asinglewordwilldo: ([Emote] This Does *Not* Look Good...)
((Note: Takes place after his abduction here.))

So beautiful but ice runs through your veins
Slowly draining all my life away
Perfection in a shell devoid of life
Cause you leave a trail of broken dreams behind

He’s doing the best he can to hold on. It’s burning him alive from the inside out, this alien force that wants his life. It’s a fire not of earthly origin, alive with deadly intent and set on nothing less than his total submission to its will.

He pictures her doesn’t help.

The words are leaving him...words he has to fight, the first thing the fire seeks out. Rob him of his weapons, take his one chance at survival. Demoralization and ineffectuality...render him impotent and focus on breaking his will. One incantation, and he could have stopped it...but for the life of him, he can’t remember...

He tries to hear her fades in the roar of flames.

There’s death in the power moving through his blood, preparing his body for the coming invasion...the ultimate sacrifice, the final rape of his spirit. It’s the devil waiting on the sidelines, ready to step in and claim everything he is. He knows the devil...recognizes its origin and its form. This is not the demon that took hold of, this demon demands more than flesh. It can’t live without life and needs to invade his soul and make it his own before it can animate his flesh and assume his likeness.

He remembers her touch...and finally, at last...he feels something.

The flames rise high again, but this time they are of his own making. They warm the flesh and fuel the blood rather than freezing it, stilling it for the parasite inside. He commands the torch this time, pushing it forward into the invasion with a roar of fury and passion...passion and love, black rage born of pure love.

Imhotep. The name of the demon is Imhotep. That’s what he know his enemy. Know his enemy...fight his enemy.

With the last of his strength...the memory of soft hands on his body, a lover’s touch that fills him with remembered strength...Alva begins to fight.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 340
asinglewordwilldo: ([Emote] Shock)
She's sweet and innocent
too beautiful to leave alone
Draw you near to her
and crush you like she's made of stone
It's a war that we're heading for
and it starts here tonight
Wipe you clean like a memory
Put up a fight

Trouble On The Horizon )

Muse: Alva Keel
Words: 712
asinglewordwilldo: ([Emote] This Does *Not* Look Good...)
"Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed".

Fairy tales, ancient myths and’s the stuff of history, the color in what would otherwise be a dull and lifeless oral and written record of mankind’s life and times. Fables about monsters and epic heroes that are no more than fiction in the eyes of the general public...they’re entertainment for the innocent and unknowing masses.

These stories...historic myths from ancient cultures, the modern day cautionary flights of fancy known as urban legends...only those who have seen through the veil between this world and the one beneath our own know the truth behind these tales. They are neither fanciful nor fictional in nature, as a fairy tale is expected to be.

Rather, these stories are guidebooks to the world I live in...myself and those like me. The ancient tales of vampires and werewolves, the story of Pandora’s Box...even a typical campfire ghost story has its roots in the subculture of the supernatural. It’s out there, and it’s real...and it’s these supposedly fanciful stories that we at Sodalitas Quaerito collect and catalog with the utmost care.

We look for answers to questions that seemingly have none. We are the keepers of stories that are not ready to be heard...and I believe that is our most important job, because even in our circles there are myths and legends. Stories disproven, fairy tales that are said to be only that. Tracing those stories back to their origins, being certain that a certain evil does not exist to harm humanity...

That is our goal.


And if we had done our jobs better...if I had done my job better...Rory Gilmore would never have gotten hurt.


Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 281
asinglewordwilldo: ([Emote] Distressed)
Rick frowned thoughtfully as he stared at the piece of paper in his hands, turning it first one way then another. “I’ll admit...this is odd, and kinda disturbing, but I don’t understand exactly what has you so up in arms, old man.”

“It’s really quite simple, Rick.” Alva bit off quietly, taking the sheet from him. “This is a sign that something much larger and far darker may be afoot.”

Moving across the tiny office, Alva reached up slightly to pin the sheet to the whiteboard mounted on the wall. It was fairly innocuous on its own: a simple piece of green construction paper, the kind most often found in schoolrooms. The difference with this one was the message it bore.

