Calling in Cizerack

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Stage I

DENIAL





06:00

beep...beep...beep...beep...

The Siren Nemesis. Enemy of dreams. Destroyer of serenity. What was she doing at Luke Skywalker's birthday party? They hadn't even brought out the cake. The Naked Zeltron Caberet Revue was nice filler, to be sure. But Cirrsseeto was here for cake. Delicious, glorious cake. Enough cake for everyone, baked as a scale replica of an X-Wing. It was worth waiting through the Jedi Magician show, and even the aforementioned Naked Zeltron Caberet Revue. There was never enough cake, but today there would be enough!

beep...beep...beep...beep...

And yet She was here. Singing that same shrill, off-tune song. Who even invited her? Even Palpatine was behaving and had even put on festive party attire. But She never behaved. It was always the same song over and over and over again, relentlessly assailing the suspension of disbelief. Luke Skywalker couldn't stop her and neither could the Emperor. And not even forty four topless Zeltrons in feather plume hats and knee boots. Cirrsseeto sighed. Why did he always have to save the day?

Wearily, the guest of honor rose from the table, unsheathing his vorpal sword. It glowed a brilliant white. He took aim at the Siren, and plunged the blade straight into her heart.

beep...beep...click.

Cirrsseeto's fumbling, sluggish finger found the snooze button on the alarm clock, silencing it as he rolled over in bed with a grumble.

Not today, Siren. Not today.

[Lyanie Quez]

Oh, not today, Siren. Not today... Oh, wishful thinking.

Bleary eyes cracked open, eyelids pulling out of the crust of sleep like a too-thick film of glue being peeled from fingers, with none of the experimentation or curiosity. The beep-beep-beep, more like a shock of ice than a lapping stream, yanked her into the waking world against her will; a fight she conceded more mornings than she liked... and then the beeping stopped with a click, a deflating click that delayed any imaginings of progress from under the sheets. A sigh wooshed out of her, and she lifted her head, then an arm over the edge of him to stare at the clock and blinking, the electric streaks of green light that assembled the numbers making no sense for moment after moment. She squeezed her eyes shut, and refocused, trying again.

06:01

Lyanie groaned, chin settling in on his arm as the processes of routine and motivation began to rev up, the same old thing brewing in her head, on her tongue, in her muscles:

"Cirr? Honey?"

She sounded half-asleep.

"Time to get up."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"Uh huh."

Although it could have just been a nonsensical sigh rather than any words signaling affirmative. Cirrsseeto pulled at his covers, but in a way to cover more and not less. Somewhere between REM sleep and states of waking, he purred in expectation of falling back into oblivion again.