Ah, Friday. It's been (another) long week, and the nice thing about today is that the morning is mostly paperwork, and then afternoon are informational meetings where I can sit back and enjoyed being presented to. It's practically relaxing :) Does the title mean you're writing your will, and Miles is going to a pleasant surprise that Max will hate?
The order of succession Lord Vileburn stepped across an invisible threshold, travelling from his office to an Enclave, an area of space that might not even completely exist in the normal universe. It was a research problem to try and decide if some of the realms accessible by magic were all part of the same vast space, or if there were multiple vast spaces, each obeying subtly different laws. Memnith favoured there being a single one as it was simply tidier, but he followed the research keenly. This Enclave was on the border of the barrier that had sprung up, separating Carcosa -- he was sure of this now -- from their own world. It was, as most Enclaves were, a barren, rocky place. Huge purple cliffs towered above him, formed from some kind of quartz. A brownish lichen somehow managed to live on it, and fingered dark veins across its surface and underfoot. Crushed, it oozed a dark sap of some kind that appeared to be nutritious, but so far they'd not found anything living on it. He walked: the cliffs formed a canyon and he was at the bottom of it. He turned a corner and the cliff floor fell away into blue-grey swirling mist. There was a scent of almonds here, which could also do with an explanation if anyone had time to research it, and the sky turned from rust-streaked brown to black and strange constellations posted signs, if only anyone could read them. He stood there for nearly half-an-hour, looking at the sky, watching the mists curl and turn, as he'd done many times before. He liked this Enclave, its silence and its hints that maybe there was life here, or could be. He had identified areas in the cliffs above that might be the openings to caves, that might reveal more secrets, more surprises. A student keen on climbing might be the best researcher, but then he'd have to share the Enclave, at least for a while. He stretched, lifting his arms above his head and then bringing them down to his sides in large arcs, feeling his spine click and blood suffuse his muscles. Time passed at a different rate here -- something else he'd like to have time to study -- but he knew from experience that he couldn't keep extending his working day by sneaking here to relax for an hour in the space of five real-world minutes. The sky above turned cornflower blue. Memnith paused, then finished his stretch. He looked around, at the cliffs now illuminated and sparkling, spotting silver and gold inclusions in the rock that the gloom had previously hidden. The lichen bloomed in seconds, putting out tiny pink flowers and a breeze sprang up from nowhere pushing away the smell of almonds and bringing in a fresh smell of tarragon. Memnith watched all this, then looked up again at the sky. "Labdaris," he said. "Without a doubt, this is Labdaris's work." A shiver ran down his spine at the implications of that. "So who did you pass the knowledge onto?" he mused. His fingers tangled one another, his hands curling around as though he were washing them as his thoughts meshed and unmeshed. "This is a pain. I thought we'd been able to put l'ordine di successione to rest, and now-" He didn't finish his thought. A dull buzzing rose above the gentle sough of the breeze and he saw dark clouds of insects arising from what were now definitely caves in the cliffs.
Greg - hah, no. Sadly the director of community services has fallen ill and will be out of action until the new year, at the earliest. So my supervisor has just been appointed acting director.
Oh dear. This does not seem good. I fear Memnith may be in a spot of trouble here.
Also: deeply enjoyed your descriptions of the landscape.
2 comments:
Ah, Friday. It's been (another) long week, and the nice thing about today is that the morning is mostly paperwork, and then afternoon are informational meetings where I can sit back and enjoyed being presented to. It's practically relaxing :)
Does the title mean you're writing your will, and Miles is going to a pleasant surprise that Max will hate?
The order of succession
Lord Vileburn stepped across an invisible threshold, travelling from his office to an Enclave, an area of space that might not even completely exist in the normal universe. It was a research problem to try and decide if some of the realms accessible by magic were all part of the same vast space, or if there were multiple vast spaces, each obeying subtly different laws. Memnith favoured there being a single one as it was simply tidier, but he followed the research keenly.
This Enclave was on the border of the barrier that had sprung up, separating Carcosa -- he was sure of this now -- from their own world. It was, as most Enclaves were, a barren, rocky place. Huge purple cliffs towered above him, formed from some kind of quartz. A brownish lichen somehow managed to live on it, and fingered dark veins across its surface and underfoot. Crushed, it oozed a dark sap of some kind that appeared to be nutritious, but so far they'd not found anything living on it.
He walked: the cliffs formed a canyon and he was at the bottom of it. He turned a corner and the cliff floor fell away into blue-grey swirling mist. There was a scent of almonds here, which could also do with an explanation if anyone had time to research it, and the sky turned from rust-streaked brown to black and strange constellations posted signs, if only anyone could read them.
He stood there for nearly half-an-hour, looking at the sky, watching the mists curl and turn, as he'd done many times before. He liked this Enclave, its silence and its hints that maybe there was life here, or could be. He had identified areas in the cliffs above that might be the openings to caves, that might reveal more secrets, more surprises. A student keen on climbing might be the best researcher, but then he'd have to share the Enclave, at least for a while.
He stretched, lifting his arms above his head and then bringing them down to his sides in large arcs, feeling his spine click and blood suffuse his muscles. Time passed at a different rate here -- something else he'd like to have time to study -- but he knew from experience that he couldn't keep extending his working day by sneaking here to relax for an hour in the space of five real-world minutes.
The sky above turned cornflower blue.
Memnith paused, then finished his stretch. He looked around, at the cliffs now illuminated and sparkling, spotting silver and gold inclusions in the rock that the gloom had previously hidden. The lichen bloomed in seconds, putting out tiny pink flowers and a breeze sprang up from nowhere pushing away the smell of almonds and bringing in a fresh smell of tarragon.
Memnith watched all this, then looked up again at the sky.
"Labdaris," he said. "Without a doubt, this is Labdaris's work." A shiver ran down his spine at the implications of that. "So who did you pass the knowledge onto?" he mused. His fingers tangled one another, his hands curling around as though he were washing them as his thoughts meshed and unmeshed. "This is a pain. I thought we'd been able to put l'ordine di successione to rest, and now-"
He didn't finish his thought. A dull buzzing rose above the gentle sough of the breeze and he saw dark clouds of insects arising from what were now definitely caves in the cliffs.
Greg - hah, no. Sadly the director of community services has fallen ill and will be out of action until the new year, at the earliest. So my supervisor has just been appointed acting director.
Oh dear. This does not seem good. I fear Memnith may be in a spot of trouble here.
Also: deeply enjoyed your descriptions of the landscape.
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