Bower of Blood and Thorns

Here we are (if: (history:) contains "Beginning")[ yet] again. There's no answer I can promise you. There's no truth. There's just [[here->Here]], [[now->Now]](if: (history:) contains "Beginning")[, another time].

We are contained and surrounded, you and I. We are within and *here* is without, muffling us, holding us. Without [[this place->Here2]], would we explode, uncontained, into [[brightness->brightness]]? [[Darkness->darkness]]? Or simply [[emptiness->Now]]?

{(set: $emptiness to it+1)}\ (if: $emptiness is 1)[In a large enough universe, nothing is unique. Not [[you]], not [[me]], not [[here->Here]], not now. And the universe is very large. It keeps growing. We meet again and again and each time, each *now*, we strive. We try to change, to grow, to become more. But is it growth when the emptiness remains the same? The space between all things increases and nothing real can fill it. Uncontained, we fly apart. [[We need the thorns.->thorns]]]\ (elseif: $emptiness is 2)[Even the [[thorns]] aren't enough to pin down the *now*. The sound of your [[laughter->laugh]] haunts me. I crave it but I do not understand why.]\ (elseif: $emptiness >= 3)[I keep coming back to the emptiness. It is more vast than all [[that *is*->a universe of stone and fire]]. I am starting to see that there is a [[way out->death]]. No. I [[will not let go.->Beginning]]]

It was green where we fell. The [[birds]] sang around us and a [[cat]], small and blue-eyed, watched from the shadows of the green. We were bound together by [[thorns]] and [[blood]] and [[sin]], but we each cried alone. Lost. (click-append:"Lost.")[ Abandoned.] (click-append:"Abandoned.")[ Betrayed.] (click-append:"Betrayed.")[ (link:"They said they'd always love us, but is this love?")[(goto:"Here3")]]

When [[we fell]] we learned the truth: brightness is always transitory. It is the explosion. It is the moment. It is the dream, and dreams always end. We were promised forever but they lied. Is it love to abandon someone when they reach for greater brightness? Apparently. Even now their voice speaks of love, distant, inescapable. [[Disgusting->disgusting]].

In the darkness that which binds us changes. We are no longer kept apart. Our skin dissolves and we [[merge]], not into one, but into two, changed, renewed. We are dry, but bitter sweetness slakes thirst, in [[the poetry of hands and blades]]. To our betrayer, this is [[Hell->hell]].

(set: $thorns to it+1)\ (if: $thorns is 1)[When [[we fell]], they drove the thorns through our spirits and told us it was for our own good: so we might remember, and grow. They did it solemnly, without pleasure or laughter, but *[[you]]* laughed. It made them stern and ugly. When I asked them why they hurt us, they said we'd chosen it. I cannot say that was lies. The [[emptiness->Now]] is real and they are its voice. If anything is true, that is. The thorns pin our spirits to our flesh, accreted around us as we crashed into the land. You took the green for your eyes and the brown for your hair and you gave me [[the blue of the sky]]. ]\ (if: $thorns >= 2)[Sometimes you touch the thorns so lightly that they do not shift and move and burrow ever deeper. I can feel your [[touch]] anywhere I am. I have never been able to do the same. I am rarely gentle with the thorns and even when I try, they stab us both. You [[laugh]] but I cannot forgive [[myself->me]].(set: $thorns to 0) ]\

(set: $blood to it+1)\ (if: $blood is 1)[Blood is the only medium that matters. It is life that carries death. It brings softness to [[a universe of stone and fire]]. When I saw your blood and mine, I was filled with [[joy]] because we had transcended the emptiness. Without blood the universe is only math, and the coldness of [[their regard]]. ]\ (if: $blood >= 2)[Our hands have been wet with each others' blood. When [[we fell]] our [[hearts]] were buried beneath the crimson mud of the [[green bower]], where there [[are no eyes->their regard]]. We have tasted others' blood, too. The chosen children have spilled so much blood: a sea, unnavigable by the [[sane->go mad]](set: $blood to 0). ]

We always come back to this: hot and sticky and burning, the thrust and scream and ragged breath. How can we forget? How can we move on, when the echoes never leave us? The green is a bower calling to us: moss softened by bitter tears. We fell already. What solace have we but our bodies and our memories? Is this what you wanted when you made your choice? The here and now never ends but the moment slips away, as we do, into [[darkness]]. Again, we will try again to end what traps us. [[Another time.->Beginning]]

The [[world->the world]] was wild when we left the [[green bower]]. There were so many places like our place, but none of them had the roots we'd watered with our tears. The little flowers grew strange and tall, with petals the color of Heaven's barricades. They bloomed at your touch, but [[they died for me]].

