Post by Tam on Nov 14, 2011 13:02:12 GMT -5
In Tamialand, one day is 120 hours long. >.>;
they are cats!
lol i am kind of in love with ealhdun
the kind of love that makes me want to punch him in the face a little
OMG HE'S LIKE COYOTE
HA. xD This is funny. This is exceedingly funny. It is awesome, in that I love Coyote and he's incredibly fun, so thank you <3 — but also funny in that I have another character who I'm assuming will be way more of a Coyote ripoff than Ealhdun, so this story is going to be like... up to its metaphorical neck in Coyotes. Yes. This is probably a bad thing but for some reason it still fills me with glee to contemplate.
<3 "They are cats." Naturally.
I think I love your fae. <3 I mean, your fairies, whatever, irrelevant, I just love 'em. <3 They make me want to write fae. This is handy.
(Also Damien's father is scary.)
(Also, keep on doing your writing and being awesome and excerpt-posting and yes. <3 Didn't say that before. SAYING IT NOW. I am reading this with avidness. Avidness with bonus eager. Bonus eager and glee.)
<3! I am glad! Because honestly I thought they might be a little too odd. Almost more into the realm of adorably clueless aliens than the realm of vicious ancient spirits of the earth. I've written fae before, but they've never come out like this. It is very strange.
Yessss. Good. This is good. Because he is creepsome and terrible.
*hugs* ...Thank you. <3 I really appreciate it. And I think I really needed to reread that comment today, because over the last week I've been getting more and more "WHAT'S THE USE" and "I should stop. I should really really stop." because things don't seem to be coming out as pretty and clever and interesting as I wanted them to be, and this is probably mostly just normal Week 2 NaNo angst, but last year was just so easy and I'm destroying myself by comparing this story to that one. But I'm going to keep going anyway. Because I can't not.
...So yes, thank you. =D Very much.
And oh yes excerpts! That is a thing. That is a thing that I can do, isn't it.
Um
This scene really wasn't supposed to run some sort of strange Twilight parallel when I wrote it, but the connection is rather hilarious.
lol i am kind of in love with ealhdun
the kind of love that makes me want to punch him in the face a little
OMG HE'S LIKE COYOTE
HA. xD This is funny. This is exceedingly funny. It is awesome, in that I love Coyote and he's incredibly fun, so thank you <3 — but also funny in that I have another character who I'm assuming will be way more of a Coyote ripoff than Ealhdun, so this story is going to be like... up to its metaphorical neck in Coyotes. Yes. This is probably a bad thing but for some reason it still fills me with glee to contemplate.
I think I love your fae. <3 I mean, your fairies, whatever, irrelevant, I just love 'em. <3 They make me want to write fae. This is handy.
(Also Damien's father is scary.)
(Also, keep on doing your writing and being awesome and excerpt-posting and yes. <3 Didn't say that before. SAYING IT NOW. I am reading this with avidness. Avidness with bonus eager. Bonus eager and glee.)
<3! I am glad! Because honestly I thought they might be a little too odd. Almost more into the realm of adorably clueless aliens than the realm of vicious ancient spirits of the earth. I've written fae before, but they've never come out like this. It is very strange.
Yessss. Good. This is good. Because he is creepsome and terrible.
*hugs* ...Thank you. <3 I really appreciate it. And I think I really needed to reread that comment today, because over the last week I've been getting more and more "WHAT'S THE USE" and "I should stop. I should really really stop." because things don't seem to be coming out as pretty and clever and interesting as I wanted them to be, and this is probably mostly just normal Week 2 NaNo angst, but last year was just so easy and I'm destroying myself by comparing this story to that one. But I'm going to keep going anyway. Because I can't not.
...So yes, thank you. =D Very much.
And oh yes excerpts! That is a thing. That is a thing that I can do, isn't it.
Um
I think I deserve some sort of medal for managing to stay silent until we had returned to the street level and stepped out of the lift.
"You have questions," said General Robinson as I took a few steps into the alley and stood stock still in the darkness, brain whirring. "That's good. You should ask them."
"I don't have a clue what's going on or why you took me down there," I blurted, a bit louder than I had intended. I forgot to call him 'sir' or 'General', but he didn't stop me. "But why the hell did he know who my father is?"
