Rhuit la Bato Rahani...
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Her voice.

Gods, her voice.

Do you have any idea how much it affects me, hearing that casual, smokey voice curling up at me from the phone, licking at my ear, reminding me of far too many good times, bad times, and everything in between?

Do you know how much I've MISSED that?

She's going to New Orleans... this does not surprise me, exactly, although I am certainly envious. She's going to walk the streets painted so clearly in Anne Rice's vampire books, in the sweet song "Bloodletting" by Concrete Blonde, in the delicious tale I just finished reading of emerald alcohol, a boy named Nothing, and a universe full of pain... she's going to be there.

This does not, as I said, surprise me in the slightest.

And her voice... I'd thought for sure I was remembering it wrong, how deep it is, how she manages to give everything a touch of humor and mystery, how she always sounds like she's purring...

...how she makes every word gleam like a hot coal.

I thought I'd built up some fantasy in my mind... and I still think I have, in part.

But damn...

*chuckles*

...it's GOOD to be home, you know. To feel at home again. I came back from Irene Radford's (went up there with Caleb, business, and rather unexpected business) feeling lousy, shaking, tired, trembling...

...and now I can't stop smiling. I feel as if everything is going to be ok.

Her voice.

Her.

Angel.

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