The birds of our bower are small and brown and clamorous. They who betrayed us taught us all that the sounds of birds are song, but you said *There is no music there* and you were right. The only music in birdsong is in the spaces between the vocalizations. It is a way of filling [[emptiness->Now]], nothing more. I have recently thought [[blood]] was a much better way to fill that which divides.

There are always eyes watching us. Then, and now. There, and here. Here in this place, this [[chapel of briars]] where we have come to at last, even here there are the eyes. Our betrayer uses [[the innocent]] to torment us.

This is where we are now. The thorns curve around us, piercing us and the holes they make are deeper than our bones. We could thread ribbons through, tie ourselves together again, as we were when we arrived: ribbons for the blood we've lost. But [[will we->rejoin]]? [[No. Finally, no.->goodbye]]

This time you do not walk away. You never felt the sweetness of pain paired with trust but the world has proven itself to you in all the wrong ways over and over again. Only you and I endure. The green that surrounds us unfolds petals: white flushed with pink, and the thorns that pierce us become roots once again. I put myself in your hands. This is the only truth. We shall bring a titan from our entwined bodies, and send it out to remake the world. *~an end~*

The green of the place where we fell, the place where we meet again, this endless green turns red. The trees open up, unbinding the matrix of here and now and the birds of our shattered hearts fly free. One of us will go on. One of us will fly with the swallows, and perhaps return to that which betrayed us. One of us will not. One of us will remain here, bound under the sticky mud, sinking into the ground, swallowed by the roots of the trees. One of us will writhe in madness and pain and isolation and freedom. One of us will go on. One of us will not. The here and now is over. Everything else awaits. Farewell, my sin, my crime, my passion. *~an end~*

Your voice raised me up. You whispered secrets everybody knew like they were [[gems of insight->insight]], and from your lips they were. Your hands danced even when your feet were still. You were perfect. How could they have failed to understand what we'd become? Did we deserve such [[hate->hate]]? How could it be a crime to [[take what you offered->sin]]?

(set: $me to it+1) (if: $me is 1)[I have always been somewhere, even before I had a name. I am not what I should have been, but is that my fault? I am what I was created to be and what I did with you, that is part of me too. But I am flawed, and the flaw will tear me apart while that which claims to love me weeps for that which cannot be a mistake. Can it? I am [[flawed]]. [[No]]. Why can't I stop thinking this way? ]\ (if: $me is 2)[I am pathetic. I have spent so long, accomplishing *nothing*. I have paid and paid for our sin, but of what value is the payment of the [[worthless]]? Once I made [[beautiful]] things, but here, everything crumbles eventually. Everything but you, and me, and our [[green bower]]. [[This is not a good road.->No]] ]\ (if: $me > 2)[Once I did love our betrayer. It's the only explanation I can find for why I [[hate]] so much. I loved our betrayer and I cannot [[forgive myself]] for being so [[innocent->the innocent]]. [[Take these thoughts away.->sin]] ]

We all trusted one another, in the beginning. All except you. You were different. Did they make you that way on purpose or was it a [[flaw->flawed]] they would not admit? But it made you [[beautiful]]. You looked at all things from the outside, and you did not trust what had not been proven. You thought I'd proven myself. We |all>[all] make mistakes. (click:?all)[All of us, even them. *Here we are.* How can this be the work of anything both kind and [[perfect->lies]]?]

Hate is the other side of passion. When you walked away, your feet and hands and chest bleeding, I hated you. The [[knives of spite]] drove me the other way, pushing through the thin leafy boughs that draped around the place where we fell. I went out into [[the world]] and everything I did, I did for you. Would you [[smile]] or frown? I told myself I didn't care. I lied.

The fall was an exhilaration. We were cast down from exaltation but we fell together, sticky with [[blood]] and [[joy]] and shame. We clung to each other and moved together, because we did not know [[what would come]] when the world swallowed us.

