From Claire and Devon

You Are Gold

You are almost universally admired. People strive to be like you. You are also highly valued. Your friendship, approval, and advice are all considered priceless. You live an inspiring, fortunate life. Not many people are as lucky as you are. But you haven't gotten to where you are on luck alone. You are incredibly competitive and ambitious.

What Metal Are You?

email to elementof_risk

Julian, do you mind if we make a quick trip to Nevada this weekend? I have a lot of stuff I need to get. Ruhun, mostly, but Merle said he'd get my stuff out of storage for me and have it waiting, and I promised Ruby I'd come see the puppies and she's probably going to try and give you one, and well, Annie's been on my case about visiting. I didn't know if you had, um, any plans, so I thought I'd check.

♥ B

[MM] 2.2: "I Grieve" lyrics

I grieve for you
You leave me
so hard to move on
Still loving whats gone
They say life carries on
Carries on and on and on and on

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She had imagined the first time that she held May, Zee would be sitting across from her, grinning and glowing and thoroughly exhausted and happy to be that way. That she would gush over how beautiful she was and how wonderful Zee looked, and she would insist on taking her shopping and would proceed to spoil both mother and baby rotten, as much as one can spoil a newborn with adorable tiny clothing they won't even really be aware that they're wearing. Tommy would be beaming like a proud papa. They'd be so happy, the three of them, mother, father, and baby, a perfect picture, and she would be overjoyed for them.

Nothing ever happens how it should.

It isn't fair. It isn't fair that Tommy's face is shadowed with the grief he's fighting so hard to keep control of, because he has to be strong, for May. He should be allowed to grieve. No, to hell with that, he shouldn't have to. In a fair and just universe, he should never have to suffer like this. May should never have to grow up never knowing and bearing witness to the force of nature that is her mother...that was her mother. And oh, how that hurts. To use the past tense, was, not is, she will never be able to say is in connection to Ziyah again. How hard it is to realize that brilliant burst of technicolor life is snuffed out, is gone. Gone.

But hey...who said the universe was fair? No, it thinks nothing of taking a knife to the tapestry of a newborn baby's life, leaving those left behind struggling to stitch it back up into something beautiful, something close to what it deserves.

She's so tiny. Premature, of course, and Baileigh is strong and feels no weight at all. She cradles her carefully in her arms, stares down at her with as much awe as sadness. Zee is all over her, stamped clearly in those tiny, ruddy features. Her little fingers twitch as Baileigh's hair tickles them, then flex as though trying to grip and test this new texture. She wonders if May's realized yet that her mother's voice and scent and arms are absent, or if it truly will be years before she feels the sting of her loss. She hopes, with an intensity that surprises her, that it won't be hard for her. Let her have a good life, she thinks. Let her be happy.

As if on cue, May stirs, tiny face pinching, chin trembling as she begins to fuss. It's soft, only a whimper, not a cry, but it still cuts. "I know, baby," she whispers, shifting the tiny little body in her arms to her shoulder then swaying her weight from foot to foot, rocking her in her arms to calm her. "I know."