Title: Porcelain Memoirs
Date Posted: November 2004
Summary: A look at our favorite hara from an unusual point of view in Forever. I have tried to keep this not an AU, but I’m not sure how well I succeeded, so it might be kinda AU ish in spots. As to the point of view, read and see! Just don’t get too close. ^.~
Disclaimer: Wraeththu and all concepts, characters, etc, all belong to the wonderful Storm Constantine, who generously allows the fans to play in her world. Also, I’m making no money off of this and I don’t own anything, not even the Tigron’s silver and gold inlaid toilet paper holder.
Spoilers: I’ve also tried to keep this to a minimum, but there are some slight spoilers for all of the Wraeththu books, from Enchantments all the way through to Shades.
I have suffered much abuse in my existence; I’ve been thrown up upon, pissed upon, and shitted upon. But such is my lot in life, and a miserable, thankless existence it has been. Never even one courtesy flush!
There are few lots in life worse than that of a toilet, and, having been around for years, my friend, I can tell you all the soiled details many a human, har, cat and dog would prefer to stay permanently buried in my bowels.
I’m not as old as the stars or the moon; I was crafted towards the end of the reign of my creators – men, I believe they’re called. I was a grand thing in my younger days, shiny, freshly glazed white porcelain. Back then, humans sat upon me, then their children, and their children’s children, and the dogs – always the most courteous of all my users – drank out of my bowl while the young ones flushed toothbrushes, watches, and toys down me. One even tried to flush a cat once. I’ve been the eternal resting place of many a goldfish…
Then came the silence, and the whole huge house stilled, held its breath and aged gracefully. They they came. My rusted pipes were repaired, my glory restored, and I was sat upon once more. Never let anyhar tell you that they are better, far superior, to humans! What comes out is still the same, even though they like to believe it smells like roses.
Yes, many a har has sat upon me, and dogs drink out of me. One of the worst offenders was the new master of the house after the period of silence. Terzian’s life revolved around thinking and strategy, and many a plan had been hatched whilst sitting upon me. He used me one day, when he was all dressed in leather with weapons, and has never sat upon me again. Although an incredibly feeble, broken and wasted har visited me a few times, with assistance, before his death. That har felt just like Terzian, only a lot bonier, and he had the same posture, but surely they couldn’t be the same har. But, oh, how I shudder at the memories of that poor aim!
Another unpleasant period was when the thin, light one, Cobweb, who once removed some fresh water from the back of my tanks and mixed it with some other things in a small, blue vial, became heavy with child. He was never as heavy as a human female, nor for as long – unless I’ve grown rusty and merely forgotten the human gestation period – but he visited with me often during that time, sometimes shitting, occasionally sharing the contents of his stomach.
Then things returned to normal for a while, and soon little Swift was being trained to use me like the adults. This process, like his hostling’s hosting time, was nowhere near as long or as messy as humans, and Swift was a neat little creature indeed. His dog, Limba, was another matter entirely. The poor house har who cleans the bathroom knew well the dog’s slobbery calling card.
For a while, I had to endure the chaos of Gahrazel, who often clung to me in a drunken stupor after many a time of sneaking out to party. Then one day he went away, like Terzian, but he never came back.
Then, there was the har Calanthe, whom I got to know intimately well during his time of mental illness, and who carried Terzian’s second child. That time was much worse than when Cobweb had carried Swift. Tyson himself is no better than his hostling. Swift was a good little harling, and Tyson was his opposite. I’ve never had such a wide variety of things flushed down me. To this day, tiahaar Seel’s toothbrush often takes a swim.
Speaking of Swift’s mate, a more meticulous har I’ve yet had the misfortune to be used by. I swear to the great dehar of toilets everywhere that he counts the squares before ripping the paper! His hosting was no picnic, either!
And of Forever’s high-ranking visitors from the most glamorous tribe of all? Pah! They’re the same as everyhar else. Pristine Pellaz isn’t as pure and sweet-smelling as he’d have everyhar believe. By the sacred waters of the Holy Latrine, I hope he’s never with pearl! I pity the poor toilet he’ll use. And it’ll be me, I just know it.
It’s bad enough the messes of Azriel and his chesnari, Aleeme. They used to be such neat young hara! Seel always has been too strict with poor little Azriel, even when he was a baby potty training. And sweet Aleeme was always as nice as his hostling.
But now something terrible has happened to them. They were sick for a long, long time, and still are. Oh, the messes they make, even with somehar there to help them! How hard, really, is it to aim? Is a little consideration too much to ask?
Now that you’ve heard my plight, tiahaar, prove that you truly are better than the humans! Remember: Aim! Put the lid down! Flush after every use! Keep little harlings well away! And make sure your slobbery dogs have a bib when drinking!