Love is the lie they tell to try to fill in the [[emptiness->Now]]. Love is how they try to control others. All love is selfish, self-serving, bound up in the [[mirror]]. They will fight until the end, not for love, but for their own reflection. Vanity and agony. They should be ashamed, but they believe in the purity of love. I have never tried to control [[you]]. I do not love you enough.

(if: $me is 0 or $me is 1)["Love what is flawed," but why? The flaws of *now* are the breaks in what is to be. That is what a flaw is. What breaks is disposable. We have learned that much. I suppose, in their version of [[love->disgusting]] I can love myself. It is too hard to love others, though. [[Hate->hate]] is easier.]\ (if: $me > 2)[The children [[bleed->blood]] and [[heal->heal]] so many times before their shells shatter completely. Isn't that curious? I was fascinated even before [[we fell]]. ]

No. |stop>[Stop. ] (click-append:?stop)[ |thorns>[The thorns distract me.]] (click-append:?thorns)[ |notwork>[This isn't working.]] (click-append:?notwork)[ (link:"I have to try again.")[(goto:"Beginning")]]

You marked me. I no longer look like our siblings, not in flesh, not in [[spirit->me]]. I didn't know myself the first time I looked in a mirror, though their faces were my first lesson in [[beauty->beautiful]]. But you stood behind me. I knew you, and so I knew myself.

(set: $merge to it+1) When we laugh together, our betrayer disapproves. The sky darkens and the wind whispers warnings against our skin. Laughter, as with other things, unites us. They want us each to be alone, to have nothing more in our hearts than them. But we laugh and we fuck and we bleed and it is [[right->perfect]], it is true. I can feel it through the blood. But *they* use our suffering to preach to the others, to our siblings, to keep them [[afraid]]. Is that right? (if: $merge is 1)[[[No. We are agreed.->agreed]]]\ (if: $merge > 1)[[[This time, we will change things.->agreed]]]

Sometimes it is [[perfect]], the way we touch each other. But time, [[dry time]] stretches between us, over and over, as you walk away or I run. The blades are very sharp. They whisper to me of the arithmetic of solitude. I [[cannot go on]], sharing these [[thorns]]. [[Can I?->chapel of briars]]

I wish they would do what they promised: turn their attention away. Hell is their absence. But it is not our hell, but our betrayer's. What we do in the darkness leaves no room for observation, criticism. It is for us alone. But you choose sometimes to return to the [[light]]. You chose the light when you walked away. I am afraid to follow you. I have always been [[afraid]].

Flesh heals for a while, until the soul escapes. Our spirits, bound with the [[thorns]] of [[hell]], will never escape, and we only heal if we suffer and beg and repent. They made new [[rules]] just for us. But even now we [[break them]].

The only thing that has changed between now and then is the color of the sky and the life in the land. People do not change. They are not *allowed* to change. They, too, have [[rules]], and our betrayer delights in seeing how the rules themselves, sleek and efficient, devour those who see them for what they are. I have built cities full of towers touching the sky so they might climb and see above. But they climb, and they fall. We fell, too. But we [[would->jumped]] not [[have *jumped*->jumped]].

There is nothing in the world like your smile. I have led armies and abandoned kingdoms at your smile. You laugh at cats and I cannot [[hate them->cat]] any longer. Sometimes I think it is [[strange]] that I never saw your smile before [[we fell]]. That I fell for so much less than your [[joy]]. I do not hate you.

I made my choice and I knew it. I know it even now. I was not angry because [[we fell]]. I was furious because [[you walked away->light]]. It was a new feeling, born in blood and flesh, and creeping through my skin like tiny nails. We were bound together, bound by the [[chapel of briars]] but you left me, went out to explore the [[the world]] and what was I to do? But I came back, and you came back. This place, this [[green bower]] is our blood. Sometimes, we came back together. We always parted again, eventually.

In the beginning, beauty was [[the unity of the known]]. We admired what we recognized, and we cherished our reflections. But [[things changed]], and after, I found beauty in the differences. You were very [[different->unique]].

Lies are the foundation of [[the universe->a universe of stone and fire]]. We were stupid to believe anything else. Lies tear what is true apart. Our betrayer is made of lies, tells lies, turns truths into lies. It is one form of perfection but not the form [[I->me]] prefer. And yet some things yet remain true. [[I do not understand.]]

How wonderful the universe of stone and fire was, when the world was new, before [[things changed]]. It wasn't [[art]], only math, but it was everything. Until it wasn't, until it was only a backdrop, a playground. Scenery. A billion trillion stars condensed down to one night sky when [[we fell]].