"Well, your father is a very important person," said the mild voice of the general from nearby.
"The colonel said he'd been down there a week ago."
"More like implied."
"Why would my father be visiting some secret bunker?" I pressed. "He works for the Ministry of Affairs, not the military."
"I think," mused the general, "it might be just about time for you to educate yourself about what your father's job actually entails."
I boggled in the silence for a moment, trying to get my thoughts in order. The question that came out next was not the one I had been expecting.
"Who are you?"
"Who am I?" The general's voice sounded almost painfully surprised. "Please don't tell me you've forgotten again. I'm General Charles Robinson of His Majesty's Armed Forces. We met in Elysian Garden just the other night."
"That's not what I meant and you know it," I said. My tongue was running wild while my brain was distracted, and in retrospect the unfriendly tone I was taking with the man was not exactly well-advised. But keeping my tongue in check has never been one of my strong points. The long minutes of sitting with my mouth shut that I had been forced to endure while we were underground were taking their toll on my patience.
"You know my name, even though I never introduced myself," I continued. "You know where I live and where I go to school. You know who my father is too — mind you from the looks of it, half the city does and I shouldn't be too surprised. Normally I might just think you had an unhealthy interest in nineteen-year-old boys..." I trailed off, suddenly unsure. "Actually, I still do think you have an unhealthy interest in nineteen-year-old boys, but I have a feeling there's more to it than that."
The general laughed, sounding genuinely amused. "Your reasoning is solid, boy. Rest assured that I am not at all interested in the majority of nineteen-year-old boys. Just you."
"I'm not particularly assured," I said with a frown. "Nor am I restful."
"Understandable. So tell me," he said, his voice rattling close to my ear. I suppressed an uncomfortable shiver. "This feeling you have. What does it lead you to suppose?"
I hesitated. "You're not the General Robinson people know. The men recognize you when they see you, but when you talk they look at you like they've never seen you before in your lives."
"And?" he prompted.
I had come far enough already. "You're a fairy," I said, managing to keep my voice steady. "A fairy changeling."
To my astonishment, he burst out laughing again. I had expected him to respond with some degree of anger whether or not I had been right, but no, there it was again: genuine amusement. I was used to being laughed at in class for my ineptitude in Theoretics, but this was ridiculous.
When he had recovered enough to speak, he clapped a jovial hand on my shoulder. "Good guess, boy," he said, still chuckling, "but I'm afraid you're quite a bit off the mark. I'm no fairy."
"Oh," I said lamely.
"I mean it, though," he said lightly. "It was a good guess. But I couldn't have been a fairy and pulled off that little visit we made just now."
"They didn't look like they trusted you," I said, confused. "Why didn't they check to make sure you weren't a changeling?"
"They did."
"When?"
"Good lord boy, are you blind as well as amnesic? That whole bunker is lined in iron. There isn't a fairy alive who could go down there and endure the agony long enough to smile and wave to a single soldier."
"Oh," I said again, feeling rather stupid. Although I probably shouldn't have been so hard on myself. In all fairness, he was making things rather difficult for me. "Who are you really, then?"
"Hmm," said the general slowly. He took a few moments to answer this time. "No, not yet. For now, you may call me Skep. I shall tell you more later. But not now."
"Skep," I repeated dubiously. "I'm fairly sure you've just given me another pseudonym."
"Clever boy," said the voice beside me. "And that is all you shall be getting, so you'd best treasure each one I give you."
I had had just about enough of this weirdness. "Alright, Skep," I said, "I don't care whether you come with me or not, but I need to leave. Now. I can't see my watch but it's definitely later than I should be getting back home. And since you seem to know all about my father, you should know what that means for me."
"Hm, yes," he said pensively. "Something about missing your mother's birthday, I believe."
"I'm not even going to try to not be disturbed by the fact that you know that."
"Good," said Skep. His silhouette appeared against the light at the end of the alley, moving back to the main road. "Let's go, then. I think this way is quickest."
"You have questions," said General Robinson as I took a few steps into the alley and stood stock still in the darkness, brain whirring. "That's good. You should ask them."