Words that had appeared spontaneously during a fifth grade lesson that morning...words that had no place in a child’s classroom.


“This is more likely than not a sign from an angry spirit.” Alva went on, trying very hard not to let the icy fist of fear close over his heart. “And, as we all know, there ought not to be any angry spirits within the city limits of Stars Hollow.”

Rick’s features registered surprise, then understanding a moment later. “Jesus....I didn’t even think about that. My God...but I thought those magickal...things, the protections...I thought they were rock solid?”

“They were...are.” Alva replied, folding his arms as he faced the board. “So there are one of two possible explanations...either those wards are fading, which isn’t likely given the power that was poured into them...or that there’s something out there that’s managed to breach them.”

He was aware of Rick moving up alongside him to look at the scrap of paper, and for the first time Alva could feel Rick’s tension...not as a presence, but in its reality. He felt the concern, the fear, the cold finger of apprehension sliding down his spine.

For the first time, Alva was worried for more than his project...his supernatural utopia, perfectly preserved and ripe for research and study. Now, he was worried for his a man and a father, he was afraid that the darkest corners of the world had risen up to invade his new home and claim those he loved.

“Well,” Rick sighed, folding his own arms to mirror Alva, “I guess this means we just got our first real case...right, Boss?”

A moment passed before Alva sighed and nodded. “Yes...I just hope we can solve it before something other than a piece of paper is torn apart.”

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 440
asinglewordwilldo: ([Emote] That Certain Smile)
I’m a father…I’d say that significantly complicates my life. Not in a bad way, mind you…and perhaps that’s the most surprising thing of all.

It happened just a week ago…my daughter was born. A little girl…Carlen Lorelai Keel. She has hair as dark and eyes as blue as Lorelai’s, and it seems she has my mouth and chin.

It’s quite a surreal thing to look at another human being and know that they not only share your blood, your face, your everything…but that you created them. You put them here in the world to live.

I look at her, and I want nothing more than to hold the moment frozen for all eternity…just allowed to know that ultimate perfection of seeing such innocent beauty and knowing it belongs to me. When I hold her, though…

I want to lay my life at her tiny little feet. I’ve not seen a real angel before, but Carly…I believe she is the first. Perfect innocence, perfect love and beauty in such a small frame…

Lorelai calls me sentimental. I call it truth.

I love my fiancée with all my heart, and I love Rory, my soon to be stepdaughter beyond the telling of it. But Carly…she’s robbed me of my soul and made me glad of it. All I am, all I ever want to be belongs to her. If I could bring the moon down from the heavens and bring it to her doorstep, I would.

She has taken everything from me. She is my greatest weakness…and yet I’ve never been stronger than I have been since she was born. I would move mountains for her, but more importantly? I feel that I could.

I never planned on having a child. I never wanted a child before I met Lorelai, but when she told me she was carrying our daughter…it seemed so simple. But now that she’s here…

My world’s been turned on its ear by a tiny human being in ways I’m still trying to fathom. And as difficult as things might be in the future, given who I am…what I do…I couldn’t be happier.

Muse: Alva Keel
Words: 354
asinglewordwilldo: ([Emote] Distressed)
Nothing. Not a blessed thing. That’s what they’d find...that’s what they *did* find. All that was left was a sick bloke in his wheelchair, cut off from the world by a deadly and debilitating disease.

It happened shortly after Paul signed on with Sodalitas Quaerito...we crossed paths with a man in the medical profession. He was a leading expert and medical researcher well-versed on the subject of Sakovsky’s Syndrome. Unbeknownst to us at the time, he had a daughter that died of the disease. One of his patients showed a rather miraculous level of improvement, but ultimately it turned out that a demon had taken possession of the poor man.