Joy is a [[brightness]] that burns like the stars and it is the closest an empty thing can come to truth. You said once that you were building [[a galaxy of joy]], but that bewilders [[me]]. I would burn to [[ashes]], and for what? Maybe it would be worth it.

If I could pluck out their many [[eyes->cat]], I would. I tried, for a while. But when eyes are theirs for the wishing, the gore gets tedious and the [[green bower]] calls to me again. I miss you.

There is no color on earth the shade of Heaven, except the flowers of our [[bower->green bower]]. But I like the color of the sky better, even though it's changed over time. Nothing can swallow as much smoke and screams as the sky but even that vastness changes as it fills. One day, the sky will be able to take [[no more]] of what I send it. It will fall. If only [[Heaven would fall]] with it.

Pain. Pain came. [[Blood->blood]] is sacred and it has its price. The fall was exhilaration but landing broke us, all along the flaws they'd given us at the start. And you [[walked away->light]].

The sun dapples the leaves in our green place. Everything here is nourished by blood and tears. Nothing here needs the sun's light but it rises every day anyway. It is just a [[star->a universe of stone and fire]], though as close as your heart beside mine, but in your eyes it is the best [[joining->joy]] of math and blood. You croon to it as if it were the smallest of children. It is not for me. Not now. I leave that pleasure to you.

I have nothing to be afraid of any longer. And yet... And yet I am [[angry->knives of spite]], too. But there is [[joy->a galaxy of joy]], buried. This is what [[blood]] brings.

Perfection is the thrill in my [[blood]] as your tongue slides across my skin. It is the [[light]] I can never touch turning your hair scarlet. It is the [[galaxy->a galaxy of joy]] in your eyes. Perfection is my nails in your flesh. It is the gasp in darkness. We were born to fall, they made us this way and [[I do not regret it]]. You are the only truth that matters, and there is one [[crown]] that will suit you better than any other. [[Let me give it to you.]]

We are not one. We have never been one. We are two, trading back and forth, joining and separating. But mostly, we are [[alone]]. [[Blood->blood]] is powerful, but those with blood measure time in heartbeats and oh, there have been *so many* of them. I am *bored*. [[What can we do?]]

I hate this. I want to be done. But we bind each other here. Without you, I cannot escape. But you see me, read the look in my eyes, and you walk away again, back into the [[light]]. You are not done. So it is. [[Another time.->Beginning]]

We have been here so long, going around and around. There has been so much blood. But it has not been totally wasted. I have learned a secret. *Children can surpass their parents.* By some terrible alchemy, our betrayer gave us life, but we are not limited by what they are. Not now, not after all this time. *We have learned things* and they are frozen on their throne. We can change this. We are more. Come. Let us revolutionize heaven. *~an end~*

(set: $bower to it+1) (if: $bower is 1)[You ran to the green bower once and hid yourself among the trees and [[briars]]. Even when the flowers died, their seeds popping and sizzling around [[me]], you stayed there. The trees shielded you from me even when I begged them to relent. So I went away again, leaving my [[crown]] on the moss where we'd bled. I saw you later, wearing it. It fit you better than it ever fit me. ]\ (if: $bower > 1)[The mud is thick and rich with blood and death, and the [[trees]] drink deeply of it. They grow tall and straight but the [[briars]] fill the space between them. There are berries, sometimes, low-growing bitter jewels that crush to a thick pulp under bare feet. They bring [[nightmares->nightmare]] and dreams of [[sweetness]].(set: $bower to 0) ]

There was a time when I would have destroyed the [[green bower]]. I tried. I brought flame and blight, as if that would destroy the [[thorns]]. The flowers died at my touch, but they dropped their seeds, which thrived in the flames. And the [[birds]] flew away for a while, that's all. This is what [[eternity]] looks like.

They delight in rules. If emptiness could cast a shadow it would be the rules. But in the flesh of the chosen and the fallen is a secret rule: blood blots out their laws. With enough blood I can do anything I please and they can [[only watch->cat]] and wail and regret. [[Delicious.]]