"I don't have a clue what's going on or why you took me down there," I blurted, a bit louder than I had intended. I forgot to call him 'sir' or 'General', but he didn't stop me. "But why the hell did he know who my father is?"
"Well, your father is a very important person," said the mild voice of the general from nearby.
"The colonel said he'd been down there a week ago."
"More like implied."
"Why would my father be visiting some secret bunker?" I pressed. "He works for the Ministry of Affairs, not the military."
"I think," mused the general, "it might be just about time for you to educate yourself about what your father's job actually entails."
I boggled in the silence for a moment, trying to get my thoughts in order. The question that came out next was not the one I had been expecting.
"Who are you?"
"Who am I?" The general's voice sounded almost painfully surprised. "Please don't tell me you've forgotten again. I'm General Charles Robinson of His Majesty's Armed Forces. We met in Elysian Garden just the other night."
"That's not what I meant and you know it," I said. My tongue was running wild while my brain was distracted, and in retrospect the unfriendly tone I was taking with the man was not exactly well-advised. But keeping my tongue in check has never been one of my strong points. The long minutes of sitting with my mouth shut that I had been forced to endure while we were underground were taking their toll on my patience.
"You know my name, even though I never introduced myself," I continued. "You know where I live and where I go to school. You know who my father is too — mind you from the looks of it, half the city does and I shouldn't be too surprised. Normally I might just think you had an unhealthy interest in nineteen-year-old boys..." I trailed off, suddenly unsure. "Actually, I still do think you have an unhealthy interest in nineteen-year-old boys, but I have a feeling there's more to it than that."
The general laughed, sounding genuinely amused. "Your reasoning is solid, boy. Rest assured that I am not at all interested in the majority of nineteen-year-old boys. Just you."
"I'm not particularly assured," I said with a frown. "Nor am I restful."
"Understandable. So tell me," he said, his voice rattling close to my ear. I suppressed an uncomfortable shiver. "This feeling you have. What does it lead you to suppose?"
I hesitated. "You're not the General Robinson people know. The men recognize you when they see you, but when you talk they look at you like they've never seen you before in your lives."
"And?" he prompted.
I had come far enough already. "You're a fairy," I said, managing to keep my voice steady. "A fairy changeling."
To my astonishment, he burst out laughing again. I had expected him to respond with some degree of anger whether or not I had been right, but no, there it was again: genuine amusement. I was used to being laughed at in class for my ineptitude in Theoretics, but this was ridiculous.
When he had recovered enough to speak, he clapped a jovial hand on my shoulder. "Good guess, boy," he said, still chuckling, "but I'm afraid you're quite a bit off the mark. I'm no fairy."
"Oh," I said lamely.
"I mean it, though," he said lightly. "It was a good guess. But I couldn't have been a fairy and pulled off that little visit we made just now."
"They didn't look like they trusted you," I said, confused. "Why didn't they check to make sure you weren't a changeling?"
"They did."
"When?"
"Good lord boy, are you blind as well as amnesic? That whole bunker is lined in iron. There isn't a fairy alive who could go down there and endure the agony long enough to smile and wave to a single soldier."
"Oh," I said again, feeling rather stupid. Although I probably shouldn't have been so hard on myself. In all fairness, he was making things rather difficult for me. "Who are you really, then?"
"Hmm," said the general slowly. He took a few moments to answer this time. "No, not yet. For now, you may call me Skep. I shall tell you more later. But not now."
"Skep," I repeated dubiously. "I'm fairly sure you've just given me another pseudonym."
"Clever boy," said the voice beside me. "And that is all you shall be getting, so you'd best treasure each one I give you."
I had had just about enough of this weirdness. "Alright, Skep," I said, "I don't care whether you come with me or not, but I need to leave. Now. I can't see my watch but it's definitely later than I should be getting back home. And since you seem to know all about my father, you should know what that means for me."
"Hm, yes," he said pensively. "Something about missing your mother's birthday, I believe."
"I'm not even going to try to not be disturbed by the fact that you know that."
"Good," said Skep. His silhouette appeared against the light at the end of the alley, moving back to the main road. "Let's go, then. I think this way is quickest."
This scene really wasn't supposed to run some sort of strange Twilight parallel when I wrote it, but the connection is rather hilarious.
