Aren't we all waiting for answers, ultimately? I see you're catching up on comments again, and you seem to be... unhappy with the current roster of Lord Derby characters. Yes, I think unhappy is the vibe I'm getting. I shall put on my GRR Martin hat then :)
Waiting for answers "I don't understand," said Gray, watching the demons lift into the air. "Has Carcosa always been producing demons then? Is this the King in Yellow's way of telling us that we've... been doing demons wrong?" "I don't know if that's magical or philosophical," said Lord Derby, "but either way I suspect I'm not qualified to answer. Is the monument shaking?" The three men watched the scene: the yellow dust-storm blowing over the crowd and the people writhing and shrieking, transforming. Not everyone in the crowd transformed, some collapsed to the ground and stopped moving, and some struggled out of the dust-storm, seeming choking but otherwise unaffected. And the monument trembled, at first just seeming blurrily out of focus, but then the men saw black cracks starting to appear across it. "This can't be good," said the King. "What on earth is happening here?" They felt the chill as though a cloud had passed across the sun and plunged them into shadow. For a moment it was just a change of temperature, but it kept dropping until their fingers, toes and teeth hurt with the cold. The scent of juniper filled the air around them and memories -- not their own -- of gigantic Byakhee, easily eight times the size of the ones Lord Derby had seen in modern-day Carcosa, flying across a black void arose. On the backs of the bird-monsters rode figures clad in dusty robes of pastel colours: yellow, pink, blue and green. Hoods shrouded faces and long sleeves concealed hands but nothing hid that each robe had too many sleeves and that as the Byakhee flew the figures moved in ways that human bodies and joints could not achieve. The was a dull twittering around them, a cross between the echolocation of bats brought to audible levels and the repetitive pounding of a woodpecker seeking food in a rotten log, and the unwilling remembrancers started to understand it as a language. A sense of dread rose up within them, a different kind of chill to the bone-aching cold, and for a moment it was as though they were standing on a ledge, high up and each alone, knowing that all they had to do was try and the language would make sense, and that then, with that knowledge, they would have to throw themselves off to stop it escaping their heads.
A scream started in the distance from the wrong direction, but it was too hard to know what direction went were.
Then the memories faded and the chill receded leaving just fiery trails of pain from their fingers to their elbows, from their toes to the knees and from their teeth to their sinuses. The world returned, the colours unnaturally bright contrasted with the blackness of the void, and they could see that the monument had now exploded outwards, but was being held in check somehow while the yellow dust poured through. "Dagda," said Gray, and it was both a curse and an invocation. "There are four kinds of Power in conflict there. I can see them now. This isn't... sweet mother Brigid, this isn't the King in Yellow's doing. It's... under siege!" The scream intensified and Lord Derby looked up. To his astonishment Samual was plunging down from an otherwise empty sky towards them.
Carcosa vanished and they were back in the sitting room in the Palace. Lord Derby and Gray found themselves standing behind his Majesty's chair, and Samual dropped onto their couch as gently as baby, and started gasping. There was an odd sensation, halfway between a contented chuckle and a stern schoolteacher holding out an object and saying, "Yours, I presume?"
Greg - it is taking everything in my power not to write 'Samual!' in all caps, over and over.
So... that's all I'm going to say for now.
Also: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
(that is the sound of delight that's escaping me at the moment. don't go and ruin it, okay? I know I'm way behind on comments, but you better not go and ruin it)
2 comments:
Aren't we all waiting for answers, ultimately? I see you're catching up on comments again, and you seem to be... unhappy with the current roster of Lord Derby characters. Yes, I think unhappy is the vibe I'm getting. I shall put on my GRR Martin hat then :)
Waiting for answers
"I don't understand," said Gray, watching the demons lift into the air. "Has Carcosa always been producing demons then? Is this the King in Yellow's way of telling us that we've... been doing demons wrong?"
"I don't know if that's magical or philosophical," said Lord Derby, "but either way I suspect I'm not qualified to answer. Is the monument shaking?"
The three men watched the scene: the yellow dust-storm blowing over the crowd and the people writhing and shrieking, transforming. Not everyone in the crowd transformed, some collapsed to the ground and stopped moving, and some struggled out of the dust-storm, seeming choking but otherwise unaffected. And the monument trembled, at first just seeming blurrily out of focus, but then the men saw black cracks starting to appear across it.
"This can't be good," said the King. "What on earth is happening here?"
They felt the chill as though a cloud had passed across the sun and plunged them into shadow. For a moment it was just a change of temperature, but it kept dropping until their fingers, toes and teeth hurt with the cold. The scent of juniper filled the air around them and memories -- not their own -- of gigantic Byakhee, easily eight times the size of the ones Lord Derby had seen in modern-day Carcosa, flying across a black void arose. On the backs of the bird-monsters rode figures clad in dusty robes of pastel colours: yellow, pink, blue and green. Hoods shrouded faces and long sleeves concealed hands but nothing hid that each robe had too many sleeves and that as the Byakhee flew the figures moved in ways that human bodies and joints could not achieve. The was a dull twittering around them, a cross between the echolocation of bats brought to audible levels and the repetitive pounding of a woodpecker seeking food in a rotten log, and the unwilling remembrancers started to understand it as a language. A sense of dread rose up within them, a different kind of chill to the bone-aching cold, and for a moment it was as though they were standing on a ledge, high up and each alone, knowing that all they had to do was try and the language would make sense, and that then, with that knowledge, they would have to throw themselves off to stop it escaping their heads.
A scream started in the distance from the wrong direction, but it was too hard to know what direction went were.
Then the memories faded and the chill receded leaving just fiery trails of pain from their fingers to their elbows, from their toes to the knees and from their teeth to their sinuses. The world returned, the colours unnaturally bright contrasted with the blackness of the void, and they could see that the monument had now exploded outwards, but was being held in check somehow while the yellow dust poured through.
"Dagda," said Gray, and it was both a curse and an invocation. "There are four kinds of Power in conflict there. I can see them now. This isn't... sweet mother Brigid, this isn't the King in Yellow's doing. It's... under siege!"
The scream intensified and Lord Derby looked up. To his astonishment Samual was plunging down from an otherwise empty sky towards them.
Carcosa vanished and they were back in the sitting room in the Palace. Lord Derby and Gray found themselves standing behind his Majesty's chair, and Samual dropped onto their couch as gently as baby, and started gasping. There was an odd sensation, halfway between a contented chuckle and a stern schoolteacher holding out an object and saying, "Yours, I presume?"
Greg - it is taking everything in my power not to write 'Samual!' in all caps, over and over.
So... that's all I'm going to say for now.
Also: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
(that is the sound of delight that's escaping me at the moment. don't go and ruin it, okay? I know I'm way behind on comments, but you better not go and ruin it)
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