Counting again sounds like a hint... counting days, hours, minutes, children?
Counting "That was Lord Derby!" shouted Samual, his face twisted in a mixture of anguish and terror. "If you don't know who he is, go and get someone who does!"
The two women in the tenement looked at each other. The power they'd been manipulating faded from their grip and the spell collapsed: the demon had reached its target and seized it. There was a moment's silence, the merest hesitation, and then the older of the two -- mere weeks separated their birthdays -- reached into her sackcloth clothing and fumbled out a tarnished, burnt-looking coin. "Heads," said the other, and the coin flipped up into the air casting odd shadows around it. It landed on the floor with a flat thwack as though it were heavier than it looked, and an image of a żubr faced up at them both. "Tails," said the first, and there might have been a note of surprise in her voice. The second picked the coin up and inspected both sides. "It was a fair coin," said the first. The second nodded, then shrugged. She stood up and pulled a short, copper-bladed dagger from her boot. The first woman offered no resistance or fear as the dagger was raised overhead and brought down in a short, brutal arc and plunged into her chest.
Lord Derby froze. The sky above him was aubergine purple and stars glittered in it in no constellations that he recognized. Wispy clouds drifted off to his left and there were distant dark shapes that might have been mountains behind them. The ground underfoot was lumpy -- yellowed grass grew between slabs of limestone so weathered that they were rounded and practically rocks. A couple of slender trees huddled together off to his right, crowned with reddish-brown leaves, as though conspiring and a chill breeze tickled the hair at the nape of his neck. He looked around, seeing that the weather limestone formed a cracked and crazed path that led towards some low buildings, and there was a glimmer of light that have been a reflection from water. The demon, still the yellow of a newborn with jaundice, flapped its wings hard, practically anxiously, but was steadily and slowly descending some distance away. It clutched the hourglass, through which sand was dripping, slow movements that seemed somehow reluctant. The hourglass seemed to glow independently of all the light around it. Something howled in the distance. Lord Derby's hands checked his pockets while his gaze remained fixed on the demon. He had no weapons -- none were permitted to be taken into the presence of the King, and he'd had no call to arm himself to visit Lord Vileburn anyway. His search turned up a handkerchief, some small change and a pen, none of which he felt confident could compel the demon to surrender the hourglass. He tried to look at it more carefully, though the demon's struggle to remain airborne made it hard. It was surely counting out seconds, but in discrete lumps instead of continuously. He stored that thought for later consideration, and decided that the best course of action was to search the buildings for something to help him with the demon.
Greg - hah, I count children whenever I'm out with friends who also have kids. More than 3 around makes me nervous that one's gone missing when I've stopped paying attention for more than 5 seconds...
While I do have faith in Derby's capabilities, things are looking rather grim for him here. I look forward to seeing how this plays out!
Morganna - well, it certainly works. Those final two lines pack quite the punch in this context.
3 comments:
Counting again sounds like a hint... counting days, hours, minutes, children?
Counting
"That was Lord Derby!" shouted Samual, his face twisted in a mixture of anguish and terror. "If you don't know who he is, go and get someone who does!"
The two women in the tenement looked at each other. The power they'd been manipulating faded from their grip and the spell collapsed: the demon had reached its target and seized it. There was a moment's silence, the merest hesitation, and then the older of the two -- mere weeks separated their birthdays -- reached into her sackcloth clothing and fumbled out a tarnished, burnt-looking coin.
"Heads," said the other, and the coin flipped up into the air casting odd shadows around it. It landed on the floor with a flat thwack as though it were heavier than it looked, and an image of a żubr faced up at them both.
"Tails," said the first, and there might have been a note of surprise in her voice. The second picked the coin up and inspected both sides.
"It was a fair coin," said the first. The second nodded, then shrugged. She stood up and pulled a short, copper-bladed dagger from her boot. The first woman offered no resistance or fear as the dagger was raised overhead and brought down in a short, brutal arc and plunged into her chest.
Lord Derby froze. The sky above him was aubergine purple and stars glittered in it in no constellations that he recognized. Wispy clouds drifted off to his left and there were distant dark shapes that might have been mountains behind them. The ground underfoot was lumpy -- yellowed grass grew between slabs of limestone so weathered that they were rounded and practically rocks. A couple of slender trees huddled together off to his right, crowned with reddish-brown leaves, as though conspiring and a chill breeze tickled the hair at the nape of his neck.
He looked around, seeing that the weather limestone formed a cracked and crazed path that led towards some low buildings, and there was a glimmer of light that have been a reflection from water. The demon, still the yellow of a newborn with jaundice, flapped its wings hard, practically anxiously, but was steadily and slowly descending some distance away. It clutched the hourglass, through which sand was dripping, slow movements that seemed somehow reluctant. The hourglass seemed to glow independently of all the light around it.
Something howled in the distance.
Lord Derby's hands checked his pockets while his gaze remained fixed on the demon. He had no weapons -- none were permitted to be taken into the presence of the King, and he'd had no call to arm himself to visit Lord Vileburn anyway. His search turned up a handkerchief, some small change and a pen, none of which he felt confident could compel the demon to surrender the hourglass. He tried to look at it more carefully, though the demon's struggle to remain airborne made it hard. It was surely counting out seconds, but in discrete lumps instead of continuously. He stored that thought for later consideration, and decided that the best course of action was to search the buildings for something to help him with the demon.
One, two, three
Four, five, six
Up the airy hillside
Down the faery glen
There aren't quite as many of us
As there were a moment before
===============
One poem, one song mangled together -- other people's words come more easily today
Greg - hah, I count children whenever I'm out with friends who also have kids. More than 3 around makes me nervous that one's gone missing when I've stopped paying attention for more than 5 seconds...
While I do have faith in Derby's capabilities, things are looking rather grim for him here. I look forward to seeing how this plays out!
Morganna - well, it certainly works. Those final two lines pack quite the punch in this context.
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