{"id":2898,"date":"2018-04-17T16:32:54","date_gmt":"2018-04-17T20:32:54","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.beydeckard.com\/blog\/?p=2898"},"modified":"2022-07-23T10:53:40","modified_gmt":"2022-07-23T14:53:40","slug":"the-wanderer-part-two","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-two\/","title":{"rendered":"The Wanderer &#8211; Part Two"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p><em>Author\u2019s Note:<br>This is an unedited, ongoing serial that will  eventually be published in novel form. Plot\/characters\/elements are  subject to change as it is being written. It\u2019s currently in 1st  person\/present tense, but I may change it to past tense, excluding the first chapter which will act as an intro. <strong>Read at your own discretion and take note of story tags below<\/strong>.<\/em><br><br><strong>Genre:<\/strong> Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi <br><strong>Tags: <\/strong>prostitution, graphic sex, large age gap, violence, theft, drug\/alcohol abuse, depression, rape, gang rape, cannibalism, murder, incest, child\/infant death and abuse, general abuse, (more to be added as the story goes)<\/p>\n\n\n<ul id=\"menu-wanderer\" class=\"menu\"><li id=\"menu-item-4605\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4605\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-1\/\">Part One<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4606\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4606\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-two\/\">Part Two<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4607\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4607\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-three\/\">Part Three<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4608\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4608\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-four\/\">Part Four<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4609\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4609\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-five\/\">Part Five<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4610\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4610\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-six\/\">Part Six<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4611\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4611\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-seven\/\">Part Seven<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4612\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4612\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-eight\/\">Part Eight<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4613\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4613\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-nine\/\">Part Nine<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4614\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4614\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-ten\/\">Part Ten<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4615\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4615\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-eleven\/\">Part Eleven<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4616\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4616\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-twelve\/\">Part Twelve<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4617\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4617\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-thirteen\/\">Part Thirteen<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4618\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4618\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-fourteen\/\">Part Fourteen<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4619\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4619\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-fifteen\/\">Part Fifteen<\/a><\/li>\n<li id=\"menu-item-4620\" class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4620\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-sixteen\/\">Part Sixteen<\/a><\/li>\n<\/ul>\n\n\n\n<hr class=\"wp-block-separator has-css-opacity\"\/>\n\n\n\n<p>The only thing in front of me is a huge field of red and it takes five groggy seconds to realize I\u2019m looking at the insides of my eyelids. It hurts like hell to scrape away the caked dust, and when I finally manage to pry my eyes open, the lids part like I\u2019m tearing open a wound. I can\u2019t hold back, but my throat\u2019s so parched my cry sounds like a death rattle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Blinking, I try to figure out what I\u2019m seeing beyond my bloodied fingertips, but it doesn\u2019t make a lick of sense. My vision\u2019s murky\u2014like I\u2019m peering through a jar of cloudy piss\u2014but it looks like there\u2019s a whole lot of distance between me and the ground\u2026 which doesn\u2019t seem likely since I can feel the dirt under my cheek.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I squint and freeze when I finally recognize what I\u2019m staring at: the cliff wall opposite. I\u2019m lying on the very edge of a yawning chasm, my face an inch from the void. Lifting my head slowly, I can barely make out the blurry, jagged rocks below.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019d been plodding along for hours, trying to out-walk the dust storm, blind in the stinging yellow cloud, and I must have collapsed. I\u2019m damn lucky I didn\u2019t go over the cliff.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Or am I<\/em>? It could have meant an end to my purgatory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Groaning, I turn with some difficulty onto my back. I can never decide whether I\u2019m still alive because I\u2019m too much of a coward to end it, or because I don\u2019t think I deserve such an easy escape.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019ve got my eyes closed again. I can\u2019t help it. I\u2019m fucking exhausted and my eyeballs feel sticky. Blinking is becoming impossible. Maybe it\u2019s the end after all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>+++<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019m rocking slowly. Voices\u2026 overlapping.