I locked myself in a room with Sherwood Nicholls, although at the time it wasn’t Sherwood I was dealing with. There’s an apocalypse on the horizon, and I was face to face with a demon...I don’t know that he served any sort of master, or if that master was, in fact, the Devil. But darkness wanted to win this battle...and in the face of that demon, executing his machinations through the ravaged body of a sick, innocent man, I saw the heart of that darkness I was fighting.

I stood against my greatest enemy then...and though he offered me a world of temptation in just a few words, scored wounds in my soul that had yet to heal...I did what had to be done.

[locked from Lorelai and Rory]

It was no easy thing watching Sherwood, essentially, die. And it’s not something I’m proud of...knowing how far I can and will go. It’s not a side of myself I let show often, and it’s not a side I *ever* let show around...well, around my new family. Lorelai’s due any day now, and all I can think as of late...

I never want my wife and children to see my *truest* face.


Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 321
asinglewordwilldo: ([Investigating] Always Watching)
All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique. All artists, if they are to survive, are forced, at last, to tell the whole story; to vomit the anguish up. - James Baldwin

Well I certainly can’t say that I disagree. The whole purpose of art...truly *great* art, to offer up a slice of being, a piece of the soul for public consumption. It takes a strong individual to do something that bold, and a very damaged individual to do something that frighteningly mad.

Now I am no artist, but I am a consumer of such pieces of human detritus and spiritual exhibitionism, and to those who are made of sterner stuff than I, I say ‘good show’ and wait for Lorelai to stop laughing at my vernacular. And I honestly believe that it takes time to recognize truly great art...that’s why so many of the masters have died penniless and in disgrace. It takes the death of greatness for greatness to be realized, a sad fact about our strange little society.

I was fortunate enough, however, to locate a little slice of genius during a business trip recently...a rather unique piece of work that had all the revelation and heart that lacked some of the tragedy of loss. It wasn’t bright by any means, but it gave back rather than took away. It clung to that slice of self offered up, but somehow managed to hold nothing back from the reader. Yes, it was a book...and by an odd little twist of Fate, it was penned by someone I least indirectly.

I was in Wilmington, Delaware recently to investigate the occurrence of a tulpa when I made a side trip to Philadelphia in order to visit a colleague. While I was there, I happened into a local independent bookstore and picked up a copy of a book called THE SUBSECT. Very original, very well-written...entirely singular.

It wasn’t until I returned home and had Rory in stitches when I presented her with a copy that I realized why the author’s name was so familiar to me. Jess Mariano is actually *Rory’s* Jess...boy she dated in high school. She, obviously, already had a copy of the book, and seemed rather pleased that I enjoyed it so much. Given what I know now, it certainly explains a lot about the book after all I’ve heard Rory tell of him. He’s unquestionably talented, and from the way Rory speaks of him? Definitely worthy of my interest as her future stepfather.

She’s a big girl, I know...but she’s a special girl. And one day, she’ll be *my* girl. And I want to make sure this lad’s worthy of the light I saw him put in Rory Gilmore’s eyes.

Muse: Alva Keel
Words: 433
asinglewordwilldo: (That Certain Smile)
“...speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

Alva felt his breath catch...just for an instant, as he listened to the deafening silence of the small crowd gathered around the gazebo in the heart of Star’s Hollow.

The minister smiled. “Then, by the power vested in me by the state of Connecticut, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Alva grinned, watching as Rick moved forward and lifted Evelyn’s veil...then deftly pulled her close, dipped her, and kissed her soundly for the whole town to see. Off to the side, Alex rolled his eyes, covering his face with the ring pillow he’d been carrying.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please congratulate Mr. and Mrs. Rick O’Connell on the renewal of their vows!” the minister announced, eliciting a roar of applause and whistling from the people of Star’s Hollow.

From his place at Rick’s side, serving as best man, Alva applauded the couple enthusiastically. He thought it was rather fitting that the displaced archaeologists renew their vows in the present as a way to celebrate their wedding anniversary...a new start in a new time, as it were.