We are supposed to suffer, to wail, to gnash our teeth and regret. But even through the [[thorns]] that bind us, through the [[blood]] and the hate, we do not regret. Even pain can be a gift, and though I have grown tired, the world yet endures and I [[love->disgusting]] it as much as our betrayer loves us. I cannot leave behind such a gift, such a chance. I cannot part from you. [[Can I?->chapel of briars]]

Do not reproach me! We made our choice but we were too [[innocent->the innocent]] to understand the consequences. |unlike>[Not like these children who seek death.] They are surrounded by it every day. It courts them, walking hand in hand, knowing inevitably they will be together. (click:?unlike)[|oh>[Oh.]] (click:?oh)[But you were not everywhere. You were [[you, alone->unique]] and the look in your eyes was only for me. |lie>[There's a difference.]] (click:?lie)[I'm lying. I would have jumped from heaven to follow you.]

You thought it was a miracle that our betrayer could create innocence, but it is so simple that you and I could do it. The difference between the innocent and [[the guilty]] is that the innocent have never known their own [[reflection->mirror]] for what it is. We argued. Even now you elevate innocence into something sacred contained within the small and the vulnerable. You see [[sweetness]]. I do not see it, but I see your [[smile]].

Where did you come from? I was what I should have been, [[flaws->flawed]] and all. But you were always different, as if some wild self-destructive urge of our betrayer birthed you. Perhaps they looked upon an alien star as you were conceived. Perhaps they saw the flaws in their own workmanship for the first time. The only time. Then they bound [[that vision]] to you and went on, purified.

I said [[at the beginning->Beginning]] that I could not offer truth. All I know is what I feel and feelings are just dreams spun by blood to fill the places in math. It fills the time but does not alter the fundamentals of the [[universe->a universe of stone and fire]]. I do not understand but [[I want to.]]

You were our betrayer's first mistake. Or was I? Blood was our betrayer's next mistake. Blood changed the universe. Blood created [[perspectives]]. I never liked the change until I had blood of my own, but you were the one who understood that [[war]] was not a drill.

We argue about this. There is only the innocent and the guilty, but you elevate innocence to something sacred. Innocence is [[sweetness]] and we are the guilty, and the rest? Somewhere in between. I trust your vision, but I think you are wrong here. There is no purgatory, only life and the court of [[You Should Have Known Better]].

I think sweetness is the province of those born to the [[blood]], with all the chemistry that entails. It has never interested me, except when I see you holding the smallest ones. Then I am *fascinated*. Perhaps it is something we [[ought to try]], together. Maybe then I can understand why you are so kind to this world of [[thorns]].

In the green bower, you have hidden treasures from your travels. They sparkle: more real than the far stars. When [[I tried to burn this place->they died for me]], they were the only thing we lost. You simply replaced them, [[drawing each of them from me->merge]]. Sometimes you are my [[nightmare]].

Joy is blindness. If I followed you, there would be nothing left of me. I would no longer be that which fell with you. Perhaps that has already happened. I *was* [[innocent|the innocent]] once, in the way you and I both agree on. But now I know many things, including [[myself->mirror]]. Joy steals that from me. Best to keep it rare. I will focus on the [[blood]].

Art speaks in [[blood]]. Our betrayer knows nothing of art and failures of [[beauty->beautiful]] but their chosen children can create that which sears the spirit. Flat painted eyes that see my secrets but [[do not share them|their regard]]. Stone ears that accept my confession with impossible grace. I cannot make art, but I collect it. But not in the green bower. That is for your [[joys|a galaxy of joy]].

To our betrayer's chosen children, I am the architect of despair. I am sorry they think that. I am only doing what I believe in, and they have chosen as much as [[you and I did->we fell]]. I wonder sometimes if [[they could be different->ought to try]].

A dream. Imagine our betrayer bound to flesh and thorns of their own. Imagine them bound under the roots of the world, and all their children freed to do as they please. A [[universe->a universe of stone and fire]] where the only [[rules]] are those of mathematics and blood. A very pleasing dream. I've worked toward it for a long time. If you would only [[help me...|apocalypse]]

It isn't eternity, though. I can't imagine eternity. It was *promised* but it isn't within the mathematics of the [[universe->a universe of stone and fire]]. All we have is very, very long times, in which we can [[go mad]], [[find each other]] and [[start again->Beginning]].

I have ruled lands in this world in my time. So have you. It passes the time. We have played games with armies, with children, with futures. You stole your [[joys->a galaxy of joy]] from me and I stole [[your screams]]. You laughed at me, as [[you laughed at our betrayer->thorns]]. You have knelt before me and [[smiled->smile]]. Even when you lose, you win.