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCareful with his head\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWatch it\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cTake it slow, Jessup. Watch your step\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cDoesn\u2019t he look like\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201c<em>No<\/em>, it can\u2019t be\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI think it is, I think it\u2019s the\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I struggle to sit up, but I can\u2019t open my eyes. They\u2019re glued shut again. A cool hand touches my arm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s all right, friend. Peace.\u201d The voice is male. Young. Another hand presses my shoulder. I hear a whimper and recognize it as my own. My skin feels like it\u2019s been tenderized. I\u2019m too tired to do anything except lay back down again and let them carry me away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>+++<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The sun wakes me up and for a few moments I have no idea where I am. Then, I remember the voices and I frown. <em>Peace<\/em>. I\u2019m not sure I know what that means anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019m in some sort of small round tent. The walls are brown canvas and the ground is bare beneath an orange and yellow braided rug, the same kind they sell to tourists on every shitty planet I\u2019ve been to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019m lying on a rickety, narrow cot, but it\u2019s the softest thing I\u2019ve slept on in weeks. My eyes still sting, the lids raw and gummy, and my mouth is as dry as a desert, but it looks like I\u2019m going to live.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The tent flap opens, and I\u2019m blinded by the light\u2014the figure beyond is nothing but a dark blob until it enters and the canvas falls close behind it. When my vision clears, and I see who my visitor is, I sigh and rub my sore, sandblasted face, squeezing my eyes shut despite the pain. Just my luck\u2026 seems I\u2019ve been rescued by a damned cult\u2014the man\u2019s a Disciple of Rime. But, truthfully, as far as cults go on Chornoboh-7, Rimers are probably the best I could have hoped for. For one, I know they didn\u2019t drag my sorry corpse out of the wastelands just so they could eat me\u2014cannibals, they are not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHow are you feeling?\u201d he asks, his voice gentle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I crack my lids open again and peer at him. \u201cWater,\u201d I rasp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOf course,\u201d he says and calls over his shoulder to someone standing outside. He looks no more than sixteen, but it\u2019s impossible to tell how old Rimers are. The drugs they take to give them visions make them appear younger. They tend to be on the short side and their skin looks youthful, cheeks rosy and faces unlined. Though I figure the cultist seated in the tent is probably not as young as he looks, he can't be very old either. Rimers don\u2019t live past thirty\u2014the drugs that show them God and keep them young also kill them over time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The Rimer takes the small copper cup he\u2019s given and slides his hand under my head to help me drink. I immediately start to cough\u2014ironically, the water is <em>too wet<\/em> for my mouth and throat. It takes me three tries to swallow one mouthful and then I\u2019m only given the little that\u2019s left in the cup.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMore,\u201d I demand, but the man shakes his head and settles me back on the cot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019ll get more later. I promise,\u201d he says with a serene smile. \u201cIt\u2019s best not to rush it. You were out there a long time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Eyes closed, I sigh my frustration. I know he\u2019s right\u2014I\u2019ll be sick if I drink too much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re him, aren\u2019t you?\u201d he asks after a moment. \u201cYou\u2019re\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I stop him with a growl. \u201cI\u2019m no one.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI am <em>no one<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I imagine by his silence that I\u2019ve either shocked or cowed him, but then he lets out a soft chuckle. \u201cAll right, friend. As you say. But, you can call me Pytre.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWell, Pytre, either come here and suck my dick or leave me the hell alone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019m being crude on purpose\u2014Rimers take their celibacy vows seriously\u2014but it\u2019s not because I have a problem with their religiosity. I don\u2019t care enough to give a shit one way or another. I just said it because I figure it\u2019s a sure-fire way to get him out of the tent. I\u2019m in pain and pain makes me cranky. I\u2019ve also been feeling sorry for myself for so long that good intentions sometimes feel like a personal attack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I open my eyes, wondering if Pytre has somehow fled without my hearing him, and see he\u2019s just standing there, watching me, his brow wrinkled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>With his head shaved to the skin, his big ear stick out like cup handles, but he has a nice-enough face\u2014regular, inoffensive features with a pair of large, long-lashed hazel eyes that are <em>just<\/em> pretty enough to bump him past plain. The kind of earnest face I can never say no to, regardless of whether I have to pay for it or not. When he still hasn\u2019t moved, I squeeze my cock through my pants and sneer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s not going to suck itself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019m talking out of my ass, of course. Even if he <em>was<\/em> game and I could manage to get it up in my enfeebled state, I should probably hang onto the precious little liquid I have left in my body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Indifferent to my taunts, Pytre just ducks his chin and says \u201cI\u2019ll be back in a little while with more water. Try to rest,\u201d in a kind voice before leaving me alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Unflappable son of a bitch.<\/em> I turn over carefully on my side to get more comfortable and notice something: I\u2019m curious about Pytre.