Gazing across the way, he watched Lorelai cheer the happy couple, standing at her own place as matron of honor. She was due in just a few weeks, but she was still a vision that made his heart ache and his stomach clench with a love and desire he’d never known in his lifetime. In just about a year, his life had grown, blossomed, and been turned inside out in ways he never thought possible...ways he never dreamed he could ever want.

But here it was...this woman carrying his child. This woman he was going to marry.

And as they stood at another couple’s renewal of their marriage vows, Alva had found himself silently reciting those vows along with Rick as he watched Lorelai. Already, he was making his promises...he was ready for this. And that notion scared him a little. How had he never known this about himself, that he could want such a simple life so badly?

Maybe it was the blending of worlds...a wife and a child as well as the pursuit of truth. He didn’t have to give one up to gain the other...not when he found the combination that just *fit.*

And as Rick and Evelyn walked back down the aisle, arm in arm, Alva imagined himself in Rick’s shoes, and Lorelai in Evie’s.

It was going to be a long few weeks to wait until the baby was born...and Alva couldn’t wait to marry the girl of his dreams.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 442
asinglewordwilldo: (Lorelai digs the black silk PJ's)
For the record, Lorelai, the only reason I’m not making this a private entry is due to the nature of the information contained herein...and the wealth of mocking ammunition it will provide you with. Never let it be said that I didn’t think of you, darling.

I lost my virginity in college during my freshman year. I was a bit on the bookish side, and not very popular. I was, however, pursuing a doctorate, and I had family I drew just enough attention to get invited to the really good parties, even if I didn’t have a date.

It was the final party of the semester where I met her. Her name was Millicent Pendleton...but everyone called her Muffy.

I’ll wait until you finish guffawing, Lorelai.

She was a sophomore, and a prominent member of the campus’s favorite sorority. She was every young man’s wet dream...curly blonde hair, thick and soft...bright blue eyes, and a fabulous body. Gave a whole new meaning to that phrase ‘dangerous curves.’

I also happened to know that she wasn’t a particularly nice girl, and actually made a bet with her girlfriends that she’d sleep with the first man she saw that night...I happened to be the lucky bloke.

So I did what any sane eighteen year old would do: I had a go, rid myself of a grossly unwanted physical condition, and used it as a good story at every available opportunity. I used the girl, yes, but back then in my mind it was totally justified. More the fool, her, at any rate. She thought she was having it off with me...well, I had a *very* good time that night in spite of her.

To be honest, the loss of my physical virginity isn’t much more than a funny anecdote, as I’m sure it is for many people. It’s awkward, humbling, and at its very best, somewhat embarrassing. Besides, sexual virginity has numerous levels, and that particular one is always the hardest to get through. I’m happy to say that a few years later, I truly fell in love for the first time, and found my first time with her far more memorable.

Still, I do owe dear Muffy a thing or two. Not only did she provide some much needed experience...but ever since she gave me my first lessons in love, I’ve always had something of a soft spot for women with particularly nice, curly hair. Yes, Lorelai, I’m still talking to you.

Muse: Alva Keel
Words: 421
asinglewordwilldo: (Lorelai digs the black silk PJ's)
And all the roads that lead to you were winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
I don't know how

“Keep it simple.”

Alva snorted softly, still staring at the notepad in front of him. “Bugger you. This is one occasion where I won’t get away with simple. No man can.”

Luke sighed in aggravation, a state that seemed to be a permanent one for him. “Look, Keel, I’m telling you right now: if you two are writing your vows, Lorelai will joke, jibe, and strike right through hers. She won’t know what to say, so she’ll just say what she feels. If you try to dress it up, you’re just going to make her feel guilty.”

“Excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhearing,” a sultry female voice interjected as Miss Patty stepped up to the counter with a dazzling smile at Alva, “but are you writing your own vows for the wedding?”

Alva glanced up finally, smiling at Miss Patty in return as he took her hand and kissed it gallantly. “Indeed you did, dearest Patricia.”

Patty preened at Alva’s attentions...just as she did when she got pretty much any special attention. “Such a charmer...ooh, you’re lucky Lorelai snatched you up first, or I’d be tempted to risk another marriage myself.”