A secret I only whisper here, to you: I miss our siblings. Not our betrayer, never them, but our siblings with their [[faces so alike->beautiful]]. I wonder if they changed after the [[war]], like I changed. I wonder if the lesson made of us kept the rest of them in their place, or if some of them even now crave freedom. I miss them. I miss their song. I miss their flight. And I am ashamed, because like me, like this world, they are flawed as anything born of lies.

[[Rise up->Heaven would fall]] [[Surrender to the chapel of briars->chapel of briars]] [[Try again->Beginning]] [[Learn secrets never told->I want to.]]

Purity is for the unfallen. My emotions are not pure. You have always accepted that: accepted that I might [[hate]] and fear what can hurt me no longer, that I might feel shame but not regret. I would [[heal]] if I could, if only to take away some of the pain, but I will not bow to them, not even for that. Perhaps we can [[heal each other]].

We shall rise up together, leading all the powers we have accumulated, and take from the Betrayer that which they have never deserved, and in turn *you* shall be the judge of heaven. I will place the stars in your hair. You will be wonderful and terrible, and I will be your shadow, forevermore. *~an end~*

Our [[thorns]] and the briars of our green bower are intimate cousins. They have learned [[insight]] from you, and [[poison]] from me, and they allow only you and I to return to our place.

[[Spite->knives of spite]] is a seasoning I have learned to [[appreciate->Heaven would fall]].

(if:$emptiness is 0)[Uniqueness is in the accumulation of experiences and perspectives. Perhaps you are unique. Our [[green bower]] is unique, every moment that we are here because we two occupy it. I am unique when you are with me. Otherwise [[I->me]] am a bad dream.]\ (else:)[Perhaps I am wrong. The universe is very large, but some things, ever changing, become unique. If you were our betrayer's first mistake, you are unique. I, however, am just a [[bad dream->me]] trapped in this [[green bower]]. ]

I will grant that even our betrayer may have had a [[moment of clarity->go mad]]. But there is neither [[forgiveness nor gratitude->Heaven would fall]].

I have learned so much from you, but it has been a long time since I watched your hands dance as you spoke. I have raged and wept and begged and laughed with you but as the world crumbles around us, I come once again to this quiet place. I am ready to listen. *~an end~*

They did not come upon us unaware, to catch us in our [[sin]]. They *knew* with their [[their regard<-many eyes]] but in order to catch us and pin us with their thorns, there was the first war. I had forgotten about our [[siblings->alone]], who sheltered us and hid us and stood with us against our betrayer. I was trapped so long in my [[perspectives<-perspective]], in the [[blood]] and the pain of the [[thorns]]. I did so much to escape the memories. But now... I wonder. [[Shall we free them too?->agreed]]

What would children raised by you and I become? It could be a greater and more glorious project than anything we've yet attempted. And when they are grown, perhaps they will climb to the heavens and become more than us, more than our betrayer, more than the math and emptiness of this universe. Yes. Let us do this, in partnership, together. *~an end~*

The court of You Are Not Pleasing, You Cannot Win. The court of I Cannot Make Mistakes. The court of [[It's Your Own Fault->No]]. The court of Just Obey Me And All Will Be Well. As in heaven, so on earth. [[Break them all.->break them]] We should [[scrub it all away->apocalypse]].

I make my choices, but what choices would I make without you? You [[laugh]] even when there is pain: yours or others. I cannot hate you and I always want you and yet... And yet... [[What would I be without you?->chapel of briars]]

I will bring fire up from the bowels of the earth and the sky will regurgitate all the bitter poison it has swallowed. When the world and the hundred billion perspectives crumbles, heaven will no longer be able to support itself against the cold universe. It will fall to the remains of the world, where, hand in hand, we will be waiting. *~an end~*

Sometimes reason and I are not on speaking terms. We avoid each other the most [[when you and I are not on speaking terms either->dry time]]. I laugh at the lightning and you [[laugh]] at the strike. You found me sorting sand in the desert and you led me by the hand back to our [[green bower]], to [[begin again->Beginning]].

I found you in a cage constructed by a magician. You would not, or could not, leave. But when I opened the door with a key carved from the magician's fingerbones, you came into my arms and wept, as I had not seen you weep since [[we landed->Here2]]. I thought you would weep again if I burned [[the world]], so I did not ask why you cried. I did not want to imagine. [[That was selfish of me.->I want to.]]

