day anchor world hub layover to go sightseeing.  Fairies playing tricks from the cover of palm fronds and aerial shrubbery.  Naiads presiding over the grand fountains and granting small blessings in exchange for the coins thrown in. The list went on.

Back then, when the ideal of the shopping mall as cultural centers of commerce and socialization occupying a prominent place in the collective consciousness brought Echo Plaza into being and sustained it and its occupants with an effervescent zest for life, vendors would kill for a storefront on the young pocket dimension’s main concourse.  Quite literally, as Sullivan knows from personal experience and paychecks.  In those days just being here would make everything feel exciting and wondrous.  In these window displays the kitsch became cool and the mildly uncommon became alluringly exotic.

Now there are more marble statues than people.  The grand fountains are all long dry.  Food court menu screens proclaim cryptic messages over blue error backgrounds.  Shadowy suggestions of mannequins linger in gutted boutiques at the edge of a flickering neon haze.

The golden age of the shopping mall has passed, and even the subcultural revival of the concept is inextricably intertwined with emptiness and signal decay.  None but the most stubborn of holdouts are willing to invest property in a pocket dimension on its last legs before dissolution.  Only the most dedicated seekers of aesthetic and pursuers of the niche bother to put up with the permeating air of nostalgia and melancholy.

Expression: Empty Names - 19 - Shire

It’s actually two someones walking up the sidewalk toward the unassuming safehouse, and they’re not any of the local residents that Sullivan now knows by sight after the length of his unsleeping stakeout.  The woman in front is of a middling height, similar to Sullivan’s own.  Auburn hair loose down to the shoulders, purple-framed glasses, beige knit sweater, red scarf, blue jeans.  Checking an old model flip phone as if verifying the address.  Some niggling familiarity about her appearance that Sullivan can’t quite place.  

The second woman, walking stiff-backed one pace behind and a shoulder-width to the left, towers head-and-shoulders over her companion - no, her superior, unless Sullivan misses his mark.  Silver hair pinned back in an elaborate bun, expressionless face, amber brooch pinned to a white cravat, dress of maroon so dark it’s almost black with so much frills and lace that it leaps out of the realm of antique and into the territory of gothic.

Never: Empty Names - 23 - Compression

She waits a second for any objections and then places her palm on the bare skin between his shoulder blades.  He’s warm.  She feels the surrounding muscles reflexively tense on contact and then slowly relax.  He’s all muscle beneath the robes, but it feels different from what she’s felt through Eris’s tank tops when pulled into an embrace.  Leaner.  Less bulk but still toned.  She’s heard of mages tapping into their own metabolism for fueling magic to burn excess fat and retain figures in defiance of diet, but that doesn’t build muscle mass.  The skin on his back and arms doesn’t look like it could ever be anywhere near as sickly pale as hers is, but it is noticeably lighter than his hands and face, even accounting for makeup.  She wonders when the last time was that he wore anything with short sleeves.  Does he even have other clothes?  She’s never seen him wear anything else.  

Still less distracting without the robe on than with.  Probably says more about her than him.  Do all wizard robes on Orthon look like sleek dresses with wide sleeves, or is it just because he copied his mentor’s style?

Night: Empty Names - 23 - Compression

“No vertigo, nausea, or other adverse reactions to the counterseal,” Ashan reports once he and his double return to Lacuna.  “This illusion feels as natural to create and control as my conjurations.”  He glances over at said illusion practically bouncing up and down in excitement.  “Well, almost as natural.  Thank you, truly.”

With those last words Ashan lightly puts a hand on Lacuna’s shoulder.  When his double tries to do the same it passes through her slightly and becomes both there and not there to her vision, like an object only visible through one eye.

“You’re wel- whoa, that’s weird,” Lacuna stumbles her words in surprise.

Ashan pulls his hand back with a puff of exhalation and the illusion throws its head back in silent laughter.

“Ah.  My apologies.  Illusions can be like that when exposed for what they are.”

“It’s fine.  Kind of cool actually.  Do they normally reflect the caster’s emotions like that too?  That’s not something I’ve read about.”

Ashan’s reflection has just enough time to blush hard enough to be seen through the perfect makeup before flickering out of existence.

“Merely a random aberration born from tiredness, I am sure,” the real Ashan says coolly and evenly.  “It must be well after midnight by now.”

“Sure it is.” Lacuna grins and chooses not to poke more fun at the matter.  “Let’s call it a night.  Morning?  Whatever.  Either way, I think we can call this experiment a resounding success.  What do you say?”

“Indeed,” Ashan agrees.

Nail: Empty Names - 9 - Test Run

Just a little further to climb.  Not a bad warmup for her, really.  As long as she’s burning Sullivan’s money, maybe she should add a rock wall to her equipment request along with the other training gear. 

One more stretch.  Grab the main pole of the bowsprit.  Heave.  Swing herself up.  Nail the landing.  Dust off her hands.  Nearly lose her balance when she hears Sullivan slow clapping and sees the others already on the deck.

“What the Hell?”

“I conjured a ramp,” Ashan says matter-of-factly. 

Of course he did.

Need: Empty Names - 23 - Compression

She bends over to use the keyboard and mouse, foregoing sitting down for fear of not wanting to get back up again.  She stops the recordings and takes a brief glance at compiled readouts.  Nothing catches her eye as out of the ordinary, but she’ll need to check it again in the morning when she’s more awake.  She shuts down the test chamber, starts to shut down the computer, and then remembers she forgot to check her email all day.  Nothing urgent, thankfully, but there’s an unexpected message from RevaTech asking if she’d be interested in scheduling an interview and reconsidering working for them.  Weird.  Maybe someone from her old team heard it had taken her a while to find a new job?