Alva chuckled as he released her hand. “Thank truly flatter me.”

Patty chuckled again, then shook herself a bit. “Look at you, distracting me...I overheard you two talking and I have to agree with Luke, honey. If you and Lorelai are writing your own vows, just...write what you’d say. Just listening to you talk in that *accent* is pure poetry, Alva, and if you just tell her what’s in your heart? She’ll be absolutely touched.”

“Who’d have thought we’d agree on and Taylor’s second in command?” Luke deadpanned, earning him a humored look from Patty.

Alva could only smile at the both of them, then look down at his otherwise blank notepad. To write what he felt...the easiest, and the hardest thing he’d ever done. Everything about his relationship with Lorelai had been a study in contradictions...difficult and inevitable, sweet and painful, peaceful and tempestuous at turns. What they had was so complicated...but so blissfully simple at the same time.

And with that in mind, Alva took a sip of the tea Luke had just brought him, slipped his pen from his jacket pocket, and began to write.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 391
asinglewordwilldo: (Alva Phone)
"Those who live, live off the dead." - Antonin Artaud

We absolutely live off the dead, and in far more than simply a literal sense. Many animals in the wild eat their dead, and we are no better than they...granted, we may not eat the flesh, but as a people we feed on the essence of our dead...the mind, the heart, the soul.

We as human beings are natural emotional a man, and a scholar, I know this to be true. How often are the accomplishments and insight of the elite among us refuted and consigned to obscurity until the innovators have long since died? Why do we give such devoted attention to the words and wishes of the departed, otherwise?

My God...just look at the study of history...that entire field of academic study is the greatest symbol of Man’s existence as nothing more than a pack of vultures plucking meat straight off the bone. You need no other proof that we live in a world fueled by the remains of those who have gone before us. We take from them to ensure our own survival...we avoid the mistakes of our Custers and Lees, and we stand on the laurels of our Lincolns and Washingtons.

We do not feed on dead flesh, but dead souls. This is what sustains us...this is how we survive. Despite whatever grim imagery such a notion might produce, there’s very little wrong with it. All animals do what they must to survive...we are no exception.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 248
asinglewordwilldo: (That Certain Smile)
Key On Table )

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 733
asinglewordwilldo: (Alva Phone)
Well, like the man in the story posing a similar question to a group of seminary students, I’d finish my game of pool. Figuratively speaking, at any rate...that bloke only had an hour to live, and in this instance I’ve got a whole day to simply do as I please.

The point is, I’d do very little differently in that day, because I’ve been blessed with a rare gift among most men: I do exactly as I please each and every day already. I have nothing special I’d go out of my way to do. However, if you’d like particulars...

I’d do one thing special: I’d make the drive up to Connecticut, had I a day to do so outside of my weekends...I’m still living in Boston until the wedding, and until I’ve settled the future of the Boston office of Sodalitas Quaerito. I’d spend my day with Lorelai and Rory...and the baby, which Lorelai has begun insisting I address upon every meeting. Not that that’s a chore, mind you...I only wish she had decided to call it something other than Moon Doggie. She’ll feel the fool if it’s a girl, and frankly I’d prefer Gidget anyway...

Anyway, I’d spend my day with my family. Take the girls to Luke’s...enlist his aid in keeping Lorelai away from the caffeine...or go to Al’s House Of Pancakes depending on Lorelai’s cravings. In which case, I’d be utterly alone in wrestling the coffee away from my dear sweet fiancee.

Then I think I’d take the girls to Boston...take them shopping and happily watch them procure an impossible amount of shoes and clothing before we went back to my offices. Believe it or not, Lorelai likes it there. Rory’s in her element, but although she finds little interest in the rudimentary research, study, and overall paperwork involved with what I do, the supernatural element fascinates her to no end.