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I can\u2019t remember the last time I was actually curious about anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>+++<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The next two days I spend sleeping and drinking as much liquid as my body will allow. Pytre visits me twice as often as the others\u2014the way they defer to him makes me believe he\u2019s either in charge or close to it. One thing\u2019s for certain, he\u2019s definitely not the fresh-faced sixteen-year-old his appearance would have you believe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>By day three, I\u2019m allowed a meal I can chew and fuck if it isn\u2019t glorious. It\u2019s only some stew with chunks of protein in it, but I\u2019m in pure heaven. When I\u2019m nearly done, Pytre pokes his head into the tent to see how I\u2019m getting along.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHey, tell you what\u2026 I\u2019ll suck <em>your<\/em> cock, if you give me another bowl of this,\u201d I say, my spirits buoyed by the meal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Surprising me again, Pytre just chuckles and enters, settling himself down cross-legged on the rug to watch me finish my stew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019ve had to reassess my impression of him. He\u2019s better looking than I gave him credit for\u2026 but maybe I\u2019m so swayed by his generosity that my dick\u2019s giving me rose-tinted glasses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201c<em>Padre<\/em>, you\u2019ve got a great set of lips on you,\u201d I say, then burp against the back of my hand. \u201cHas anyone ever told you that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pytre lets out a laugh. \u201cNot that I recall.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYeah\u2026 they\u2019d look great wrapped around my cock.\u201d Shit, I don\u2019t know why I\u2019m talking this way. It\u2019s like it\u2019s become my mission to get a rise out of him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSince you\u2019re feeling so ah\u2026 <em>lively<\/em>, you should come outside and take in a little fresh air,\u201d Pytre says with his usual serene smile, but when he turns to push the tent flap open, I notice he\u2019s flushed. Or at least I think so.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Carefully, I get to my feet, feeling a bit wobbly, and ignore the hand he holds out to assist me as I duck through the low opening. Instantly, my eyes begin to water. The sun is stronger and clearer than I\u2019ve ever seen it, though maybe it\u2019s just because I\u2019ve been holed up in a tent for days. Wiping my streaming eyes, I look around in amazement at all the green I\u2019m surrounded by.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHow\u2026\u201d I manage, shaking my head. \u201cBut, <em>where<\/em> are you getting the water?\u201d I\u2019m absolutely stunned. Chornoboh-7 is supposed to be a barren moon, but the field of vegetation must be three, maybe four acres across. I turn and raise a hand to shade my face. It\u2019s green as far as the eye can see in the other direction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWe sacrifice a virgin to Rime on the first of every month and he grants us rain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Startled, I look over at the cultist but he\u2019s just staring out over the field looking completely at peace with himself. After a moment, Pytre glances over at me, and his youthful face cracks into a mischievous smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWe have a trade deal with the Argonaus Station for wastewater,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou made a joke.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m known to do that on occasion.\u201d His expression turns serious. \u201cCome, you should lie down. I don\u2019t want you to tire yourself out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Instead of a quip about how I\u2019d <em>like<\/em> to tire myself out, I accept his arm for support.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Maybe it\u2019s the millions of green leaves waving in the wind around us or maybe Pytre\u2019s unrelenting friendliness is getting to me, I don\u2019t know\u2026 but something\u2019s changed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<hr class=\"wp-block-separator has-css-opacity\"\/>\n\n\n<ul id=\"menu-wanderer-1\" class=\"menu\"><li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4605\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-1\/\">Part One<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4606\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-two\/\">Part Two<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4607\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-three\/\">Part Three<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4608\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-four\/\">Part Four<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4609\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-five\/\">Part Five<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4610\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-six\/\">Part Six<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4611\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-seven\/\">Part Seven<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4612\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-eight\/\">Part Eight<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4613\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-nine\/\">Part Nine<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4614\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-ten\/\">Part Ten<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4615\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-eleven\/\">Part Eleven<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4616\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-twelve\/\">Part Twelve<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4617\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-thirteen\/\">Part Thirteen<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4618\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-fourteen\/\">Part Fourteen<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4619\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-fifteen\/\">Part Fifteen<\/a><\/li>\n<li class=\"menu-item menu-item-type-custom menu-item-object-custom menu-item-4620\"><a href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-sixteen\/\">Part Sixteen<\/a><\/li>\n<\/ul>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The only thing in front of me is a huge field of red and it takes five groggy seconds to realize I\u2019m looking at the insides of my eyelids. It hurts like hell to scrape away the caked