Thursday January 5th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: revenge.

Spent most of the day with the boys - Miles in the morning while Kat spent time with Max, and then Max in the afternoon while Miles napped. Had its challenging moments but overall it was pretty good.

It is frickin' cold outside though, which doesn't help anything. It would be much nicer to get out of the house with the both of them but even I can't last long out there, and I'm the adult. Max pretty much refuses to go outside when it hits -10 and I can't really blame him. Miles doesn't seem to mind it at all going from the house to the car, but I wouldn't want to have him out in those sorts of temperatures for too long.

Thankfully it's looking like tomorrow will be the last really cold day for a while. Which means we'll be getting more snow soon.

Because winter.


It's a matter of principle, that's all. There are some things that cannot be allowed to pass without an appropriate response. There are certain events in one's life that demand a quick, decisive reaction. It will be noticed if you fail to do anything about an injustice that has been done to you or yours. And so it will continue to happen, over and over.

Turning the other cheek is all fine and well in some instances.

Others demand revenge.

This, clearly, is one of the latter situations. Why else would we be here like this? Me, with this baseball bat in my hand, and you, with your hands tied behind you? I'm sure you understand.

The bolder, more offensive the transgression against you, the stronger the response must be. Unless you wish to be trod upon like a door mat for the rest of your miserable life.

I, for one, do not wish that for myself at all.

So, here we are.

This isn't personal. I'm sure you understand that.

It's a matter of principle, that's all.


Greg said...

We had hail here in Malta today, which as close to snow as it gets I think. It doesn't last long either, and the Maltese descriptions of it is are entertaining: they tend to refer to it as the "hard, spiky rain". This is also the first country where I have to ask "have you ever built a snowman?" before I can talk about how long it takes compacted snow to melt :) Your weather sounds nice, and Max sounds like a chihuahua with his refusal to go outside if it's too cold.
Your narrator today makes a strong case for the actions they're intending to carry out, and they're very eloquent about it too -- bravo! I wondered briefly if it was Henri speaking, but then I realised that he would have someone else to wield the baseball bat. Even so, it's a well-described evocative scene, nicely done.

"You're looking well my Lord," said Ernest. He didn't bow, but the revitalised Lord Campion stood and met his gaze. The etiquette of the Realm was complex and many of the nobility employed people whose job it was to ensure that correct etiquette was managed at all times; Lord Derby and Lord Campion had been near-equals in life, with the exact status decided by whether the King was acting as Military or Civil Ruler at the time. Now that Lord Campion was technically dead Ernest was technically superior, but the general lack of deadness was a problem, as was the fact that Lord Campion was possibly not human enough for etiquette to apply. "Reports of your death appear to have been exaggerated."
"Not entirely," said Lord Campion. He sat back down and lifted his glass to his lips. When he took it away again there was a dark sheen across them. "The vampiric element is dead, certainly, but the magic that is employed to create the vampire has side effects. Or so I'm told."
"It is not well understood," said a reedy voice from across the circle of light. Ernest turned, nudging Samual slightly who shrank in on himself as though appalled at having accidentally touched his superior. "I have my theories about the Law of Contagion and Law of Similarity, but... I was not the best student when I was alive, and time is no substitute for brains."
"I have little understanding myself of magic," said Lord Derby, "but I have an associat-"
"No mages may come here," said Lord Campion flatly. He sipped from his glass again. "Something to do with the Will again. It's all magic this and magic that and no bloody explanation as to why when the immortal part of me died I didn't. But I am stuck here, in the company of my male relatives going back eight generations, and it's boring as hell."
"I am sorry to hear that," said Ernest.

Greg said...

"Right, I suppose you're wondering why we had you brought here?"
"I wasn't aware that you had." Ernest turned to Kevin who smiled cheerfully. "But it would seem that it is so."
"We want revenge," said Lord Campion.
"I am already hunting for you killer on behalf of the King."
"No, numbskull. We want revenge on the mage that bound us into this bloody half-life! I don't care about who killed me, and if I were the killer I'd be bloody scared to learn that Lord Derby was on my case. The King never shut up about how good you were at tracking down murderers and hooligans and spies and blackguards. So that's fine and dandy, but I don't want to spend eternity down here with this lot."
"Can't say I think much of you either," said the reedy voice. "At least some of us are trying."
"You're bloody trying! Trying my bloody patience! Find the mage, Derby, and get this mess sorted out."
"You make it sound so easy," said Ernest. He turned on his heel, looking at the faces in the circle, seeing the family resemblance. It was a little like looking at one man aging through a hundred years. "I don't suppose you'd care to tell me who killed you?"
"I don't know. I know they took the bloody relic from my desk, and whoever did it knew what they were taking, believe you me. But none of the men should have known, so you should look for the one that knew what he was doing. For the mage though, you need to go and view the paintings in Campion Hall. This lot," he waved a hand dismissively and sipped from his glass again, "are sure that he's in the paintings somewhere, and just as sure that he's still alive, which sounds bloody suspicious to me. So expect another vampire, I think."
"What relic are we talking about here?" asked Ernest. "I think I need a little more to go on, and of course, it will allow me more time for mage-finding."

Marc said...

Greg - hard, spiky rain is perfect description of hail :)

Thanks for the kind words on mine.

Heh, Lord Campion and his relatives are an entertaining lot! And now Ernest has a secondary mission, to find the mage - oh, how you manage to continually increase the intrigue :D