She held the world between her hands, her rough and callused hands, the way she held clay on the wheel. She curled her fingers over its gritty surface, and watched it spin itself away into oblivion.

As it spun, she molded it, shaped it, changed it, and in doing so, changed herself. She became the world and all things in it; she became the wheel and the clay and the hands that lifted up the sides in a graceful arc.

And lo, I have taken something useless and made something beautiful, as she threw the clay of the world into a cup to catch the tears of the universe.

And then the dream ended, but perhaps it had only just begun, as things are won't to do when they have yet to be finished. She opened her eyes, and was still the world and the universe and every tear ever shed; she opened her eyes to golden sunshine that was only light reflecting off the curtains.

Beneath the curtains and tapestries and soft satin coverings, machines hummed to themselves and to the Sleeper on the bed. She was dreaming still, because he was now Awake.

And he could only be Awake in her dreams, because she'd been waiting so long and had given up hope to the point where she had never wanted to have this dream again.

It hurt too much. It always had and always would and she would curse the dreaming forever and ever until the world caved in on itself. The dreaming had destroyed them all.

But he was Awake. And she recognized him twice.

"Retribution."

"Where is my follower?"

"Dead and gone beyond the dreaming, as you should know, else you'd never have named her yours."

"We are all dead and gone, then. The dreamer?"

"I have served Retribution's cause. Your cause."

"I had another name, once."

"I am dreaming, and you are lying, because he is dead. You turned me into a monster and destroyed one of the core concepts of reality all for your petty revenge."

"Nemesis was a goddess; she chose me to deal out Her retribution. Revenge dealt in Her name and for Her purpose can hardly be called petty."

"Why is Entropy gone, then? It was unnecessary! You destroyed her for no reason, no reason at all!"

"...I had another name once, and you were more than just a tool for Her purpose."

"Stop changing the subject! This is another dream, another fucking dream- I want to wake up! I never want to dream again, damn you! Never!"

His eyes were dark and his skin still paler than it had been on many a starlit night on the grass of their amphitheatre. His voice was still refined and his gaze still piercing. But too much had changed for her to ever believe in reality again.

"Anya. That was your name. Anya Udacha, from Mir. I met you at a concert, and played my guitar. And I asked you to marry me and we made love under a birch tree at the top of a hill and you said yes. And then I fell into the dreaming. Your name was Anya, and you were a Somnist in training and I...I was..."

"Stop." She was begging but his eyes were turned inwards, remembering what was most painful to her. "Stop, I want to wake up."

"I was called Zacharias Mandhatri, and I loved you more than I ever would have thought possible. And you called my name on the dreamsea but I could not answer because She had already taken me. I was called Zacharias Mandhatri, until I fell into the dreaming. And you loved me back, because you wore my ring and whispered in my ear and cried when I left."

There was wonder in his eyes, to counter the tears in hers. "Anya? Anya, lyuba, stop that crying. It's over. You're awake."

"No, no, you lie, I'll never wake up again, I'm lost in the storm and this is all a dream..."

He stood, testing legs that had been unused for months. "Anya, Anya, beautiful Anya, Nemesis' best beloved daughter- She releases you, and you are awake. We are awake together, don't you see?"

"Not now, not after so long, it isn't possible, I'll drown here forever..."

"Anya. Look at me."

She could not look away; she could never look away. "Z-zach?"

"Come on, Anya. It's over. It's finally over."

She was dreamblind, and the thought frightened her more than anything else; the world was slipping through her fingers and would shatter onthe floor. "Zach."

"Yes. Let's go home. To Toby and Jane and Leto. They're waiting for us. We're finally awake." He still smiled the way he used to, still made her love him without any effort at all.

"Home?" She'd been lost for so long. "But...I can't go home now."

"Anya, Anya- Beloved Annie. Believe. Believe as I always have, in your own abilities. Let's go home."

She had no choice but to follow him to the door- she had already followed him to hell and back, what was a trip to the door? She would follow him anywhere.

She slid her hand into his, and felt the familiar guitar calluses and the comforting warmth of his palm and felt her fear melt away like a flashflood on the dreamsea. He smiled at her, that brilliant smile she had lived for, once. Maybe it really was over, and she could finally go home. It had been so long since she'd seen home.

He took hold of the doorknob and looked at her, his face shining with the love she'd been without for so long. Her smile grew a bit bolder, and she nodded. It was time to go home.

And when he opened the doorway, there was nothing but light.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There's something so absolutely lovely about the word 'fuck'. An amazing word, it really is. Aside from it's versatility (noun, verb, adjective all at once) and it's usefulness, it has an aesthetically pleasing simplicity to it that begs to be used as often as possible.

Go on, give it a whirl.

Fuck. Lovely word, no? Fuck fuck fuck. And you can alter it to make it even better! Fuckity Fuck. Fucktacular. Fucktastic. Fucktabulous.

...I don't even fucking know anymore. My head isn't screwed on properly, my brains aren't sewed in properly, and everything falls apart.

I hate feeling helpless, and I hate the power coincidence holds over my life.

Rather funny, since I believe fate to be the only deity worth mentioning most of the time

O, Fortuna;
All the saints and angels
staged a revolution
And god was cast down
into hell
where Satan chose
to forgive him.

I really do need to stop doing this at vaguely blasphemous hours of the morning. The snippet is DDD, my 2001 NaNoWriMo novel; unfinished, but over 50000 words. That would be the ending. A shame I don't know any of the plot.

I always did like writing Anya, though. Such a tortured little girl...

I get weird when I'm this tired...i'm turning into Tom. *sigh* Good night...