dust, and when I finally manage to pry my eyes open, the lids part like I\u2019m tearing open a wound. I can\u2019t hold back, but my throat\u2019s so parched my cry sounds like a death rattle. Blinking, I try to figure out what I\u2019m seeing beyond my bloodied fingertips, but it doesn\u2019t make a lick of sense. My vision\u2019s murky\u2014like I\u2019m peering &#8230; <\/p>\n<p class=\"read-more-container\"><a title=\"The Wanderer &#8211; Part Two\" class=\"read-more button\" href=\"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-part-two\/#more-2898\" aria-label=\"Read more about The Wanderer &#8211; Part Two\">Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":2902,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"generate_page_header":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[72],"tags":[71,143,557,788],"class_list":["post-2898","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-beys-tales-writing-2","tag-beys-tales","tag-sci-fi","tag-serial","tag-wanderer"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/04\/yellow-moon.jpg?fit=1200%2C848&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4sexs-KK","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":1215,"url":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/and-now-were-gone-gone-gone\/","url_meta":{"origin":2898,"position":0},"title":"And now we&#8217;re gone, gone, gone&#8230;","author":"Bey","date":"July 9, 2015","format":false,"excerpt":"Eyes on mine in the dark; hand outstretched.C'mere, love.I press my face into the hollow of your shoulder;Respite. Sanctuary. A place to hide.I'm here now.You feel like a promise kept, like a tearful smile,And I can finally drift away.","rel":"","context":"In &quot;Bey's Tales&quot;","block_context":{"text":"Bey's Tales","link":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/category\/writing-2\/beys-tales-writing-2\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/cup-broken.jpg?fit=512%2C290&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":2423,"url":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/orbiting-again\/","url_meta":{"origin":2898,"position":1},"title":"Orbiting Again","author":"Bey","date":"January 30, 2017","format":false,"excerpt":"The worst nights are the best nights. Nights where you\u2019re at my side, where we are wicked and roguish, smiles sharing secrets, arm in arm, where it\u2019s you and me against the world. Nights where the heat of your skin warms me, where we move slow and sweet, your eyes\u2026","rel":"","context":"In &quot;Bey's Tales&quot;","block_context":{"text":"Bey's Tales","link":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/category\/writing-2\/beys-tales-writing-2\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/coat-t.png?fit=800%2C317&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/coat-t.png?fit=800%2C317&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/coat-t.png?fit=800%2C317&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/coat-t.png?fit=800%2C317&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":5007,"url":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/made-pure\/","url_meta":{"origin":2898,"position":2},"title":"Made Pure","author":"Bey","date":"December 27, 2022","format":false,"excerpt":"Just a quick update to the story Made Pure. I'm about halfway done... ish. It might go longer. Anyway, mind the TWs.","rel":"","context":"In &quot;Bey's Tales&quot;","block_context":{"text":"Bey's Tales","link":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/category\/writing-2\/beys-tales-writing-2\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":847,"url":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/past-imperfect\/","url_meta":{"origin":2898,"position":3},"title":"Past Imperfect","author":"Bey","date":"November 30, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"I\u00a0spend my nights sharpening my soul on the whetstone of dark desire I pour the contents of myself into moulds that wear each other's skin like cloaks against the coming storm","rel":"","context":"In &quot;Bey's Tales&quot;","block_context":{"text":"Bey's Tales","link":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/category\/writing-2\/beys-tales-writing-2\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":1597,"url":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/stowaways\/","url_meta":{"origin":2898,"position":4},"title":"Stowaways","author":"Bey","date":"February 21, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"Let's hide beneath the sheets;Crisp, cool cottonCocoons our bodies' heat.Eyes closed, lips parted;My breath for yours,Yours for mine.Twined limbs, selfish hands;Quiet hearts, shared minds.Let's stow away in stolen time.","rel":"","context":"In &quot;Bey's Tales&quot;","block_context":{"text":"Bey's Tales","link":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/category\/writing-2\/beys-tales-writing-2\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/07\/Screen-Shot-2014-08-16-at-2.40.42-PM.png?fit=839%2C456&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/07\/Screen-Shot-2014-08-16-at-2.40.42-PM.png?fit=839%2C456&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/07\/Screen-Shot-2014-08-16-at-2.40.42-PM.png?fit=839%2C456&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/07\/Screen-Shot-2014-08-16-at-2.40.42-PM.png?fit=839%2C456&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":1107,"url":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/damned-dreams\/","url_meta":{"origin":2898,"position":5},"title":"Damned Dreams","author":"Bey","date":"May 4, 2015","format":false,"excerpt":"Whiskey-burn kisses Fuel the hurt in your eyes. Can't stop it, can you? The fear, the hate, the self-loathing; You mark my skin with the bruises No one can see under yours.","rel":"","context":"In &quot;Bey's Tales&quot;","block_context":{"text":"Bey's Tales","link":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/category\/writing-2\/beys-tales-writing-2\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/cup-broken.jpg?fit=512%2C290&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2898","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2898"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2898\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4603,"href":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2898\/revisions\/4603"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2902"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2898"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2898"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2898"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}