A Belated Birthday Post

Sunday, the 2nd, was my birthday.

I spent most of the day refusing to get out of bed. I knew that Alter would just assume that I was at work and grudgingly let Alaska out every couple of hours. I curled up, pressing my legs tight against my chest, as if that could squash the ache in my chest.

I hate my birthday. 

I used to love it. I used to get everyone in the family together and have one last round of steamed crabs before the season ended. I used to equate birthdays with fun. 

Now? Not so much.

Around three pm, the hunger was starting to gnaw at my stomach. I got out of bed, lamenting the loss of warmth, and forced open the door to my room. It sticks sometimes. It's annoying. 

I made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. I didn't really want to eat, but I knew that I had to. 

"You look like shit. Are you sick? If you are, I don't want it." 

I hadn't even heard Alter come up the stairs. 

"Oh, what? Am I worth talking to now, after two years of near radio silence?" I didn't even turn to look at him, I just kept perusing the small pantry of shelves where most of the breakfast food is kept. 

"Is it illegal to talk to you now?" He scoffed.

"It is if you're gonna tell me I look like shit," I said. It was a pointless thing to argue, as I knew I indeed looked like shit. My hair was a rat's nest and one of my shoulders was peeking through the too-large neck-hole of my sleep-shirt. At least I had bothered to put on pants. 

"Whatever." Alter heaved a sigh. 

I heard him walk past me and into the mudroom that connects to the garage. I heard him grab the keys off of the hook. Then I heard the door to the garage open and slam shut. 

"Fuck it," I mumbled. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and sent off a text to Opal. 

Wanna come over and drink the rest of the day away? 

I received a response almost immediately.

I'm bringing you a birthday cake and we can get wasted. 

I chuckled. Opal was the best friend anyone could ask for. 

The rest of the day? Well, I hit the booze pretty hard so it's all a little fuzzy. Opal brought an ice-cream cake from the ice-cream place down the road, along with some pumpkin spiced rum. We sat in the family room, Pirates of the Caribbean playing, and just chilled. 

I must have passed out sometime around the middle of the third movie. The next thing I remember is waking up in my bed, tucked in, with the lights off and the curtains drawn. I didn't bother to text Opal asking how she got me into bed, as it was one in the morning. I was just glad to be there.

When I rolled over to get comfortable, I felt something solid jab into my side. Using my phone for light, I found a small box. I opened it. Inside was a necklace. Strung onto a delicate chain was a small bottle containing a dark red rosebud. It was accompanied by a note.

"This isn't a birthday present. It's just something to make you look less like shit."

"Sure it isn't, Alter..." I mumbled, staring at the necklace and the note.

I didn't have the brainpower to figure out what this meant -- Alter hasn't given me anything resembling a gift since he started Facing -- so I carefully placed the necklace back in its box and put it on my headboard.

I fell into a surprisingly peaceful sleep.

All in all it was one of the better birthdays I've had since I started running. 

Guess who's not dead?

Yep. It's me again. With a shiny new blog and some more angst to drop.

Don't take my absence to mean that I wasn't busy. I was. Opal demanded that I keep up with college, The Boss demanded that I kill runners or proxies that didn't follow orders, and work demanded that I showed up no matter what so I could continue living paycheck to paycheck. Super neat.

Somehow I managed to graduate with an Associates in Nursing, keep up with jobs, and not get fired on top of taking care of Alaska. Sure, it left me no time to myself, but that's how I prefer it. It keeps my mind from wandering. There's too many things that I don't want to remember, and too many things that I don't want to think about.

I'm sure you're all wondering how Skye is. Or, rather, Skye's Alter. He's... a lot like Skye actually, just more blunt and snarky. At least, that's when he decides that I'm worth his time. We mostly leave each other to our own devices. He takes care of Alice and I take care of Alaska. He even kept the job at the library. He still cooks and takes care of the house... But, that's for him to talk about if he chooses.

I doubt that he'll tell me if he makes a post; he doesn't tell me anything anymore. It took me months to get him to tell me about The Rune Master. And even then, his explanation was brief. ("She's The Rune Master. She's teaching me.")

Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. "Quit your whining." (Or possibly "NO MY SHIP.")  Well, it's my blog and I can do whatever the fuck I want. This includes whining about the guy who was my boyfriend being trapped in his own head and having to deal with his Alter giving me the cold shoulder. For two years.

Needless to say, Christmas isn't a great holiday at my house... Not anymore. I'm not looking forward to another year of trying to decorate for nothing. Maybe I won't bother.

I gave up on trying to bring Skye out around the year mark. It was just wasting energy that I didn't have in the first place; screaming at Alter until I was hoarse.

So, yeah. That's how that is.

This blog will probably just be me bitching about my job, bitching about Alter, or Mission Posts, if anything interesting happens.

Who am I kidding? Missions aren't interesting anymore.

Anyway, I should get to bed. I've been stuck with all of the early shifts because all of the other employees are back at high school and college.

Don't expect consistent posts. You guys should know this by now.

See you when I see you.

This is a placeholder post.

I'll delete this when my actual post is up, but I figured that I'd at least put something up here.

So hello, hi, how do you do? How have you all been? (She asks, not really expecting answers.)