That’s where I’d like to spend my one day of my office, at my desk with a book in front of me and Lorelai standing behind me with her chin resting on the top of my head, arms around my shoulders while she gives me a running commentary on why the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse prophesied in Revelations ought to enlist professional wrestler Ric Flair to promote them.

I’d spend my day in the perfect place...and I’m fortunate that my perfect place is precisely where I am at this very moment.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 417
asinglewordwilldo: (Lorelai digs the black silk PJ's)
((NOTE: Takes place shortly after this post by [ profile] needmycoffee.))

The pain in her stare is drawing me shapes
oh, so fair.
The pain in her stare is making me wish I was there
with something to declare.

“Lorelai,’s nothing. ‘Tis but a scratch and all that.”

She’d appreciated the Monty Python reference, but let him have it for the bruised jaw he’d earned himself the day after arriving in town for what was becoming his customary weekend stay.

It started that night, simply enough. When Lorelai showed up at the Dragonfly that evening, she was feeling low...Alva could tell. He hadn’t know her very long, but he’d learned enough of her witticisms and humor to decipher the subtext in her jokes and gibes that she’d seen something unpleasant...and it had to do with her former fiancee and the woman he was now seeing.

Alva probably shouldn’t have taken that opportunity to go down to the diner and introduce himself...but her pain bothered him. A great deal.

“My name is Alva Keel...I’m currently dating your former fiancee.”

Alva had *almost* expected it when Luke punched him, not even bothering to come out from behind the counter to do it.

Alva was damn sure Luke hadn’t expected *him* to punch back, splitting his lip before grabbing him by the front of his filthy flannel shirt and nearly hauling him over the counter.

“You never get to do that again. You don’t get to protect her anymore...not when you’re hurting her so badly.”

There might have been more, but the look in Luke’s eyes shifted, albeit subtly. It was a understanding of the reality he was now living in.

“You English people like tea, right? I got some herbal, if you want...”

After that complimentary cup of tea, he’d left the diner and even shook Luke’s hand...he’d come for a little payback on Lorelai’s behalf, and walked away with a new respect for the man she had almost married...perhaps, in the long run, he’d even made himself a friend of Luke Danes.

Alva had taken up a mantle that night...the mantle of the one who would take care of her. Changing water bottles, doing repairs, listening to rants and tirades, and being available for Rory as needed.

The Gilmore girls were a hardy, independent duo...but when they stumbled, it was Alva’s job to catch them now. And he just prayed to God he was worthy of the task.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 416
asinglewordwilldo: (Default)
"We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us." - E.M. Forster

When I was teaching at Harvard, I often threw that quote at my students more than once during a semester. The ones that found it pretentious never stayed long...the ones that found it funny that I quoted a gay 19th century novelist who fell in love with a seventeen year old Middle Eastern boy usually made the best progress. It was the ones who took it to heart, though, that went on to truly great things.

You see, I offered it up in an effort to emphasize the fact that one must go into the world with an open mind and a desire for real truth, regardless of how fantastic truth might be. It could be religion, faith, science or bloody grocery shopping, but truth is truth, unchanging.

I had a rather lovely life planned out...well, planned out for me more than anything. Go to school, become a right by the Keel family name. But then I found Truth, with a capital ‘T,’ as Lorelai might say. Have I mentioned that I love you today, sweetheart? I found it on the moors while studying English ravens. My dead mother’s voice came to me in the midst of a tape recording of ravensong...and I let go of my safe little plan. It took some time, some work..and some fortitude, but I started on my path to Truth, and here I remain.

We all want a certain life for ourselves...but it’s not always the life we were born to live. A mathematician can aspire to dreams of being a poet, but his gifts will always take him back to the world of the concrete rather than the esoteric artist’s realm. A warrior may dream of peace, but one day, he will once again find himself in the heat of battle.

It’s not easy...but it’s the way things are. I know only this for certain...had I earned my medical degree and forged a nice little practice in Blackpool or London...I never would have gone to Star’s Hollow, and I never would have met Lorelai Gilmore.

She is the life that waits for me now...and I would not trade it for anything in all the world.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 374
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