It's a busy morning, being back after Kiev plus we're doing a release today so the office is unusually full of people at this time. Which means that Derby will have to wait another day, and in his absence we're going back to the Unreal City, which feels almost as much like home as Carcosa :)
Seeing ghosts Hopscotch ran up to Cambridge Circus leaving the ancient Throne in the shadows surrounding Charing Cross station, probably whispering to himself about the lack of truth in the world. His heart was pounding in his chest and not just from the exercise. Sweat formed on his skin and chilled instantly, leaving him feeling clammy and frozen, and in the back of his head there was a litany of the things he'd heard about Madame Sosotris. That she ate babies, head first, and gave the feet back to the mother; that she grew strange plants in her garden that watched up when you came to visit, and noted if you came back out; that she knew the strange, icy Ilmatu that came to visit the City in winter; that dark-skinned sailors rowed out of mists on Holy nights and gave her gifts of exotic spices and rare oils. But most worrying was that everyone agreed that Madame Sosotris knew what the future held and did nothing about it. Cambridge Circus was dominated on the left by the bright lights of the Palace Theatre that pushed back the beginnings of the night's fog and created warm lambencies. Behind it was the West End, and light blocked out the twinkling of stars as the theatres, clubs, pubs and restaurants summoned people to an evening of dining, drinking and debauchery. Hopscotch knew his way around the back alleys, knew all the unmarked doorways where girls (and sometimes boys) waited to receive customers. This evening though he turned right, heading towards Seven Dials, and from there he could race down Short's Gardens towards Drury Lane. Ah, there was another rumour about Madame Sosotris; that she had lived so long in Drury Lane she could remember the Great Fire. Surely that one was just fabrication, though. Seven Dials was thronged with ghosts, and Hopscotch skidded to a halt metres away. The road here was cobbled over a graveyard so he wasn't entirely surprised, but the ghosts rarely came out before midnight. He pressed himself against the side of a building and watched, wondering what had stirred them up. The smell of burning tickled his nostrils and he stiffened, wondering if a fire had woken the ghosts and if they had come to attend the passing of more souls from one world to another. The back of his throat itched and he swallowed hard, desperate not to cough. He turned his head away, trying to find fresh air, and wondered if it was too late to go back the way he'd come and maybe bypass this via New Oxford Street. He only just controlled the scream that tried to burst out of his chest when he found a man stood directly behind him. "Quiet," whispered the man. "The ghosts are agitated." I can see that, thought Hopscotch, anger at his fear overtaking him. I'm trying to get away from them! "Come back this way," whispered the man, holding out a hand. For a moment Hopscotch considered taking it, and then he realised that the hand wasn't quite solid. The man saw his hesitation and looked down at his hand as well. "Aha," he whispered. "Observant, aren't you?"
Greg - never any complaints on this end when you go with the Unreal City instead of Derby.
Oh man, this whole thing is brilliant. From the rumors about Sosotris to the ghosts to the surprise arrival of the newcomer who doesn't quite manage to fool Hopscotch (great name, by the way).
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It's a busy morning, being back after Kiev plus we're doing a release today so the office is unusually full of people at this time. Which means that Derby will have to wait another day, and in his absence we're going back to the Unreal City, which feels almost as much like home as Carcosa :)
Seeing ghosts
Hopscotch ran up to Cambridge Circus leaving the ancient Throne in the shadows surrounding Charing Cross station, probably whispering to himself about the lack of truth in the world. His heart was pounding in his chest and not just from the exercise. Sweat formed on his skin and chilled instantly, leaving him feeling clammy and frozen, and in the back of his head there was a litany of the things he'd heard about Madame Sosotris. That she ate babies, head first, and gave the feet back to the mother; that she grew strange plants in her garden that watched up when you came to visit, and noted if you came back out; that she knew the strange, icy Ilmatu that came to visit the City in winter; that dark-skinned sailors rowed out of mists on Holy nights and gave her gifts of exotic spices and rare oils. But most worrying was that everyone agreed that Madame Sosotris knew what the future held and did nothing about it.
Cambridge Circus was dominated on the left by the bright lights of the Palace Theatre that pushed back the beginnings of the night's fog and created warm lambencies. Behind it was the West End, and light blocked out the twinkling of stars as the theatres, clubs, pubs and restaurants summoned people to an evening of dining, drinking and debauchery. Hopscotch knew his way around the back alleys, knew all the unmarked doorways where girls (and sometimes boys) waited to receive customers. This evening though he turned right, heading towards Seven Dials, and from there he could race down Short's Gardens towards Drury Lane. Ah, there was another rumour about Madame Sosotris; that she had lived so long in Drury Lane she could remember the Great Fire. Surely that one was just fabrication, though.
Seven Dials was thronged with ghosts, and Hopscotch skidded to a halt metres away. The road here was cobbled over a graveyard so he wasn't entirely surprised, but the ghosts rarely came out before midnight. He pressed himself against the side of a building and watched, wondering what had stirred them up.
The smell of burning tickled his nostrils and he stiffened, wondering if a fire had woken the ghosts and if they had come to attend the passing of more souls from one world to another. The back of his throat itched and he swallowed hard, desperate not to cough. He turned his head away, trying to find fresh air, and wondered if it was too late to go back the way he'd come and maybe bypass this via New Oxford Street.
He only just controlled the scream that tried to burst out of his chest when he found a man stood directly behind him.
"Quiet," whispered the man. "The ghosts are agitated."
I can see that, thought Hopscotch, anger at his fear overtaking him. I'm trying to get away from them!
"Come back this way," whispered the man, holding out a hand. For a moment Hopscotch considered taking it, and then he realised that the hand wasn't quite solid. The man saw his hesitation and looked down at his hand as well.
"Aha," he whispered. "Observant, aren't you?"
Greg - never any complaints on this end when you go with the Unreal City instead of Derby.
Oh man, this whole thing is brilliant. From the rumors about Sosotris to the ghosts to the surprise arrival of the newcomer who doesn't quite manage to fool Hopscotch (great name, by the way).
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