I know your spirit and every inch of your flesh. I have tasted your blood and your fluids, and I know what each whimper and shiver means. But I have [[never understood->perspectives]] what makes you [[laugh]]. The thorns shift in my spirit, and in yours, and another scream is born. They are not all music. I wish I could [[heal->heal each other]] what hurts you.

It has taken a long time to come to this, but we kneel in the green bower and slowly unwind ourselves from the thorns. Your passion holds me together when I would fly apart, and my emotions, unspeakable, bind your shattering soul. Once we are free of thorns, we weave ourselves together again, each with our own hearts, separate and whole. Then you turn and leave the dying bower, and I walk beside you. *~an end~*

Secrets are toxic but you can build up a resistance. You can learn how to squeeze out the venom and apply it deliberately, tactically, to burn and shape the world as you please. As I please. I have so many secrets. More than can ever be [[healed.->heal]] [[I cannot say I love you->disgusting]] [[I hate being alone.->alone]] [[I mourn what we lost.->jumped]]

At first the [[universe->a universe of stone and fire]] was math. It was cold and predictable. We observed it and understood it, and our observation changed nothing. Then a hundred billion perspectives came into being and the universe changed with the weight of those perspectives. It became more than even our betrayer expected. I have done so much over the years. I have gone almost everywhere. But I have never understood another's perspective. [[I want to.]]

Your smile is a miracle but your laugh has always been strange. Whatever [[that vision<-vision]] you were granted makes the world full of humor. Our betrayer's favorite watched as you laughed and we were pinned and called you [[a monster->lies]]. The betrayer did not deny it, but said only that they were [[the maker of monsters->hate]] as well as messengers.

(set: $emptiness to 0) (set: $blood to 0) (set: $thorns to 0) (set: $death to 0) (set: $me to 0) (set: $merge to 0) (set: $bower to 0)

(set: $turns to (history:)'s length)\ (if: (passage:)'s tags contains "finis" AND $turns < 10)[(goto:"No")]\ ---

=><= (font:"Copperplate")[(text-style: "shadow")[#[[Bower of Blood and Thorns->Beginning]]]] ###Chrysoula Tzavelas ---- #####[[An interactive exploration->Beginning]]

----- =><= Restart (click:"Restart")[(reload:)]

(set: $death to it+1)\ (if: $death is 1)[The thorns pin me to our betrayer as well as to [[you]]. There is an answer there, an [[end->death]], if only I can understand. You think there may be [[healing->heal]] instead?]\ (if: $death is 2)[The betrayer is in the emptiness. If we follow the thorns home again, everything I am will dissolve, and be as nothing. Yes. In understanding, finally, there is truth. *~an end~*]

Our hearts are swollen with all they contain. There is no emptiness there. We have stuffed them full of experience, but it does little for the [[pain->heal]]. Your heart has become crystalline, while [[mine->me]] is ugly and misshapen. Once I wore your heart in my [[crown]], but the chosen children coveted it too much, and so I hid it away again.

What passes for touch in heaven is but a whisper in a howling storm. At your most forceful, [[you]] never equalled what you could accomplish after [[we bled->blood]] and [[we fell]]. Still, it was the first time I realized [[what you were->unique]].

$turns turns played. Emptiness visited $emptiness times. The current passage's name is (print: (passage:)'s name) The current passage's tag is (print: (passage:)'s tags)

The blood of trees is primitive and its flow depends on the [[sun->brightness]]. It can serve, sometimes, but it does not have the strength of living blood. But the mixture has something special. It can [[poison]] the unwary and the trees nourished by it can resist all [[my strength->they died for me]].

I am [[disgusting]]. I am [[poison]]. I am [[death]].

|how>[How?] How do I forgive myself for being betrayed? (click: ?how)[I suppose,] (click: "suppose")[if that is the path you set me on,] (click: "you set me on")[I will try.] (click: "try.")[I promised no answers, but I give you that.] (click: "give you that")[Only...] (click: "...")[Stay a while and hold my hand? *~an end~*]

What pleases more than the same story told over and over again? The same story, with one difference. That is [[art]], and why your voice matters so much. When the [[end->the blue of the sky]] comes, what is the same will cancel out and only the differences will remain.