Posts Tagged Nother

[partim] Kaido no Yume I

Oct 23

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I was still half asleep when I felt someone washing me with warm water. It must have been more than one person, really—it felt like a lot more than just one or two hands scrubbing my fur.

I was vigorously rubbed dry with a rough cloth, which irritated my still-tender nose, but being clean now I felt better than I had in a long time. The heat of the air was fading to wonderful coolness, but I was startled into full wakefulness as I felt someone running a brush through my tailfur, pulling out knots.

I looked up at my mysterious groomer. As my eyes focused I could see it was a tiger, but such a tiger as I’d never met before.

“Ah, you are awake…”

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[scrap] Mařa

Oct 21

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I don’t know the best way to start talking about what happened. I should probably start with an introduction.

My name is Mařa _____. I started the Wolftever Creek theater with my brother Rouss, not long ago when we first moved into town. We share the business, and the living space, with our friends Mitch and Toby Kowalski.

Mitch and Toby are demihumans like us, but that’s not the only reason we’ve taken them in—both have what you might call special needs.

Mitch was born without any illusionary ability. Demihumans tend to vary considerably from the standards of human appearances, and our illusion, though generally not very powerful, is a necessity for living in human communities.

His cousin Toby is usually able to cover for him. Toby’s trouble, though, is on a rather larger scale—being a giant, upwards of forty feet tall. Illusion is of little use in concealing this; he lives in a large subbasement under the theater, and sends an illusionary projection of himself instead of going out into the world.

The inactivity is not doing him well. Life is hard for giants.

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[partim] Kaido no Yume I

Oct 21

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It wasn’t the warmth that woke me—it was that kind of sheltering heat that makes you want to stay in bed all day—it was the shouting, the small voices yelling.

“Maro, Maro!”

I tried to get up, but my limbs gave way and I landed on my face—into loose sand, not the cot I’d been sleeping on.

I felt strong arms lift me up, and I fell asleep again as I was carried off.

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[scrap] Kelly

Oct 19

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I don’t know if I’ve posted anything about this story before—site search isn’t coming up with anything—but I’ve recently started trying to pull it out of my head and get it on paper. Not sure if this fragment will make it into the narrative, but it gave me a few ideas about this character’s character.

Ever since I was a little girl—as long as I can remember, really—I’ve been able to tell when people are lying. Any sort of lie, really—everything from ‘you look beautiful today, Kelly!’ to ‘Daddy still loves us, but he has to move to Atlanta for his job…’

The lies just kind of stick out—just like you can tell if someone’s talking to you in English or not, I can tell if you’re telling the truth.

Sometimes, if the lie’s really obvious, I can tell what the truth behind it is.

Doesn’t happen near as often as I’d like.

Now, people lie all the time—you think I’d grow up to be pretty cynical because of it, but that’s almost exactly what didn’t happen.

I love lies.

There’s the white lie, it’s my favorite. You’ve got a good person talking to you and there’s an uncomfortable truth coming up in the conversation, and the first thought that comes up is ‘This will hurt you to know. How can I bend reality to keep you from finding out?’ It’s so sweet—behind every white lie, a white knight.

Then there’s the false promises—from sad little puppy dog minds: ‘Trust me… please trust me… tell me it’s okay and I’m a good guy…’ Those’re the well-meaning ones, anyway.

There’s also the backstabbing sort of lie. ‘Look how I’m pulling the wool over your eyes. How stupid you are to trust me…’

Those, actually, I’m not too fond of. But nobody’s dared try that on me twice.

I’ve gotten very good at lies myself over the past seventeen years—and I can get away with some big ones of my own, easy as pie.

It’s just like speaking a foreign language I know quite well—one that goes straight in to other people’s heads.

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[partim] Kaido no Yume I

Oct 19

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First draft

One of my projects is working on a rewrite of this old story—the first draft was ten years ago, incomplete, and I’m told a bit clunky. Also, it was all in the third person, which I find feels unnatural to write in these days. The second draft will also need to be updating some facts that are contradicted by later continuity…

I lay in bed and shivered under my sheets, which were no match for the blizzard roaring outside, harassing the housing unit and driving cold through the boarded-up windows. I wanted to get up and relight the fire, but I’d been sick with something chronic over the past couple of months and I could tell today it’d be difficult to get out of bed at all. Loukas had already gone home to bed, so I was on my own till tomorrow. I took a drink from my water bottle—ice-cold by now, of course—and burrowed under the blanket to give sleep another try.

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[partim] Blake.

Oct 17

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I just ordered a drink to start with and the waiter left us alone again.

Blake pulled down my menu to look me in the eyes. “Nothing,” he said, “including whether your boyfriend’s Deep American roots show from time to time. You can sit there and look ashamed, or you can remember you don’t have absolute power over me, so anything I do is not yours to be ashamed of.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, “because you don’t think you’re in the wrong yet. But don’t worry about it. I don’t have power over you either, of course.”

This was not the way I’d imagined our first date would go.

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[partim] Blake.

May 12

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He said it with a finality that debarred any further conversation.

L & L stuff is protected, so it wouldn’t have been online, and he probably didn’t make a backup either, for the same reason.

There probably wouldn’t be any more memory of Darker Island, except in Blake’s head and maybe some obscure corner of Blantyre, wherever that is.

“Are you going to be all right?” I said.

He leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes again.

“Emmett,” he said, “What do we have power over in this world?”

“What, absolute power?”

“Absolute power.”

“Well… nothing, I guess.”

“Nothing,” he affirmed. “Actually… some of those biscuits.” This last bit to the waiter, who’d found us and was hovering.

“‘Biscuits’?” the waiter repeated incredulously.

“Them fancy biscuits like what he has.” Blake pointed to the man who’d wanted to download his sister, who had a plate of faving viennois.

I tried to hide behind my menu.

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[partim] Mori.

May 10

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The golem carried me through the twisty sublunar passages for a good deal longer than I might have liked; pain coursed through my foot each time the golem took a step—and golems are usually pretty careful about the things they carry, so I knew at this point I was in pretty bad shape.

Munk carried me through enough rooms, intersections, halls, and tunnels, each one unnervingly like so many before it, that I began to doubt the golem’s sense of direction. Surely they weren’t absolutely unerring? I tried to think back and recall whether I’d heard any stories about golems getting lost—no. But surely it’d look just like this—the unthinking automaton trudging onward forever in circles, never hesitating at any fork, even when it should be obvious it was retreading its own steps….

I was scared, and I didn’t want to say anything to the golem for fear he might turn around and take off in another direction, spending still more hours in the unending labyrinth.

Golem, golem, turning right,
In the caverns of the night—
What eternal passageways
Could lead us from this fearful maze?

I probably would have been able to handle this better if the whole place wasn’t so empty.

Just about the time I was considering to tell Munk to put me down and do something productive, like start digging a tunnel to the surface with his bare hands—he turned a corner and stopped.

We faced a short hallway, at the end of which was a kelvin guarding a red door.

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[WIP] December 10, 2494.

May 10

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Did some more work on this. Realized Isaac’s position was entirely untenable, so adjusted it a bit. (He was half leaning on his side, but now he’ll be prone.) Also redrew his face some—I never could get the hang of drawing long muzzles.

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[WIP] Modi.

May 3

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Started on some of the linework on this fellah….

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